I.

At first, I simply laughed the idea to scorn. I refused to regard it, even for a moment, in a serious light. I jested with myself about it, and became positively witty on the subject. I let slip no opportunity to cast ridicule upon it. My chief regret was that I had no acquaintance in town to whom I could expatiate on the complete absurdity of the suggestion. In default of this, I took out of my toilet drawer the nine square inches of cracked mirror before which I was accustomed to do my shaving and cravat-tying, and, gazing curiously at the heavy-browed, rugged-featured visage therein reflected, I sarcastically inquired of it how soon it intended getting its portrait painted on ivory, and hung in a locket round a fair lady's neck? I entreated it, with sardonic humour, to give an example of a winning smile—of an ardent glance—of a beseeching gaze. Then I threw myself in my chair, put my feet upon my table, filled my rankest pipe with my strongest tobacco, and while I smoked and lolled, I bade myself, with a hoarse chuckle of mockery, amend the rudeness and unconventionality of my manners, and abandon all selfish and offensive habits. In short, I did everything to prove the folly and groundlessness of this preposterous notion—except to forget it.

So went matters the first day. The following morning I arose to find myself quite as firm as before, but somewhat less disposed towards jocosity. I abused my imbecility with as much vigour as yesterday, but with fewer quips and humours. I began to see that, for such a fool as I had proved myself, stringent means were best; I ought to be too much ashamed of the affair to laugh at it or treat it lightly. Accordingly, I went about all day with a sour and malignant expression of countenance: whenever old Joanna, the maidservant, happened to venture into my apartments, I growled like a dangerous dog at her: and I gave her my orders that no visitor was to be admitted, and no letters or messages were to be brought up, in a tone of such energy and menace, that you would have thought my privacy was as important and as liable to intrusion as Chancellor Bismarck's: instead of which, the only person I knew in Dresden, after my six months' residence there, was the German-American banker; and it was not likely that he would give himself the trouble to visit me—no, indeed! for my whole yearly revenue (not including the sums received for my pictures, because I had never yet sold any) did not reach fifteen hundred thalers; and though I knew that at least twelve per cent. of this sum went into my German-American friend's pocket under the name of 'commission,' yet even that douceur would not suffice to bring him a mile and a half away into the outskirts of the Neustadt, and up three flights of dark and devious staircases, to pay me a complimentary call. However, had he, in spite of probability, actually made his appearance, I should not have hesitated, in my then state of mind, to kick him downstairs again.

Well, that day passed, and was followed by a restless and weary night; and I awoke in the morning to confront the fact that my attack had now lasted no less than forty-two mortal hours, and, so far from abating, showed every symptom of being on the increase.

I was now seriously alarmed. Here was I grappling with an insidious and potent enemy, who apparently knew all my weak places, and how to take advantage of them, but of the proper methods of defending myself against whom I was fatally and completely ignorant. I had done what I could, only to prove that I could do nothing: and in this case, doing nothing was not a negative but a positive evil. The more I pondered over my helplessness, the more disturbed did I become. What did it all mean? What should I do? What was to be the end of it?

I ate my breakfast of coffee and rolls in silence and humility: old Joanna had no cause whatever to complain of violent manifestations from me. I spoke to her submissively and gently. I even entertained the question whether it might not be prudent to lay the case before her and entreat her advice upon it. But shame prevented me; I could not steel myself to endure her gaze of incredulity deepening into contempt. No—as I had struggled in the solitude of my own heart, so in the same solitude would I suffer and submit. If I was really to become a slave, let me at least conceal my fetters. Joanna could not succour me, for she had never made the resolutions and embraced the principles that I had—only to see them, at this late day, violated and broken. In a word, I determined to hold my peace and to put the best face possible upon my discomfiture.

By the time I had arrived at this decision it was already afternoon, and my customary walking hour was at hand. Should I go out as usual, or not? I had refrained from going yesterday, but no good effects had come of my forbearance. On the other hand, if I found reason to remain at home to-day, the same reason would be in as good force to-morrow, and the day after; and the logical result must be that I should never go out at all. Now this was a prospect which I could not bring myself to contemplate. In the first place, I was naturally of an active and energetic temperament, and my health demanded plenty of vigorous exercise in the open air. Secondly, although my pride was fain to put up with the lot of a slave, I was scarcely as yet prepared to regard myself as a prisoner likewise: and finally, if I did go out, the chances were a hundred or perhaps a thousand to one that I did not meet her. Moreover, what if I did? I could not well be worse off than I was now; and there might be a remote possibility that a more deliberate scrutiny of the object of my infatuation would tend to my disenchantment.

Since I have thus betrayed my secret, I may as well pause here and make a thorough confession. Yes—there could be no doubt about it; I—Thomas Wyndham—was in love at last, and that, too, with a woman I did not know and who did not know me. Nothing could have been more inopportune, nothing more undesirable, nothing more impossible—but nothing was more certain! I loved. It had come upon me no less abruptly than overwhelmingly. A chance encounter in the street—a look—an indrawn breath—and I, who up to my five-and-twentieth birthday had laughed at scars, now felt a wound which not all the drowsy syrups of the East could medicine. There was no palliating feature in the case; it was not only love, it was love at first sight; it was not only love at first sight, it was love unrequited. And once more, the lover was Tom Wyndham!

But I perceive that some further explanation will be necessary. Although, then, as has been intimated, I had existed in this great, beautiful, and seductive world during more than a quarter of a century, I had remained all that time heart-whole; and though my immunity had never happened to cost me an effort, it was none the less in accordance with a certain hard-and-fast rule which I had long ago laid down for my guidance throughout life. This rule was, to uphold, at all times and against all comers, the dogma that a bachelor life was, for Tom Wyndham, the only proper, expedient, and dignified one. Marriage, so far as I was concerned, was against both my principles and my interest. I was an artist, to begin with, and in my opinion it was the duty of every true artist to live for his art alone, jealously eschewing whatever might tend to divide or alienate his devotion. His transactions with the sex, if any transactions there must be, should be strictly in the way of business; he might paint them, but never woo them. But beyond this, I was (or so I had fondly imagined) constitutionally and impenetrably proof against female fascinations. Like the famous Duke of Gloster, I was not formed for sportive tricks, nor made to court an amorous looking-glass. In other words, I had always been noted for my awkwardness and infelicity in women's society; and I could not doubt that I was as tiresome and oppressive to them as they were always terrible and often hateful to me. Here, then, were good and sufficient obstacles enough against matrimonial entanglements; and there were others behind. I was as poor as I was unattractive; I was destitute of the faculty of money-making, and I was as incapable of winning a rich wife by my personal merits as I should have been of living upon her bounty afterwards. In short, and not to multiply objections, confirmed bachelorhood was my category by every law, moral, mental, and material; notwithstanding which, I had committed the inconceivable imbecility of losing my heart and head at the same moment, and ... but it is enough that I lost my temper at the time; to lose it over again now would be undignified.

