" What did you do? " she asked in a sepulchral voice.
" Well," said the professor, in a burning defiance, " I'll tell you what I did. I went to Coleman and told him that once-as he of course knew-I had re- fused his marriage with my daughter, but that now—-"
" Grrr," said Mrs. Wainwright.
" But that now-" continued the professor," I retracted that refusal."
" Mercy on us! " cried Mrs. Wainwright, throwing herself back in the chair. " Mercy on us! What fools men are!"
" Now, wait a minute-"But Mrs. Wainwright began to croon: " Oh, ifMarjory should hear of this! Oh, if she should hearof it! just let her. Hear-"
" But she must not," cried the professor, tigerishly. just you dare! " And the woman saw before her a man whose eyes were lit with a flame which almost expressed a temporary hatred.
The professor had left Coleman so abruptly that the correspondent found himself murmuring half. coherent gratitude to the closed door of his room. Amazement soon began to be mastered by exultation. He flung himself upon the brandy and soda and nego- tiated a strong glass. Pacing. the room with nervous steps, he caught a vision of himself in a tall mirror. He halted before it. " Well, well," he said. " Rufus, you're a grand man. There is not your equal anywhere. You are a great, bold, strong player, fit to sit down to a game with the -best."
A moment later it struck him that he had appropriated too much. If the professor had paid him a visit and made a wonderful announcement, he, Coleman, had not been the engine of it. And then he enunciated clearly something in his mind which, even in a vague form, had been responsible for much of his early elation. Marjory herself had compassed this thing. With shame he rejected a first wild and preposterous idea that she had sent her father to him. He reflected that a man who for an instant could conceive such a thing was a natural-born idiot. With an equal feeling, he rejected also an idea that she could have known anything of her father's purpose. If she had known of his purpose, there would have been no visit.
What, then, was the cause? Coleman soon decided that the professor had witnessed some demonstration of Marjory's emotion which had been sufficiently severe in its character to force him to the extraordinary visit. But then this also was wild and preposterous. That coldly beautiful goddess would not have given a demonstration of emotion over Rufus Coleman sufficiently alarming to have forced her father on such an errand. That was impossible. No, he was wrong; Marjory even indirectly, could not be connected with the visit. As he arrived at this decision, the enthusiasm passed out of him and he wore a doleful, monkish face.
"Well, what, then, was the cause?" After eliminating Marjory from the discussion waging in his mind, he found it hard to hit upon anything rational. The only remaining theory was to the effect that the professor, having a very high sense of the correspond. ent's help in the escape of the Wainwright party, had decided that the only way to express his gratitude was to revoke a certain decision which he now could see had been unfair. The retort to this theory seemed to be that if the professor had had such a fine conception of the services rendered by Coleman, he had had ample time to display his appreciation on the road to Arta and on the road down from Arta. There was no necessity for his waiting until their arrival in Athens. It was impossible to concede that the professor's emotion could be anew one; if he had it now, he must have had it in far stronger measure directly after he had been hauled out of danger.
So, it may be seen that after Coleman had eliminated Marjory from the discussion that was waging in his mind, he had practically succeeded in eliminating the professor as well. This, he thought, mournfully, was eliminating with a vengeance. If he dissolved all the factors he could hardly proceed.
The mind of a lover moves in a circle, or at least on a more circular course than other minds, some of which at times even seem to move almost in a straight line. Presently, Coleman was at the point where he bad started, and he did not pause until he reached that theory which asserted that the professor had been inspired to his visit by some sight or knowledge of Marjory in distress. Of course, Coleman was wistfully desirous of proving to himself the truth of this theory.
The palpable agitation of the professor during the interview seemed to support it. If he had come on a mere journey of conscience, he would have hardly appeared as a white and trembling old, man. But then, said Coleman, he himself probably exaggerated this idea of the professor's appearance. It might have been that he was only sour and distressed over the performance of a very disagreeable duty.
The correspondent paced his room and smoked. Sometimes he halted at the little table where was the brandy and soda. He thought so hard that sometimes it seemed that Marjory had been to him to propose marriage, and at other times it seemed that there had been no visit from any one at all.
