The Soul Stealer

inted, Marjorie Poole sat alone in the drawin

med in delicate white arabesques, and much gilding woven into the pattern. The

air of repose, of size and comely proportion in this delightful room. Here, an old French clock clicked merrily, there were two or thr

book in her hand. The book was in her hand indeed, but she was not reading it. Her eyes were fixed

fussing round her and her lover generally skilful in doing all that was

the words when Sir William told her that the very thoughts that she was thinking at that moment were being in some mysterious way

, whatever they might be, were known to him, she need fear no longer. "There was no one," he said, "observing any record

ng how complex life was, how irrevocable the mistakes

f a great love for a man. From all her suitors she had chosen the one who most satisfied her intellectual aspirations, who seemed to her the one that

waiting because Guy Rathb

the post by which all his letters usually came, and she had been impatient at its non-arri

ung people round her, and feeling that now Marjorie's future was satisfactorily settled, there was no need to

ng of him, the butler showe

flushing a litt

s not well to-night, and so she's gone

without an answer in words. He loo

g over eyes that were alert and bright, robbing the upper part of his face of a too juvenile suggestion. His head was covered with dark red curls, and he had the walk and movements of perfect health and great physical power, that had once led

, health, and a good brain. It was not the concentrated fo

that here indeed was the one man that would satisfy her life for ever and a day. He was not famous, he was clever without having a grea

r, when he turned and look

g very serious, very serious indeed. I am glad La

oughtn't to say M

me Guy for a good long time now, a

e, hearty and spontaneous that once more that furiously beating hear

s hair, and his face immediately b

e come here to say something which is awfully difficult to say. I've fought it out with myself, and I've wondered if I should be a bounder in saying it. I'm afraid I'm going to say something that a gentleman oughtn't to say. I don't know. I really don't know. But somethin

ow. "Yes," she said

very important. A year ago, if anybody had told me that I was going to talk to a girl who was engaged to another man

ng to well up in her eyes. She hated herself for this visible emotion; she did her best to control it, but it w

forceful, manly and young, an

't know how, but I'm certain, and nothing in the world could persuade me I wasn't, that I'm the man who was made for you, and that you're the girl who was mad

a break in his voice;

stake-" He was kneeling now by the side of her chair. His arms stole round her, she made no motion

ly and happily. With no word of avowal spoken, she gave herself to him at that moment. He had felt, and his whole body was

mselves and each other for the first time. It wasn't romantic, exactly, there wa

king about

have to face all the opposition of everybody, of your people, of society and the world generally. And I can't help; you'll have to go through

oth her hands upon his shoulders

a man who knew and had done so much. But now the mere thought of that companionship fills me with fear. Not fear of him, but fear of the treachery I should have done my nature and myself if I had married him. I don't know what will happen, but here and now, Guy, whatever may be the outcome, I tell you that I love you, a

ing her farewell. He knelt before her and t

whatever may be in store in the immediate future I shall be watching and waiting, I shall be guarding you and shielding you as well as I can, and if things com

he was pledged to serve. And when he was gone, and she was alone in her room up-stairs, Marjorie was filled with a joy and exhilaration such as she ha

ds her. Then she saw her lover as a knight in armour cutting upwards with a gleaming sword until the cloud departed and r