After the trial everyone thought him fortunate to get only two years, and the little Duchess, who had grown thin and old-looking in the interval, breathed freely as she read the account in the papers, and saw that her name was not even mentioned in connection with the matter. He wrote to her a loving, boyish letter, and told her she must be true to him till he came out, and that then they would be married and go away where this could never be heard of. It was no small thing he had done for her, he knew; and, as he was not more than human, he expected his reward. And the little Duchess had cried quietly over the letter, and for several days cut off silk and satin with a pensive, unhappy look that quite touched her customers--those few among them who realised that it was human flesh and blood at the other side of the yard measure. * * * * * Twenty months later the little Duchess was at the same counter measuring silk and satin for the stock-taking, when a note was brought to her in a writing she remembered too well. "I got out to-day, Nellie. Come down to the Gardens in the lunch-time." She hesitated when the time came, but he might come to the shop, and that would never do. So she put her hat on thoughtfully and set out for the Gardens. He was awaiting her on the seat where, nearly two years ago, the gardener had smiled at them. He stood up as she came slowly towards him, and for a minute they gazed at each other without speaking. She was in black, of course, but fresh and dainty-looking, with a bunch of white chiffon at her throat, little tan shoes on her feet, and her hair showing golden against the black of her lace hat. For him, his face had altered and hardened; the once thick, curling hair was horribly short, his hands were rough and unsightly, his clothes hung awkwardly upon him, and his linen was doubtful. "The little Duchess!" he said, dully; then he put out his hand, took her small gloved one, and looked at it curiously. "I--I am glad you're out," she said, carefully looking away from him. "Yes--we must be married now, Nellie; that's all I've had to think about all this awful time." His face flushed a little and his eyes lightened. "It's good not to see the walls," he added, looking round at the spring's brave show, then away to the blue sparkle in the bay and the glancing sails. "We mustn't talk of that time, though, ever--eh, Nellie?" "No," she said, regarding her brown shoes intently. His eye noted the smooth roundness of her cheek, the delicate pink that came and went, the turn of the white neck. "Aren't you going to kiss me, Nellie?" he said, slowly; and he drew her a little strangely and awkwardly to him. Then she spoke. "I knew it wouldn't be any use, and you'd never have any money or get a place after this. We couldn't be married on nothing, and it would only drag you down to have me, too. I'm not worthy of you."