She saw me first, and her lips curved sweetly. She rose in a leisurely fashion, turned her back to me and dropped a low curtsy to Wrexler; then while I still watched, she extended one slender hand to him. He bent over it, his lips touched its soft whiteness. A little laugh like the tinkle of silver bells swept through the garden; then she was gone. Wrexler stood like a man in a trance. I came quickly forward. "You are playing with fire!" I cried. Wrexler roused. "You saw?" I nodded. "Have you ever seen anything more beautiful, more lovely?" I shook my head. "I'm not afraid any more. She has promised me----" But what Helene had promised I was not to know, for Wrexler's mouth shut with a snap. When I pressed him, he shook his head. Finally he said, carefully choosing his words with a reluctance that was strange to him: "To me is to be granted something beyond the knowledge of mortal man. I can tell you no more, but some day you will know." There was an expression on his face that transcended earth. The next night I spoke to de Lacy and told him my fears. Wrexler was spending more and more time in the rose garden. I hardly saw him, and he would not discuss anything with me. Even at the stately, elegantly served meals, he barely spoke. He always seemed to be listening, waiting. De Lacy shared my fears, but he suggested nothing to help. "He has been marked, my lord," he said gravely. "We can only pray. But even in prayers there is no refuge, for Helene is beyond such things." "Surely----" I began to remonstrate. "The power of evil is as strong as the power of good, or at least there is little between them. Helene herself is bound fast by hate of Black George." Curses live, I knew that--witness the lasting quality of the curses and spells of the Egyptian priests. But Helene was not evil. I said as much. De Lacy shook his head. "She is cut off from her lover. She does not feel kindly toward men. Remember she promised vengeance century after century, that day in the great hall." That night in the silence of my chamber I called her name. "Helene! Helene!" I flung my agonized summons into the night, but there was no answer. I went over in my mind the tales de Lacy had told me of the havoc she had caused; how one man had cast himself down from the highest turret, crying her name; how another had been found dead in the rose garden, horror frozen on his face. There were still others who had looked upon her, and death or madness came as the result. The more I thought of these tales of terror, the more I feared for Wrexler. At last I could stand no more. I thrust my arms into the rich velvet robe that had taken the place of my bath gown, and went to Wrexler's room. The guards stood back to let me pass. * * * * * I did not mean to wake him, but some inner foreboding made me feel I must know that he was safe.