save at the point of the sword. Come of as good family as there was in
England, and the grandson of a duke, he still was eager for power,
determined to get on, ingenious in searching for that opportunity which
even the most distinguished talent must have, if it is to soar high
above the capable average. That chance, the predestined alluring
opening had not yet come; but his eyes were wide open, and he was ready
for the spring--nerved the more to do so by the thought that Jasmine
would appreciate his success above all others, even from the standpoint
of intellectual appreciation, all emotions excluded. How did it come
that Jasmine was so worldly wise, and yet so marvellously the
insouciant child?

He followed her slow, reflective glance at Byng, and the impression of
force and natural power of the millionaire struck him now, as it had
often done. As though summoned by them both, Byng turned his face and,
catching Jasmine's eyes, smiled and leaned forward.

"I haven't got over that great outburst of singing yet," he said, with
a little jerk of the head towards the stage, where, for the moment,
minor characters were in possession, preparing the path for the last
rush of song by which Al'mah, the new prima donna, would bring her
first night to a complete triumph.

With face turned full towards her, something of the power of his head
seemed to evaporate swiftly. It was honest, alert, and almost brutally
simple--the face of a pioneer. The forehead was broad and strong, and
the chin was square and determined; but the full, dark-blue eyes had in
them shadows of rashness and recklessness, the mouth was somewhat
self-indulgent and indolent; though the hands clasping both knees were
combined of strength, activity, and also a little of grace.

"I never had much chance to hear great singers before I went to South
Africa," he added, reflectively, "and this swallows me like a storm on
the high veld--all lightning and thunder and flood. I've missed a lot
in my time."

With a look which made his pulses gallop, Jasmine leaned over and
whispered--for the prima donna was beginning to sing again:

"There's nothing you have missed in your race that you cannot ride back
and collect. It is those who haven't run a race who cannot ride back.
You have won; and it is all waiting for you."

Again her eyes beamed upon him, and a new sensation came to him--the
kind of thing he felt once when he was sixteen, and the vicar's
daughter had sudd