ied that already!" Paul almost said. But he caught himself
in the nick of time.

"How can I ever thank you enough?" he said as he rose to go. "You saw
Mademoiselle yourself before she went?" he asked.

"No. She left hurriedly this morning, very early, before my return. My
maid told me that she had gone back to her home."

With grateful words Paul made his adieu and hurried away. The door had
scarcely closed behind him when a footman entered the morning-room. In
his hand he carried a small tray--and on it there lay a letter.

"A note which Mademoiselle Vseslavitch directed me to give you,
Madame," he said.

The Countess opened it.

"DEAR LADY:

"I am going home. Forgive my seeming rudeness. You know my
moods too well, I think, not to understand that I have
suddenly felt the call of the _steppe_. And I charge you, my
old friend, as you love me, tell no one of my whereabouts.
Ever your devoted

"NATALIE."

That was all.

"This note, Francois--why was it not given me before?" she asked the
footman sharply.

"Ah, pardon Madame--they did not tell me you had returned until just
now. And Mademoiselle charged me to deliver it to you with my own
hands."

The Countess motioned him away. Had she been indiscreet to take Sir
Paul so quickly into her confidence? It was still not too late,
probably, for a messenger to catch him at the _Hotel du Rhin_ before
he left. He was too much a gentleman, she knew, not to consider as
unsaid the information she had given him, if she asked it of him.

"_Pouf_!" she exclaimed, with a shrug. "This is but the whim of a girl
who does not know her own mind. Come--I will be a consistent fatalist.
The affair is out of my hands. After all, it is just what I have long
wished--though I never dreamed for such good fortune as that it would
be Sir Paul Verdayne. She'll simply have to forgive me"--and the
Countess smilingly hummed an old Dalmatian love-song as she left the
room.

Meanwhile, Paul paced the floor of his sitting-room impatiently while
Baxter packed his luggage. A strange exultation moved him, and he
dreamt of joy and love. To him, his dreams were more than mere
bubbles--before his eyes lay all the glory of the earth, and a whole
Heaven besides. Ah! if the good god-mother could only have endowed him
with seven-leagued boots! He could scarcely wait for the long journey
to be finished. And it had not yet begun.

"Hurry, Baxter!" he called, as he