the yacht the Claudine, after my mother, and spared no pains to make her the smartest and most seaworthy craft of her size afloat. When she was finished we tested her in all weathers. I had a crew enrolled from among the fishermen with whom I had made friends as a boy, and my mother was always my passenger. Only one of her ladies cared for the sea, and she made her her constant companion on these trips. Aline von Hartenweg was young, beautiful, enthusiastic, devoted to my mother, devoted to the sea--is it any wonder that an attachment sprang up between us? We were so happy, so thoroughly contented with our life, that we did not ourselves perceive the chief cause of our happiness. Others saw it before we did, notably the chaplain at the Castle, whom my mother always suspected of being placed as a spy upon her. Presently a furious letter from my father announced that he was coming to put an end to this foolishness, and to send me off on a three years’ cruise. My mother had long been suffering from a mortal disease, but I shall never believe that she might not have lived for years, if she had been left in peace. As it was, the shock, and the realisation of the truth, were too much for her, and when the King arrived he found her on her deathbed. She had poured out her soul to me on the subject of Aline, assuring me that the marriage would never be allowed, that our attachment could only cause misery and contention, and adjuring me to go abroad as my father wished, unless I felt that my life’s happiness was bound up in Aline. I assured her that it was, and her last words to my father, who could not in decency refuse to hear them, were a petition that we might be allowed to marry. Then she died.” Mr Steinherz came to a standstill at the window, and stood looking with unseeing eyes at the starry sky overhead, the rustling black plane-trees in the square far below, surrounded by their ring of lamps, the low dark houses beyond. Maimie hid her face lest its whiteness should betray her.