Why fret about them if to-day be sweet!-Omar Khayyam.

The great grey breakers heaved themselves skywards, paused for half a second, split and crashed down upon the rocks the next morning as Leonie and Jan Cuxson sat on the sands under the lowering sky.

They had argued, analysed, plotted, and planned, only to find that each road they launched out upon full of hope, terminated in the blind alley of the old man’s power over the girl.

“I’ve just got to go through with it,” said Leonie, “there is simply no way out.”

The man caught both hands in his.

“Dear heaven, how I love you, child! How I long to pick you up, as I did all those years ago, and carry you out of all this to happiness. Leonie! Leonie! You must marry me, I love you so.”

And she had sat quite still, not daring to move for fear of the mighty passion which surged about her.

Yes! Quite true! They had only met twice; but there is a certain kind of love, exceeding rare it’s true in Europe, which from an infinitesimal seed is capable in one second of blossoming into a tree, fruit and all, in the shade of which you can sit content until your life’s end.

It simply sprouts all over the East.

Wishing to prevent a conflagration Leonie spoke quite calmly as she withdrew her hands.

“And I couldn’t marry you, even if I were free, because-at times-as I have just told you-they say that I-I-am not responsible for my actions? I’m-I’m supposed to be-

“Be quiet!”

Cuxson pulled her fiercely into his arms, crushing her cheek against his.

“Tell me all, every detail.”

They sat there as the tide went out, and the man registered the facts of the tragic tale in his mind, eager to be out on the trail of the mystery overshadowing the girl he loved.

“Mad!” he laughed when she had finished, “mad!-no more than I am, and I’m sane enough in all conscience except in my love for you. I shall go to India, and wring or bribe the truth out of that ayah. But we needn’t worry about the date of starting yet a while, and between then and now we shall have found a way out of this seeming impasse. What is it?”

Leonie had twisted herself suddenly out of his arms, looked over her shoulders and shivered.

“It is what I was telling you about, a sensation of someone standing close behind me.”

“It’s nothing, Leonie, just imagination,” said Jan Cuxson.

For how could he see a certain high caste native of India walking slowly down the gangway from the great ship just docked at Tilbury, and smiling inscrutably as he placed his foot in the country which held the white woman he sought?

Leonie turned her head quickly, and shivered again, violently.

“It was just as though someone had called me,” she said, speaking just above a whisper.

“Look at me, dear!”

Leonie looked straight into the honest grey eyes, and the fear died out of her own as she met the steady gaze.

“I’m slow, dear, dead slow, plodding I suppose they’d call me, but once I’m on to something I never let go until I’ve won. Things are black, sweetheart, but something is telling me that I shall find a way out. When-when is-

Leonie lied.

It was beyond her power of will to place a limit to her sudden newborn happiness; she would not give a definite date, and relying on the certainty that the man would never allow anyone to gossip to him about the wedding, she lied-deliberately.

“Oh! there’s plenty of time, don’t let’s talk about it.”

She sprang to her feet and flung out her arms to the sea.

“Let’s forget, Jan, let’s forget! Let’s steal something from Fate and be happy. Let’s be friends, pals; we can’t be anything else, because I am in honour bound. And-and-I’m so hungry “-she turned her radiant, laughing face to him-“I’ll race you to Barricane for tea.”

She was off as she spoke, with Cuxson close behind. They jumped from rock to rock, they slipped, they slithered, they splashed up to their knees in pools and out again.

The man did not break the compact when he caught her in the shadow of the wreck and drew her into the shelter of his arms.

“Pal!” he whispered. “Little pal!”

And she lay quite still until the thud of their hearts, caused by the strenuous exercise, had given place to the stronger, steadier beat of steadfast love; then she slipped down, ducked under his arms and was away, and her laugh was caught by the wind and blown back to him as he ran in hot pursuit.