A troubled look came into his face. “I fear I can’t,” he replied with disappointment. “I’m on duty and must return at once.” “On duty!” she exclaimed; “why, I understood Captain Swords was on guard to-night?” “Yes,” he replied, “he is; but I’m on special duty--a scouting expedition, I might say.” “A scouting expedition!” she repeated. “You speak as if it were a time of war. Tell me about it.” “I can’t,” he answered reluctantly. “I am pledged upon honor not to speak of it.” Her blue eyes opened wide in mingled astonishment and concern. “If there is so much secrecy,” she said slowly, “it must be a matter of importance. Is there any danger to--to--you?” “I could hardly say there is,” he answered lightly. “Call it an interesting little adventure--nothing more serious than that.” But she was not lightly to be put aside. “On your honor, is there no danger?” “None that I know of,” he answered reassuringly. “That you know of?” she repeated. “Then you can’t tell.” “No,” he admitted, “the circumstances are so novel--so unusual--I can’t tell.” They had reached a secluded part of the great conservatory and stood facing each other, she with downcast eyes, he looking down upon her with rapt admiration. “I must return,” he whispered; “although never did I go to duty so unwillingly.” She took his arm and they walked slowly back toward the ball-room. “Why so silent?” he whispered to her as they walked. She sighed. “I have a foreboding,” she answered sadly, “that this undertaking--this secret expedition of which you cannot speak--is one of difficulty and of danger.” “No, no,” he answered cheerily; “you’re mistaken. But,” he added in a low voice, “were it so, would you care?” For answer, she looked upward and her glance met his. Softly he whispered to her and more softly still came her whispered reply--a reply that brought the light to his eyes and the hot flush of joy to his cheeks. It was with that light in his eyes, that color in his cheeks, they passed out of the conservatory into the ball-room. Not ten paces from them as they entered stood a man wearing the uniform of the Imperial Guard. As they walked, he looked after them, with black brows bent and an expression in the dark face that was not good to look upon. He turned sharply at a tap from a lady’s fan upon his arm, the scowl still upon his face. “Ah, Lady Brooke!” “A word with you, Milord Ashley,” she said. He led her aside and they stood for some minutes engaged in conversation. “I’ll do it,” he said to her as she was about to pass on. “You may count upon my managing it.” “And you may count upon me,” she answered, “to repair matters when the proper time comes. As you are aware, I still have some influence with His Majesty.” Lord Ashley bowed low.