"I and my servant will await you there, mademoiselle. At least two men
shall do their utmost to protect you."

He picked up her mask which had fallen to the floor.

"Will you fasten it for me?" she said.

It was rather clumsily done. His fingers trembled a little as they
touched her hair. He was very close to her; her personality, the faint
perfume about her, took fast hold of him. What manner of man could this
Lucien be who had won the love of such a woman as this?

He put on his own mask, and then taking up the lantern followed her back
along the narrow stone passage. As she came to the corridor she stopped.

"Let me go alone," she said. "To-night we will not meet again. To-morrow
at dawn."

Barrington did not return to the ballroom, but after lingering in the
great hall for a few minutes with a view of deceiving any one who might
be watching his movements, he left the château. So far he had fulfilled
his oath, but he had discharged it only to accept a much greater
responsibility. To-morrow he would be riding towards Paris, the cavalier
of a beautiful aristocrat. The position must be full of danger for him;
truly it was thrust upon him against his will, yet there was an
elasticity in his step as he went back to his lodgings which suggested
compensations in the position. By a strange chain of circumstances,
Jeanne St. Clair had come into his life; there was something added to
the mere fact of living, whether of joy or pain he could not determine,
but he was very sure that his outlook upon life could never be quite the