It was indeed a triumph of love. The innate strength and nobility of this man’s nature had been brought out by the honest fervour of his love. He had enough greatness of soul to be able to give the right hand of fellowship to his successful rival, though he himself must forego that happiness which he had long been seeking to attain. Grey felt that in the days that were to come Lord Sandford must needs show himself in different colours from those of the past. This victory must surely be a stepping-stone on which he would rise to higher and nobler things. Geraldine now stood before him, all shrinking over, her eyes alight with pure womanly gratitude, admiration, and affection. "I thank you, my lord, for such good words. Forgive me if I have ever misjudged you." "Nay, lady, you never did that; you did but appraise me too truly." "Yet I had ever some liking for you, my lord—think it not otherwise—save when I thought, I feared—" "Yes, yes; I know, I understand. Friendship you had for me, so long as I deserved it; but love—never. And you were right, Lady Geraldine; you were right to withhold that. Perchance if your sweet eyes, like wells of liquid light, had not seen so clearly, had not read the secrets I sought to hide, my own love might not have blazed so fiercely. It is ever the unattainable which men desire to possess. But let us think of that no more. Let us bury the past, and live anew in the future. Friendship is left to us—a friendship which, I trust, will last a lifetime." And so speaking he turned once more to Grey, and said with a smile lighting his face,— "And shall I, for a wedding-gift, restore to you your good horse, Don Carlos, at present in my stables at St. Albans?" He spoke so freely and openly that Grey heard him in amaze. "Have you Don Carlos?" spoke Geraldine, much astonished. "I did think that he was stolen from Sir Grey."