And so he knelt down before her, and took her hand and looked up into her eyes. That may have been the fashion in which lovers spoke in those days, or it may be that the strong passion of the young man thrilled him into using stage language. But there could be no doubt about the absolute sincerity of the words; and the girl, with a sort of sad, wistful pleasure in her face, heard his urgent prayer. "See, Annie, am I low enough? For God’s sake do not mock me by saying you cannot be my wife because you are an actress. You are to me the noblest and tenderest of women, and there is nothing I hope for but your love. What do you say, Annie? Will you not speak a word to me?" She stooped down and gently kissed away the tears from his cheeks. "I am ashamed of your goodness, dear," she said, in her low, intense voice, "and I wish you had not asked me. But oh! Harry, Harry, how can I hide that I love you with my whole heart!" She placed her hand on his soft brown hair—that hand which half London would have died to have kissed—and looked for a moment into his love-stricken eyes. In that brief moment the compact was sealed between them, and they were thenceforth husband and wife. She uttered a few words—rather indistinctly, to be sure—of farewell; and then she lightly kissed his forehead and left the room. He rose, bewildered, pale, and full of an indescribable happiness; and then he went downstairs, and out into the open air. There was a light in her bedroom as he turned and looked up; and he said: "I leave my heart in her dear keeping, for good or ill." Shortly afterwards he made his appearance in Mr. John Palk’s rooms; and by that time there was nothing on his face but a happy, audacious trust in the future; an expression which immediately struck one of his friends who was seated at one of the small tables. "Knottingley, come here," said this gentleman. "I see you bring good luck in your face. Back me!" "I will. A hundred guineas on Lord Wriothesly’s next hand!" "Done with you, Harry," said Mr. John Palk, to whom a hundred guineas was an acceptable sum, now that he had managed, by aid of ace, king, and queen (with occasional help from a racing favourite) to scatter one of the finest estates possessed by any private gentleman in England. As it happened, too, Lord Wriothesly and his partner won; and Mr. Palk made a little grimace. At a sign from Ormond, he followed the young marquis into a corner, where their conversation could not be overheard. "You’ll have to take paper, Harry," said Palk. "What do you mean?" "The hundred guineas——" "Confound your hundred guineas! Sit down, and listen to me. I am an expatriated man." "How?" said Mr. Palk, quietly taking a chair.