“I don’t think he wishes me to marry at all--any way, for a long while. You see, he has only _had_ me for a few months.” “Yes; it would be hard lines on him--and I will wait, if you will marry me in the end.--Mary, will you?” “Ye were always terribly set in getting your own way, Mr. Ulick”; and she looked up at him with a tremulous smile. “I remember it with horses, and how once the black hunter stood with ye on the road for five mortal hours--and ye waited, and won the day.” “I’ll wait on you for five years if necessary. May I speak to your father when he returns?” “About what?” “Why, about you, of course. I shall ask him to give you to me.” “Yes; but not for a good while--I am so awkward, and ignorant, I’d shame ye.” “No, never. I shall always be proud of you!” “An’ ye may think it strange, but he is real fond of me.” “Not as fond of you as I am, Mary”; and he slipped his arm round her waist, and kissed her--this time without the intervening pane of glass. Five minutes later, and the door was pushed open, and Lord Mulgrave entered, in the act of taking off his muffler. He started when he saw Major Doran and Joseline standing together by the fire; and, unless he was losing his wits, the fellow’s arm was round her waist. In a flash he recalled a whispered secret one dim evening in the “Shelbourne”--the _real_ gentleman, who was Irish, and had given Mrs. Foley a dog. Here they were, the very trio--the red terrier, the lover, and the girl. As Doran was no stranger to him he came forward, with a rather constrained “Hullo, Doran!” “Oh, father!” cried Joseline, “we did not expect you till to-morrow. How did you come?” “In a fly from the station, my dear. I got away earlier than usual. Not playing bridge, eh?”--turning to the man. “No. The fact is, Lady Joseline was good enough to offer to show me the pictures; but we--er”--and as he glanced at his companion, she vanished through the door. “I see, you had forgotten all about them,” said Lord Mulgrave, hastily finishing the speech. Well, there was no time like the present moment; here was his opportunity. Lord Mulgrave was not allowed to take off his top-coat, much less to think of his supper, before Ulick Doran was in full career. In two or three pithy sentences he told his story. For a few vital moments they talked squarely, man to man. Lord Mulgrave knew all about Major Doran--his reputation and his fortune. When he had divested himself of his great-coat, he said, “I will not part with Joseline yet, and we will take no one into the secret for six months. The girl has seen nothing so far, but Joseline is not like young women of her rank. She has a past of twenty-one years behind her. She loved you in that other life; you belong to it, and, I suppose,--she belongs to you.” * * * * * “I say!” said Tito, as she encountered Joseline in a corridor, “what has happened to you? Why this radiant air of ‘I fear no foe in shining armour’?”