Let me rather record a few particulars of my previous history. My father had been a wealthy Englishman; he married the daughter of a rich American planter. My mother died when I, her only child, was but a few years old. My father returned to England after her death, and I was brought up there in the lap of luxury. I was sent to Rugby, and thence to Cambridge; and it was there I first met my cousin Floyd Wyndham—the son of my father's younger brother. We were as different as white and black, but we were the greatest friends in the world. There never was such a lovable fellow as Floyd, and he was the most popular man in our College, and, indeed, wherever he went. He had all the social graces and instincts that I lacked; it was as inevitable to him to charm people as it was to me to repel them; and the best of it was, his success never cost him the least effort—on the contrary, he rather turned up his nose at it. What he saw to like in me I'm sure I cannot imagine; but all the same he did love me with his whole heart, and would have done anything in the world to oblige me. Dear old Floyd! with your lazy blue eyes, your quiet, audacious manner, your drawl and your fun: what a contrast you were to me, to be sure!

I never knew anything of his family, there being some misunderstanding or other between my father and his; but our rooms at the College were contiguous, and we were together every day. There was a picture on the wall over his mantelpiece—a portrait of our maternal grandmother, and a lovelier face no painter ever drew. Whenever I dropped in to have a chat with Floyd, I used to sit where I could keep that face in view; it was the only woman's face I ever ventured or cared to look twice at. Floyd used to laugh, and say it was like me to be spoony on my own grandmother: adding, that he had a little sister growing up who was going to be exactly like her, and that I had better begin paying my addresses to her immediately. But, jesting aside, I honestly believe that the memory of that portrait had a good deal to do with my bachelorhood. As for Floyd's sister, I never had seen her or had the opportunity of testing her alleged resemblance.

About the middle of our third year at Cambridge, something happened. My father had a stroke of paralysis. I was summoned home, to find him speechless and helpless. I was not yet of age, and the property was under the management of our business agents—as, in fact, it had been during the last ten years. While I was waiting to see whether or not the malady were going to take a dangerous turn, a letter came from America; which I, my father being as he was, opened and read. It told me that my American grandfather was dead, and that his estates, valued at over a million of dollars, were bequeathed (with certain conditions which I need not specify) to myself.

This bequest gave me no pleasure, for I already had far more money than I knew what to do with. As I folded up the letter, the thought entered my mind, 'I wish Floyd had it!' For my cousin, who was intended by nature for another Monte Cristo, possessed barely more than sufficient means to keep up appearances withal. 'And why shouldn't he have it?' was my next inspiration; and with that I sat down in a chair to think it over.

If I were skilled in that sort of thing I dare say I might write a very interesting passage here. But since I am not, I will tell the upshot of my meditations in the fewest words possible. I made over my bequest to Floyd, arranging matters in such a way that he should be under the impression that it came to him direct from the testator, without my intervention. I said nothing about what I had done either to our own business agents, Messrs. Frisby and Faust, or to my father, who was not in a condition to hear anything yet. Everything being settled, and my father appearing to be on the mending hand, I went back to Cambridge, and dropped in quietly at Floyd's rooms.

The dear old boy was in great spirits, though, as his manner was, he showed little of it on the surface; but he told me what had happened, and I congratulated him with an artful assumption of surprise. He was going to start for America in a month, and 'run' his estate himself, leaving his father and sister in England. 'That sort of life wouldn't do for them, you know,' said he, leaning back against the mantelpiece and putting his hands in his pockets. 'But it'll suit me first-rate; I rather guess I'll make just about the everlastingest tip-top planter ever you see! Of course,' he added in his usual tone, 'the governor and Sis will come in for their full share of the plunder all the same: I mean to settle a hundred thousand sterling on her the first thing.'

We talked together till the small hours of the morning, and I must say I had never enjoyed an evening so much in my life. Floyd was just the fellow to be rich, and I had had the good luck to make him so without his being aware of it. At last we shook hands and said good-night, little thinking that we were not to meet again. But next morning came the telegram announcing my father's death. I went home by the next train. After the funeral came the crash. Old Mr. Frisby, the senior partner of the firm of our agents, came to me in a pitiable state of shame and anguish, with the news that Faust had stolen nearly the whole of my fortune, and had absconded none knew whither. If I realised what was left, it would amount to barely eight thousand pounds. In other words instead of being heir to twelve thousand a year, I must content myself with about two hundred and fifty.

I took pains to keep Floyd from any knowledge of my sudden poverty, because, especially should it ever chance to leak out that his estate was a present from me, I knew well enough what his generous heart would prompt him to do. So I let him sail for the New World without seeing me again. He remained on that side of the Atlantic; and after writing me one letter, which, upon reflection, I thought it best not to answer, we became lost to each other, so far as any communication was concerned. Nevertheless, I always thought of him as my dear and only friend, and I never doubted that I was as dear to him as he to me.

I may as well add, lest I should acquire a reputation for generosity which I was far from deserving, that my changed fortunes troubled me very little. In fact, I rather enjoyed the new order of things. I had always fancied I could paint pictures, and cherished a secret ambition to live by my brush. Here, then, was my opportunity. I went on the Continent; became a student of the Quartier Latin in Paris; wandered thence to Italy; and so, after several years of careless Bohemian existence, I found myself at length in Dresden. I hired part of a small third étage on the Bautznerstrasse, set up my easel, and divided my time between that, the Gallery, and the music gardens. For six months all went well; then happened the event whereof I am now to write, and which threatened to upset my plans, my ambition, my self-respect and my peace of mind. And now, my digressions having run themselves out, I can no longer put off recounting the mortifying particulars.

Really, now I am in for it, there seems to be next to nothing to tell. I had left my rooms, as usual, about half-past two in the afternoon, and passing through the Neustadt, I crossed the old bridge, and entered the Altstadt by way of the Georgen Thor. At the window of the Porzellan-Fabrik I stopped to look at a beautiful painted vase which was on exhibition within. While I was standing there, a lady and gentleman passed, and the lady, catching sight of the vase, made her companion pause while she examined it. I knew that this was occurring, though I did not turn my head to look. But as I was about to withdraw, I happened to see the dim reflection of the lady's face in the broad pane of the window. It struck me as being a face with which I was familiar. I turned, startled and by no means pleased, and gazed straight at her. The suddenness of my movement attracted her attention, and she returned my look for a moment. Did I know her! I turned red, pulled off my hat, and made my awkward obeisance. All I got in return for it was a half-puzzled, half-repellent glance of non-recognition. She was right, of course; I did not know her, after all. I must have been of a fine crimson by this time! But stop—could I be mistaken? Did I not know her?... Yes!—No!...

