had happened after, and
not before his fate had been decided.

The evening was over, and he was waiting to recover his hat and
overcoat when he was joined by Caffyn. 'Umbrella missing?' began the
latter; 'mine is, like the departed Christians on the tombstones, you
know, "not lost--but gone before." Are you going my way? Come on
then.'

When they were outside in the moonlight, he took Mark's arm and said,
'You've got something to tell me, haven't you?'

'I told you I should come to you for congratulations when we were at
Triberg,' said Mark, 'but I never hoped to be able to come so soon.
She has said "Yes," old fellow. I can't trust myself to talk about it
just yet, but I can't help telling you that.'

Caffyn clapped him on the back with a shout of rather wild laughter.
'What a fortunate beggar you are!' he said; 'fame, fortune--and now a
charming girl to crown it all. You'll be rousing the envy of the gods
soon, you know--unless you're careful!'

CHAPTER XXVI.

VISITS OF CEREMONY.

Mr. Langton, on being informed that Mark Ashburn proposed to become
his son-in-law, took a painfully prosaic view of the matter: 'I can
quite understand the fascination of a literary career to a young man,'
he had observed to Mark in the course of a trying interview; 'indeed,
when I was younger I was frequently suspected myself of contributing
to "Punch;" but I always saw where that would lead me, and, as a
matter of fact, I never did indulge my inclinations in that
direction,' he added, with the complacency of a St. Anthony. 'And the
fact is, I wish my son-in-law to have a more assured position: you
see, at present you have only written one book--oh, I am quite aware
that "Illusion" was well received--remarkably so, indeed; but then it
remains to be proved whether you can follow up your success, and--and,
in short, while that is uncertain I can't consent to any engagement;
you really must not ask me to do so.' And in this determination he was
firm for some time, even though secretly impressed on hearing of the
sum for which Mark had already disposed of his forthcoming novel, and
which represented, indeed, a very fair year's income. It was Uncle
Solomon, after all, that proved the heavy piece of ordnance which
turned the position at the crisis; he was flattered when his nephew
took him into his confidence, and pleased that he should have 'looked
so high,' which motives combined to induce him to offer his influence.
It was