e-grey eyes, avoided being alone with the man whom she was leaving
behind. She had made up her mind to accept the fate inevitable; he had
reconciled himself to the ending of an impossible dream. There was
nothing more to say, except farewell. She may have bled in her soul for
him and for the happiness that was dying as the minutes crept on to the
hour of parting, but she carefully, deliberately concealed the wounds
from all those who stood by and questioned with their eyes.

She was a princess of Rapp-Thorberg!

The last day dawned. The sun smiled down upon them. The soft breeze of
the sea whispered the curse of destiny into their ears; it crooned the
song of heritage; it called her back to the fastnesses where love may
not venture in.

The chateau was in a state of upheaval; the exodus was beginning.
Servants and luggage had departed on their way to the dock. Palanquins
were waiting to carry the lords and ladies of the castle down to the
sea. The Princess waited until the last moment. She went to him. He was
standing apart from the rest, coldly indifferent to the pangs he was
suffering.

"I shall love you always," she said simply, giving him her hand.
"Always, Hollingsworth." Her eyes were wide and hopeless, her lips were
white.

He bowed his head. "May God give you all the happiness that I wish for
you," he said. "The End!"

She looked steadily into his eyes for a long time, searching his soul
for the hope that never dies. Then she gently withdrew her hands and
stood away from him, humbled in her own soul.

"Yes," she whispered. "Good-bye."

He straightened his shoulders and drew a deep breath through compressed
nostrils. "Good-bye! God bless you," was all that he said.

She left him standing there; the wall between them was too high, too
impregnable for even Love to storm.

Lady Deppingham came to him there a moment later. "I am sorry," she said
tenderly. "Is there no hope?"

"There is no hope--for _her_!" he said bitterly. "She was condemned too
long ago."

On the pier they said good-bye to him. He was laughing as gaily and as
blithely as if the world held no sorrows in all its mighty grasp.

"I'll look you up in London," he said to the Deppinghams. "Remember, the
real trial is yet to come. Good-bye, Browne. Good-bye, all! You _may_
come again another day!"

The launch slipped away from the pier. He and Bowles stood there, side
by side, pale-faced but smiling, waving their handkerchiefs. He felt
t