“Sweet little enthusiast!” she exclaimed, moved in spite of herself. “Montella is lucky in winning your love. It is your love which casts the roseate hue over the Jewish people, dear, and you see I do not possess the same incentive. Still, I will do my best, and if I marry Athelstan Moore, I promise you that I shall not lack the courage to voice your opinions. I would rather remain your friend than become your enemy, and the idea of thwarting the Premier pleases me mightily. It is like David with his little sling and stone attacking the formidable Goliath, or the tiny mouse gnawing the rope which great men cannot break. The world shall see, as it has seen before, what a beautiful woman can do. Have no fear, my dear child, I know I shall succeed.” Self-assurance had ever been the keynote to the success of Mamie Chesterwood’s family. From a mere clerk in an engineering office in Baltimore, with little more than his pride of descent from the Pilgrim Fathers to sustain him, her father had risen to the wealth and power of an American copper king. As a matter of course, both his daughters had married titles, Mamie’s elder sister, Olive, being the wife of Prince Charles of Felsen-Schvoenig. It was no wonder, therefore, that Mamie herself had inherited a love of overcoming difficulties, and of mounting from one high position to another. She knew that by marrying Athelstan Moore she would partially lose her freedom; but she felt that this would amply be compensated for by the exciting situations which would probably affect her as Premier’s wife. So by the time her conversation with Patricia came to an end, she had made up her mind to accept the offer of her would-be swain. She asked her cousin for pen and paper, and wrote the answer then and there. There was always a little of her own notepaper in Patricia’s desk, so that she did not have to use Earl Torrens’ address. Patricia watched her as she wrote, and wondered what the ultimate result would be. Was the Countess unconsciously making trouble for herself, or was she really paving the way of freedom for the British Jews? Who could look into the future, and foresee the consequence of her act? Only time would show. “May I not tell Lionel?” the girl asked eagerly, when the letter was sealed. “Why should he be kept in ignorance of the matter? He may be able to offer some advice.” The Countess shook her head. “For the present I do not wish him to know,” she rejoined. “I must hold you to your promise, Pat. Remember, you gave me your word of honour. Soon it will be in all the society papers. You will not have to wait long.”