as sudden and as great was the rebound into despair.

"You will not send for me, be assured of that," I said with finality;
and we spoke no more.

I took the oars and plied them vigorously. I was in haste to end
the situation. Tomorrow I must think of my departure, and, as I
rowed, I pondered the words that had passed between us. Not one
word of love had there been, and yet, in the very omission of it,
avowal had lain on either side. A strange wooing had been mine - a
wooing that precluded the possibility of winning, and yet a wooing
that had won. Aye, it had won; but it might not take. I made fine
distinctions and quaint paradoxes as I tugged at my oars, for the
human mind is a curiously complex thing, and with some of us there
is no such spur to humour as the sting of pain.

Roxalanne sat white and very thoughtful, but with veiled eyes, so
that I might guess nothing of what passed within her mind.

At last we reached the chateau, and as I brought the boat to the
terrace steps, it was Saint-Eustache who came forward to offer his
wrist to Mademoiselle.

He noted the pallor of her face, and darted me a quick,
suspicion-laden glance. As we were walking towards the chateau--

"Monsieur de Lesperon," said he in a curious tone, "do you know that
a rumour of your death is current in the province?"

"I had hoped that such a rumour might get abroad when I disappeared,"