y, and general uselessness. A
few Court 'functions,' some picture shows, and two or three great
races--and--that's all. Some unfortunate marriages are usually the
result of each year's motley."

"And you think the millionaire you speak of will be one of the
unfortunate ones?" said Helmsley.

"Yes, David, I do! If he's going back to London for the season, Lucy
Sorrel will never let him out of her sight again! She's made up her mind
to be a Mrs. Millionaire, and she's not troubled by any
over-sensitiveness or delicacy of sentiment."

"That I quite believe--from what you have told me,"--and Helmsley
smiled. "But what do the papers--what does the Cooing Column say?"

"The Cooing Column says that one of the world's greatest millionaires,
Mr. David Helmsley, who has been abroad for nearly a year for the
benefit of his health, will return to his mansion in Carlton House
Terrace this month for the 'season.'"

"Is that all?"

"That's all. Mary, my bonnie Mary,"--and Angus put an arm tenderly round
the waist of his promised wife--"Your husband may, perhaps--only
perhaps!--become famous--but you'll never, never be a Mrs. Millionaire!"

She laughed and blushed as he kissed her.

"I don't want ever to be rich," she said. "I'd rather be poor!"

They went out into the little garden then, with their arms
entwined,--and Helmsley, seated in his chair under the rose-covered
porch, watched them half in gladness, half in trouble. Was he doing well
for them, he wondered? Or ill? Would the possession of wealth disturb
the idyll of their contented lives, their perfect love? Almost he wished
that he really were in very truth the forlorn and homeless wayfarer he
had assumed to be,--wholly and irrevocably poor!

That night in his little room, when everything was quiet, and Mary was
soundly sleeping in the attic above him, he rose quietly from his bed,
and lighting a candle, took pen and ink and made a few additions to the
letter of instructions which accompanied his will. Some evenings
previously, when Mary and Angus had gone out for a walk together, he had
taken the opportunity to disburden his "workman's coat" of all the
banknotes contained in the lining, and, folding them up in one parcel,
had put them in a sealed envelope, which envelope he marked in a
certain fashion, enclosing it in the larger envelope which contained his
will. In the same way he made a small, neatly sealed packet of the
"collection" made for him at the "Trusty