Perhaps, however, I am using a wrong expression.  I ought not to have said “we.”  I cannot say that I enjoyed myself very much.  My life was strange and disappointing.  More than that, the calamities I dreaded did not take place, but the absence of those calamities brought me no satisfaction.  And thus, while all the rest laughed and were joyful, I was solitary and sad.  Once or twice I thought of leaving Temple Hall, but I could not bring myself to do so.  I should be leaving the woman I was each day loving more and more, to the man who knew no honour, no mercy, no manliness.

During these days I was entirely free from Voltaire’s influence, as free as I was before I saw him.  He always spoke to me politely, and to a casual observer his demeanour towards me was very friendly.  Kaffar, on the other hand, treated me very rudely.  He often sought to turn a laugh against me; he even greeted me with a sneer.  I took no notice of him, however—­never replied to his insulting words; and this evidently maddened him.  The truth was, I was afraid lest there should be some design in Voltaire’s apparent friendliness and Kaffar’s evident desire to arouse enmity, and so I determined to be on my guard.

I was not so much surprised at my freedom from the influence he had exercised over me the day after I had placed myself under his power, and for a reason that was more than painful to me.  Miss Forrest avoided ever meeting me alone, never spoke to me save in monosyllables, and was cold and haughty to me at all times.  Many times had I seen her engaged in some playful conversation with some members of the party; but the moment I appeared on the scene her smile was gone, and, if opportunity occurred, she generally sought occasion to leave.  Much as I loved her, I was too proud to ask a reason for this, and so, although we were so friendly on Christmas Day, we were exceedingly cold and distant when New Year’s Eve came.  This, as may be imagined, grieved me much; and when I saw Voltaire’s smile as he watched Miss Forrest repel any attempt of mine to converse with her, I began to wish I had never set my foot in Temple Hall.

And yet I thought I might be useful to her yet.  So I determined to remain in Yorkshire until she returned to London, and even then I hoped to be able to shield her from the designs which I was sure Voltaire still had.

New Year’s Day was cold and forbidding.  The snow had gone and the ice had melted; but the raw, biting wind swept across moor and fen, forbidding the less robust part of the company to come away from the warm fires.

I had come down as usual, and, entering the library, I found Miss Forrest seated.

“I wish you a happy new year, Miss Forrest,” I said.  “May it be the happiest year you have ever known.”  She looked around the room as if she expected to see some one else present; then, looking up at me, she said, with the happy look I loved to see, “And I heartily return your wish, Mr. Blake.”