"You forget we're Lord Wyvelstoke's privileged guests.--Come, Anthony!" and I led the way down to the carriage. "Ain't you nervous, Perry?" enquired my friend, as we rolled smoothly away. "No." "Queer fish--I am!" said he, fidgeting with his cravat. "You're deuced cool, devilish serene and enigmatical at times, like your uncle Jervas." "You flatter me, Tony." "Devil a bit--and this coat of mine feels like a--what the devil are we stopping for?" We had reached the top of St. James's Street and glancing through the window, I saw our progress blocked momentarily by converging traffic; I was about to lean back in my seat again when my careless glance was arrested by an elegant closed chaise going in the opposite direction; the light was still good, and thus I saw this for a black-bodied chaise picked out in yellow with red wheels. The window was down and thence fluttered a lady's scarf or veil, a delicate gossamer thing spangled with gold stars; as I watched, from the dim interior of the chaise came a woman's white hand to gather up this glittering scarf, a shapely hand sparkling with gems, amongst which I saw one shaped like a scarabaeus; then the chaise rolled away and was gone. "What the dooce are you staring at, Perry?" "Nothing!" I answered, frowning. "Nothing!" His lordship's house was ablaze with lights and, though we were so early, in the street immediately before it was a crowd that pushed and jostled as we mounted the carpeted steps and were ushered into the lofty hall. Here, the footmen having relieved us of our hats and coats, we found the sedate Atkinson as gravely imperturbable as I remembered him two years ago, who acknowledged my greeting with sedate smile and grave obeisance and brought us forthwith to a chamber where I found Lord Wyvelstoke in confabulation with my two uncles. At our entrance they rose, and his lordship limped forward to welcome us; and looking upon his slender, elegant figure, beholding his impassive face with its air of serene and conscious power, I warmed to the kindness of his smile, even as I had done two years ago. Our greetings over, his lordship slipped his arm in mine and led me apart. "Well, Peregrine," said he, with his old, keen look, "I perceive your two years of self-sacrifice have not been in vain; you are grown in every sense. And to-night unselfishness shall have its full reward. To-night, Peregrine, I render back to you your Diana, but a Diana glorified--a woman, and one who has endeared herself to me by her great-hearted and noble qualities. In her is nothing paltry, education has not stunted or narrowed the soul of her. She has been faithful to her task for your sake and faithful to you for Love's sake. By your unselfishness she has indeed become all that we hoped--and more, one to be proud of. But I grow garrulous in her praise--go to her and see for yourself. She is awaiting you in her boudoir with Mrs. Vere-Manville."