“Bid him come hither,” said the Princess with a sigh. “Tell him I am weary, and must beg of him to be quick about his business.” She seated herself on a swinging lounge, just above Alan, who could almost feel the sweetness of her presence, the fragrance of her breath. “Sweet Cousin,” said Kulmervan entering. “Nay, Kulmervan, say what you have to say quickly. My head is tired—my eyes weary.” “You have not been out to-day, my Chlorie?” “Not until this evening. I have carefully obeyed your instructions. Were my father here, I should not care. But I dare not run any risks in his absence. How is Waiko?” “Still very weak, my Princess. This evil one, this Alan, had contrived his evil work well. When I discovered Waiko a bandage was drawn tightly round his mouth, his nostrils were plugged with wool, and had I not entered when I did, serquor would have set in and Waiko would no more have laughed and played.” “Oh, it’s terrible,” breathed the Princess. “Why has sin thus entered our beautiful land? I have heard of treasons, and plots and miseries; but so far we have escaped. What is this stranger’s object, my Kulmervan?” “I know not all his treachery, my Chlorie, but—” “Why bring sorrow on Waiko’s family, and upon you, his friend?” “I do not understand, but his intentions are evil throughout. I heard him tell his kinsman Desmond, that even the person of Chlorie herself was not sacred to him, provided he worked his will.” “That is enough, Kulmervan,” she interrupted haughtily. “I will keep my cabin as you advise. Had I known in time, I should not have travelled home in his company. The Rorka, my father, will deal with this stranger, and the Hall of Sorrows will hold him safely, until he has been purged clean. Now good night.” “Chlorie,” said Kulmervan passionately. “I dare say much to you to-night. Will you not offer me the flower of love? I dare not ask you to wed me—you are Ipso-Rorka—’tis for you to choose. But know I love you, love you with all my soul. Will you not honour me by choosing me for your mate?” “Kulmervan,” said the Princess gently. “Why make me sad by all this useless talk? It can never be. I can place my hand in only one man’s—him I love. Him, alas, I have not yet met, but I do not love you, my Kulmervan. I never shall. Think, we played together in Hoormoori as babes, built palaces of sand by the sea, picked flowers and fondled our pets. We grew as brother and sister until you went to study with the Djoh, and I had to learn the lesson of royalty. No, my kinsman. I love you ’tis true, but not as a maid should love the man she mates, not as wife for husband, lover for lover. Let this be the last time you speak of such things, my Kulmervan. I will forget, and—” “But I want you—you—you—,” and Kulmervan strode close to her and placed his arms about her. “Let me go,” breathed the girl—but his lips were seeking hers.