Gorof
accused him of it, and next day he died. But I know, as well as I know
anything, that now she has gone back to Ivan Gorof's memory. She will
preach the Brotherhood as he saw it. Don't you see, Electra, until a man
rises that is strong enough, she will lead the Brotherhood herself?"

Electra struck her hands together in a passionate, unconsidered gesture.
But she recalled herself immediately.

"Good-by," she said coldly, and, turning about, went in.

XXIX

Rose, unquiet over her useless mission to Electra, sought out Peter
where he sat in the sun, his mind swaying in its constant rhythm between
his happy work and his charming dreams. He left the garden chair and
came forward to her, struck by the pathos of her face, and a little
irritated, too, because MacLeod's death was a sorrow past, and it seemed
unfortunate, at least, that there should be so much melancholy in bright
weather.

"Electra is going abroad, you know," she said.

Peter turned with her and they paced along the grass. Rose went on,--

"She was much impressed by my father."

"I know."

"She belongs to the Brotherhood now."

Peter nodded, his mind still with Osmond, but cheering a little in the
consciousness of her graceful presence.

"Peter!" She stopped, and laid a finger on his sleeve. "Say something to
her! She is going over there to work, to throw herself into that
movement. She might as well jump into the Seine."

"Yes," said Peter musingly. "Yes, of course! I'll go see her. I'll go at
once."

She assented eagerly. She seemed to hurry him away, and not knowing
quite what he was to do when he got there, he found himself, obedient
but unprepared, at the other house, before Electra. She was agreeably
welcoming. Peter had ceased even to remind her of young love, chiefly
because it was a part of her dignity to put the incomplete dream aside.
When she was forced to remember, sometimes by a word of grandmother's,
it gave her an irritated sense of having once been cheek to cheek with
something unworthy of her. But this morning Peter meant nothing
whatever. A larger bulk had blotted him out. He plunged, at once.

"I am going to Paris, too, Electra. We shall meet there."

She smiled at him with a fine remoteness.

"Perhaps," she said. Then a wave of her old distaste came over her, and
she asked, with the indifference that veils forbidden feeling,--

"Are you going together?"

"Together?"

"Yes. Are you going with Rose MacLeo