A desire to talk to somebody was upon him. He strolled down stairs and into the smoking and reading rooms, hoping to see a man he knew, even if it were Coke. But the only occupants were two strangers, furiously debating the war. Passing the minister's room, Coleman saw that there was a light within, and he could not forbear knocking. He was bidden to enter, and opened the door upon the minister, care- fully reading his Spectator fresh from London. He looked up and seemed very glad. "How are you?" he cried. "I was tremendously anxious to see you, do you know! I looked for you to dine with me to-night, but you were not down?" "No ; I had a great deal of work."
" Over the Wainwright affair? By the way, I want you to accept my personal thanks for that work. In a week more I would have gone demented and spent the rest of my life in some kind of a cage, shaking the bars and howling out State Department messages about the Wainwrights. You see, in my territory there are no missionaries to get into trouble, and I was living a life of undisturbed and innocent calm, ridiculing the sentiments of men from Smyrna and other interesting towns who maintained that the diplomatic service was exciting. However, when the Wainwright party got lost, my life at once became active. I was all but helpless, too; which was the worst of it. I suppose Terry at Constantinople must have got grandly stirred up, also. Pity he can't see you to thank you for saving him from probably going mad. By the way," he added, while looking keenly at Coleman, " the Wainwrights don't seem to be smothering you with gratitude? "
" Oh, as much as I deserve-sometimes more," answered Coleman. " My exploit was more or less of a fake, you know. I was between the lines by accident, or through the efforts of that blockhead of a dragoman. I didn't intend it. And then, in the night, when we were waiting in the road because of a fight, they almost bunked into us. That's all."
"They tell it better," said the minister, severely." Especially the youngsters."
"Those kids got into a high old fight at a town up there beyond Agrinion. Tell you about that, did they? I thought not. Clever kids. You have noted that there are signs of a few bruises and scratches?" " Yes, but I didn't ask-" " Well, they are from the fight. It seems the people took us for Germans, and there was an awful palaver, which ended in a proper and handsome shindig. It raised the town, I tell you."
The minister sighed in mock despair. " Take these people home, will you ? Or at any rate, conduct them out of the field of my responsibility. Now, they would like Italy immensely, I am sure."
Coleman laughed, and they smoked for a time.
" That's a charming girl-Miss Wainwright," said the minister, musingly. "And what a beauty! It does my exiled eyes good to see her. I suppose all those youngsters are madly in love with her ? I don't see how they could help it."
" Yes," said Coleman, glumly. " More than half of them."
The minister seemed struck with a sudden thought." You ought to try to win that splendid prize yourself.The rescuer ! Perseus! What more fitting? "
Coleman answered calmly: "Well * * * I thinkI'll take your advice."
THE next morning Coleman awoke with a sign of a resolute decision on his face, as if it had been a development of his sleep. He would see Marjory as soon as possible, see her despite any barbed-wire entanglements which might be placed in the way by her mother, whom he regarded as his strenuous enemy. And he would ask Marjory's hand in the presence of all Athens if it became necessary.
He sat a long time at his breakfast in order to see the Wainwrights enter the dining room, and as he was about to surrender to the will of time, they came in, the professor placid and self-satisfied, Mrs. Wainwright worried and injured and Marjory cool, beautiful, serene. If there had been any kind of a storm there was no trace of it on the white brow of the girl. Coleman studied her closely but furtively while his mind spun around his circle of speculation. Finally he noted the waiter who was observing him with a pained air as if it was on the tip of his tongue to ask this guest if he was going to remain at breakfast forever. Coleman passed out to the reading room where upon the table a multitude of great red guide books were crushing the fragile magazines of London and Paris. On the walls were various depressing maps with the name of a tourist agency luridly upon them, and there were also some pictures of hotels with their rates-in francs-printed beneath. The room was cold, dark, empty, with the trail of the tourist upon it.
Coleman went to the picture of a hotel in Corfu and stared at it precisely as if he was interested. He was standing before it when he heard Marjory's voice just without the door. "All right! I'll wait." He did not move for the reason that the hunter moves not when the unsuspecting deer approaches his hiding place. She entered rather quickly and was well toward the centre of the room before she perceived Coleman. " Oh," she said and stopped. Then she spoke the immortal sentence, a sentence which, curiously enough is common to the drama, to the novel, and to life. " I thought no one was here." She looked as if she was going to retreat, but it would have been hard to make such retreat graceful, and probably for this reason she stood her ground.
