“It is love on the part of both of us,” replied the Englishman impulsively, taking her hand. “I never was content before. I went roving over the earth trying to end my life at sea or in balloon voyages, but now I only want to be with you. I have never dreamed that I could be so happy or that I would meet any one so beautiful as you are.” Bernardino's delight showed itself in blushes on her face, and Thorndyke, unable to restrain himself, put his arm around her and drew her to his breast and kissed her. She sprang up quickly and he saw that she was trembling and that all the color had fled from her face. “What is the matter?” he asked, in alarm. At first she did not answer, but only looked at him half-frightened, and then covered her face with her hands. He drew them from her face and compelled her to look at him. “What is the matter?” he repeated, a strange fear at his heart. “You have broken one of the most sacred laws of our country,” she faltered, in great embarrassment; “my father would punish me very severely if he knew of it, and he would banish you; for, to treat me in that manner, as his daughter, is regarded as an insult to him.” “I beg your pardon most humbly,” said the contrite Englishman. “It was all on account of my ignorance of your customs and my impulsiveness. It shall never happen again, I promise you.” Her face brightened a little and the color came back slowly. She sat down again, but not so near Thorndyke, and seemed desirous of changing the subject. “And do you love the man my father has transported?” she questioned. “Yes, he is a good, faithful fellow, and it is hard to die so far away from friends.” “We must try to save him, but I cannot now think of a safe plan. The police are very vigilant.” “Where was he taken?” “Into the darkness behind the sun--beyond the wall of which I spoke.” A flush of shame came into Thorndyke's face over the remembrance that he had made no effort to aid poor Johnston, and was sitting listening with delight to the conversation of Bernardino. He rose suddenly. “I must be doing something to aid him,” he said. “I cannot sit here inactive while he is in danger.” “Be patient,” she advised, looking at him admiringly; “it is near night; see, it is the gray light of dusk; the sun is out of sight. To-night, if possible, I shall come to you. Perhaps I shall approach you without disguise if you are in the throne-room and my father does not object to my entertaining you, but for the present we must separate. Adieu.” He bowed low as she turned away, and joined the throng that was passing along outside. An officer approached him. It was Captain Tradmos, who bowed and smiled pleasantly. “I congratulate you,” he said, with suave pleasantness. “Upon what?” Thorndyke was on his guard at once. “Upon having pleased the king so thoroughly. No stranger, in my memory, has ever been treated so courteously. Every other new-comer is put under surveillance, but you are left unwatched.”