"We can!" he cried. "We started from the garden; we have been a long journey with all its chances and adventures; and now we are at the garden gate again: the flowers we loved are beckoning to us; the birds we loved are calling us; we have but to lift the latch—Lucy, shall we not open the gate and enter the garden?" "We cannot recall the sunrise—" "But the sunset can be as beautiful!" "We are old," she said; but her voice had no conviction. As a matter of fact, at that particular moment she felt she was eighteen. "I deny it!" he laughed. He felt assured of victory. "Do I feel old? Do you look old?—I can’t vault a five-barred gate, but I can open it and get on the other side just as quickly!" She looked up at him with a wistful smile. "But—but there are other things—" "There is, above all, happiness! If we have no children of our own, Lucy, we shall have our grandchildren." "No!" she cried, rising, and shaking her head. "I have been too persuasive. Marjolaine’s love has been nipped in the bud. And besides, Jack has run away from her." "Not he, if I know the young rascal!" He took both her hands in his. "You tell me Marjolaine is well and happy?" "Yes; but hysterical. You saw for yourself, just now." "Is she a flighty coquette?" "Certainly not!" "Then I ’ll bet you a new hat—No! a diamond tiara!—she knows where Jack is, and there ’s an understanding between them!" "Oh!" exclaimed Madame, as the possibility of this idea struck her. "Lucy!" cried Lord Otford, drawing her to him, "both couples shall be married on the same day!" You have no idea how pretty Madame looked in her confusion and happiness. You have no idea how young and handsome Lord Otford looked in his victory. Love had set the clock back for both of them—and they were young man and young maid again. What had become of Madame’s resentment? What had become of all the arguments she had thought of when he first began to speak? His voice had effaced them all. It was so natural to be loved by him and to love him, that no other thing seemed possible. She had nothing to say. She could only breathe a great sigh of contentment as he touched her: she felt as if she had parted with him in the garden only last night; and to-night he had come again; and all was as it should be; and all was well. But suddenly she started away from him. "Jack!" she cried, with horror, "we shall have to tell them!" "Oh, Lord!" exclaimed Otford with comic dismay. "I can’t face Marjolaine!" said Madame, with a pretty blush, which, however, was wasted in the darkness. "Jack’ll roast me properly!" groaned Lord Otford. "You see it’s hopeless! We’ve been telling them how utterly impossible their marriage is, and now we propose to get married ourselves! How they ’ll laugh at us!" "Let ’em!" cried Lord Otford. "By Gad, it shall be happy laughter!" And therewith he drew Madame into his arms and kissed her; and I cannot honestly say she resisted.