"I assure you," he said impressively, "it is only too true. I know it on the best authority." And here I cannot help remarking that it has always seemed to me strange that even experienced women of the world, like Mrs. Milton-Cleave, can be so easily hoodwinked by that vague nonentity, 'The Best Authority.' I am inclined to think that were I a human being I should retort with an expressive motion of the finger and thumb, "Oh, you know it on the best authority, do you? Then _that_ for your story!" However, I thrived wonderfully on the best authority, and it would be ungrateful of me to speak evil of that powerful though imaginary being. At right angles with the garden walk down which the two were pacing there was another wide pathway, bordered by high closely clipped shrubs. Down this paced a very different couple. Mrs. Milton-Cleave caught sight of them, and so did curate. Mrs. Milton-Cleave sighed. "I am afraid he is running after Gertrude Morley! Poor girl! I hope she will not be deluded into encouraging him." And then they made just the same little set remarks about the desirability of stopping so dangerous an acquaintance, and the impossibility of interfering with other people's affairs, and the sad necessity of standing by with folded hands. I laughed so much over their hollow little phrases that at last I was fain to beat a retreat, and, prompted by curiosity to know a little of the truth, I followed Sigismund and Gertrude down the broad grassy pathway. I knew of course a good deal of Zaluski's character, because my own existence and growth pointed out what he was not. Still, to study a man by a process of negation is tedious, and though I knew that he was not a Nihilist, or a free-lover, or an atheist, or an unprincipled fellow with a dangerous temper, yet I was curious to see him as he really was. "If you only knew how happy you had made me!" he was saying. And indeed, as far as happiness went, there was not much to choose between them, I fancy; for Gertrude Morley looked radiant, and in her clove-like eyes there was the reflection of the love which flashed in his. "You must talk to my mother about it," she said after a minute's silence. "You see, I am still under age, and she and Uncle Henry my guardian must consent before we are actually betrothed." "I will see them at once," said Zaluski, eagerly. "You could see my mother," she replied. "But Uncle Henry is still in Sweden and will not be in town for another week." "Must we really wait so long!" sighed Sigismund impatiently. She laughed at him gently. "A whole week! But then we are sure of each other. I do not think we ought to grumble."