"I am only afraid of one thing," she said. "When it is finished and
published you will be a great man. You will be so far off. I think I
wish that it were not quite so clever. It makes me feel lonely."

He came over and sat upon the arm of her chair. She was very sweet,
very dainty, very pretty.

"Cissy," he said, "you need never be afraid of that. Whatever might
happen in the future, I shall never enjoy an evening more than this one.
It rests with you to say whether we may not have many more."

"With me?"

She looked up at him quickly. From where he sat he could see her bosom
rising and falling quickly. Then he started suddenly away--Cicely sat
up in terror, grasping the sides of her chair. There was a sharp knock
at the closed door.

"Is Mr. Jesson in?" a soft voice asked.

"Who is it?" Douglas cried, in blank amazement.

The door opened, and a woman, in a long opera cloak and rustling skirt
gathered up in her hands, glided in. It was the Countess de Reuss.

* * * * *

She stood in a little halo of lamplight, a diamond star flashing in her
hair, and her neck ablaze with gems. She was dressed to make her bow