But there was no letter, and when he had dined alone he had arrived at that point of impatience which can no longer be satisfied with hoping or believing--he insisted on seeing. So he went to Lady Cramer's house and found it in semidarkness; consequently she was out. The obliging porter informed him, in return for a crown piece, that his lady had gone to the theater with the Duke of Rotherham, and Ian quickly followed her there. The play was in progress, but the man who had seated him previously came smilingly to take his ticket. "Never mind the location," said Ian; "put me where I can see Lady Cramer and not be seen." "A box on a higher tier would be the best." "Then take me there." "It will be five shillings more." "Here is a sovereign. Give me a good location and keep the change." He got all he desired, and for two hours fed the fire in his heart through the sad, tearless avenues of his eyes. Only the Duke was with her. He was in full dress, with all his ribboned orders on his breast; she was robed in pale amber satin and glittering with diamonds. The house was very full, the entertainment mirth-provoking, and there was a great deal of sweet, sensuous music. He did not hear anything either sung or spoken, for all his life was in his eyes, and what they saw burned the word _unattainable_ on all his hopes. He left the theater before the performance was finished; he did not wish to meet his false mistress until he was quite sure of his decision. When he thought he was so he lifted his valise and packed it. He had resolved to see her once more and then return to Glasgow. His manner was then haughty and quiet, and his face looked as if carven out of steel, so cold and clear-cut were its features, so hard and implacable the resolve written on them. In the morning he went to Lady Cramer's house, and was readily admitted. She was rather glad of his visit, for she by no means realized her offense nor her lover's indignation at it. Indeed, when he entered the parlor she rose with a little cry of pleasure, and, with both hands extended, hurried to meet him. "O Ian! Ian! How glad I am to see you!" she cried. "I have just written to you--why did you not come again yesterday?" He had advanced to about the middle of the room, and he stood there, stern and inflexible, until she was near to him. Then he raised his hands, palms outward, and said: "Stand where you are, Ada. I do not wish you to touch me. You are the most false of all women. I have come to give you back your worthless promise. I do not value it any longer." "Ian! Ian! What do you mean?" "I mean that I know you are going to marry that old Duke--going to sell yourself once more." "Oh, indeed," she answered, "if my marriage is a sale, I prefer to be sold for a dukedom than a Free Kirk pulpit. And, if you have come here to be insolent, understand that I do not care for anything you say." "Care a little for my farewell. I will never trouble you again. I give you back your promise."