"You know," said the Count, "there are only two persons who could have written this--and they are women. If it is the one, I fear nothing; if the other, I fear everything." "Then," said John Craik, shuffling in his chair, "fear nothing." De Lloseta looked at him sharply. "I could force you to tell a lie by mentioning the name of the woman who wrote this," he said. "Then don't!" said John Craik. "I lie beautifully!" "No, I will not. But I will ask you to do something for me instead: let me read the proofs of these as they are printed." For exactly two seconds John Craik pondered. "I shall be happy to do that," he said. "I will let you know when the proof is ready. You must come here and read it in this room." Cipriani de Lloseta rose from his seat. "Thank you," he said, holding out his hand. "I will not keep you from your work. You are doing a better action than you are aware of." He took the frail fingers in his grasp for a second and turned to go. Before the door closed behind him John Craik was at work again. So Eve Challoner's work passed through Cipriani de Lloseta's hand, and that nobleman came into her life from another point. It would seem that in whichsoever direction she turned, the Mallorcan was waiting for her with his grave persistence, his kindly determination to watch over her, to exercise that manly control over her life which is really the chief factor of feminine happiness on earth--if women only knew it. For all through Nature there are qualities given to the male for the sole advantage of the female, and the beasts of the forest rise up in silent protest against the nonsense that is talked to-day of woman's place in the world. We may consider the beasts of the field to advantage, for through all the chances and changes of education, of female emancipation, and the subjection of the weaker sort of man, there will continue to run to the end of time the one grand principle that the male is there to protect the female and the female to care for her young. Cipriani de Lloseta thus late in life seemed to have found an object. Eve Challoner, while bringing back the past with a flood of recollections--for she seemed to carry the air of Mallorca with her--had so far brought him to the present that for the first time since thirty years and more he began to be interested in the life that was around him. He suspected--nay, he almost knew--that Eve had written the article in the Commentator which had attracted so much attention. John Craik had to a certain extent baffled him. He had called on the editor of the great periodical in the hope of gleaning some detail--some little scrap of information which would confirm his suspicion--but he had come away with nothing of value excepting the promise that the printed matter should pass through his hands before it reached the public.