where the work was light and the salary heavy,
and the chance of promotion considerable. Then,
and not till then, he ventured to renew his suit
to Olimpia Colonna.

The moment was favourable. A year of
mourning had passed over her head, and the
intense solitude of heart which had been at firs!
her only solace now began to weigh painfully
upon her. She had had time to think of many
things—time to live down some errors and
outlive some hopes—time also to remember how
long and well the Earl had loved her; how worthy
he was of all the love that she could give him in
return; how he had shed his blood for her Italy;
and with what devotion he had performed the last
sad duties of a son towards her father's ashes.
Besides all this, her occupation was gone. She
could no longer immolate herself for Italy, for
the simple reason that Italy was satisfied to rest
awhile upon her present gains, and preferred
being left to settle her own affairs in a quiet
constitutional way. The disaster at Aspromonte
convinced Miss Colonna of this truth, and of the
stability of the new régime. And over and above
all these considerations, Olimpia loved the Earl.
She had loved him all along—even when she
refused him; and now, after a whole year of
sorrow, she loved him better than before. So
she accepted him — accepted him very frankly and
simply, as a true woman should, and promised
to be his wife before the ending of the year.

Secure in the consciousness of her splendid
birth, Olimpia never dreamed for one moment
that Lady Castletowers could be other than
content and happy in this new alliance of their
houses. That the proud Alethea Holme-Pierrepoint
would in this solitary instance have been
prepared to sacrifice blood for gold—nay, would
have actually welcomed a Miss Hatherton with
her two hundred and fifty thousand pounds more
gladly than a portionless Colonna, — was a
possibility that could by no chance enter within the
sphere of her calculations. So when Lady Castletowers
came over to see her the next day in her
humble suburban home, and kissed her on both
cheeks, and said all the pretty and gracious things
that the mother of her betrothed husband was
bound, under the circumstances, to say, Olimpia
accepted it all in perfect faith, nor guessed what
a bitter disappointment lay hidden beneath that
varnish of smiles and embraces. The Earl, having
himself borne the brunt of her ladyship's
displeasure, was, it need scarcely be said, careful
to keep the secret very close indeed.

In the mean while, Saxon Trefalden had gone
back to Switzerland; and there, despite the
urgent remonstrances of those dear friends who
missed his little dinners and his inexhaustible
cheque-books, persistently remained. In vain
did the Erectheum lift up its voice in despair;
in vain did Blackwall lament and Richmond
refuse to be comforted, and Italian prima donnas
sigh for banquets and bracelets gone by. The
boyish, laughing, lavish millionnaire was fairly
gone, and declined to come back again. The
Syrens might sing; but Odysseus only stopped
his ears and sailed by unheeding.

The Earl alone knew that he was married; but
even the Earl knew no more. He felt it to be
somewhat hard that his friend should neither
have invited him to his wedding, nor have taken
him in any way into his confidence upon so
important a matter. He could not but be
conscious, too, that there was something strange
and secret about the whole proceeding. Who
had he married? Was the bride pretty or
plain? Rich or poor? Dark or fair? Gentle
or simple? What was her age? Her name?
her rank? her nation?

In reply to the first announcement of his
friend's marriage, the Earl had ventured
delicately to hint at two or three of these inquiries;
but as Saxon limited his rejoinder to the fact
that his wife was " an angel," Lord Castletowers
naturally felt that the statement was hardly so
explicit as it might have been.

On all other points Saxon was frank and
communicative as ever. He laid his every project
before his friend as unreservedly in his letters as
if they two had been sitting face to face over
the fire in the smoking-room at Castletowers, or
leaning side by side in the moonlight over the
taffrail of the Albula. They were delightful
letters, filled to overflowing with all kinds of
general detail: now telling of the new château
which was already in progress; now of the bridge
just built at Ortenstein, or the road to be made
between Tamins and Flims; now describing a
national fête at Chur, or an entertainment at
the Château Planta; now relating all about the
cotton-mills which Saxon was erecting in the
valley, or the enormous pasture tracts lately
purchased, and the herds of Scotch cattle
imported to stock them; now giving a sketch of
the design just received from the architect at
Geneva for that church at Altfelden on which
Pastor Martin's heart had been set for the last
thirty years — keeping the Earl constantly au
courant, in fact, of every particular of his friend's
busy and benevolent life among the simple people
of his native canton.

At length it was the Earl's turn to announce
the happiness so shortly to be his; and then
Saxon wrote to entreat that the newly-married
pair would extend their wedding-journey as far
as the valley of Domleschg, and be his guests
awhile. " My wife," he said, " desires to know
you, and rny uncle loves you already for my sake.
On your wedding-day you will receive a parcel of
papers, which you must accept as a souvenir of
your friend."

The "parcel of papers" proved to be the title-deeds
of the two farms sold to Mr. Sloper, and
the title-deeds of Mr. Behrens' " box" and
grounds at Castletowers. The farms were worth
from ten to twelve thousand pounds apiece, to
say nothing of the " fancy price" which Saxon
had paid for the woolstapler's property. It was
not a bad present, as presents go, and it made
a rich man of the Earl of Castletowers; but he
little thought, as he wrung Saxon's hand when
they next met at Reichenau, that to the man who
had presented him with that princely wedding-gift
he owed not those farms alone, but