"’Tis truly magnificent," cried Lord Beachcombe. "All the world admires the taste of Lady Barbara Sweeting, but this time she has given us something to marvel at." While he was speaking, Peggie plucked at Prue’s sleeve and murmured in her ear, "In the library," with a glance and gesture that needed no interpretation. With an immense effort of self-control, Prue stopped long enough to compliment her friend on her new and gorgeous equipage, and then slipped away, with her heart throbbing in her throat, and ran down-stairs, to find Robin awaiting her, rather inefficiently disguised in a gold-laced velvet coat and a voluminous periwig, in which his marked resemblance to Lord Beachcombe struck Prue with absolute consternation. "Robin, Robin!" she cried, when the door was closed, "how could you dream of coming here, of all places?" "I have dreamed of nothing else," he replied. His eyes were glowing and his whole countenance transformed by a sublime transport of adoration. Few men are capable of this ecstasy and few women privileged to behold it; none, it may be conjectured, can resist its enchantment. Prue, trembling with a strange joy, yielded to the arms of her lover-husband, and there forgot everything else for a few blissful moments. "Dearest, you must not stay here," she murmured, when he released her lips, "your worst enemy is in this house." And in a few rapid words she told him of Lord Beachcombe’s search after the papers, his prediction of Robin’s visit and his suggestion of using her as a bait to the trap he proposed setting for him. "Go, now—at once, Robin, my husband, and send me word where to come to you; it is safer so. Oh! I will come! you need not fear—you see, I do not even ask if you want me to! Send for me, and be not too tardy about it—" "Tardy, Heart of my heart," he murmured, with his lips to hers. "Every moment I spend away from you is an eternity in purgatory. If I must go, tell me that you love me, that I may have something to live upon until we meet again." "Oh! I love you, Robin—indeed I love you—yet I take blame to myself for telling you so often, who have never yet said it to me. Some day you will, mayhap, remind me that I did all the wooing, and all the marrying, too! Nay, swear to me, Robin, that thou’lt forget that ever I asked thee to many me—" and she hid her face, all blushing with love and shame, upon his shoulder.