That very morning Lord Bexley had proposed marriage to Celia Franks, and, to his sorrow, had been refused. She liked and respected him immensely, she said, and felt honoured that he should desire to marry her; but she did not love him, and, having once experienced an engagement without love, she was anxious to avoid a repetition of the mistake. It was no wonder, therefore, that he was not in the happiest of moods. He had known all along that, having given up her own fortune for the sake of her belief, his rank and wealth were not likely to carry much weight; but such knowledge did not make his disappointment any the less keen. “I think I shall join my sister in the South,” he said, when, Mrs. Potter Wemyss having taken her departure, he was able to speak to Celia. “London seems suddenly to have become cold and grey. It will be a relief to see sunny Italy once more.” Celia turned to him with an expression of regret. “You make me feel that I am sending you away,” she said, with a touch of self-reproach. “I am so sorry, Lord Bexley, sorry that I have had to hurt you, I mean.” “Never mind, it was my own fault,” he rejoined, not wishing her to feel that she was in any way to blame. “It was foolish of me to imagine that you could fall in love with an old stager like myself. Oh, that’s all right”--as the girl was about to remonstrate,--“I am getting old, you know. Well, well, we will not say any more about it; only I do hope that when Mr. Right comes along, he will be worthy of you, Cely. You are a dear girl, you deserve to be made happy, and I sincerely trust that some good man will make you so.” There was a suspicious moisture in Celia’s eyes. “Thank you,” she said simply, with one of her wonderful smiles. “It is very kind and generous of you to wish me all that; I hope, though, you won’t go away before Thursday,” raising her voice slightly, for Miss Haviland’s eyes were upon them. “I made sure that Lady Marjorie would be present at the theatre on the first night. I shall be dreadfully disappointed if you are away too.” “Then I will stay,” he hastened to rejoin. “It is very kind of you to express such a desire.” Thus ended Lord Bexley’s love affair, the only one he ever had. The important Thursday came in due course, as every long-anticipated day comes, whether its advent be hailed with delight or dread. Celia was excited one moment, calm the next, and all the time cherished a secret fear lest she should be overcome with stage-fright at the crucial moment. Late in the afternoon a large floral horse-shoe arrived from Mrs. Potter Wemyss. Haviland had it hung up in Celia’s dressing-room at the theatre, for luck. Accompanying the emblem was a note from the great actress wishing the author and his heroine a huge success. She was unable to attend the performance herself, having a professional engagement of her own to fulfil, but hoped to join them later at the Carlton, where Haviland was giving a supper in honour of the occasion.