He could see her splendid eyes shining upon him through her happy tears. “Let us go in, Harold,” she softly said. “I must think! I must think! But promise me that you will not go away from New York till I bid you. Trust to me.” “I promise,” he gravely said, as he lifted her trembling hand and kissed it, and then, arm in arm, they wandered back to her splendid pleasaunce palace. _It_ was the “betrayal with a kiss.” After the dinner, to which a few of the nearest county magnates had been previously bidden, Vreeland watched Elaine’s imperial bearing as she proudly queened it in the drawing room. A richer rose burned upon her cheek. Her eyes were lit up with a strange fire, and her magnificent voice echoed in every heart with a thrill of a quivering life, as her defiant soul rose to the prelude of that coming war with the jealous girl who had determined to shine down the Lady of Lakemere. The last carriage load of guests had rattled away, and Mme. Lafarge, wearied “_dame de compagnie_,” was nodding, with her eyes hopefully fixed upon the old colonial hall clock, when Elaine said, softly: “One last word with you in the library.” The Queen of the Street stood there with downcast eyes before the great carved mantle, as she slowly said: “They will arrive in three or four days. You must confirm your answer to him. “He has told me that you know stocks, and are familiar with all board matters.” Vreeland bowed in silence. “Then,” she said, fixing her sparkling eyes upon him, “I will make you a confession. I had decided to withdraw gradually my entire business from their firm. In fact, I have been already secretly operating through a trusted friend _on the outside_. “You must find a good man, one acceptable to Hiram Endicott. “I will set you up, and Hathorn & Potter shall soon find a rival. I will carry the war into the enemy’s camp. So be on your guard. _Hathorn must never know!_ “It is the only punishment for his abandonment at the first hostile signal from his enraged wife. I have made him on the Street! _I can unmake him!_” Her voice had the ring of a singing bugle calling to arms. “But, I have no money,” the crafty Judas faltered. “Leave that to me,” laughingly said Elaine. “You are now my own knight. Here are your colors.” She handed him a knot of ribbon blue. “Come to me next week. Meet him frankly and decline all connection. Senator Alynton will be here then.” And she smiled and pressed a rosy finger to her lips. “The Sugar magnate!” whispered the happy Vreeland, as he stood spellbound, while his goddess fled up the stair, leaving him there alone. CHAPTER IV. “WYMAN AND VREELAND” SWING THE STREET. Mr. Harold Vreeland was awake with the birds, and in an early morning walk long communed with himself under the whispering trees of Lakemere. The enchanting prospect of the superb estate delighted his eyes more with every visit. He blessed the goddess Fortune, and smiled truly, “the lines have fallen to me in pleasant places!”