I made no reply. I reached out for a stone and flung it headlong down the steep slope towards the stream five hundred feet below. “And so it was settled then and there?” I asked, after a pause that Julius seemed inclined to prolong. “Then and there,” he said, watching the rolling stone with dreamy eyes. “In the hall-way of that Norwood villa, under the very eyes of Maennlich who paid her wages and probably often scolded her, she came up into my arms at the end of our final talk, and kissed me like a happy child. She cried a good deal at the time, but I have never once seen her cry since!” “And it’s all gone well--these months?” I murmured. “There was a temporary reaction at first--at the very first, that is,” he said, “and I had to call in Maennlich to convince her that I was in earnest. At her bidding I did that. Some instinct told her that Maennlich ought to see it--perhaps, because it would save her awkward and difficult explanations afterwards. There’s the woman in her, you see, the normal, wholesome woman, sweet and timid.” “A fascinating personality,” I murmured quickly, lest I might say other things--before their time. “No looks, no worldly beauty,” he nodded, “but the unconscious charm of the old soul. It’s unmistakable.” Worlds and worlds I would have given to have been present at that interview; Julius LeVallon, so unusual and distinguished; the shy and puzzled serving-maid, happy and incredulous; the grey-bearded archæologist and scholar; the strange embarrassment of this amazing proposal of marriage! “And Maennlich?” I asked, anxious for more detail. Julius burst out laughing. “Maennlich lives in his own world with his specimens and theories and memories of travel--more recent memories of travel than our own! It hardly interested him for more than a passing moment. He regarded it, I think, as an unnecessary interruption--and a bothering one--some joke he couldn’t quite appreciate or understand. He pulled his dirty beard, patted me on the back as though I were a boy running after some theatre girl, and remarked with a bored facetiousness that he could give her a year’s character with a clear conscience and great pleasure. Something like that it was; I forget exactly. Then he went back to his library, shouting through the door some appointment about a Geographical Society meeting for the following week. For how could he know”--his voice grew softer as he said it and his laughter ceased--“how could he divine, that old literal-minded savant, that he stood before a sign-post along the route to the eternal things _we_ seek, or that my marrying his servant was a step towards something we three owe together to the universe itself?”