and revealed the identity of
his mysterious forester and superintendent. At first Peggy was
incredulous, then listened while her father told a story, half true,
half fictitious, which had been carefully planned to answer all the
requirements of the situation. And unaware of the cyclonic disturbances
he was causing in the breast of his only child, he told her of Beth and
Peter, and of the evidences of their devotion each to the other in spite
of their difference in station. Peggy's small soul squirmed during the
recital, but she only listened and said nothing. She realized that in a
situation such as this mere words on her part would be superfluous. The
Grand Duke Peter Nicholaevitch! Here at Black Rock! Her pop's
superintendent! And she had not known. She had even insulted him. It was
hideous!

And the Princess? The deep emotion that she had shown on hearing of the
dangerous wound of the convalescent was now explained. But only partly
so. The look that Peggy had surprised in Anastasie Galitzin's face meant
something more than mere solicitude for the safety of one of Russia's
banished Grand Dukes. It was the Princess who had been shocked at the
information, but it was the woman who had showed pain. Was there--had
there ever been--anything between Anastasie Galitzin and this--this
Peter Nichols?

Facts about the early stages of her acquaintanceship with Anastasie
Galitzin now loomed up with an unpleasant definiteness. She had been
much flattered that so important a personage had shown her such
distinguished marks of favor and had rejoiced in the celerity with which
the intimacy had been established. The thought that the Princess
Galitzin had known all the while that the Grand Duke was living
incognito at Black Rock and had merely used Peggy as a means to bring
about this visit was not a pleasant one to Peggy. But the fact was now
quite obvious. She had been making a convenience of her. And what was
now to be the result of this visit? The Princess did not yet know of the
engagement of His Highness to the scullery maid. Who was to tell her?

The snobbish little heart of Peggy McGuire later gained some
consolation, for Anastasie Galitzin emerged from her room refreshed and
invigorated, and lent much grace to the dinner table, telling father and
daughter something of the early life of the convalescent, exhibiting a
warm friendship which could be satisfied with nothing less than a visit
on the morrow to the sick-room. And