"This, then, is the point: you know enough about the Society to understand, and there is no particular secret. Your father wishes me to enter the higher grade of officers, under the Council; and the first condition is that one surrenders up every farthing of one's property." "Yes?" He stared at her. Her "Yes?"--with its affectionate interest and its absolute absence of surprise--was almost the exact equivalent of Lord Evelyn's "Well?" "Perhaps you would advise me to consent?" he said, almost in the way of a challenge. "Ah, no," she said, with a smile. "It is not for me to advise on such things. What you decide for yourself, that will be right." "But you don't understand, my darling. Supposing I were ambitious of getting higher office, which I am not; supposing I were myself willing to sell my property to swell the funds of the Society--and I don't think I should be willing in any case--do you think I would part with what ought to belong to my wife--to you, Natalie? Do you think I would have you marry a beggar--one dependent on the indulgence of people unknown to him?" And now there was a look of real alarm on the girl's face. "Ah!" she said, quickly. "Is not that what my father feared? You are thinking of me when you should think of others. Already I--I--interfere with your duty; I tempt you--" "My darling, be calm, be reasonable. There is no duty in the matter; your father acknowledges that himself. It is a proposal I am free to accept or reject, as I please; and now I promise you that, as you won't give me any advice, I shall decide without thinking of you at all. Will that satisfy you?" She remained silent for a second or two, and then she said thoughtfully, "Perhaps you could decide just as if there were no possibility of my ever being your wife?" "To please you, I will assume that too." Then she said, after a bit, "One word more, dearest; you must grant me this--that I may always be able to think of it when I am alone and far from you, and be able to reassure myself: it is the promise I thought I could do so well without. Now you will give it me?" "What promise?" "That whatever happens to you or to me, whatever my father demands of me, and wherever you may have to go, you will never withdraw from what you have undertaken." He met the earnest, pleading look of those beautiful eyes without flinching. His heart was light enough, so far as such a promise was concerned. Heavier oaths than that lay on him. "That is simple enough, Natalie," said he. "I promise you distinctly that nothing shall cause me to swerve from my allegiance to the Society; I will give absolute and implicit obedience, and the best of such work as I can do. But they must not ask me to forget my Natalie." She rose, still holding his hand, and stood by him, so that he could not quite see her face. Then she said, in a very low voice indeed, "Dearest, may I give you a ring?--you do not wear one at all--"