I suffered a misery of embarrassment and shame during these few moments. That is a good phrase of the Easterns—'My heart turned to water within me!' I appreciated it then in its full significance. I shall never know what I said or did, or how I escaped. When I came to myself I was walking rapidly along an allée of the Grosser Garten, muttering to myself with a kind of helpless iteration, 'Fool—fool—fool!'

As for my apparent recognition of her, it was perfectly inexplicable to me, turn it which way I would. I could neither account for having supposed that I did know her, nor for having been mistaken in my supposition. It was easy to say that I had never in my life met, much less been acquainted, with any young lady answering to her description: but it was just as undeniable that every feature in her face was as familiar to me as the Dresden Madonna or the Venus of Milo. Here were two certainties, in irreconcilable conflict with each other, and it was my unlucky lot to have stumbled between them. I began to have serious doubts whether I were not bewitched—whether my head were quite right. Could it be that my solitary habits, my unsociableness, my taciturnity, had begun to affect my reason? I am not exaggerating my feeling in the least. A genuine logical paradox is about the most appalling thing that can confront a man in this world. Leaving all consideration of my embarrassment and awkwardness out of the question, the predicament of being at odds—so to speak—with possibility, was beyond measure distressing.

However, I cooled down at last, and, wisely resolving to give the mystery time to resolve itself, I bent my steps towards the concert-ground and sat down at one of the vacant tables. The band struck up one of Mozart's Sinfonies. I was just beginning to forget my troubles in the music, when a slight stir near me attracted my notice, and looking round, what was my dismay to behold approaching the identical personages of my late adventure! Guided by fate, they sauntered on until they reached the very next table to my own. It happened to be the only disengaged one in the vicinity. They did not seem to see me at all; and after a few moments' deliberation, they sat down.

I have not yet attempted to describe them. The gentleman was a fine-looking old fellow of sixty or thereabouts, with ruddy cheeks, black eyes, and a broad white beard. He appeared to be, and evidently was, a well to-do English squire. The young lady, his daughter, is not so easily to be disposed of; in fact, it is folly to attempt describing her at all. Her father's face, though of a fine type, had nothing in it peculiar or remarkable; hers, on the contrary, was a face which, once seen, could never be forgotten or confounded with any other. Its contour was at once strong and delicate; and the maidenly dignity of the expression was tempered by the scarcely subdued sparkle of frolicsome spirits in the long blue eyes. Of crisp, golden-brown hair she had more than she well knew what to do with; it was packed and twisted all over her lovely head, with little regard to fashionable effect, but with a result of lavish splendour which I was unfashionable enough to prefer. Her complexion was darker than the colour of her eyes warranted; it had a glowing depth and intensity that Titian would have loved to imitate; so that, although you would not have called her cheek high-coloured, it made all other women's cheeks look dull and ineffectual. Her lips were clear red, and unspoken eloquence dwelt in their curves. In figure she was tall, alert, and somewhat slender.

Inadequate as I perceive this attempt at portraiture to be, I scarcely needed a glance at her, as she sat at that neighbouring table, to inform myself of every detail of her appearance. Her image seemed to have been present to my inner consciousness before I met her—to employ a metaphysical periphrasis for what was to me a very certain and definite fact. An hour previous to our encounter before the Porzellan Handlung, I could have taken my pencil and sketched the outline of her features as accurately as now that she was before me. The only difference between her and this strange anticipation of her (or whatever it was) in my mind was, as I now had leisure to observe, that her hair and eyes were a good many shades lighter than those of my forecast. The eyes that I had thought of were dark grey, almost black, and the crisp locks a deep lustreless brown.

The band was playing the second movement of the Sinfonie, and while the music lasted, she sat in quiet and pleased attention, her chin resting on her half-opened hand, and her glance directed musingly towards the little group of statuary that stands at the outer extremity of the concert-ground. The old gentleman, meanwhile, studied the programme and took a pull or two at the schoppen of beer which the kellner had brought him. When at length the intermission came, the two engaged in conversation, and then all the sparkle and mischievous charm of the young lady's face came to the surface; and if she had been beautiful before, her loveliness was now well-nigh intolerable. Presently the old gentleman lit a cigar, and, getting up from the table, walked off to smoke it, leaving his daughter temporarily alone.

It will not be necessary for me to observe at this point, that I was already in love: although I do not think I had yet realised the fact myself. Never having experienced any sensations of the kind before, I perhaps failed to attribute to them their full significance. But an incident which now occurred informed my ignorance. A guttural voice from somewhere behind me made itself heard above the low hum of general conversation round about. 'Ach Herrje!' it exclaimed, in a tone of impertinent admiration, 'was für eine Schönheit!'

I turned about in pure amazement, unable to believe that any human being could have the audacity to launch his impudence against this gracious paragon. But I could not doubt the evidence of my own senses. An overgrown young lieutenant of cavalry was sitting at a table close by, his hands resting on the hilt of his long sabre, and his pale-blue prominent eyes fixed insolently upon my young lady—I say, upon mine! There was in his manner an insufferable swagger and self-complacent conceit which would have been hard enough to put up with at any time, but which under these circumstances made my hands turn cold and my face hot with ire. I knew something of the fellow—he was a certain Von Wurst, reputed to be immensely rich, and he occupied the first étage of the same building whose sky parlour was dedicated to my muse. He had a scandalous reputation in Dresden as a gambler and libertine; and if I had never troubled myself to verify the reports of his ill-fame heretofore, I had not the least hesitation about believing the worst of them now.

But just as I was on the point of obeying the impulse I was under to clutch him by the scruff of the neck and kick him out of the grounds, it came upon me like a blow in the face that I had no business to interfere. Von Wurst had as yet done nothing actively unlawful, and the mere expression of his impertinent admiration was not a warrant for a perfect stranger to both parties, like myself, to pick a quarrel with him. Moreover, the young lady's father was not far off, and could be summoned in case of need; and finally, she herself did not appear to be frightened. She took not the slightest notice of Von Wurst, for, though looking straight towards him, her glance seemed to pass over him or through him without informing her of his existence—in a way which, had there been a grain of manly decency in his composition, would have made him wish the earth to swallow him: and nothing but a slight disdainful quiver of her upper lip betrayed that she had heard his remark at all. I restrained my wrath, therefore, as best I might, and contented myself with turning round in my chair and staring at the lieutenant in as offensive and insulting a manner as I could.

