“You are right, my dear lady,” he said. “I have no claim to your forbearance for my outrageous humours. I have offended you, insulted you, spoken to you as no man should speak to any woman. I cannot even ask you to forgive me, and, if I tell you that I am sorry, you will not believe me. Why should you? But you are right. This cannot go on. Rather than run the risk of again showing you my abominable temper, I will go away.” His voice trembled and his bright eyes seemed to grow dull and misty. “Let this be our parting,” he continued, as though mastering his emotion. “I have no right to ask anything, and yet I ask this of you. When I have left you, when you are safe for ever from my humours and my tempers and myself--then, do not think unkindly of Keyork Arabian. He would have seemed the friend he is, but for his unruly tongue.” Unorna hesitated a moment. Then she put out her hand, convinced of his sincerity in spite of herself. “Let bygones be bygones, Keyork,” she said. “You must not go, for I believe you.” At the words, the light returned to his eyes, and a look of ineffable beatitude overspread the face which could be so immovably expressionless. “You are as kind as you are good, Unorna, and as good as you are beautiful,” he said, and with a gesture which would have been courtly in a man of nobler stature, but which was almost grotesque in such a dwarf, he raised her fingers to his lips. This time, no peal of laugher followed to destroy the impression he had produced upon Unorna. She let her hand rest in his a few seconds, and then gently withdrew it. “I must be going,” she said. “So soon?” exclaimed Keyork regretfully. “There were many things I had wished to say to you to-day, but if you have no time----” “I can spare a few minutes,” answered Unorna, pausing. “What is it?” “One thing is this.” His face had again become impenetrable as a mask of old ivory, and he spoke in his ordinary way. “This is the question. I was in the Teyn Kirche before I came here.” “In church!” exclaimed Unorna in some surprise, and with a slight smile. “I frequently go to church,” answered Keyork gravely. “While there, I met an old acquaintance of mine, a strange fellow whom I have not seen for years. The world is very small. He is a great traveller--a wanderer through the world.” Unorna looked up quickly, and a very slight colour appeared in her cheeks. “Who is he?” she asked, trying to seem indifferent. “What is his name?” “His name? It is strange, but I cannot recall it. He is very tall, wears a dark beard, has a pale, thoughtful face. But I need not describe him, for he told me that he had been with you this morning. That is not the point.” He spoke carelessly and scarcely glanced at Unorna while speaking. “What of him?” she inquired, trying to seem as indifferent as her companion.