I did my best to be the fairest sight the travellers should have seen in all the world. The Honorable Miss Primpole started when she saw me. "What have you been doing to yourself, Princess?" she said. "You're lovelier than I ever dreamed." And indeed the crisis had lent a flush to my cheek and a flash to my eye which I would not willingly repay. My bosom rose and fell with excitement. In half an hour I should be in my Saga-hero's arms! I went down to the ground-floor front and seated myself at the open window and gazed at the Square and the fiery streaks of sunset in the sky. The Honorable Miss Primpole lay upon an ottoman, less excited. Every now and again she asked, "Do you see anything, Princess?" "Nothing," I answered. Of course she did not take my answer literally. Several times cabs and carriages rattled past the window, but with no visible intention of drawing up. Duskier, duskier grew the September evening, as I sat peering into the twilight. "Do you see anything, Princess?" "Nothing." A moment after a hansom came dashing into sight--a head protruded from it. I uttered a cry and leant forward, straining my eyes. Captain Athelstan. Yes! No! No! Yes! No! _No!_ Will it be believed that (such is the heart of woman) I felt a sensation of relief on finding the issue still postponed? For in the moment when the Captain seemed to flash upon my vision--it was borne in upon me like a chilling blast that I had lost my Voice. Never would that glorious music swell for me as I sat alone with my husband in the gloaming. The streaks of sunset faded into gray ashes. "Do you see anything, Princess?" "Nothing." Even as I spoke I heard the gallop of hoofs in the quiet Square, and, half paralyzed by the unexpected vision, I saw Lord Arthur dashing furiously up on horseback--Lord Arthur, bronzed and bearded and travel-stained, but Lord Arthur beyond a doubt. He took off his hat and waved it frantically in the air when he caught sight of my white figure, with the white rose of promise nestling in my hair. My poor Saga-hero! [Illustration: _At the winning Post._] He reined in his beautiful steed before my window and commenced his proposal breathlessly. "_W-w-w_----" Even Mr. Gladstone, if he had been racing as madly as Lord Arthur might well have been flustered in his speech. The poor singer could not get out the first word, try as he would. At last it came out like a soda-water cork and '_you_' with it. But at the '_be_' there was--O dire to tell!--another stoppage. "_B-b-b-b-b_----" "Fire! Fire! Hooray!" The dull roar of an advancing crowd burst suddenly upon our ears, mingled with the piercing exultation of small boys. The thunderous clatter of the fire-engine seemed to rock the soil of the Square. But neither of us took eyes off the other. "_Be!_" It was out at last. The end was near. In another second I should say "Yes." "Fire! Fire!" shrieked the small boys. "_M-m-m-y_----"