She rose and turned to the writing-table by the window, then drawing the
blind aside a little she began rapidly to write. When she had finished,
without reading the missive over, she went and placed it with a flat
leather jewel-case on her pillow beside Paul. And soon she commenced a
madness of farewells--all restrained and gentle for fear he should awake.

"My love, my love," she wailed between her kisses, "God keep you
safe--though He may never bring you back to me."

Then with a wild, strangled sob, she fled from the room.




CHAPTER XX


A hush was over everything when Paul first awoke--the hush of a hot, drowsy
noontide.

He stretched out his arm to touch his loved one, as was his custom, to draw
her near and envelop her with caresses and greeting--an instinct which came
to him while yet half asleep.

But his arm met empty space. What was this? He opened his eyes wide and sat
up in bed. He was alone--where had she gone? He had slept so late, that was
it. She was playing one of her sweet tricks upon him. Perhaps she was even
hiding behind the curtain which covered the entrance to the side loggia
where they were accustomed to breakfast. He would look and see. He rose