now, with General Wragge as sole escort. It was the
only way to hoodwink useless public gossip."

"And will we be then so soon separated?" cried Nadine, clinging to her
kinswoman, in a tremble of yearning love. "For you must go out with your
husband to India. You must tell me of my mother, her life, her home, and
I must see where she lies."

"Ah, my darling," said Alixe, "we will all go on to my home--your home,
at Jitomir, my castle in Volhynia. Your own yet to be. There, Anson
and I will leave you and Major Hardwicke for your honeymoon. There, my
dearest child, where your own mother's sweet face still looks down from
the walls. Where the Russian violets and Volhynian forget-me-nots bloom
around her tomb, where you will see her name carved in the memorials of
a princely line as 'Valerie, Princess Troubetskoi.' There, I will tell
you the whole story."

An April rain of loving tears silenced the girl's voice, as she looked
out of the carriage window, and saw Major Hardwicke riding after them.
"Tell me no more, now, Darling Alixe," murmured Nadine, "I must have
peace--even in this moment of happiness!" Her thoughts went back to the
day when Harry Hardwicke had ridden "Garibaldi" straight to the rescue,
in her moment of deadly peril, and his saber had fended off the huge
cobra. And so, they journeyed on silently-linked in love, dreaming
tender dreams.

In the western skies, the sun was sinking over the purpled sea, as they
drove down to Edgemere, and the glow of the dying day lingered upon the
beautiful hills of Jersey. For the wild storm was quieted and the sea
shone as a sapphire zone. Golden gleams lit up stern old Mount Orgueil
and gray Fort Regent, and tenderly tinted the rugged outlines of the
moss-grown Elizabeth Castle. All nature dreamed in the peaceful, even
fall. On the sea, white sails were flitting afar, and the swift steamers
passed grandly on toward their distant havens. There was a group
gathered in the splendid gardens of Edgemere as General Wragge gallantly
advanced.

The silver-haired veteran graciously surrendered his command, as he
aided his guests to alight. "This is to be 'Bride's Hall,' and not a
'place of arms'! You are now joint commanders, and so make the best use
of your three days liberty! I give up my sword!"

That night, while Nadine Johnstone sat in a heart exchange of confidence
with Justine Delande and the fair woman--no longer Berthe Louison--while
Flossie Murray was playing hoste