"PETER,--I beg you not to distress yourself. I am determined to forget what happened this evening, and I rely on you not to brood on things which are finished. You know now that I am more than ever right to become the wife of Lord Wenderby. I want you to meet me without awkwardness or self-reproach. There is no need for one or the other. Nothing has changed. "I am sending this by your dear mother. "MARY." Mrs. Paragon handed back the sheet. "You are kind," she said. "I have nothing to resent." She sealed the letter, and addressed it. "When Peter has got over his remorse, you will bring him back," she suggested. "His remorse is too keen to last," Mrs. Paragon said quite simply. She did not intend to be critical. Lady Mary kissed Mrs. Paragon tenderly. "It was beautiful of you to come," she whispered. Peter was waiting for his mother, and met her anxiously at the door. Lady Mary's letter acted as she intended. It was a dash of water upon the fires of his despair. Reading her collected sentences, he could hardly believe he had seen love and pain unutterable in her eyes. She was, in her letter, restored to serenity as one to be remotely worshipped. An added majesty had crowned her. She was dedicated to a great historic part. Already as Mrs. Paragon returned, the news was spread from waiting presses that the Government had fallen. They screamed it in the street below. Now that his personal passion was out of the way, Peter began to see these issues in a large and national perspective. He remembered Haversham's vibrant wish that he might have had some share in this event--the event of which Lady Mary was motive and queen. Peter's recovery was rapid. Alternately the week through he wavered between the remorse of one who had erred unspeakably and the exultation of one still privileged to witness the flight of an angel. Then, one bright morning, he discovered that these extremes had vanished in a quiet sense, that a chapter of his life had closed. Rapture was going out of his late adventure, making way for a steady sense that Lady Mary was very admirable and an excellent friend. After a few days spent mostly with his mother, he was enough in tune with Lady Mary's letter to visit her in Arlington Street. Wenderby was waiting for her, and, before she came down to them, they were a few moments together. Peter was surprised at the cordiality of his feelings for the man he had so long distrusted. Wenderby had an instinct for meeting people in their own way. He at once saw the change in Peter. "I think you know of my engagement?" he said abruptly. "Has Lady Mary told you everything?" Peter asked. "Not everything," Wenderby answered with a faint smile. "I have inferred the greater part." "You will be very proud of her," said Peter impulsively. "You believe that I understand my good fortune?"