“The man whom I am to marry has not yet asked me to be his wife,” faintly said Elaine. “It was only Judge Endicott’s foolish solicitude for my future. “He may have told you what his own hopes or wishes were, but only in the simple faith of a prophet before his time.” “It has been a hell on earth these long months,” was Hugh’s response; “and I dared not to hope—I did not know—” “How weak and fond we women wait Behind our silken armor—” whispered the splendid woman whose hand he had covered with burning kisses. “I have loved you, have worshiped you, and have served you in perfect faith and truth since first I saw your dear face,” was Hugh Conyers’ confession of faith. She was gently paltering with her rebellious heart. She would bring herself to the lines of a clearly defined duty now. “I must tell you to-night the story of a life. I must swear you to secrecy, my Hugh,” faltered Margaret Cranstoun. “For the child’s sake, you alone must know every throbbing of my heart!” He bowed his head in token of that fealty of the soul which she longed for. “You shall be the queen to the very end, my darling!” he said. “I will lend you Sara,” he simply said. “Take Romaine and her, and I will join you by Lake Malar. “I will at first report at London, and then, they can name a man to relieve me. “It will be the best plan, for our quiet marriage over there, will arouse no comment here. “The gold fish in the swim will not pause to wonder, for their own reflections on the shallow water of the pool of Fashion fill their delighted eyes.” And so, they walked back, hand in hand, their hearts throbbing together in Love’s royal bondage. A week later, Judge Endicott stood upon the deck of the Campania, waiting to give his last greetings to the Lady of Lakemere, whose wonderful cheerfulness now boded some new springing impulse of her happy heart. The old advocate eyed Hugh Conyers and his sister with a pleading for the confirmation of his cherished hopes. There seemed to be a happy secret linking the three travelers in a golden bond. Was Alynton’s life to be crowned at last? And the silver-haired Judge, with a secret joy, observed Noel Endicott’s tall form bending over Miss Romaine Garland, whose hands were filled with those June roses which are the very daintiest seals of Cupid’s pledges. In the last moments there was vouchsafed to him the answer to the unspoken question which was lingering on his lips, “the long-hoped-for marriage.” “I am to be married, as you advised, my dear and faithful friend,” was the parting confession of the Lady of Lakemere. “When?” demanded the delighted lawyer, as his mind reverted to the vast advantages of Senator Alynton’s friendship for his favorite nephew. “Whenever Hugh calls upon me,” was Elaine’s reply, as she felt her lover’s strong grasp of an already imprisoned hand. “Bless my soul! I have been blind!” cried the happy old advocate. “So, have we all been too long, Judge!” Hugh Conyers gaily answered.