"Noel will never call you that again," returned Ingram, quite sternly. "I gave him a good lecture the other day. Why, Mollie dearest, you are simply perfect in my eyes. I am afraid to tell you how lovely and dear I think you. The wonder is that you could ever bring yourself to care for me; for, as Gwen says, I am about as ugly as they make 'em," continued Ingram, in his quaint way. And then Mollie laughed again, though there were tears in her eyes of sheer joy and gratitude. Mollie was very humble on the subject of her own merits; she had no conception how Ingram worshipped her sweetness and beauty. His crowning triumph had been that Monsieur Blackie, and not Viscount Ralston, had won her love. "Gwen may laugh at me, and call me a fool," he thought, "but her sarcasm and smart speech will not trouble me in the least. I have played my little game, and got my innings, and the loveliest and dearest prize in the world is mine." And then he fell to musing blissfully on the surprise in store for his sweetheart. What would Mollie say when he showed her her future home? What would she think of Brentwood Hall, and the Silent Pool, and the big conservatory that Gwen had called their winter-garden, and the long picture-gallery, where, in an obscure corner, "King Canute" hung as large as life? Moritz smiled happily to himself as he thought of the family diamonds, over which Gwen had gloated, and which he had vainly entreated her to wear. "Jack would not like it," Gwen had answered, gravely. "They are for the future Lady Ralston, not for me." How glad he was now that Gwen's unworldliness and good sense had been proof against the temptation! For in those days how was he to know that a certain sweet Mollie Ward would steal away his heart? When Mollie asked him, a little curiously, why he was smiling, Moritz returned, without a moment's hesitation, that he was merely thanking Heaven that she was not rich in worldly goods. Mollie opened her eyes rather widely at this. "I mean, dear, that I shall so love to give you all you want," he said, tenderly. "But--but you are not really rich, are you?" asked Mollie. "Of course I know you are not poor, because of all the lovely things you have given me, and--and----" But here Mollie stopped; she had not the courage to mention Sir Hindley's fees. "No, I am not poor," returned Ingram, quietly. "I have had a nice little property left me by a relative. We shall be very comfortable, dear, and when you are my wife you will not have to bother your poor little head with making ends meet." For once he had discovered Mollie shedding tears over her battered little housekeeping book, because she had exceeded the week's allowance. It was only seven-and-sixpence, or some such paltry sum, but Mollie was covered with shame at her own carelessness, and Ingram, who was, even in those early days, head over ears in love, longed to take her in his arms and kiss the tears away.