‘I don’t like rich people, and--and he’s so nice!’ ‘If you were a poor poet, or a struggling painter, or a musician with a craze, you wouldn’t blame the dear fellow for his good fortune. He’s so generous, so good-hearted--not only to me, but to every fellow-creature who needs his help. Then look how modest and unaffected he is. His own flunkeys are lords to him, and when he asks for a cup in his own house he’s like a humble City clerk asking deferentially for refreshment in a large hotel.’ Having thus begun, White did not pause till he had sounded the praises of his patron over and over again; told of his goodness and generosity to himself personally; of his countless good deeds to others, who would otherwise have sunk long ago in the dark waters of Bohemia. The theme brought honest tears, as White concluded that ‘if ever there was an angel in a frock-coat and grey trousers, it was James Forster.’ Unsuspicious as Madeline herself, White at first saw nothing remarkable in the close interest with which Forster followed the fortunes of his ward. Nor, when some days afterwards the merchant again put in an appearance, bringing with him a bouquet of choice flowers, did the simple soul awake to much suspicion of the truth. One afternoon, however, as White sat at work on the scenario of a new play, which he was about to submit to the distinguished Mr. Aram, Madeline entered in great agitation. ‘Are you busy? May I speak to you?’ she exclaimed. ‘Certainly, my dear; my time is yours. But what’s the matter?’ ‘Something terrible has happened.’ ‘Indeed!’ The dramatist pushed his papers aside, and arose trembling to his feet. ‘Mr. Forster----’ There she paused. ‘Not ill, I hope?’ ‘Oh, no, no. But I have just left him. He was at Mr. Serena’s, and he came part of the way home.’ ‘Yes. Pray go on.’ ‘Oh, I was afraid of it!’ cried Madeline, with a sob. ‘I should have avoided him!--and yet, at first, I could not believe it possible.’ ‘Do explain!’ cried White, in hopeless perplexity. Madeline sank into a chair, crying, and hid her face in her hands. ‘He has asked me to become his wife.’ CHAPTER XXII.--BLANCO SERENA.