told you I was
a magician, Lady Una; but you wouldn't believe me at all."

She confronted him with a sudden fury that marvellously reinforced her
failing courage.

"You lie, sir!" she cried, stamping passionately upon the soft earth. "I
do none of these things. I have never hated him. I have never shrunk
from his touch. We have not understood each other, perhaps, but that is
a different matter, and no concern of yours."

"He has not made you happy," said the jester persistently. "You will
never go back to him now that you are free!"

"I will go back to him!" she cried stormily. "How dare you say such a
thing to me? How dare you?"

He came nearer to her.

"Listen!" he said. "It is deliverance that I am offering you. I ask
nothing at all in return, simply to make you happy, and to teach you the
blessed magic which now you scorn. Faith! It's the greatest game in the
world, Lady Una; and it only takes two players, dear, only two players!"

There was a subtle, caressing quality in his voice. His masked face was
bending close to hers. She felt trapped and helpless, but she forced
herself to stand her ground.

"You insult me!" she said, her voice quivering, but striving to be calm.

"Never a bit!" he declared. "Since I am the truest friend you have!"

She drew away from him with a gesture of repulsion.

"You insult me!" she said again. "I have my husband, and I need no
other."

He laughed sneeringly, the insinuating banter all gone from his manner.

"You know he is nothing to you," he said. "He neglects you. He bullies
you. You married him because you wanted to be a married woman. Be
honest, now! You never loved him. You do not know what love is!"

"It is false!" she cried. "I will not listen to you. Let me go!"

He took a sudden step forward.

"You refuse deliverance?" he questioned harshly.

She did not retreat this time, but faced him proudly.

"I do!"

"Listen!" he said again, and his voice was stern. "Sir Roland Brooke has
returned home. He knows that you have disobeyed him. He knows that you
are here with me. You will not dare to face him. You have gone too far
to return."

She gasped hysterically, and tottered for an instant, but recovered
herself.

"I will--I will go back!" she said.

"He will beat you like a labourer's wife," warned the jester. "He may do
worse."

She was swaying as she stood.

"He will do--as he sees fit," she said.

He stooped a little lower.

"I would make you hap