"It certainly seems to have settled matters once and for all," came the depressed answer. "By no means. It has opened the campaign. It is a declaration of war. I need hardly advise you not to have a faint heart where such a fair lady is the prize. No, no, Nancy is not yet the Princess Montecastello, nor will she ever be. _You_ may not marry her, Mr. Lindsay; but _he_ will not. I shall clear that obstacle from your path, at all events, and, it may be, assist you materially. My offer still holds good--remember that. For the rest, be content to leave the whole affair to me during the next three weeks. Don't write to Nancy. It will do no good. I'll tell her you were here, why you came, and why you went. Do you trust me?" "'Pon my soul, I do!" said Lindsay, and their hands met in a reassuring grip. A servant entered, bringing a cablegram. It read: "Cable received. Everything in order. MAC." Then Power smiled wearily; for the real struggle was postponed until that sealed envelop reached him. There followed some disturbing days. He told Nancy of her lover's visit, and its outcome, and had to allay her fears as best he could. Then, on the day of the bazaar, when he hoped to have many hours of her company, he discovered, in the nick of time, that Marten and the whole house-party from the castle had accompanied her; so he remained away. Next morning he received a letter: "Dear Mr. Power.--My father, by some means, has heard that you and I have become friends. He has forbidden me ever to meet you again, or to write. I am disobeying him this once, because I cannot bring myself to cut adrift from a friendship dear to me without one word of explanation. All at once my bright world is becoming gray and threatening. I am miserable, and full of foreboding. But I remain, and shall ever be, "Your sincere friend and well-wisher, "NANCY MARTEN." That same day Howard returned from the Continent. He brought a full budget. But, in a time when the world was even grayer for Power than for Nancy, one person contrived to give him a very real and pleasurable surprise. On the twelfth day after he had received MacGonigal's cablegram a man in the uniform of a London commissionaire brought him a big linen envelop, profusely sealed. He chanced to be out when the messenger came; so the man awaited him in the hall. He rose and saluted Power when a house-servant indicated him. "The gentleman who sent this package from London was very particular, sir, that it should be given into your own hands," he explained. "He also instructed me to ask for a receipt written by yourself." "Indeed. What is the gentleman's name?" inquired Power, scrutinizing the envelop to see if the address would enlighten him. "Name of MacGonigal, sir." "What?"