He laughed lightly. "Not afraid, little one?"
"Not afraid, Lucian, no; but I can't explain or describe my feelings. I suppose I need rest; that is all."
"That is all, depend upon it; and here we are. One kiss, Madeline, the last till to-morrow."
He folded her tenderly in his arms, and then sprang lightly from the carriage.
Up and down, far as the eye could see, the street lamps glittered, and as Madeline stepped from the carriage she observed another roll away. High above her loomed the great hotel, and after midnight though it was, all here was life and bustle. The scene was novel to the half bewildered girl. Clinging to her lover's arm, she entered the reception-room and, sitting opposite the door, saw a form pass in the direction Lucian had taken, as he went to register her name and order for her "all that the house could afford."
"I did not give your real name, because of your step-father, you know," said Lucian, upon his return. "I registered you as Miss Weir, that name being the first to occur to me."
She looked a trifle disturbed, but said nothing. A few words more and a servant appeared.
"To conduct you to your room," said Lucian.
Together they moved towards the door; there he lifted his hat, with profound courtesy, and said in a very audible tone: "Good-night, Miss Weir; I will call to-morrow noon; pleasant dreams."
"To-morrow noon," she echoed.