I must fetch my map." He hurried across the hall.
"Come, M.Raoul," said Dorothea, stepping past her guest and leading the way, "by a small detour we can reach that end of the library which is least crowded." He followed without lifting his eyes, apparently lost in thought.

The atrium on this side opened on a corridor which crossed the front door, and was closed by a door at either end--the one admitting to the service rooms, the other to the library.

Flat columns relieved the blank wall of this passage, with monstrous copies of Raphael's cartoons filling the interspaces; on the other hand four tall windows, two on either side of the door, looked out upon the _porte cochere_, the avenue, and the rolling hills beyond Axcester.

By one of these windows M.Raoul halted--and Dorothea halted too, slightly puzzled.
"Ah, Mademoiselle, but there is one thing your brother forgets! What became of his happy colonists in the end?
He told us that early in the fifth century the Emperor Honorius--was it not ?--withdrew his legions, and wrote that Britain must henceforth look after itself.

I listened for the end of the story, but your brother did not supply it.
Yet sooner or later one and the same dreadful fate must have overtaken all these pleasant scattered homes--sack and fire and slaughter-- slaughter for all the men, for the women slavery and worse.