He noticed my behaviour, and doubtless divined the cause of it: and by way of showing, perhaps, how little he cared for my displeasure, he presently summoned the kellner and sent him off for a bouquet of flowers. The man soon returned with a very large and showy one.

'Take it to that Fräulein there,' said Von Wurst, with a leer of defiance at me, 'and present it to her with my compliments.'

The man looked rather frightened at this commission, but obeyed nevertheless, and laid the bouquet before the young lady with a deprecatory air and an inarticulate murmur.

By this time the attention of most of the people round about had been attracted, and everyone watched with interest to see what the young lady would do. As for me, I was pretty nearly at the end of my tether, and only awaited the first symptom of distress on her part to take the lieutenant by the throat. He could probably have settled me with one hand, but at the moment I forgot to think of that.

Amidst a general pause of suspense, the young lady quietly took up the bouquet and examined it critically. The colour in her cheeks deepened a shade, and her eyes sparkled beneath their lashes, but otherwise she betrayed no signs of uneasiness or indignation. At length she laid the flowers down, put her hand in her pocket, and pulled out her pocket-book.

The kellner shifted nervously from one leg to the other, and glanced hurriedly towards Von Wurst, whose insolent smile was losing itself in an expression of something like bewilderment.

The young lady opened the pocket-book, and took out of it a gold piece of the value of six thalers. Handing it to the astonished kellner, she said in German and in a low even tone, which was distinctly audible to all the curious listeners:

'I am not accustomed to buy flowers of pedlars, but I suppose this person must be very much in want of money, since he offers them to me in this way; so I will take them out of charity. Give him this, please, and send him away.'

There was dead silence for a moment; but as the unfortunate kellner turned to perform his new orders, one or two persons snickered, and others joined in, and almost immediately there was a universal explosion of derisive mirth at the gallant lieutenant's expense. 'Sacrament!' stuttered he, jumping to his feet, his clumsy features of a dull crimson hue, while he strove by an enraged stare to awe the laughers into silence. But it was in vain; others, hearing the uproar, hurried to the spot, and soon added their quota to the chorus of contemptuous merriment; and at last even the kellner pricked up the courage of numbers, and as he laid down the gold coin upon the lieutenant's table, he suffered a broad grin to make itself visible on his countenance likewise. At this juncture the white-bearded old gentleman came shouldering through the crowd, in a tempest of apprehension and wrath; on finding his daughter safe, he stood with one arm in hers, glaring round on every side in search of a foe. But the only individual who might have answered to that term had by this time taken his departure, pursued by the taunts and jeers of the whole assembly. And then the young lady, who, while unprotected, had borne herself so firmly, suddenly bent her lovely face against her father's shoulder and burst into tears. As he led her away, a low murmur of sympathy and admiration followed her; for although a Dresden crowd is in general anything but a gallant one, their hearts were thoroughly taken captive for once. For my part, my mind was a medley of emotions; I remained seated at my table with my head in my hands, unable to think coherently. Whether Mozart's Sinfonie was played to the end or not I am unable to say; at all events, I heard nothing of it. But towards evening I found myself at home; and then began the futile struggle against love and fate which I have already described.

I have also stated how, on the third day, resigning myself with the best grace I could to the inevitable, I prepared to make my customary afternoon stroll. I had accordingly put on my well-worn Tyrolese hat, and, grasping my walking-stick, was just about to issue forth—when a loud ringing at the hall entrance, soon followed by a firm step along the passage and a resounding knock at my own door, made me pause.

'Can it be the old gentleman?' flashed across my mind, and the thought fetched the heart into my mouth. 'Idiot!' I exclaimed the next instant, 'of course it can only be a messenger from that scoundrel Von Wurst, with an invitation to a duel. And by Heaven!' I added, flinging the door open savagely, 'there's no man in the world I shall have so much pleasure in shooting!'

II.

'Hold hard there, stranger!' cried a deep laughing voice, penetrated by a preposterous Yankee accent. 'You'd better keep your shirt on, I guess. If carving livers is your game, I'm thar; but——'

'Floyd!'

'Hullo, Tom! Ha, ha, ha! Why, you looked as wicked as a catamount for a moment.—Dear old chap, how goes it?'

We had grasped hands; but the next instant we threw our arms round each other, and hugged each other like a couple of Germans.

Floyd had grown an enormous moustache and was as thin and almost as brown as an Indian; but he was the same old Floyd, lazy, audacious, and full of fun. We sat down and gazed at one another in silence for more than a minute.

'How did you get here?' I asked at length.

'Well, I dropped round from the plantation. Tired of niggers—thought I'd take a rest. Want my portrait painted.'

'I never was so glad to see a fellow in my life!'

'So I thought, from the way you opened that door.'

'Six years since we parted, Floyd!'

'We never parted at all, if I remember right. You sneaked out of it—too proud to say good-bye to a purse-proud aristocrat like me, I suppose. Much obliged to you for the legacy, all the same.'

'What do you mean?'

'Nothing particular. I only found you out about three months ago. However, we'll come to that presently. Been enjoying yourself?'

'Oh, I'm all right—at least, until within the last two or three days,' I added, a little embarrassed.

'Ah! Well, you know you always were an eccentric chap; and it looks as if you hadn't changed much, so far as that goes. When a man with twelve thousand a year in the three-per-cents. takes to living in a German attic on six shillings a day, and painting pictures that won't sell for a living ... eh?'

'The fact is, I lost a good deal of money—after you left, you know: and—well, I see you must have heard something about it.'

'Me? Oh, no, don't imagine such a thing,' returned Floyd, with a lazy sparkle in his long mischievous eyes. 'I never hear anything, and never suspect anything; I just take things as they come, and never stop to ask where they come from. It wouldn't do, you see; I have such extraordinary luck. It isn't every man, I guess, who would have the luck to inherit a fortune of a million or so from a fellow who didn't know of his existence—and who thought all the time he was leaving it to somebody else. But, bless you! I think nothing of a thing like that.'

'What sort of a notion have you got into your head now?'

'A notion that you're a hypocrite, for one thing. But never mind for the present; time enough for me to walk into you to-morrow. I say, Tom, haven't you anything to wet a fellow's whistle with? Where I hail from, strangers liquor up when they meet.'

I laughed and rang for beer, which happened to be the only beverage at that moment subject to my orders. Old Joanna brought in bottles and glasses on a tray, and as she set the tray down, I observed that there was a note upon it, in a rather soiled envelope, though ornamented with a handsome monogram. I took no further notice of it at the time, my mind being occupied with other thoughts. The hints which Floyd had dropped made me uneasy. I could not doubt that he had by some means either found out the whole truth about my transfer of my grandfather's bequest, or at least learned enough of the circumstances to enable him to ask me very pertinent questions. And inasmuch as I possessed nothing of his command of countenance and readiness of wit and self-possession, it was plain that I was destined to let the cat out of the bag whenever he chose to make me do so. Be that as it might, I was resolved to allow of no readjustment of the property; and as I had reason to believe that my tenacity of purpose was fully equal to his, whatever my inferiority otherwise, I consoled myself as well as the case allowed.

