London, and you'll be
_sorry_ for the poor old Countess," returned Smith, warmly. "You can
afford then to heap coals of fire on her head, which can't make it redder
than it is. Meanwhile, it occurs to me, from the way the wind blows,
you'd better go carefully with the lady! Don't let her pump you about
yourself, or what happened at Mrs. Ellsworth's. It's not her business.
Don't confide any more than you need, and if she pretends to confide in
_you_ understand that it will be for a purpose. The Countess is no
_ingenue_!

"But enough about her," he went on, abruptly. "She sha'n't spoil our
first breakfast together, even by reminding me of gloomy meals I used
sometimes to eat with her when we happened to find ourselves in each
other's society on board the _Monarchic_. I was feeling down on my luck
then, and she wasn't the one to cheer me up. But things are different
now. Have you noticed, by the way, that she has a nickname for me?"

"Yes," Annesley admitted. "She calls you 'Don.'"

"It's a name she made up because she used to say, when we first met, I
was like a Spaniard; and I can jabber Spanish among other lingos. It's
more her native tongue, you know, than English. I only refer to it
because I want you to have a special name of your own for me, and I don't
want it to be that one. It can't be Nelson, because--well, I can never be
at home as Nelson with the girl I love best--the one who knows how I came
to call myself that. Will you make up a name for me, and begin to get
used to it to-day? I'd like it if you could."

"May I call you 'Knight'?" Annesley asked, shyly. "I've named you my
knight already in my mind and--and heart."

He looked at her with rather a beautiful look: clear and wistful, even
remorseful.

"It's too noble a name," he said. "Still--if you like it, I shall. Maybe
it will make me good. Jove! it would take something strong to do that!
But who knows? From now on I'm your 'Knight.' You needn't wrestle with
'Nelson' except when we're with strangers.

"And--look here!" he broke off. "I've another favour to ask. Better get
them all over at once--the big ones that are hard to grant. You reminded
me last night that we wouldn't be legally married if I didn't use my own
name. That may be true. I can't very well make inquiries. But just in
case, I'm giving my real name and shall sign it in a register. That's why
our marriage must be quietly performed in a quiet place. It shall be in
church, because I kno