Coleman immediately moved to a point between her and the door. "You are not going to run away from me, Marjory Wainwright," he cried, angrily. " You at least owe it to me to tell me definitely that you don't love me-that you can't love me-"
She did not face him with all of her old spirit, but she faced him, and in her answer there was the old Marjory. " A most common question. Do you ask all your feminine acquaintances that? "
"I mean-" he said. "I mean that I love you and-"
"Yesterday-no. To-day-yes. To-morrow-who knows. Really, you ought to take some steps to know your own mind."
" Know my own mind," he retorted in a burst of in- dignation. "You mean you ought to take steps to know your own mind."
" My own mind! You-" Then she halted in acute confusion and all her face went pink. She had been far quicker than the man to define the scene. She lowered her head. Let me past, please-"
But Coleman sturdily blocked the way and even took one of her struggling hands. "Marjory-" And then his brain must have roared with a thousand quick sentences for they came tumbling out, one over the other. * * Her resistance to the grip of his fingers grew somewhat feeble. Once she raised her eyes in a quick glance at him. * * Then suddenly she wilted. She surrendered, she confessed without words. " Oh, Marjory, thank God, thank God-" Peter Tounley made a dramatic entrance on the gallop. He stopped, petrified. "Whoo!" he cried. "My stars! " He turned and fled. But Coleman called after him in a low voice, intense with agitation.
" Come back here, you young scoundrel! Come baok here I "
Peter returned, looking very sheepish. " I hadn't the slightest idea you-"
" Never mind that now. But look here, if you tell a single soul-particularly those other young scoundrels-I'll break-"
" I won't, Coleman. Honest, I won't." He was far more embarrassed than Coleman and almost equally so with Marjory. He was like a horse tugging at a tether. "I won't, Coleman! Honest!"
" Well, all right, then." Peter escaped.
The professor and his wife were in their sitting room writing letters. The cablegrams had all been answered, but as the professor intended to prolong his journey homeward into a month of Paris and London, there remained the arduous duty of telling their friends at length exactly what had happened. There was considerable of the lore of olden Greece in the professor's descriptions of their escape, and in those of Mrs. Wainwright there was much about the lack of hair-pins and soap.
Their heads were lowered over their writing when the door into the corridor opened and shut quickly, and upon looking up they saw in the room a radiant girl, a new Marjory. She dropped to her knees by her father's chair and reached her arms to his neck. " Oh, daddy! I'm happy I I'm so happy! "
" Why-what-" began the professor stupidly.
" Oh, I am so happy, daddy!
Of course he could not be long in making his conclusion. The one who could give such joy to Marjory was the one who, last night, gave her such grief. The professor was only a moment in understanding. He laid his hand tenderly upon her head " Bless my soul," he murmured. "And so-and so-he-"
At the personal pronoun, Mrs. Wainwright lum- bered frantically to her feet. " What ? " she shouted. Coleman ? "
" Yes," answered Marjory. " Coleman." As she spoke the name her eyes were shot with soft yet tropic flashes of light.
Mrs. Wainwright dropped suddenly back into her chair. "Well-of-all-things!" The professor was stroking his daughter's hair and although for a time after Mrs. Wainwright's outbreak there was little said, the old man and the girl seemed in gentle communion, she making him feel her happiness, he making her feel his appreciation. Providentially Mrs. Wainwright had been so stunned by the first blow that she was evidently rendered incapable of speech.
" And are you sure you will be happy with him? asked her father gently.
" All my life long," she answered.
" I am glad! I am glad! " said the father, but even as he spoke a great sadness came to blend with his joy. The hour when he was to give this beautiful and beloved life into the keeping of another had been heralded by the god of the sexes, the ruthless god that devotes itself to the tearing of children from the parental arms and casting them amid the mysteries of an irretrievable wedlock. The thought filled him with solemnity.
But in the dewy eyes of the girl there was no question.The world to her was a land of glowing promise.
" I am glad," repeated the professor.
The girl arose from her knees. " I must go away and-think all about it," she said, smiling. When the door of her room closed upon her, the mother arose in majesty.
" Harrison Wainwright," she declaimed, "you are not going to allow this monstrous thing! "
The professor was aroused from a reverie by these words. "What monstrous thing ? " he growled.
" Why, this between Coleman and Marjory."
" Yes," he answered boldly.
" Harrison! That man who-"
The professor crashed his hand down on the table."Mary! I will not hear another word of it! "
" Well," said Mrs. Wainwright, sullen and ominous, " time will tell! Time will tell!"
