y mine,
and . . ." Not caring whether his action was one that would be styled
ill-bred towards a lady, the young man had made a bold dash for the
note; but Marguerite's thoughts flew quicker than his own; her actions
under pressure of this intense excitement, were swifter and more sure.
She was tall and strong; she took a quick step backwards and knocked
over the small Sheraton table which was already top-heavy, and which
fell down with a crash, together with the massive candelabra upon it.

She gave a quick cry of alarm:

"The candles, Sir Andrew--quick!"

There was not much damage done; one or two of the candles had blown
out as the candelabra fell; others had merely sent some grease upon the
valuable carpet; one had ignited the paper shade aver it. Sir Andrew
quickly and dexterously put out the flames and replaced the candelabra
upon the table; but this had taken him a few seconds to do, and those
seconds had been all that Marguerite needed to cast a quick glance at
the paper, and to note its contents--a dozen words in the same distorted
handwriting she had seen before, and bearing the same device--a
star-shaped flower drawn in red ink.

When Sir Andrew once more looked at her, he only saw upon her face alarm
at the untoward accident and relief at its happy issue; whilst the tiny
and momentous note had apparently fluttered to the ground. Eagerly
the young man picked it up, and his face looked much relieved, as his
fingers closed tightly over it.

"For shame, Sir Andrew," she said, shaking her head with a playful
sigh, "making havoc in the heart of some impressionable duchess, whilst
conquering the affections of my sweet little Suzanne. Well, well! I do
believe it was Cupid himself who stood by you, and threatened the entire
Foreign Office with destruction by fire, just on purpose to make me drop
love's message, before it had been polluted by my indiscreet eyes. To
think that, a moment longer, and I might have known the secrets of an
erring duchess."

"You will forgive me, Lady Blakeney," said Sir Andrew, now as calm as
she was herself, "if I resume the interesting occupation which you have
interrupted?"

"By all means, Sir Andrew! How should I venture to thwart the love-god
again? Perhaps he would mete out some terrible chastisement against my
presumption. Burn your love-token, by all means!"

Sir Andrew had already twisted the paper into a long spill, and was once
again holding it to the flame of the candl