"Did she? I am sure I did not know it," he fibs, unblushingly. "I never thought of any other save you, Lady Vera. You were my only love. I have carried the rose you gave me ever since that night when we parted so coldly." He comes nearer to her side, and taking the withered rose from his breast, holds it out before her gaze. She looks up and sees the old, warm love-light shining on her from the deep blue eyes. The sight makes her brave to speak. "Yet if you had understood the message of the rose, we need not have parted at all," she falters, low and softly, with crimson blushes burning her lovely face. "Vera, my love, my queen!" He has bowed on one knee before her that he may look into the dark eyes so sweetly veiled beneath the drooping lashes. A rapture of happiness quivers in his voice. "Lady Vera, tell me, do you mean that you repented after all? Did you find that my devotion had not been lavished in vain, and that you could give me love for love? Was that the message of the rose, my beautiful darling?" No answer from the sweet, quivering lips, but that swift, quickly withdrawn glance from the dewy eyes tells Lady Vera's story plainer than words to her lover's heart. The rose has carried its tender message at last, in spite of a hundred Miss Montgomerys, and if the sleepy chaperon should open her placid eyes now she would be shocked beyond recovery, for Colonel Lockhart, with all the boldness of a soldier, has drawn his darling into the shelter of his arms, and pressed the golden head close against the brave and loyal heart that beats for her alone. CHAPTER XIX. Imagine Lady Clive's delight when she learns that her brother is to marry her favorite, Lady Vera. "It is what I most wished upon earth," she says, "but I had despaired of ever having my heart's desire. You never acted much like lovers, you two." "You see I never intended to marry, so I did not encourage lovers, then," Lady Vera explains. "And _now_?" Lady Clive inquires, with a roguish twinkle of her bright, blue eyes. "_Now_ I have changed my mind," the countess exclaims, evasively. "Lovely woman's divine prerogative," laughs her friend. "But do you know that malicious people will say that you have quite thrown yourself away in marrying a plain, untitled American?" "I am quite indifferent to what they will say," the young countess replies, serenely. "I shall have secured my own happiness, and that is the main point. For the rest, I am not anxious over titles. You know I am part American myself." "Yes, I know, but this is the first time I have ever heard you allude to it," Lady Clive replies. "I fancied you were ashamed of the Yankee strain in your blood." The sensitive color rushes warmly into Lady Vera's cheek.