The Diva's Ruby. F. Marion Crawford

you so comfortable that you'll really like not being bad,' said Lady Maud, and the invitation was sometimes accepted.

      Evidently, a woman who occupied herself with this form of charity could not help knowing and hearing a good deal about men which would have surprised and even shocked her social sisters, and she was not in danger of taking Rufus Van Torp for an ascetic in disguise.

      On the contrary, she was quite able to understand that the tremendous attraction the handsome singer had for him might be of the most earthly kind, such as she herself would not care to call love, and that, if she was right, it would not be partially dignified by any of that true artistic appreciation which brought Logotheti such rare delight, and disguised a passion not at all more ethereal than Van Torp's might be. In refinement of taste, no comparison was possible between the Western-bred millionaire and the cultivated Greek, who knew every unfamiliar by-way and little hidden treasure of his country's literature and art, besides very much of what other nations had done and written. Yet Lady Maud, influenced, no doubt, by the honest friendship of her American friend, believed that Van Torp would be a better and more faithful husband, even to a primadonna, than his Oriental rival.

      Notwithstanding her opinion of him, however, she was not prepared for his next move. He had noticed the grave look that had followed her laughter, and he turned away and was silent for a few moments.

      'The Derby's a side show,' he said at last. 'I've come over to get married, and I want you to help me. Will you?'

      'Can I?' asked Lady Maud, evasively.

      'Yes, you can, and I believe there'll be trouble unless you do.'

      'Who is she? Do I know her?' She was trying to put off the evil moment.

      'Oh, yes, you know her quite well. It's Madame Cordova.'

      'But she's engaged to Monsieur Logotheti——'

      'I don't care. I mean to marry her if she marries any one. He shan't have her anyway.'

      'But I cannot deliberately help you to break off her engagement! It's impossible!'

      'See here,' answered Mr. Van Torp. 'You know that Greek, and you know me. Which of us will make the best husband for an English girl? That's what Madame Cordova is, after all. I put it to you. If you were forced to choose one of us yourself, which would you take? That's the way to look at it.'

      'But Miss Donne is not "forced" to take one of you——'

      'She's going to be. It's the same. Besides, I said "if." Won't you answer me?'

      'She's in love with Monsieur Logotheti,' said Lady Maud, rather desperately.

      'Is she, now? I wonder. I don't much think so myself. He's clever and he's obstinate, and he's just made her think she's in love, that's all. Anyhow, that's not an answer to my question. Other things being alike, if she had to choose, which of us would be the best husband for her?—the better, I mean. You taught me to say "better," didn't you?'

      Lady Maud tried to smile.

      'Of two, yes,' she answered. 'You are forcing my hand, my dear friend,' she went on very gravely. 'You know very well that I trust you with all my heart. If it were possible to imagine a case in which the safety of the world could depend on my choosing one of you for my husband, you know very well that I should take you, though I never was the least little bit in love with you, any more than you ever were with me.'

      'Well, but if you would, she ought,' argued Mr. Van Torp. 'It's for her own good, and as you're a friend of hers, you ought to help her to do what's good for her. That's only fair. If she doesn't marry me, she's certain to marry that Greek, so it's a forced choice, it appears to me.'

      'But I can't——'

      'She's a nice girl, isn't she?'

      'Yes, very.'

      'And you like her, don't you?'

      'Very much. Her father was my father's best friend.'

      'I don't believe in atavism,' observed the American, 'but that's neither here nor there. You know what you wrote me. Do you believe she'll be miserable with Logotheti or not?'

      'I think she will,' Lady Maud answered truthfully. 'But I may be wrong.'

      'No; you're right. I know it. But marriage is a gamble anyway, as you know better than any one. Are you equally sure that she would be miserable with me? Dead sure, I mean.'

      'No, I'm not sure. But that's not a reason——'

      'It's a first-rate reason. I care for that lady, and I want her to be happy, and as you admit that she will have a better chance of happiness with me than with Logotheti, I'm going to marry her myself, not only because I want to, but because it will be a long sight better for her. See? No fault in that line of reasoning, is there?'

      'So far as reasoning goes——' Lady Maud's tone was half an admission.

      'That's all I wanted you to say,' interrupted the American. 'So that's settled, and you're going to help me.'

      'No,' answered Lady Maud quietly; 'I won't help you to break off that engagement. But if it should come to nothing, without your interfering—that is, by the girl's own free will and choice and change of mind, I'd help you to marry her if I could.'

      'But you admit that she's going to be miserable,' said Van Torp stubbornly.

      'I'm sorry for her, but it's none of my business. It's not honourable to try and make trouble between engaged people, no matter how ill-matched they may be.'

      'Funny idea of honour,' observed the American, 'that you're bound to let a friend of yours break her neck at the very gravel pit where you were nearly smashed yourself! In the hunting field you'd grab her bridle if she wouldn't listen to you, but in a matter of marriage—oh, no! "It's dishonourable to interfere," "She's made her choice and she must abide by it," and all that kind of stuff!'

      Lady Maud's clear eyes met his angry blue ones calmly.

      'I don't like you when you say such things,' she said, lowering her voice a little.

      'I didn't mean to be rude,' answered the millionaire, almost humbly. 'You see I don't always know. I learnt things differently from what you did. I suppose you'd think it an insult if I said I'd give a large sum of money to your charity the day I married Madame Cordova, if you'd help me through.'

      "'Funny idea of honour,' observed the American."

      'Please stop.' Lady Maud's face darkened visibly. 'That's not like you.'

      'I'll give a million pounds sterling,' said Mr. Van Torp slowly.

      Lady Maud leaned back in her corner of the sofa, clasping her hands rather tightly together in her lap. Her white throat flushed as when the light of dawn kisses Parian marble, and the fresh tint in her cheeks deepened softly; her lips were tightly shut, her eyelids quivered a little, and she looked straight before her across the room.

      'You can do a pretty good deal with a million pounds,' said Mr. Van Torp, after the silence had lasted nearly half a minute.

      'Don't!' cried Lady Maud, in an odd voice.

      'Forty thousand pounds a year,' observed the millionaire thoughtfully. 'You could do quite a great deal of good with that, couldn't you?'

      'Don't! Please don't!'

      She pressed her hands to her ears and rose at the same instant. Perhaps it was she, after all, and not her friend who had been brought suddenly to a great cross-road in life. She stood still one moment by the sofa without looking down at her companion; then she left the room abruptly, and shut the door behind her.

      Van Torp got up from his seat slowly when she was gone, and went to the window, softly blowing a queer tune between his closed teeth and his open lips, without