n Street and from, thence
across Great Stanhope Street and into the Park.

And to-morrow night, at this time, the beautiful Zara would be his! and
they would be dining alone together at Dover, and surely she would not
be so icily cold; surely--surely he could get her to melt.

And then further visions came to him, and he walked very fast; and
presently he found himself opposite his lady's house.

An impulse just to see her window overcame him, and he crossed the road
and went out of the gate. And there on the pavement he saw Mimo, also
with face turned, gazing up.

And in a flash he thought he recognized that this was the man he had
seen that day in Whitehall, when he was in his motor car, going very
fast.

A mad rage of jealousy and suspicion rushed through him. Every devil
whispered, "Here is a plot. You know nothing of the woman whom to-morrow
you are blindly going to make your wife. Who is this man? What is his
connection with her? A lover's--of course. No one but a lover would gaze
up at a window on a moonlight night."

And it was at this moment that Zara opened the window and, for a second,
both men saw her slender, rounded figure standing out sharply against
the ground of the room. Then she turned, and put out the light.

A murderous passion of rage filled Lord Tancred's heart.

He looked at Mimo and saw that the man's lips were muttering a prayer,
and that he had drawn a little silver crucifix from his coat pocket,
and, also, that he was unconscious of any surroundings, for his face was
rapt; and he stepped close to him and heard him murmur, in his
well-pronounced English,

"Mary, Mother of God, pray for her, and bring her happiness!"

And his common sense reassured him somewhat. If the man were a lover, he
could not pray so, on this, the night before her wedding to another. It
was not in human, male nature, he felt, to do such an unselfish thing as
that.

Then Mimo raised his soft felt hat in his rather dramatic way to the
window, and walked up the street.

And Tristram, a prey to all sorts of conflicting emotions, went back
into the Park.

* * * * *

It seemed to Francis Markrute that more than half the nobility of
England had assembled in St. George's, Hanover Square, next day, as,
with the beautiful bride on his arm, he walked up the church.

She wore a gown of dead white velvet, and her face looked the same
shade, under the shadow of a wonderful picture crea