Meanwhile Floyd had produced a gigantic cigar-case, which seemed to be the only thing in the way of luggage that he had brought with him, and held it towards me. The cigar which I laid hold of proved to be upwards of six inches in length and thick in proportion, while the aroma which proceeded from it, even before it was lighted, was such as would have made the least enthusiastic smoker devoutly bless his stars.

'They're wretched little things, I know,' murmured Floyd, as he stuck one of these brobdingnags into the corner of his mouth, and scratched a match. 'As a general thing, of course, I only smoke them before breakfast, or between courses at dinner. My regular weeds—the big ones—are in my trunk at the "Saxe." Raised 'em myself. Well, now go ahead, Tom, old man; let's see what sort of an account you can give of your adventures since the old Cambridge days—eh?'

Now my rejoicing at Floyd's unexpected arrival had been twofold: first, I was glad to see him for his own sake; secondly, because of the sympathy and advice which no man was better qualified than he to give me in my present love difficulty. In a word, I regarded him as sent by Providence especially to be made a confidant of. His proposal that I should give an account of myself since our last meeting afforded me a good opening whereby to lead comfortably up to the intended revelation. Such topics, when one is really serious and in earnest, require to be softly approached as well as delicately handled; and it seemed to me, now that I was actually face to face with my confession, that I could not begin too far back or work my way along too circumspectly.

Accordingly, I made my start in the extreme distance, and gossiped away volubly enough; but after a while I perceived that I was making very little headway. I dilated on unimportant matters, and was no nearer the crucial question than when I began. Instead of preparing Floyd's mind for what was to come, I was leading him off on entirely discordant lines of thought—if, indeed, he were attending at all to my narrative, and not rather following out a train of ideas of his own, under cover of the smoke-wreaths he was coiling about him.

Irritated at length both with myself and with him, I broke short off in the current of talk and said abruptly:

'By the way, Floyd, you haven't told me yet how you happened to turn up here in Dresden.'

'Ah—yes—is that all, then? A very interesting story too, my boy,' he grunted, with a yawn; and throwing his arms above his head, he indulged in a hearty stretch. It was too evident that he had not listened to a word. What, then, could be the subject of his extraordinary preoccupation?

'Ah—what was that you asked me? Oh, how I came here. Well, you know I wanted to find you.... But come, Tom, since you've made a clean breast of it, so will I. I'll make you my confidant, old fellow. The fact is, I'm here in a threefold capacity—as a friend, as a brother, and as a——humph!'

'A what?'

Floyd rose to his feet and sauntered to the window. A pot of heliotrope stood upon the sill, and he pulled off the largest cluster of blossoms, and began abstractedly to pick away the flowers. I began to have my suspicions as to what he meant, but I said nothing. After a pause he continued, keeping his face turned towards the window:

'Well, you see it's this way. In the first place, I decided to come over here on your account—the reason why I'll tell you presently. Then, thought I, I shall see Gwendolen (that's my sister, you know), whom I haven't met for I don't know how many years; and instead of letting her know I'm coming, I'll give her a surprise-party; appear before her unexpectedly—she falls into my arms with a shriek—and all that. Now, after my dear old governor's death——'

'Is he dead, Floyd?'

'Eighteen months ago—yes. Well, after that she wrote me that she was going to live at her uncle's—our mother's brother—a good fellow, I believe, though I never saw him. So, as soon as I landed in Liverpool, I went straight there. They weren't at home, and the house was locked up. I made inquiries, and was told that they had started on their travels about three months before, and the fellow in charge of the house said he believed they had intended to take a run on the Continent first and then go to America.'

'To give you a surprise-party, I suppose?'

'Yes. However, I thought I'd try the Continent first, for I knew you must be somewhere thereabouts, and I couldn't go back to America without you in any case. So I crossed over to Paris, and began beating up the ground carefully. By-and-by I came across some obscure intelligence about you; but not a word could I hear about Miss Gwendolen. I'm pretty well convinced, now, that she is this moment on my plantation in Maryland.'

'What a pity! I should like to have seen her, too.'

'Oh, I mean you shall some day, Tom; I'm told she's good-looking, though I can't speak to that on my own knowledge; in fact, if she is, she must be very much changed from the scrawny, freckled little fidget she used to be seven years ago. However, she's out of the question just at present. But....'

'You've accounted for yourself as a friend and a brother; now for the other thing—the "humph"?'

'You know, Tom,' said Floyd after some hesitation, knocking the ash from his cigar with the remains of the heliotrope blossom—'you know I never was like some fellows—susceptible—always falling in love, and all that sort of thing—eh?'

I could not help grinning at this exordium. Floyd, so long as my acquaintance with him had lasted, had been without exception the most fickle and incorrigible flirt I ever saw. He was always in and out of love, and his longest attachment seldom lasted six weeks. The effrontery with which he now recommended himself to my admiration as a model of continence in this respect was too much for even my gravity.

'I've known very few fellows like you, at all events,' was my non-committal reply; 'and from what I do know, I should think it very probable your time might have come, at last.'

'Well—only this is no laughing matter, mind you, Tom,' said Floyd, turning round upon me with a countenance of extreme solemnity—'it's very natural you shouldn't quite understand how a man like myself feels when his heart is really touched for the first time; you've always been out of the way of such things, you know—you never took to women. But my whole soul is in this affair; it's a matter of life and death, I might say——'

At this point I could restrain myself no longer, but laughed openly. Floyd was so categorically reproducing the old Floyd of college days, who was wont to rave precisely thus about each latest mistress of his fancy, that the depths of mirth were stirred within me. He was a good deal annoyed at first; but finally the corners of his moustache began to twitch, and his imperturbable good nature to reassert itself. 'I am in earnest, though, this time,' he persisted, when gravity was restored. 'You know, we're not boys any longer, Tom. You must allow a man to have one serious feeling before he dies.'

'So I do, Floyd; it was only the old associations that tickled me; and also another thing, that will surprise you when you hear it. But first—go on with your yarn. Who and what is she?'

'I haven't an idea!'

'You don't know?'

