“You must promise me that you will not speak of my presence here to her. In a day or two--well, we shall see. I shall go to her then; I shall risk everything. But at present, no! She must be ignorant of my return until I myself declare it. You will promise me this?” I promised. I scarcely dared do otherwise if I wished to avoid a scene, for already the agitation and occasional excitement of his speech were attracting attention. But, having promised, I asked him a question. “Will not Mr. Deville tell her--or my father?” “It is just possible that Mr. Deville might,” he said, with the air of one who had well considered the matter. “But I do not think it likely; there are certain reasons which would probably keep him silent.” “And my father?” I asked. Again there was an odd look in his face. Somehow it filled me with vague alarm; I could not imagine what it meant. “I do not think,” he answered, “that your father will tell her; I am nearly sure that he will not. No, I myself shall announce my return. I shall stand face to face with her before she has learned to school her countenance. I shall see in the light or in the darkness how she holds me. It will be a test--a glorious test.” Lady Naselton came rustling up to us with beaming face. “My dear girl,” she said, “I am so sorry to disturb you, you both look so interested. Whatever you have found to talk about I can’t imagine. Lady Romney is going; she would so like to know you. Would you mind coming to speak to her?” “With pleasure,” I declared, rising at once to my feet; “I must be going too. Good afternoon, Mr. Berdenstein.” He held out his hand, but I had no intention of shaking hands with him. I bowed coldly, and turned to follow Lady Naselton. “Perhaps it is best,” he murmured, leaning a little forward. “We cannot possibly be friends; no doubt you hate me; we are on opposite sides. Good afternoon, Miss Ffolliot.” I followed Lady Naselton, but before we had reached the Romneys I stopped her. “Lady Naselton, who is that man?” I asked her. “What do you know of him?” “My dear child,” she answered, “from the confidential manner in which you have been talking all this time, I should have imagined that he had told you his history from childhood. Frankly, I don’t know anything about him at all. He was very good to Fred in South America, and he has made a lot of money, that is really all I know. Fred met him in town, and brought him down without notice. I hope,” she added, looking at my pale face, “that he has been behaving himself properly.” “I have no fault to find with him,” I answered. “I was curious, that is all.” “I am so glad, dear,” she answered, smiling. “For a millionaire you know, I don’t consider him at all unpresentable, do you?” I smiled faintly. Poor Lady Naselton! “He did not strike me as being remarkably objectionable,” I answered. “He is a little awkward, and very confidential.”