‘Who is this Anglo-Indian that I should have to play second fiddle to him?’ thought Geometrus to himself, ‘why does Mercia occupy herself with _him_?’ From the talking-machine he had learnt to his infinite joy, of Mercia’s love for him; it was the first intimation he had received of her affection, but before he could drink in the delight of his unexpected bliss, it was melting away like a dream. All her attention was engrossed by this Swami. When she was not engaged giving her graceful acknowledgments to the enthusiastic crowd, her eyes were looking into his with that soul-worship, which women accord, when they have met their ideal. ‘She never gazed into my face with that fervour,’ he thought, ‘she loves him, else how could she be so devoted? I have loved her for years, and this is the reward of my constancy; in one day a stranger has ousted me. This comes of over-cautiousness; had I been reckless of consequences, Mercia would have been mine by this time, made safe by bonds of wedlock. But I hesitated, believing her position had greater charms for her than matrimony. And now—well, no one can bottom a woman’s heart, or gather its meaning. I imagined I was consulting her best interests when I refrained from declaring my love, leaving over the matter for time to put things right. And this is the result; a stranger has accomplished more in one day than I with all my years of opportunity. It is inexplicable. ‘However, I’ll wait no longer, this night shall conclude the matter. Ere another day elapses I will have asked her to share my poor fortunes; surely we two can meet with appointments as teachers of astronomy and make a respectable livelihood between us. It isn’t a very brilliant position to offer, but she will then be mine legally, and no man can take her from me. My prudence has made me play the fool, so far, but this night shall I learn my fate. I will delay no longer. Mercia has told the whole world of her preference for me, how then can she have the face to refuse me?’ As these thoughts passed through Geometrus’ mind whilst seated near Swami, the latter looked into his face and remarked impressively— ‘The chances and changes of this mortal life are never ending. They bring sorrow to one, and joy to another. Strange arrangement this of Fortune; one moment bestowing good, the next evil. If thou shouldst regard thyself ill used to-day, learn that a morrow will come when thou shalt be made content; but not in the manner that is in thine heart at this moment.’ ‘There is _nothing_ that can bring me content, Swami,’ replied Geometrus bitterly, ‘but that which thou seekest to deprive me of.’ Mercia at this moment was oblivious of the nature of their conversation, her attention having been engaged by the arrival of friends to congratulate her. When the party reached the Observatory Swami expressed his intention of returning; and as soon as he had assisted Mercia to alight, he conducted her to her sitting-room.