any way not involving the repayment of a
certain modest loan—posted backwards and
forwards between London and Portsmouth, helped
Saxon through innumerable commercial
difficulties, and proved himself an invaluable
adviser.

It was a busy time for Saxon. He had no
leisure for regrets, and perhaps no overwhelming
inclination to indulge in them, either. What
was his disappointment, after all, compared with
the Earl's? A mere scratch beside a deep and
deadly wound. Castletowers had loved Olimpia
Colonna for four long years—Saxon had been her
slave for about as many weeks. Castletowers had
confessed to him, in a manly, quiet way, and
without the slightest semblance of affectation,
that he believed he should never love any other
woman—Saxon had no such conviction; but
felt, on the contrary, that the best love of his
life was yet to come. All these things
considered, he was so grieved for his friend that he
came to be almost ashamed of his own trouble
—nay, was somewhat ashamed to regard his
disappointment in the light of a trouble. Olimpia
had never cared for him. She had cared for
nothing but his wealth; and only for that on
account of Italy. Miss Hatherton was right.
She had spoken only the literal truth that day,
when she compared him to the goose that laid
the golden eggs. It was a humiliating truth;
but, after all, was it not well for the goose to
have escaped with only the loss of an egg or
two? So Saxon tried to be philosophic; kept
his secret to himself; hurried on the yachting
preparations with a will; and set himself to
efface Olimpia's beautiful image from his heart
as rapidly as possible.

At last all was ready. The yacht rode
lightly at anchor in Portsmouth harbour, only
waiting for her lord and master to embark;
and Saxon, having made his last round of
inspection and seen that everything was in order,
from the glittering swivel-gun on the foredeck
to the no less brilliant pots and pans in the
caboose, was speeding up to London, to spend
his last evening with William Trefalden.

"Isn't she a little beauty, Greatorex?" said
he.

It was the first word that had been spoken
since they left Portsmouth.

"I'll tell you what it is, my dear boy,"
replied the banker, with that engaging familiarity
to which so many of his West-end acquaintances
had the bad taste to object, "the Albula is just
the tautest and trimmest little craft that ever
scudded under canvas. If she had been built
for you, you could not have had a better fit."

"I wonder what Castletowers will say when
he sees her?"

"If he has but half the taste I give him
credit for, he will endorse my verdict. Do you
meet in London or Portsmouth?"

"In London; and go down together. We
hope to weigh anchor about three o'clock in
the afternoon."

"And you will be away—how long?"

"From two to three months."

Mr. Greatorex looked thoughtful, and lit a
cigar.

"If I can be useful to you while you are out
there, Trefalden, you know you may command
me," said he. "I mean, if you have any stocks
or shares that you want looked after, or any
interest got in."

"Thank you very much," replied Saxon;
"but my cousin manages all those things for
me."

"Humph! And you have no other lawyer?"

"Of course not."

"Would you think it impertinent if I ask
how he has disposed of your property?
Understand, my dear boy, that I don't want you to
tell me it you had rather not; but I should like
to know that Mr. Trefalden of Chancery-lane
has done the best he can for you."

"Oh, you may take that for granted," said
Saxon, warmly.

"We take nothing for granted, east of
Temple Bar," replied Greatorex, dryly.

But of this observation his companion took
no notice.

"More than half my money was left in the
Bank of England," said he, "in government
stock."

"Safe; but only three per cent," remarked
the banker.

"And the rest is invested in—in a company."

"In what company?" asked Greatorex,
quickly.

"Ah, that I may not tell you. It's a secret
at present."

The banker looked very grave.

"I am sorry for that," he said.

"Don't be sorry. It's a magnificent enterprise
—the grandest thing of the present half
century, and a certain success. You'll hear all
about it before long."

"Not the South Australian diamond mines,
I hope?"

"No, no."

"Did Mr. Trefalden advise the investment?"

"Yes; and has put all his own money into it
as well."

"That looks as if he had some faith in it."

"He has perfect faith in it. He is the
company's lawyer, you see, and knows all about it."

"And who are the directors?"

"Well, I believe I'm one of them," laughed
Saxon.

"And the rest?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"But you have met them on board-days?"

"Never. I don't think there have been any
board-days at present."

The banker shook his head.

"I don't like it," said he. "I tell you frankly,
my dear boy, I don't like it."

"I really see no reason why you should
dislike it," replied Saxon.

Mr. Greatorex smoked for some time in
silence, and made no reply. After that, the
conversation went back to the yacht; and then
they talked about Norway, and salmon-fishing,
and a thousand other topics connected with the