e to his throbbing
heart, she did not draw it away. What should he say to her? How should he
understand her? She seemed content, and even happy, to be alone with him.
She seemed exactly as she had been before the tempter came between
them--content and happy--though it had only been four days since she had
been suddenly and effectually separated from the man whom she had declared
that she wished to marry. She had said that no one forced her to marry
him. But--did any one force her to wish to marry him? That was the
question. Was his dream or vision at sea a prophetic one? Was Wynnette's
and Elva's belief a true inspiration? And had Odalite, in her consent to
marry Anglesea, thrown herself into the waves to escape the flames? And
now that she was happily rescued from the waves, was she glad?

He looked at her again. Her face was calm and bright. And it was a true
index to her mind, which was also calm and bright.

Why should it not be? She had been saved from a fate worse than
death--saved from the slavery of an abhorrent marriage, she was free--with
a sense of freedom that she had never fully enjoyed until she had lost her
liberty and regained it. Her own and her dear mother's mortal enemy, whose
presence, even on the continent, crowded her as it did Wynnette, was gone
across the sea! And she knew nothing--poor child!--of the chain the man
had thrown around her mother's, his victim's, neck before he went away!
Mrs. Force had never told that dread secret to her daughter. It was not
necessary to do so, at least not yet, so she let Odalite recover her
cheerfulness and enjoy her life, if it were only in a fool's paradise.

So Odalite reveled in a fanciful freedom, which to her was delightfully
real.

Le looked at her, watched her, studied her.

Her eyes were bright with pleasure, her cheeks flushed with health, her
lips smiling in mirth, her step was so light that she seemed to dance
along the sands, and her voice was so fresh and cheerful that it was
impossible to believe that she cherished any other feeling on the subject
of her broken marriage than one of delight at her enfranchisement.

"Odalite," he said, at length, "you seem very happy."

"I am very happy," she replied, beaming.

"Then you have not the least regret for that----"

"There! Stop just there, Le, dear! Never mention that nightmare dream to
me while you live!" said Odalite, in a commanding but jubilant tone.

"Well, then, I won't. Goodness knows I