“Ah!  Thank you for those words,” he said, in a broken voice.  “I feared that you might think because of my flight that I was guilty.”

“I know you are not.  Mother, of course, says all sorts of nasty things—­that you must have done something very wrong—­and all that.”

“My escape certainly gives colour to the belief that I am in fear of arrest.  And so I am.  Yet I swear that I never attempted to harm the lady at the Villa Amette.”

“But why did you go there at all, dear?” the girl asked.  “You surely knew the unenviable reputation borne by that woman!”

“I know it quite well,” he said.  “I expected to meet an adventuress—­but, on the contrary, I met a real good woman!”

“I don’t understand you, Hugh,” she said.

“No, darling.  You, of course, cannot understand!” he exclaimed.  “I admit that I followed her home, and I demanded an interview.”

“Why?”

“Because I was determined she should divulge to me a secret of her own.”

“What secret?”

“One that concerns my whole future.”

“Cannot you tell me what it is?” she asked, looking into his face, which in the moonlight she saw was much changed, for it was unusually pale and haggard.

“I—­well—­at the present moment I am myself mystified, darling.  Hence I cannot explain the truth,” he replied.  “Will you trust me if I promise to tell you the whole facts as soon as I have learnt them?  One day I hope I shall know all, yet——­”

“Yes—­yet—­what?”

He drew a deep breath.

“The poor unfortunate lady has lost her reason as the result of the attempt upon her life.  Therefore, after all, I may never be in a position to know the truth which died upon her lips.”

For nearly two hours the pair remained together.  Often she was locked in her lover’s arms, heedless of everything save her unbounded joy at his return, and of the fierce, passionate caresses he bestowed upon her.  Truly, that was a night of supreme delight as they held each other’s hands, and their lips met time after time in ecstasy.

He inquired about George Sherrard, but she said little.  She hesitated to tell him of the incident while fishing that morning, but merely said: 

“Oh!  He was up here for two or three days, but had to go back to London on business.  And I was very glad.”

“Of course, dearest, your mother still presses you to marry him.”

“Yes,” laughed the girl.  “But she will continue to press.  She’s constantly singing his praises until I’m utterly sick of hearing of all his good qualities.”

Hugh sighed, and replied: 

“All men who are rich are possessed of good qualities in the estimation of the world.  The poor and hard-up are the despised.  But, after all, Dorise,” he added, in a changed voice, “you have not forgotten what you told me at Monte Carlo—­that you love me?”

“I repeat it, Hugh!” declared the girl, deeply in earnest, her hand stealing into his.  “I love only you!—­you!”