When Coleman bad turned from the fleeing Peter Tounley again to Marjory, he found her making the preliminary movements of a flight. "What's the matter? " he demanded anxiously.
" Oh, it's too dreadful"
" Nonsense," lie retorted stoutly. " Only PeterTounley! He don't count. What of that ? "
' Oh, dear! " She pressed her palm to a burning cheek. She gave him a star-like, beseeching glance. Let me go now-please."
" Well," he answered, somewhat affronted, " if you like—"
At the door she turned to look at him, and this glance expressed in its elusive way a score of things which she had not yet been able to speak. It explained that she was loth to leave him, that she asked forgiveness for leaving him, that even for a short absence she wished to take his image in her eyes, that he must not bully her, that there was something now in her heart which frightened her, that she loved him, that she was happy—-
When she had gone, Coleman went to the rooms of the American minister. A Greek was there who talked wildly as he waved his cigarette. Coleman waited in well-concealed impatience for the dvapora- tion of this man. Once the minister, regarding the correspondent hurriedly, interpolated a comment. " You look very cheerful ? "
" Yes," answered Coleman, " I've been taking your advice."
" Oh, ho ! " said the minister.
The Greek with the cigarette jawed endlessly. Coleman began to marvel at the enduring good man- ners of the minister, who continued to nod and nod in polite appreciation of the Greek's harangue, which, Coleman firmly believed, had no point of interest whatever. But at last the man, after an effusive farewell, went his way.
" Now," said the minister, wheeling in his chair tell me all about it."
Coleman arose, and thrusting his hands deep in his trousers' pockets, began to pace the room with long strides. He, said nothing, but kept his eyes on the floor.
" Can I have a drink ? " he asked, abruptly pausing.
" What would you like? " asked the minister, benevolently, as he touched the bell.
" A brandy and soda. I'd like it very much. You see," he said, as he resumed his walk, " I have no kind of right to burden you with my affairs, but, to tell the truth, if I don't get this news off my mind and into somebody's ear, I'll die. It's this-I asked Marjory Wainwright to marry me, and-she accepted, and- that's all."
" Well, I am very glad," cried the minister, arising and giving his hand. "And as for burdening me with your affairs, no one has a better right, you know, since you released me from the persecution of Washington and the friends of the Wainwrights. May good luck follow you both forever. You, in my opinion, are a very, very fortunate man. And, for her part she has not done too badly."
Seeing that it was important that Coleman should have his spirits pacified in part, the minister continued: " Now, I have got to write an official letter, so you just walk up and down here and use up this surplus steam. Else you'll explode."
But Coleman was not to be detained. Now that he had informed the minister, he must rush off some. where, anywhere, and do-he knew not what.
All right," said the minister, laughing. " You have a wilder head than I thought. But look here," he called, as Coleman was making for the door. " Am I to keep this news a secret? "
Coleman with his hand on the knob, turned im. pressively. He spoke with deliberation. " As far as I am concerned, I would be glad to see a man paint it in red letters, eight feet high, on the front of the king's palace."
The minister, left alone, wrote steadily and did not even look up when Peter Tounley and two others entered, in response to his cry of permission. How ever, he presently found time to speak over his shoulder to them. "Hear the news?"
"No, sir," they answered.
" Well, be good boys, now, and read the papers and look at pictures until I finish this letter. Then I will tell you."
They surveyed him keenly. They evidently judged that the news was worth hearing, but, obediently, they said nothing. Ultimately the minister affixed a rapid signature to the letter, and turning, looked at the students with a smile. " Haven't heard the news, eh ?"
"No, Sir."
"Well, Marjory Wainwright is engaged to marryColeman."
The minister was amazed to see the effect of this announcement upon the three students. He had expected the crows and cackles of rather absurd merriment with which unbearded youth often greets, such news. But there was no crow or cackle. One young man blushed scarlet and looked guiltily at the floor. With a great effort he muttered: " Shes too good for him." Another student had turned ghastly pate and was staring. It was Peter Tounley who relieved the minister's mind, for upon that young man's face was a broad jack-o-lantern grin, and the minister saw that, at any rate, he had not made a complete massacre.
Peter Tounley said triumphantly: "I knew it ! "
The minister was anxious over the havoc he had wrought with the two other students, but slowly the colour abated in one face and grew in the other. To give them opportunity, the minister talked busily to Peter Tounley. "And how did you know it, you young scamp ?"
Peter was jubilant. " Oh, -I knew it! I knew it II am very clever."
