When she was safely installed in a first-class carriage, her rustic admirer, who had seen personally after her luggage, appeared at the window with some newspapers. "You'll want them to read, madam," he said awkwardly, as she thanked him. "I hope you'll have a pleasant journey." "Thank you, Mr. Belk, I hope I shall." "You'll be coming back soon I hope?" He blurted out this question with a deep flush, and Mrs. Belswin stared at him with undisguised astonishment She could not understand the reason of this man's deference, for she judged it impossible that he could be so deeply in love with her as all his actions seemed to denote. Good-natured, however, when not crossed in any way, she replied politely, as the train moved off-- "I shall return in a fortnight." "If you don't," muttered Belk, as the long line of carriages disappeared, "I'll follow you up to London." "Good heavens!" said Mrs. Belswin, throwing herself back in her seat, "what on earth can the man see in me to admire? I'm not a vain woman. I never was a vain woman, and why that handsome young fellow should leave youth to run after age is more than I can understand. It's flattering; very much so; but," continued the lady, struck by a sudden thought, "if Ferrari met my new admirer, I'm afraid there would be trouble." She laughed at the idea, and taking up the _Telegraph_ began to read, but suddenly laid it down with a nervous start. "Ferrari loves me! Belk loves me! I love neither, but only my child. Rupert stands between me and my happiness. Which of these men will remove him out of my path? Ferrari--a subtle Italian, Belk--a brutal Saxon. Humph! The fox and the lion over again--craft and strength! I can depend on them both, and Rupert----" She struck her hands together with a triumphant laugh. "Rupert Pethram, you are marching blindfolded into a trap." CHAPTER XIV. SIGNOR FERRARI DECLINES. "Number One is the greater number; if I assisted Number Two it would become the lesser." Signor Ferrari was a gentleman who knew how to make himself thoroughly comfortable; and, in order to do so, squandered his earnings in a most spendthrift fashion. At present he was receiving a very handsome salary for his singing in Sultana Fatima, therefore he denied himself nothing in the way of luxury. He was a true Bohemian in every action of his life, and accepted his fluctuating fortunes with the utmost equanimity. If he fared badly on dry bread and water one day, he was hopeful of oysters and champagne the next; and when the feast of Dives was before him, made the most of it in eating and drinking, so as to recompense himself for all future deprivations, which would be the lot of poverty-stricken Lazarus.