Nay, Sir Godwin; when you love me--not before; and you will never love me--until I am dead." Snatching a bloom of the lilies into her hand, the hand that he had kissed, Masouda pressed it convulsively against her breast, till the red juice ran from the crushed flower and stained her like a wound.

Then she glided away, and was lost in the storm and the darkness..