illed me
at that moment. I wanted to shout and sing--and thank God!

Alathea will be mine, and surely it will only be a question of time
before I can make her love me, my little girl!

I rang for Burton. I must have rung vigorously for he came in hurriedly.

"Burton," I said, "Congratulate me, my old friend--Miss Sharp has
promised to marry me."

For once Burton's imperturbability deserted him, he almost staggered and
put his hand to his head.

"God bless my soul, Sir Nicholas," he gasped, and then went on, "Beg
pardon, Sir, but that is the best piece of news I ever did hear in my
life."

And his dear old eyes were full of tears while he blew his nose
vigorously.

"It will be a very quiet wedding, Burton. We shall have it at the
Consulate, and I suppose at the church in the _Rue d'Agesseau_, if Miss
Sharp is a Protestant--I have never asked her."

"The wedding don't so much matter, Sir Nicholas. It is having the young
lady always here to look after you."

"Without her glasses, Burton!"

"As you say Sir, without them horn things." And there was a world of
understanding in his faithful eyes.

He left the room presently with the walk of a boy, so elated was he,
and I was left alone, thrilling in every nerve with triumph. How I long
for Friday I cannot possibly say.

In the afternoon Maurice and Alwood Chester, and Madame de Clerte came
to see me, and all exclaimed at my improved appearance.

"Why you look like a million dollars, Nicholas," Alwood said, "What is
up, old bird?"

"I am getting well, that is all."

"We are going to have a party on Sunday to introduce you to the
loveliest young girl in Paris," Solonge announced. "The daughter of a
friend of mine without a great dot, but that does not matter for you,
Nicholas. We think that you should marry and marry a _jeune fille
francaise_!"

"That is sweet of you. I have shown how I appreciate young girls, have
not I?"

"For that--no!" she laughed, "But the time has come--."

I felt amused, what will Alathea think of these, my friends? Solonge is
the best of them.

Maurice had an air of anxiety underneath his watchful friendliness. He's
fine enough to _feel_ atmospheres, or whatever it is that comes from
people, not in words. He felt that some great change had taken place in
me, and he was not sure what aspect it would have in regard to himself.
He came back after he had seen Madame de Clerte to her coupe!--She has
essence also now,--and his rather