"Yet," he mused, even as he heard Van Ryk telling her how he charged himself henceforth with all care of her property and affairs; how, in truth, he would regard himself as her steward and agent in Liége until brighter days should dawn, "yet, if I am betrayed, if I die here, I lose more than my life, more than that life is worth; while she--ah! no--I may not dream nor hope as yet to win what I desire. Though still--still I fain would hope that this life of mine may grow precious to her--that she would as little part from me as I from her. If it should be so! If it should!" They had all risen now, and were once more making their way towards the thicket by the stables, Mynheer Van Ryk walking with Madame de Valorme and Bevill by Sylvia's side; and as they went, he said to her: "There is one fear within my heart, one dread that I would have allayed. May I ask a question, hoping to receive an answer to it from you?" "Ask," Sylvia replied, looking at him in the starlight, while, since she herself was tall, her eyes were not so far from his but that he could gaze easily into them. "You do not set out upon this journey, do not leave Liége on my account alone!" he said now. "I could not bear to deem that you are going on a perilous journey--for perilous it may be--only to ensure the safety of one who, perhaps foolishly then, placed himself in a position of which there was no need." "Then--And now?" Sylvia murmured. "But who now regards the enterprise he undertook as--it may well be so--the happiest, the best determination he ever embarked upon. Ah! answer me, Sylvia." "I set out to-morrow night," the girl replied, "because I fain would quit Liége--because I would be gone from out of it at once. The place thrusts against my desires, my wishes--ay, all my hopes of--happiness--to come. Ask me no more since I have answered you. Farewell," holding out her slim, white hand to him. "Farewell until to-morrow night. You will not fail, I know." "I shall never fail you. Farewell. Goodnight." CHAPTER XXI. The next night was already very quiet, although it still wanted some time ere ten should strike from St. Lambert's and all the other clocks of the city. Van Ryk had spoken truly when he said that by this time most of the Liégois were in their homes, though some who had not yet retired to them were on the various bridges over the streams running through the city from the Meuse. For the night had grown almost insufferably hot, and the interiors of many of the houses, which were built of timber and stood in narrow, stuffy streets, were not inviting. Also, some few were strolling about or seated on the quays. Outside the Prince's palace--which was that of the Prince-Bishop--there were, however, scarcely any persons about, and those only beggars, who sometimes at night crept into the outer cloisters to sleep.