Her blush faded away into paleness; her lips closed. Without speaking she turned and walked slowly away, her head drooping. The philosopher heard the rustle of her skirt in the long grass of the orchard; he watched her for a few moments. "A pretty, graceful creature," said he, with a smile. Then he opened his book, took his pencil in his hand, and slipped in a careful forefinger to mark the fly leaf. The sun had passed mid-heaven, and began to decline westward before he finished the book. Then he stretched himself and looked at his watch. "Good gracious, two o'clock! I shall be late for lunch!" and he hurried to his feet. He was very late for lunch. "Everything's cold," wailed his hostess. "Where have you been, Mr. Jerningham?" "Only in the orchard--reading." "And you've missed May!" "Missed Miss May? How do you mean? I had a long talk with her this morning--a most interesting talk." "But you weren't here to say goodby. Now, you don't mean to say that you forgot that she was leaving by the two o'clock train? What a man you are!" "Dear me! To think of my forgetting it!" said the philosopher shamefacedly. "She told me to say good-by to you for her." "She's very kind. I can't forgive myself." His hostess looked at him for a moment; then she sighed, and smiled, and sighed again. "Have you everything you want?" she asked. "Everything, thank you," said he, sitting down opposite the cheese, and propping his book (he thought he would just run through the last chapter again) against the loaf; "everything in the world that I want, thanks." His hostess did not tell him that the girl had come in from the apple orchard, and run hastily upstairs lest her friend should see what her friend did see in her eyes. So that he had no suspicion at all that he had received an offer of marriage--and refused it. And he did not refer to anything of that sort when he paused once in his reading and exclaimed: "I'm really sorry I missed Miss May. That was an interesting case of hers. But I gave the right answer. The girl ought to marry A." And so the girl did. VII. MARRIAGE BY COMPULSION. "It is a most anxious thing to be an absolute ruler," said Duke Deodonato, "but I have made up my mind. The Doctor has convinced me [here Dr. Fusbius, Ph. D., bowed very low] that marriage is the best, noblest, wholesomest, and happiest of human conditions." "Your Highness will remember----" began the President of the Council. "My lord, I have made up my mind," said Duke Deodonato. Thus speaking, the Duke took a large sheet of foolscap paper, and wrote rapidly for a moment or two. "There," he said, pushing the paper over to the President, "is the decree." "The decree, sir?" "I think three weeks afford ample space," said Duke Deodonato. "Three weeks, sir?" "For every man over twenty-one years of age in this Duchy to find himself a wife."