shook her head again.

"The sensation will be more delightful than you imagine, evidently.
There have been many Khedives, and many Mikados, but there can never be
another Bernard Maddison."

A disturbed shade seemed to fall upon the baronet's face. She followed
his eyes, riveted upon the door. The hum of conversation had suddenly
ceased, and every one was looking in the same direction. On the
threshold stood a tall, gaunt man, gazing in upon the scene before him
with an expression of distinct aversion, mingled with indifference. He
was dressed just like the other men, in a long frock coat, and he had a
white gardenia in his buttonhole. But there was something about him
distinct and noticeable--something in the quiet easy manner with which
he at last moved forward to greet his hostess, which seemed to thrill
her through and through with a sense of sweet familiarity. And then she
caught a turn of his head as he stooped down over Lady Meltoun's hand,
and a great wave of bewilderment, mingled with an acute throbbing joy,
swept in upon her. This man, whom every one was gazing at with such
eager interest, was her father's tenant, Mr. Bernard Brown.

CHAPTER XVI

A SNUB FOR A BARONET

Those few moments were full of a strange, intense interest to the three
persons who side by side had watched the entrance of Mr. Bernard
Maddison. To Helen Thurwell, whose whole being was throbbing with a
great quickening joy, they were passed in a strenuous effort to struggle
against the faintness which the shock of this great tumult of feeling
had brought with it. To the artist, who loved her, they brought their
own peculiar despair as he watched the light playing upon her features,
and the new glow of happiness which shone in those sweet, sad eyes. And
to Sir Allan Beaumerville, who had reasons of his own for surprise at
this meeting, they brought a distinct sensation of annoyance.

The artist was the first to recover himself. He knew that the battle was
over for him, that this woman already loved, and that his cause was
hopeless. And with little of man's ordinary selfishness on such
occasions, his first thought was for her.

"You would like to change your seat," he whispered. "Come with me into
the recess yonder. I will show you some engravings."

She flashed a grateful look up at him, and saw that he knew her secret.

"I should like it," she said. "Walk that side of me, please."

They rose and made their way to one of the