The student who had blushed now addressed the minister in a slightly strained voice. " Are you positive that it is true, Mr. Gordner?,"
" I had it on the best authority," replied the minister gravely.
The student who had turned pale said: " Oh, it's true, of course."
" Well," said crudely the one who had blushed, she's a great sight too good for Coleman or anybody like him. That's all I've got to say."
" Oh, Coleman is a good fellow," said Peter Tounley,reproachfully. " You've no right to say that-exactly.You don't know where you'd. be now if it were not forColeman."
The, response was, first, an angry gesture. " Oh, don't keep everlasting rubbing that in. For heaven's sake, let up. - Supposing I don't. know where I'd be now if,it were not for Rufus Coleman? What of it? For the rest of my life have I got to—"
The minister saw. that this was the embittered speech of a really defeated youth, so, to save scenes, he gently ejected the trio. " There, there, now ! Run along home like good boys. I'll be busy until luncheon. And I -dare say you won't find Coleman such a bad chap."'
In the corridor, one of the students said offensively to Peter Tounley : " Say, how in hell did you find out all this so early ? "
Peter's reply was amiable in tone. " You are a damned bleating little kid and you made a holy show of yourself before Mr. Gordner. There's where you stand. Didn't you see that he turned us out because he didn't know but what you were going to blubber or something. - you are a sucking pig, and if you want to know how I find out things go ask the Delphic Oracle, you blind ass."
" You better look out or you may get a punch in the eye!,"
"You take one punch in the general direction of my eye, me son," said -Peter cheerfully, " and I'll distribute your remains, over this hotel in a way that will cause your, friends years of trouble to collect you. Instead of anticipating an attack upon my eye, you had much better be engaged in improving your mind, which is at present not a fit machine to cope with exciting situations. There's Coke! Hello, Coke, hear the news? Well, Marjory Wainwright and Rufus Coleman , are engaged.. Straight ? Certainly ! Go ask the minister."
Coke did not take Peter's word. "Is that so ? " he asked the others.
" So the minister told us," they answered, and then these two, who seemed so unhappy, watched Coke's face to see if they could not find surprised misery there. But Coke coolly said: " Well, then, I suppose it's true."
It soon became evident that the students did not care for each other's society. Peter Tounley was probably an exception, but the others seemed to long for quiet corners. They were distrusting each other, and, in a boyish way, they were even capable of maligant things. Their excuses for separation were badly made.
"I-I think I'll go for a walk."" I'm going up stairs to read."" Well, so long, old man.' " So long." There wasno heart to it.
Peter Tounley went to Coleman's door, where he knocked with noisy hilarity. " Come in I " The correspondent apparently had just come from the street, for his hat was on his head and a light top-coat was on his back. He was searching hurriedly through some, papers. " Hello, you young devil What are you doing here ?
Peter's entrance was a somewhat elaborate comedy which Coleman watched in icy silence. Peter after a long,and impudent pantomime halted abruptly and fixing Coleman with his eye demanded: "Well?"
"Well-what?." said Coleman, bristling a trifle.
" Is it true ?"
" Is what true ?"
" Is it true? " Peter was extremely solemn. " Say, me bucko," said Coleman suddenly, " if you've. come up here to twist the beard of the patriarch, don't you think you are running a chance? "
"All right. I'll be good," said Peter, and he sat on the bed. " But-is it true?
" Is what true? "
" What the whole hotel is saying."
] "I haven't heard the hotel making any remarks lately. Been talking to the other buildings, I sup- pose."
"Well, I want to tell you that everybody knows that you and Marjory have done gone and got yourselves engaged," said Peter bluntly.
"And well? " asked Coleman imperturbably.
" Oh, nothing," replied Peter, waving his hand." Only-I thought it might interest you."
Coleman was silent for some time. He fingered his papers. At last he burst out joyously. "And so they know it already, do they? Well-damn them- let them know it. But you didn't tell them yourself ? "
" I ! " quoth Peter wrathfully. " No! The minister told us."
Then Coleman was again silent for a time and Peter Tounley sat on the. bed reflectively looking at the ceiling. " Funny thing, Marjory 'way over here in Greece, and then you happening over here the way you did."
" It isn't funny at all."
" Why isn't it ? "
" Because," said Coleman impressively,, " that is why I came to Greece. It was all planned. See?"
"Whirroo," exclaimed Peter. "This here is magic."
