The Lost Lady of Lone. Emma Dorothy Eliza Nevitte Southworth

marquis grasped and wrung the hand of his old friend.

      "But will you do it?" persisted the banker, who wanted to be satisfied on that point.

      "I will think of it. I will think most gratefully of your kind invitation, Sir Lemuel. And now shall we join the ladies?"

      "Certainly," said the banker.

      They went into the drawing-room.

      Lady Belgrade was presiding over the tea urn.

      Salome, who was seated near her, looked up and saw him. Again the marquis noted the sudden, beautiful lighting up of those soft, gray eyes, as they were lifted for a moment to his face. Again they fell beneath his glance, as her pale cheeks flushed up. He could not be mistaken. This sweet girl whom he loved, loved him in return.

      "I was just about to send for you. You lingered long at table, Sir Lemuel," said Lady Belgrade, as the two gentlemen bowed and seated themselves.

      "Oh, important political and journalistic matters to discuss," said Sir Lemuel. ("Only they were not discussed,") he added, mentally.

      "So I supposed," said Lady Belgrade, as she handed him a cup of tea, which he immediately passed to his guest.

      After tea, when the service was removed, Sir Lemuel challenged Lady Belgrade for a game of chess, and told his daughter to show Mr. Scott those chromoes of the Madonnas of Raphael which had arrived in the last parcel from Paris.

      Salome flushed to the edges of her dark hair as she arose, glanced shyly at her guest for an instant, and walked to the other end of the drawing-room.

      There, on a gilded stand, under a brilliant gasolier, lay a large and handsome volume, which Salome indicated as the one referred to by her father.

      The marquis brought two chairs to the stand, and they sat down to go over the book.

      Meanwhile, the banker and the dowager commenced their game of chess. But from time to time, each looked furtively in the direction of the young people. They were looking at the Madonnas of Raphael, and, once in a while, shyly into each other's eyes. All that Sir Lemuel saw there pleased him. All that Lady Belgrade saw there displeased her.

      At length she put her hand over that of her antagonist, and stopped his move while she said:

      "Sir Lemuel, a conflagration may be arrested by stamping out a spark of fire."

      "Whatever do you mean, my lady!" inquired the perplexed banker.

      "An inundation may be prevented by stopping up a small leak."

      "I am more mystified than ever!"

      "Look at Salome and Mr. Scott, then," said her ladyship, solemnly.

      "Well, what of them? They seem to be very happy and very well pleased with each other."

      "Ah! that is it, and worse may come of it."

      "What worse can come of it?"

      "Sir Lemuel, this Mr. Scott, you must remember, is nothing but an adventurer, who only gains an entrance into respectable circles on account of his journalistic reputation. He is probably also a pauper, but being a very handsome and attractive man, he is certainly a very dangerous, and likely to be a very successful fortune-hunter."

      "You mean he may try to marry my heiress?"

      "Yes, Sir Lemuel."

      "He has my full consent to do so."

      "Sir Lemuel!"

      "Listen, my good lady, I have a secret to tell you. That gentleman whom we have known as Mr. John Scott only, is really Archibald-Alexander-John Scott, Marquis of Hereward."

      A woman of the world is hardly ever "taken aback." Lady Belgrade gave no exclamation. But she caught her breath and stared at the speaker.

      "It is as I have told you. He is the Marquis of Arondelle. He is going to marry my daughter. He will get back Lone through her. And she will be Marchioness of Arondelle, and in due time Duchess of Hereward."

      "You—don't—say—so!" breathed her ladyship, slowly.

      "And now, you know how to manage it. You must aid the young couple as much as you can by giving them as much as possible of each other's society."

      "Yes, I see," said her ladyship. "And now—don't look toward them again."

      The banker nodded intelligently. And they gave their attention to the game.

      And the two young people seemed to find inexhaustible interest in the volume they were bending over.

      It was eleven o'clock before the young marquis arose to take leave.

      "I have asked Miss Levison to ride with me in the Park to-morrow, and she has kindly consented—with your approbation, Sir Lemuel," said the young man.

      "Certainly, Mr. Scott. I consider horseback riding one of the most healthful of exercises," said the banker, heartily.

      The young marquis then bowed and took his leave.

      Lady Belgrade gathered up her embroidery work and bade them good-night.

      "My girl, what do you think of Mr. Scott?" asked the banker, when he was left alone with his daughter.

      "Oh, papa," she breathed in an embarrassed manner.

      "Do you know who he really is, my dear?"

      "Yes, papa, I knew him when I first met him at the Premier's dinner. I knew him by his portrait that I saw at Castle Lone!"

      "Oh, you did!" said the banker, musing.

      His daughter looked at him for a moment, and then suddenly threw herself into his arms, clasped his neck and kissed him fervently, exclaiming, with her face radiant with delight:

      "Oh, papa! this is all your doing! I understand it all, dear papa! Bless you! bless you! bless you, my own, own dear papa! You have made your child so happy!"

CHAPTER V.

       Table of Contents

ARONDELLE'S CONSOLATION.

       Table of Contents

      On the next day, at the appointed hour, Salome came down to the drawing-room dressed for her ride.

      She wore a rich habit of dark blue summer-cloth, fastened with small gold buttons, fine, tiny white linen cuffs and collar, dark blue gloves, dark blue velvet hat with a short, white ostrich plume secured by a small gold butterfly, and she carried in her hand a slender ivory-handled riding-whip, set with a sapphire. Her dress was neat, elegant, and appropriate; and her face was for the moment radiant and beautiful from inward joy.

      In due time, the young marquis presented himself, and the lovers went forth for their ride.

      It is not necessary to linger over this courtship, in which "the course of true love" ran so smooth as to seem monotonous to all but the lovers themselves.

      The ride was followed by the small dinner party. And after that the young marquis became a daily visitor at Elmthorpe House, where he was ever received with fatherly affection by Sir Lemuel, and with subdued delight by Salome.

      The lovers had come to a mutual understanding for days before the marquis made a formal proposal for Miss Levison's hand.

      But it happened one evening that they found themselves alone in the drawing-room. They were seated at a table, loaded with books of engravings, photographs, and so forth.

      Salome was turning over the pages of Dore's Milton.

      "Close