His old pupil shook it heartily, and Cheiron, seeing that joyous light in his eyes, raised his left penthouse with a whimsical smile. "Got clear of the Octopus, I should imagine," he said laconically. "Well, better late than never--Halcyone is over on the bench under the cypress, gazing upon the Tarpeian rock; perhaps you may like to go to her--" and he pointed in that direction. "It is what I have come at post-haste from Venice to do, Master," John Derringham said. "Mrs. Cricklander was kind enough to release me on Saturday evening--she has other views, it seems!"--and he laughed with his old boyish gayety. "Well, I won't keep you," Cheiron answered. "Bring my little girl back to the hotel when these gates shut. No doubt you will have enough to talk about till then," and he smiled benignly. "You will give us your blessing, Master?" John Derringham asked. But the Professor growled as he turned to go on. "She has my blessing always," he said, "and you will have it, too, if you make her happy, but you don't deserve her, you know, John." John Derringham drew himself up and looked straight out in front of him--his face was moved. "I know I do not," he said, "but I hope you believe me, Cheiron, when I tell you that I mean to devote the rest of my life to attain that object--and at least no man could worship her more." "Get on with your courting then, lad!" said the Professor, pointing with his stick in Halcyone's direction, while his wise eyes smiled. "I suppose she will think you perfect in any case--it is her incredible conviction!" And with this he shook his old pupil's hand again, and the two men went their separate ways; John Derringham forgetful of even his lame ankle as he rapidly approached his beloved. She saw him coming--she had been thinking of him deeply in an exquisite day-dream, and this seemed just the sequence of it, and quite natural and yet divine. She rose and held out both hands to him, the radiance of heaven in her tender eyes. For she knew that all was well and joy had come. And they spoke not a word as he folded her in his arms. * * * * * A week later they were married very quietly at the Embassy, and went south to spend their honeymoon, leaving Mr. Carlyon to go back to England alone. He was tired of wandering, he said, and sighed for the comforts of the orchard house and his pipe and his Aristotle. And Aphrodite went with the bridal pair, no doubt content. The manner of Mrs. Cricklander's dismissal of John Derringham had left him unhampered by any consideration for her feelings. And when she read the announcement in the _New York Herald_ the day after the wedding, she burned with furious rage.