" No magic at all." Coleman displayed some complacence. " No magic at all. just pure, plain— whatever you choose to call it."
" Holy smoke," said Peter, admiring the situation. "Why, this is plum romance, Coleman. I'm blowed if it isn't."
Coleman was grinning with delight. He took a fresh cigar and his bright eyes looked at Peter through the smoke., "Seems like it, don't it? Yes. Regular romance. Have a drink, my boy, just to celebrate my good luck. And be patient if I talk a great deal of my-my-future. My head spins with it." He arose to pace the room flinging out bis arms in a great gesture. " God! When I think yesterday was not like to-day I wonder how I stood it." There was a knock at the door and a waiter left a note in Coleman's hand
"Dear Ruf us:-We are going for a drive this afternoon at three, and mother wishes you to come, if you. care to. I too wish it, if you care to. Yours, " MARJORY."
With a radiant face, Coleman gave the note a little crackling flourish in the air. " Oh, you don't know what life is, kid."
" S-steady the Blues," said Peter Tounley seriously.You'll lose your head if you don't watch out."
" Not I" cried Coleman with irritation. " But a man must turn loose some times, mustn't he?"
When the four, students had separated in the corri- dor, Coke had posted at once to Nora Black's sitting room. His entrance was somewhat precipitate, but he cooled down almost at once, for he reflected that he was not bearing good news. He ended by perching in awkward fashion on the brink of his chair and fumbling his hat uneasily. Nora floated to him in a cloud of a white dressing gown. She gave him a plump hand. "Well, youngman? "she said, with a glowing smile. She took a chair, and the stuff of her gown fell in curves over the arms of it.,
Coke looked hot and bothered, as if he could have more than half wanted to retract his visit. " I-aw- we haven't seen much of you lately," he began, sparing. He had expected to tell his news at once.
No," said Nora, languidly. " I have been resting after that horrible journey-that horrible journey. Dear, dear! Nothing,will ever induce me to leave London, New York and Paris. I am at home there. But here I Why, it is worse than living in Brooklyn. And that journey into the wilds! No. no; not for me! "
" I suppose we'll all be glad to get home," saidCoke, aimlessly.
At the moment a waiter entered the room and began to lay the table for luncheon. He kept open the door to the corridor, and he had the luncheon at a point just outside the door. His excursions to the trays were flying ones, so that, as far as Coke's purpose was concerned, the waiter was always in the room. Moreover, Coke was obliged, naturally, to depart at once. He had bungled everything.
As he arose he whispered hastily: " Does this waiter understand English ? "
"Yes," answered Nora. "Why?"
"Because I have something to tell you-important."
"What is it? " whispered Nora, eagerly.
He leaned toward her and replied: " MarjoryWainwright and Coleman are engaged."
To his unfeigned astonishment, Nora Black burst into peals of silvery laughter, " Oh, indeed? And so this is your tragic story, poor, innocent lambkin? And what did you expect? That I would faint?" -
" I thought-I don't know-" murmured Coke in confusion.
Nora became suddenly business-like. " But how do you know? Are you sure? Who told you? Anyhow, stay to luncheon. Do-like a good boy. Oh, you must."
Coke dropped again into his chair. He studied her in some wonder. " I thought you'd be surprised," he said, ingenuously.
" Oh, you did, did you ? Well, you see I'm not.And now tell me all about it."
"There's really nothing to tell but the plain fact.Some of the boys dropped in at the minister'srooms a little while ago, and, he told them of it.That's all."
Well, how did he know?
"I am sure I can't tell you. Got it first hand, I suppose. He likes Coleman, and Coleman is always hanging up there."
" Oh, perhaps Coleman was lying," said Nora easily. Then suddenly her face brightened and she spoke with animation. " Oh, I haven't told you how my little Greek officer has turned out. Have I? No? Well, it is simply lovely. Do you know, he belongs to one of the best families in Athens? Hedoes. And they're rich-rich as can be. My courier tells me that the marble palace where they live is enough to blind you, and that if titles hadn't gone out of style-or something-here in Greece, my little officer would be a prince! Think of that! The courier didn't know it until we got to Athens, and the little officer-the prince-gave me his card, of course. One of the oldest, noblest and richest families in Greece. Think of that! There I thought he was only a bothersome little officer who came in handy at times, and there he turns out to be a prince. I could hardly keep myself from rushing right off to find him and apologise to him for the way I treated him. It was awful! And-" added the fair Nora, pensively, "if he does meet me in Paris, I'll make him wear that title down to a shred, you can bet. What's the good of having a title unless you make it work?"
