when it came to saying farewell, I found myself quite unable to do so! I
had prepared a lot of lies about my not being justified in giving the
time from my work, but before I could tell them Violetta had forestalled
me by assuring me that she knew I must really stick closer to my office,
and she would no longer expect much of my company. You know, Nicholas, I
suddenly found her charm renewed tenfold, and I could only congratulate
myself upon the fact that the affair with Carmencita had not gone far
enough to amount to anything, and now I am in pursuit of Violetta again,
and 'pon my soul, Nicholas, if she only keeps me wondering, I believe I
shall be really in love!"

"Shall you marry, George?"

He looked almost bashful.

"It is just possible,--Violetta is a widow."

Then our eyes met and we both laughed aloud.

"You can contemplate happiness, George with your widow, because you feel
that she now knows how to handle you, and I contemplate happiness with
my little girl, because I respect her character and adore every inch of
her, and by Jove! old man, I believe we shall both get what we are
looking for!"

Then our talk drifted to politics and the war, and it was just about
midnight before old George left, and when he had gone I opened the
window wide, and looked out on the night, there was a half moon almost
set, and the air was still, and very warm for the beginning of November.
There are nights like that, mysterious and electric when all sorts of
strange forces seem to be abroad. And something of romance in me exalted
my spirit, and I found myself saying a prayer that I might be true to my
trust, and have strength enough of will to wait patiently until my
Alathea comes voluntarily into my arms.

And how I wonder what she is thinking about, there at Auteuil?

I went along into the room which is to be hers to-morrow, and I saw that
it was all arranged, except the flowers, which would come in fresh in
the morning. And then I hobbled back to my own room and rang for Burton.
The faithful creature waits for me no matter how late I am.

When I was safely in bed, he came over to me, and his dear old face
showed emotion.

"I do indeed wish you happiness, Sir Nicholas, to-morrow will be the
best day of my life."

We shook hands silently, and he left me, still writing in this journal!

I feel no excitement, rather as if another act in the drama of life was
ended, that is all, and that to-morrow I am starting upon a