'All I know is, Tom, that I have seen her, and that I adore her. I have never been able to get speech of her, or even so much as find out her name. If she were like other girls, I'd soon scrape an acquaintance; but she awes me and abashes me, and I'd no more think of being unceremonious with her than with her Majesty Queen Victoria. I must get presented in regular form or not at all. But nobody seems to know her; she seems to be travelling incog. They never stop at hotels, but always go to private lodgings, so there's nothing to be learnt through feeing waiters. I first caught sight of her in Paris, and have been trotting round at her heels ever since, sometimes losing her for a while, but not for long. Yesterday, though, I thought she had given me the slip finally; but by accident I heard it rumoured that some one answering her description had taken the train from Berlin southwards four days ago. I came on here, on speculation; got here early this morning; and sure enough I had a glimpse of her as she drove by in her carriage, not three hours since.'

'By Jove, Floyd!...' said I musingly; and paused.

'That's my yarn, so far as it's gone.'

I rose, and joined him at the window, and we both leaned over the sill and gazed thoughtfully down on the street beneath. The coincidence that the objects of our respective adoration should both happen to be in town at the same time, impressed me. It confirmed me, too, in my design of making Floyd my confidant, as he had made me his. Our destinies were entangled and the fact that his predicament of not knowing so much as the name of his mistress was identical with my own, encouraged me to proceed. Exactly what I expected to gain from my confession, I did not pause to consider. Matrimony must, of course, be as much against my principles now as it had been yesterday; nevertheless, somehow or other, the magnetism of Floyd's presence had the effect of causing me at least to reconsider the matter. It might be worth my while, at all events, to hear his opinion upon it: it would be an opinion founded upon good sense and knowledge of the world. The chances were, I reflected, that he would but confirm my own views as to my unfitness for the married state: had he not already insinuated as much, while ignorant of my infatuation? I would speak out, then, fearlessly: and I would speak at once.

'Floyd——'

The loud rattling of a carriage over the stones beneath interrupted me. We both looked down, and at the sight which met our eyes we both started. Floyd was the first to speak.

'Quick! look there, Tom,' cried he, catching my arm with more of excitement in his manner than I had ever before known him to betray; 'look, man, there she is!'

'She?' I cried; 'why, how did you know her?'

'Know her? Know the woman I adore?'

'You—adore——'

'She's the one I've been telling you about—the one I love! O you beauty!' and he kissed his audacious hand at the retreating carriage.

I left the window without a word, and walked to my chair. The truth was revealed; Floyd's 'she' was mine: we both loved the same woman! The carriage had contained three persons—the white-bearded old gentleman; another old gentleman who, from the hurried glance I had obtained of him, reminded me very much of Mr. Frisby, our former business agent; and last and above all, the lovely heroine of the Concert-garden adventure.

Floyd still remained at the window, gazing down the street after the vanished vehicle: and I took advantage of the opportunity thus afforded me to hastily review my position, and decide what course of action I ought to pursue. It was to be noted, in the first place, that although I had been made aware of the insoluble dead-lock between my friend and myself, he was entirely ignorant of it. The accident of his having been beforehand in exclaiming at sight of the carriage had made all the difference. Had my tongue been an instant quicker, he, and not I, would have been the disconsolate one. It was fate: and I reflected, with perhaps a moment's bitterness, that fate had always been as kind to him as she had been unkind to me.

But this unworthy mood did not last. If it was no fault of mine that I was unlucky, certainly Floyd's good fortune was no fault of his. And as for the present affair, I ought (consistently with myself) to rejoice rather than grieve at the turn it had taken. If I did not wish to marry, my disinclination now bade fair to be respected; destiny was working on my side, after all. I ought to esteem it a happiness, moreover, that it had fallen to my lot not only to endow my best friend with a fortune, but with a wife likewise: and to do him these favours, too, without his suspecting that it was from my hand they were received. All this, I say, was very delightful from the moral point of view; but I will not be so uncandid as to pretend that, at the first blush, I was at all delighted. On the contrary, I felt, for the first time, that I was by no means so averse from marriage as I had supposed: and that my only chance of happiness in that relation was now passing away before my eyes. True, the chance had at the best been but a slight one; few things were less probable than that I, without money, influence, or personal attractions, could ever have won so fair a prize as that which I had dreamed of. Yet I perceived that I would have striven to win it with all my strength. I recognised the folly and insincerity of my apparent reluctance. I had dallied with my great opportunity while it had been mine, and now that it was for ever lost, I saw my mistake. Well—Floyd would have her; be it so. At least, I would not play the dog in the manger with him. I will act as I know he would have acted in my place; and though it might be with a bad grace at first, I must trust to time and reason to reconcile me.

'Wasn't she divine?' sighed Floyd, slowly withdrawing himself from the window and returning to his chair. He took a deep draught from his beer-schoppen, selected another huge cigar from the cigar-case, lit it, and sighed once more.

'You don't know her—do you?' he next inquired, turning a lazy glance upon me.

'What do you mean? I know nobody here.'

'I was only thinking,' rejoined Floyd, without observing my confusion, 'how nice it would have been if you could have introduced us. Though, to be sure, no one could know a girl like that without falling in love with her himself; so maybe it's better for me as it is—eh? ha, ha, ha!'

'Ha, ha! I see—you dread a possible rival in me—ha, ha!'

'Dread isn't exactly the word, Tom, old fellow,' said Floyd, in a changed tone, perhaps fancying (for his perceptions were as acute as his heart was generous) that his jesting allusion had hurt my feelings. 'If you were in love with this girl, I would give up my chance to you in a moment—and do all a man could to promote your success too. You know what I think of you, Tom; but, hang it! we're Anglo-Saxons; we can't be always bursting into tears and swearing that we love one another! But I know what you've done for me; and I mean to do something for you, when my time comes.'

'All right, Floyd,' said I hastily. 'Only don't talk as if you owed me anything,' I added presently; 'because you don't.'

'Oh, I don't mean to go to work strictly on the debit and credit principle,' he answered with a smile. 'But—since we've got to talking in this vein somehow, we may as well have it out and done with it. I found out, quite by accident, the little ruse you played off on me six years ago. I stumbled upon the revelation only three months back. And that led to my discovering your poverty. Altogether, Tom, it took the wind out of me for a moment.'

'Remember one thing,' I interposed; 'it wasn't until after I had done that, that the robbery came to light. I expected to be richer than you——'

'I know—I understand. But now, use your imagination for a moment, and put yourself in my place. If I had enriched you beyond the dreams of avarice, and then turned out a pauper myself, you would not feel exactly comfortable, I take it. And if, in the course of six years, you had proved yourself a good steward of the property, and had increased its value by upwards of one-half, wouldn't you consider it no more than a fair and even thing, conducive to the comfort and respect of both parties, to make that increase over to me, with your best bow, and so live happily ever after? Eh, Tom?'