COKE did not stay to luncheon with Nora Black. He went away saying to himself either that girl don't care a straw for Coleman or she has got a heart absolutely of flint, or she is the greatest actress on earth or-there is some other reason."
At his departure, Nora turned and called into an adjoining room. " Maude I " The voice of her companion and friend answered her peevishly. " What ?"
"Don't bother me. I'm reading."
" Well, anyhow, luncheon is ready, so you will have to stir your precious self," responded Nora. " You're lazy."
" I don't want any luncheon. Don't bother me.I've got a headache."
" Well, if you don't come out, you'll miss the news.That's all I've got to say."
There was a rustle in the adjoining room, and immediately the companion appeared, seeming much annoyed but curious. " Well, what is it ? "
" Rufus Coleman is engaged to be married to thatWainwright girl, after all."
" Well I declare! " ejaculated the little old lady. " Well I declare." She meditated for a moment, and then continued in a tone of satisfaction. " I told you that you couldn't stop that man Coleman if he had feally made up his mind to-"
" You're a fool," said Nora, pleasantly." Why? " said the old lady.Because you are. Don't talk to me about it. Iwant to think of Marco."
" 'Marco,'" quoted the old lady startled.
"The prince. The prince. Can't you understand?I mean the prince."
" ' Marco!'" again quoted the old lady, under her breath.
" Yes, 'Marco,'" cried Nora, belligerently. " 'Marco,' Do you object to the name? What's the matter with you, anyhow?"
" Well," rejoined the other, nodding her head wisely, "he may be a prince, but I've always heard that these continental titles are no good in comparison to the English titles."
"Yes, but who told you so, eh? " demanded Nora, noisily. She herself answered the question. " The English! "
" Anyhow, that little marquis who tagged after you in London is a much bigger man in every way, I'll bet, than this little prince of yours."
" But-good heavens-he didn't mean it. Why, he was only one of the regular rounders. But Marco, he is serious I He means it. He'd go through fire and water for me and be glad of the chance."
" Well," proclaimed the old lady, " if you are not the strangest woman in the world, I'd like to know! Here I thought-"
"What did you think?" demanded Nora, suspisciously." I thought that Coleman—-"
"Bosh!" interrupted, the graceful Nora. "I tell you what, Maude; you'd better try to think as little as possible. It will suit your style of beauty better. And above all, don't think of my affairs. I myself am taking pains not to think of them. It's easier."
Mrs. Wainwright, with no spirit of intention what. ever, had sit about readjusting her opinions. It is certain that she was unconscious of any evolution. If some one had said to her that she was surrendering to the inevitable, she would have been immediately on her guard, and would have opposed forever all suggestions of a match between Marjory and Coleman. On the other hand, if some one had said to her that her daughter was going to marry a human serpent, and that there were people in Athens who would be glad to explain his treacherous character, she would have haughtily scorned the tale-bearing and would have gone with more haste into the professor's way of thinking. In fact, she was in process of undermining herself., and the work could have been. retarded or advanced by any irresponsible, gossipy tongue.
The professor, from the depths of his experience with her, arranged a course of conduct. " If I just leave her to herself she will come around all right, but if I go 'striking while the iron is hot,' or any of those things, I'll bungle it surely."
As they were making ready to go down to luncheon, Mrs. Wainwright made her speech which first indicated a changing mind. " Well, what will be, will be," she murmured with a prolonged sigh of resignation. " What will be, will be. Girls are very headstrong in these days, and there is nothing much to be done with them. They go their own roads. It wasn't so in my girlhood. - We were obliged to pay attention to our mothers wishes."
" I did not notice that you paid much attention to your mother's wishes when you married me," remarked the professor. " In fact, I thought-"
" That was another thing," retorted Mrs. Wainwright with severity. " You were a steady young man who had taken the highest honours all through your college course, and my mother's sole objection was that we were too hasty. She thought we -ought to wait until you had a penny to bless yourself with, and I can see now where she was quite right." " Well, you married me, anyhow," said the professor, victoriously.
