"I can stand it, if Archdale can," he answered. "How fate works to bring us together," he mused. "I don't understand," cried the other. "What has fate to do with this invitation?" Edmonson, who had spoken, forgetting that he was not alone, looked at his companion with sudden suspicion. But Bulchester went on in the same tone. "If it is to carry out your purpose though, little you will care for having been a suitor of Mistress Archdale." "On the contrary, it will add piquancy to the visit." Then he added, "Don't you see, Bulchester, that I dare not throw away an opportunity? Ship 'Number One' has foundered. 'Number Two' must come to land. That is the amount of it." "Yes," returned Bulchester with so much assurance that the other's scrutiny relaxed. "I suppose it is settled," said his lordship after a pause. "Certainly," answered Edmonson; and he smiled. Lady Dacre and train, having fairly started on their two day's journey, she settled herself luxuriously and again began her observations. But as they were not especially striking, no chronicle of them can be found, except that she called Brattle Street an alley, begged pardon for it with a mixture of contrition and amusement, and generally patronized the country a little. Sir Temple enjoyed it greatly, and Archdale was glad of any diversion. When they had stopped for the night, as they sat by the open windows of the inn and looked out into the garden which was too much a tangle for anything but moonlight and June to give it beauty, Lady Dacre sprang up, interrupting her husband in one of his remarks, and declaring it a shame to stay indoors such a night. "Give me your arm," she said to Archdale, "and let us take a turn out here. We don't want you, Temple; we want to talk." Sir Temple, serenely sure of hearing, before he slept, the purport of any conversation that his wife might have had, took up a book which he had brought with him. He was an excellent traveler in regard to one kind of luggage; the same book lasted him a good while. Lady Dacre moved off with Stephen. They went out of the house and down the walk. She commented on the neglected appearance of things until Stephen asked her if weeds were peculiar to the American soil. In answer she struck him lightly with her fan and walked on laughing. But when they reached the end of the garden, she turned upon him suddenly. "Now tell me," she said. "Tell you what?" "Tell me what, indeed! What a speech for a lover, a young husband. Has the light of your honeymoon faded so quickly? Mine has not yet. Tell me about her, of course, your charming bride." Stephen came to a dead halt, and stood looking into the smiling eyes gazing up into his. "Lady Dacre," he said, "the Mistress Archdale you will find at Seascape is my mother." Then he gave the history of his intended marriage, and of that other marriage which might prove real. His listener was more moved than she liked to show.