“I tell you that I am born with the heart of a crusader,” he exclaimed, striding about the room as though it were a field of battle. “In happier times I would have led the hosts of the Lord to Jerusalem. Bishops then wore coats of steel and they fought with halberd and with sword to gain the Sepulchre of the Lord their Saviour. I tell you that I cannot look at the portrait of Julius the Pope without thinking that I too have it in me to ride into action on my charger and crush the enemies of the Church. I’ve come into the world too late.” Lord Spratte, mildly cynical, shrugged his shoulders. “Meanwhile you’ve succeeded in capturing for Winnie the best _parti_ of the season. Talk of match-makin’ mammas! They’re nowhere when my brother Theodore takes the field.” “When I make up my mind to do a thing I do it.” “And what about the Socialist?” “Oh, I think I’ve settled him,” said the Canon, with a laugh of disdain. “What did I tell you, Sophia?” “My dear Theodore, I have always thought you a clever man,” she answered, calmly. “I’ve brought you to your knees; I’ve humbled your pride at last. Winnie is going to marry Harry Wroxham and Lionel is nearly engaged to Gwendolen Durant. What would you say if I told you that I was going to be married too?” They both stared at him with amazement, and he chuckled as he watched their faces. “Are you joking, Theodore?” “Not in the least. But I’m not going to tell you who it is yet.” “I shouldn’t be surprised if it were Gwendolen,” mused Lady Sophia. “Unless I’m much mistaken she’s a good deal more in love with you than she is with Lionel.” “Of course one never knows, does one?” laughed the Canon. “On the other hand, it might be Mrs. Fitzherbert.” “No, I’m sure it isn’t,” replied Lady Sophia, with decision. “Why?” “Because she’s a sensible woman and she’d never be such a fool as to have you.” “Wait and see, then. Wait and see.” He laughed himself out of the room, and went to his study. Here he laughed again. He had not seen Mrs. Fitzherbert since the ball, for on the following morning she had wired to say that the grave illness of a friend obliged her to go immediately into the country. The Canon had hesitated whether to write a letter; but he was prevented by his dread of ridicule from making protestations of undying affection, and knew not what else to say. He contented himself with sending a telegram: _I await your return with impatience._--THEODORE. He was dining with her that evening to meet certain persons of note. Since she had not written to postpone the party, Mrs. Fitzherbert presumably intended to return to London in the course of the day. He looked forward to the meeting with pleasurable excitement.