Mrs. Wainwright allowed her husband's retort to pass over her thoughtful mood. " They say * * they say Rufus Coleman makes as much as fifteen thousand dollars a year. That's more than three times your income * * I don't know. * * It all depends on whether they try to save or not. His manner of life is, no doubt, very luxurious. I don't suppose he knows how to economise at all. That kind of a man usually doesn't. And then, in the newspaper world positions are so very precarious. Men may have valuable positions one minute and be penniless in the street the next minute. It isn't as if he had any real income, and of course he has no real ability. If he was suddenly thrown out of his position, goodness knows what would become of him. Still stillfifteen thousand dollars a year is a big incomewhile it lasts. I suppose he is very extravagant. That kind of a man usually is. And I wouldn't be surprised if he was heavily in debt; very heavily in debt. Still * * if Marjory has set her heart there is nothing to be done, I suppose. It wouldn't have happened if you had been as wise as you thought you were. * * I suppose he thinks I have been very rude to him. Well, some times I wasn't nearly so rude as I felt like being. Feeling as I did, I could hardly be very amiable. * * Of course this drive this afternoon was all your affair and Marjory's. But, of course, I shall be nice to him."
" And what of all this Nora Black business? " asked the professor, with, a display of valour, but really with much trepidation.
" She is a hussy," responded Mrs. Wainwright with energy. " Her conversation in the carriage on the way down to Agrinion sickened me! "
" I really believe that her plan was simply to break everything off between Marjory and Coleman," said the professor, " and I don't believe she had any-grounds for all that appearance of owning Coleman and the rest of it."
" Of course she didn't" assented Mrs. Wainwright.The vicious thing! "
" On the other hand," said the professor, " theremight be some truth in it."" I don't think so," said Mrs. Wainwright seriously.I don't believe a word of it."
" You do not mean to say that you think Coleman a model man ? " demanded the professor.
"Not at all! Not at all!" she hastily answered." But * * one doesn't look for model men these days."
"'Who told you he made fifteen thousand a year? asked the professor.
"It was Peter Tounley this morning. We were talking upstairs after breakfast, and he remarked that he if could make fifteen thousand, a year: like Coleman, he'd-I've forgotten what-some fanciful thing."
" I doubt if it is true," muttered the old man wagging his head.
"Of course it's true," said his wife emphatically." Peter Tounley says everybody knows it."
Well * anyhow * money is not everything."
But it's a. great deal, you know well enough. You know you are always speaking of poverty as an evil, as a grand resultant, a collaboration of many lesser evils. Well, then?
" But," began the professor meekly, when I say that I mean-"
" Well, money is money and poverty is poverty," interrupted his wife. " You don't have to be very learned to know that."
"I do not say that Coleman has not a very nice thing of it, but I must say it is hard to think of his getting any such sum, as you mention."
" Isn't he known as the most brilliant journalist inNew York?" she demanded harshly.
" Y-yes, as long as it lasts, but then one never knows when he will be out in the street penniless. Of course he has no particular ability which would be marketable if he suddenly lost his present employment. Of course it is not as if he was a really talented young man. He might not be able to make his way at all in any new direction."
" I don't know about that," said Mrs. Wainwright in reflective protestation. " I don't know about that. I think he would."
" I thought you said a moment ago-" The professor spoke with an air of puzzled hesitancy. "I thought you said a moment ago that he wouldn't succeed in anything but journalism."
Mrs. Wainwright swam over the situation with a fine tranquility. " Well-I-I," she answered musingly, "if I did say that, I didn't mean it exactly."
" No, I suppose not," spoke the professor, and de- spite the necessity for caution he could not keep out of his voice a faint note of annoyance.
" Of course," continued the wife, " Rufus Coleman is known everywhere as a brilliant man, a very brilliant man, and he even might do well in-in politics or something of that sort."
" I have a very poor opinion of that kind of a mind which does well in American politics," said the pro- fessor, speaking as a collegian, " but I suppose there may be something in it."
" Well, at any rate," decided Mrs. Wainwright." At any rate-"
At that moment, Marjory attired for luncheon and the drive entered from her room, and Mrs. Wainwright checked the expression of her important conclusion. Neither father or mother had ever seen her so glowing with triumphant beauty, a beauty which would carry the mind of a spectator far above physical appreciation into that realm of poetry where creatures of light move and are beautiful because they cannot know pain or a burden. It carried tears to the old father's eyes. He took her hands. " Don't be too happy, my child, don't be too happy," he admonished her tremulously. " It makes me afraid-it makes me afraid."