'Thanks, Floyd; that's all reasonable enough, and the only reason I don't say yes to it is this: I am a great deal better off as I am. Money would not do me a bit of good—quite the contrary. I like to feel that I have none of that kind of responsibility, and I like to imagine that I must work for a living. Of course, it is nothing more than imagination, for my income supplies me with all I need. But it is good for me to have an occupation, and to feel some sort of obligation to pursue it. I'm naturally prone to the blues—and if I had nothing to do but to lie back and enjoy myself, I should have them all the time. We are constituted differently, that's all. But—thanks, all the same.'

Floyd lay calmly back in his chair, and puffed half-a-dozen smoke-wreaths ceiling-wards ere he spoke again.

'If you think,' he then said, 'that I have been doing nothing all these years except sit still and enjoy myself, you are confoundedly mistaken. I have worked like a horse—though I mayn't look like it now. The possession of this fortune has made all the difference between my being an industrious and productive member of the community, and a good-for-nothing, lazy detrimental—as I should have been without it. No, Tom: trust me, riches do not mean idleness: they haven't with me, and they wouldn't with you. And think, old fellow—you have made a man as well as a millionaire of me: you cannot, surely you cannot, mean to leave me under such an infernal weight of obligation. Do be human, Tom. You have been generous all your life; don't begin to be selfish in the worst kind of fashion at this late day—and at my expense!'

'Give me a little time to think, Floyd,' said I, feeling very miserable. 'To-morrow or next day. Remember that I'm an old bachelor, and very much set in my ways.' But the fact was, the new complication about the love-affair, which of course I was unable to explain, made it more than ever difficult for me to entertain Floyd's proposal. I had a wild idea of escaping—hiding myself where no ingenuity could find me out.

'An old bachelor, eh?' exclaimed my friend; 'why, I hope you don't call yourself so very old, for I'm at least a year further gone than you, and I don't consider myself "set" at all. "Ripe" is the fitter word, I take it. But apropos of this, there's something I'd like to say to you, Tom; it's presuming on your friendship, I know, and maybe I ought not to venture. But it's on my mind.'

'Out with it!'

'It's a little idyl—a bit of a romance, you know, that I had imagined. I hoped to take you back to America with me, when I went, and I expected my sister would come too. Well, she's there already. But I thought, don't you see, that you would meet and perhaps see a good deal of each other; and I'm certain she's a girl of fine character, though she may very likely be no great beauty to look at; and of course she has half of all I own, and will probably decide to settle down over there; and I'll defy any woman who knows what you are to help falling in love with you.'

Floyd was actually stammering and getting red in the face. I never felt my heart so go out to a man, before or since. Dear old Floyd! how little he knew what an impossibility he was proposing.

'I'm not a marrying man, Floyd,' was all I was able to reply at the moment; but I knew that he understood, from my tone and look, how deeply his suggestion had touched me.

After this ensued a rather long silence. At last he remarked, carelessly taking up the note which old Joanna had brought in with the beer, and which I had quite forgotten.

'Apparently I'm to take your assertion that you know nobody in town with a reservation. This looks like an invitation from some of the upper ten. The monogram is big enough.'

'An invitation?—that can't be.' On opening the envelope, however, I found that he was right. It was an invitation to a private fancy ball, at the house of no less a person than my banker.

'It's very strange; I never spoke ten words to him in my life, and my balance is none of the largest. It's to-night, too—short notice!'

'He didn't want to give you time to refuse. Of course you'll go. Let me look at it—"Mr. Wyndham and friend"—that means me. We'll go together.'

A good deal to my own surprise, I found that Floyd's proposal was by no means so distasteful as I should have supposed. The truth was, I much needed some distraction. This fancy ball would serve to pass away what otherwise bade fair to be a very uncomfortable evening. After a little discussion, therefore, I consented to accompany him thither; and as evening was already coming on, we sallied forth to procure dominos. A few hours later saw us ensconced in a drosky, and rattling over the uneven pavements to our destination.

'I shouldn't wonder, by the way,' remarked Floyd, as we alighted, 'if that divine creature were to be there.'

Had this suggestion been advanced earlier, it would have made an important modification in my plans; but it was now too late to draw back. I bethought myself, too, that it was highly improbable—considering how short a time she had been in town—that she should have received an invitation; and if the worst came to the worst, I could slip away whenever I chose. We went on up the illuminated staircase, therefore, and having delivered our credentials to the doorkeeper—a warrior of the sixteenth century, armed cap-à-pie in panoply of proof—we advanced to pay our respects to the host and hostess of the occasion, who smiled to us in the guise of Nutcracker and Sugardolly.

'It is the greatest pleasure that I meet you,' said the former, in broken English, but with entire cordiality, holding my hand affectionately as he spoke. 'We have too little seen of you here—you are too much to yourself. It shall be our hope that you now do us the honour very often. You shall find some of your compatriots here to-night, I think, all very anxious to enjoy the favour of your presentation. Dear sir, till our next meet!'

Meanwhile, Madame Sugardolly was saying something equally civil to Floyd. That was natural enough; his wealth and consequent importance were probably well known; but I was at a loss to understand such a sudden access of flattering attention to me. I was nobody, and accustomed to be treated accordingly. Could my worthy banker be labouring under the delusion that I was somebody else?

Leaving this question to solve itself, I took Floyd's arm, and we threaded our way slowly through the brilliantly and grotesquely attired crowd. Many a quaint and graceful figure was there, but none with which either of us was familiar. I saw that Floyd was keeping a keen look out for some one, and had no difficulty in guessing who it might be. But we made the circuit of all the rooms in vain. We drifted at length into the haven of a small side-room, curtained off from the other apartments by a heavy portière hanging across the doorway. Lights were burning in it, and a comfortable sofa stood at one end, but there was no one there. It was a discovery of our own.

'Tell you what we'll do, old chap,' said Floyd. 'It is now eleven o'clock. Let us separate here, and pursue our several fortunes for the space of an hour; after which—that is, at twelve precisely—we will rendezvous in this room and compare notes. What say you?'

I made no objections, and we separated accordingly, he going in one direction and I in the opposite one. For my own part, however, I had no fancy to seek adventures, and happening to come upon a convenient entrance of a window, I took refuge within the shadow of the curtains, and there fell into a brown study. There was one aspect of the affair in which my cousin and I were involved which had latterly begun to disquiet me not a little. It was this:—I could not believe that he was entirely and thoroughly in earnest. I had a misgiving, which I could not rid myself of, and which his every word and act tended to confirm, that he was not seriously in love at all, but was merely amusing himself (as he had done a hundred times before) with the pretence of being so. If I were correct in my suspicion, then the game which was fun to him was death to me. And yet, what could I do? Unless I knew for an absolute certainty that this view of the case were a true one, I could not in honour lift a finger to avert the consequence; and absolute certainty, in a matter of this kind, was unattainable. The upshot of my brown study was therefore a conviction of my own helplessness: and as I arrived at it, I raised my eyes to the clock, and saw it wanted but two or three minutes of the appointed hour.

