roved his unalterable fidelity to her. First,
by his rejection of the royal and beautiful, if undisciplined, Atene.
Secondly, by clinging to Ayesha when she seemed to be repulsive to every
natural sense. Thirdly, after that homage scene in the Sanctuary--though
with her unutterable perfections before his eyes this did not appear to
be so wonderful--by steadfastness in the face of her terrible avowal,
true or false, that she had won her gifts and him through some
dim, unholy pact with the powers of evil, in the unknown fruits
and consequences of which he must be involved as the price of her
possession.

Yet Ayesha was miserable. Even in her lightest moods it was clear to
me that those skeletons at the feast of which she had spoken were her
continual companions. Indeed, when we were alone she would acknowledge
it in dark hints and veiled allegories or allusions. Crushed though her
rival the Khania Atene might be, also she was still jealous of her.

Perhaps "afraid" would be a better word, for some instinct seemed to
warn Ayesha that soon or late her hour would come to Atene again, and
that then it would be her own turn to drink of the bitter waters of
despair.

What troubled her more a thousandfold, however, were her fears for Leo.
As may well be understood, to stand in his intimate relationship to this
half divine and marvellous being, and yet not to be allowed so much as
to touch her lips, did not conduce to his physical or mental well-being,
especially as he knew that the wall of separation must not be climbed
for at least two years. Little wonder that Leo lost appetite, grew thin
and pale, and could not sleep, or that he implored her continually to
rescind her decree and marry him.

But on this point Ayesha was immovable. Instigated thereto by Leo, and
I may add my own curiosity, when we were alone I questioned her again
as to the reasons of this self-denying ordinance. All she would tell me,
however, was that between them rose the barrier of Leo's mortality, and
that until his physical being had been impregnated with the mysterious
virtue of the Vapour of Life, it was not wise that she should take him
as a husband.

I asked her why, seeing that though a long-lived one, she was still a
woman, whereon her face assumed a calm but terrifying smile, and she
answered--"Art so sure, my Holly? Tell me, do your women wear such
jewels as that set upon my brow?" and she pointed to the faint but
lambent light which glowed