e on the landing and politely
stood aside that his visitor might pass through. Diogenes entered the
room: he heard the door being closed behind him, and thought that
Mynheer Beresteyn had followed him in.

The room was very dimly lighted by a couple of tallow candles that
flickered in their sconces, and at first he could not see into the dark
recesses of the room. But presently something moved, something ethereal
and intangible, white and exquisite. It stirred from out the depths of
the huge high-backed chair, and from out the gloom there came a little
cry of surprise and of joy which was as the call of bird or angel.

He did not dare to move, he scarcely dared to breathe. He looked round
for Mynheer Beresteyn who had disappeared.

Surely this could be only a dream. Nothing real on earth could be so
exquisite as that subtle vision which he had of her now, sitting in the
high-backed chair, leaning slightly forward toward him. Gradually his
eyes became accustomed to the gloom: he could see her quite distinctly
now, her fair curls round her perfect head, her red lips parted, her
eyes fixed upon him with a look which he dared not interpret.

All around him was the silence and the darkness of the night, and he was
alone with her just as he had been in this very room five days ago and
then again at Rotterdam.

"St. Bavon, you rogue!" he murmured, "where are you? How dare you leave
me in the lurch like this?"

Then--how it all happened he could not himself have told you--he
suddenly found himself at her feet, kneeling beside the high-backed
chair; his arms were round her shoulders and he could feel the exquisite
perfume of her breath upon his cheek.

"St. Bavon," he cried exultingly to himself, "go away, you rogue!
there's no need for your admonitions now."

Mynheer Beresteyn tiptoed quietly into the room. The roguish smile still
played around his lips. He came up close to the high-backed chair and
placed his hand upon his daughter's head.

Diogenes looked up, and met the kindly eyes of the old man fixed with
calm earnestness upon him.

"Mynheer," he said, and laughter which contained a world of happiness as
well as of joy danced and sparkled in every line of his face, "just now
I refused one half of your fortune! But 'tis your greatest treasure I
claim from you now."

"Nay! you rascal," rejoined Beresteyn, as he lifted his daughter's chin
gently with one finger and looked into her deep blue eyes which were
brimf