Edging along through the press as rapidly as I could, I soon came to the curtained doorway, and pushing aside the portière, I went in. The room was still empty—Floyd had not yet returned.

'Is it possible he can have met her?'—thought I.

Even as the thought came, I heard a low, distinct woman's voice, apparently close at hand; and following it, a coarse, guttural one. I knew both, and all the blood in my veins tingled. Looking about, I noticed for the first time that the room I was in opened into another, the door of which was also closed by a portière. The next moment I had thrown it open and stood within.

I saw the young lady crouched away in the farther corner of the room, her face pale, her lips set, her eyes sparkling; and before her, with his back towards me, I saw the overgrown bulk of Von Wurst. He was attempting to get his arm round her waist, at the same time thrusting forward his coarse face to kiss her.

As her glance met mine, a light of relief entered into her face which, even at that crisis, filled me with a grand tremor of unreasoning delight. Von Wurst saw it too, and seemed at once to divine what had happened. He faced about immediately, his hand clutching at the hilt of his sabre.

But before he could draw it from its sheath, I had thrown myself upon him, and seizing him by the collar of his uniform and by one of his epaulettes, I exerted all my strength and flung him violently backwards. He staggered, but did not fall. I perceived that the fellow had been drinking, and was in a mood to commit any violence or outrage. His face was red, and the veins of his forehead were swelled with passion.

With an oath he drew his sabre, and delivered his point full at my throat. The movement was so rapid that I was prepared neither to parry nor to avoid it, and it would have gone hard with me; but before the keen steel could quite reach me, my right arm was caught by two slender nervous hands, and I was dragged forcibly to one side. Von Wurst, overbalanced by the weight of his own thrust, stumbled forward; the sheath of his sabre tripped him up, he whirled round and fell heavily on his back, striking his head as he did so against the sharp corner of the porcelain stove. The blow stunned him, and he lay motionless.

And there stood I, unhurt, saved by her whom I had saved, and who still clung to my arm, panting and tremulous. It was a moment worth more than a lifetime: it was but a moment.

As I turned towards her, she let go my arm, smiled faintly, and sat down upon the nearest chair.

'I'm very much obliged to you, I'm sure,' said she.

'I think the obligation is on my side,' I answered, as awkwardly as possible.

'Oh no—I thank you—I thank you!' Her eyes fell upon the insensible lieutenant, and she shuddered. 'Do you think he's dead? He deserves to be hurt as badly as possible, but not quite killed—I shouldn't want that: I should have to think of him then, you know.'

Several hours later, I bethought myself to smile at this conceit; but at the time I was quite too much embarrassed and excited to think of such a thing. Moreover, I was very badly frightened, and that for a cause sufficiently whimsical, namely, that I was hopelessly entangling myself with the woman to whom Floyd had a prior and superior claim. Unless I escaped at once, I knew I should never get away at all—until I had asked her to love me, and she had refused point-blank. And that would be too late for my self-respect. Oh, Floyd! why could you not love somebody else!

'I think I must go now if you will excuse me,' I stammered. 'I have an engagement.'

'But I can't be left alone with that!' she exclaimed piteously, at the same time indicating the unfortunate lieutenant with her foot. I forgave him from that moment. 'Won't you wait with me in the other room until my uncle comes back?' she continued: 'he should have been here before this.'

Her uncle; not her father then!

She had risen and taken my arm; I gave myself up for lost. As we drew aside the curtain to go into the outer room, the curtain of the door opposite was simultaneously pulled aside, and in came—first, the white-bearded old gentleman; second, Floyd; third, a military gentleman in the uniform of a colonel; and fourth and last, my old friend Mr. Frisby.

'Here she is!' cried the old gentleman. 'Gwendolen, my dear, allow me to make you acquainted with your brother, Mr. Floyd Wyndham. Who is this gentleman? can this be——'

'My cousin, Mr. Thomas Wyndham,' interposed Floyd, with a solemn bow. 'Gwenny, your most devoted!' He took her by both shoulders, and kissed her on the forehead and cheek. At the same time he glanced over her shoulder at me with an expression in his eyes, half comical, half rueful. But I was as yet too much bewildered to understand.

'She's better-looking than I expected,' he remarked to me. 'The image of that old picture of her grandmother that used to hang over my mantelpiece at College—recollect?—only her hair and eyes are lighter.'

Then, in a flash, I comprehended the mystery of the recognition. But I had no time to dwell upon it then. The old uncle was shaking me by the hand, congratulating me on something, I knew not what, and introducing the Colonel and Mr. Frisby. The latter almost embraced me.

'My dear Mr. Thomas, I am so glad—so glad! My warmest congratulations also—what? you haven't heard. Why, we have recovered nearly your whole fortune, my dear sir. Faust, the absconder, has been at last arrested. You are a rich man again. So glad, so glad!'

I was speechless. I could only turn from one to another, with a dazed look, as of one half asleep.

At this juncture the curtain of the inner room was again drawn aside, and lo! the lieutenant with his sword drawn, but with an expression anything but warlike on his pasty and woe-begone features. On seeing his colonel, he trembled visibly, and saluted with a shaking hand.

'Ha, sir, you are here, are you?' exclaimed the Colonel grimly. 'I have been told about you, Herr Faust. Yes, sir, you will dispense with the "von" for the future and spell your name correctly—you are the son of a swindler and a convict. To-morrow you will appear before a court-martial. We shall see, sir, what shall be done to a fellow who disgraces his uniform by insulting ladies and—but go, sir!—Ladies and gentlemen,' added the old officer, turning to us and bowing, 'pardon me that I so much forget myself.'

After the poor lieutenant had slunk away, the conversation had become general, and numberless were the questions asked and the explanations volunteered. But I have only a dim and hazy recollection of what was said. I kept as far away from Miss Gwendolen as possible, and scarcely looked at her; but for all that, she was the only person in the room whose every word and motion I felt and saw. I did not know whether to commiserate Floyd, or to envy him. Perhaps he scarcely knew himself, at first. But since, a few years afterwards, he married the beautiful Miss Maryland, of Baltimore, and has been the happiest of husbands ever since, I have ceased to feel anxious or conscience-smitten on his account.

Shall I go on and tell you how it all turned out? My wife, who is leaning over my shoulder as I write these last words, says, 'No.' And I submit; for once, years ago, when she was a Miss Wyndham, she made me the happiest of mankind by saying, 'Yes.'