e ever met, in society or out of it, a woman to whom he had
been so deeply devoted. He had watched her closely with the keen
criticism of a practised mind, and he had found her to be his ideal.

She was still standing against the pale blue settee, leaning against it
for support. Her face was pale as death, with two pink spots in the
centre of the cheeks betraying her excitement and emotion. She dare not
open her mouth lest she should betray the reason of her hesitation. It
was upon the tip of her tongue to confess all.

Yet had he not already told her that he had no desire to probe the
secret of her past--that he only desired her for herself, that her past
was her own affair, and that his only concern was her future, because he
loved her so? She recognised how good, how kind, how generous, and how
every trait of his character was that of the high-born English
gentleman. In secret she had long admired him, yet she had been careful
not to betray an undue interest beyond that of his accident. In such
circumstances a woman's diplomacy is always marvellous. In the
concealment of her true feelings, woman can always give many points to a
man.

Bracondale was awaiting her answer. His eyes were fixed upon hers,
though her gaze was averted. He held her in his arms, and again repeated
his question in a low, intense voice, the voice of a man filled with
the passion of true affection.

"Will you be mine, dearest?" he asked, a second time. "Will you trust in
me and throw in your lot in life with mine?"

She shook her head.

"No, Lord Bracondale; such a marriage would, for you, be most
injudicious. You must marry one of your own people."

"Never!" he cried in desperation. "If I marry, it will be only your own
dear self."

"But think--think what the world will say."

"Let the world say what it likes," he laughed. "Remember my policy and
my doings are criticised by the Opposition newspapers every day. But I
have learned to disregard hard words. I am my own master in my private
life as well as in my public life, and if you will only consent to be my
wife I shall tackle the difficult European problems with renewed vigour,
well knowing that I have at least one sympathiser and helpmate--my
wife."

He paused, and looked into her dark eyes for quite a long time.

Then, bending till his lips almost touched hers, and placing his arm
tenderly about her waist, he asked breathlessly:

"Jean, tell me, darling, that you do not hate me