at once. His turbulent brain was endeavoring to find
words with which to convince her of the innocence of the escapade.
Looking up into her eyes, he was struck by their tender staunchness.
Like a flash came to him the decision to tell her the true story, from
beginning to end.

"Lady Huntingford, I will tell you everything there is to tell. It is
not a long tale, and you may say it is a very foolish one. I am sure,
however, that it will interest you."

"You shall not tell me a word if you do so in order to appease my
curiosity," she began earnestly.

"I think it is best that you should know," he interrupted. "One favor
first. You will earn my eternal gratitude if you do not allow Grace to
feel that you have discovered our secret."

"You have my promise. I have kept many secrets, Mr. Ridge." He drew his
chair quite close to hers. Then he told her the full story of the
adventure, from first to last. She scarcely breathed, so deeply was her
interest centred in this little history of an impulse. He spoke
hurriedly, excitedly. Not once did she take her eyes from his earnest
face, almost indistinguishable in the darkness; nor could he remove his
from hers.

"And here we are approaching Aden, your Ladyship," he concluded. Her big
dark eyes had held him enthralled, inspiring him to paint in glorious
colors every detail of the remarkable journey. As he drew to a close,
her hand fell involuntarily on his knee. A tremor dashed through his
veins, and his heart throbbed fiercely.

"How glorious it must be to love like that," she almost whispered. There
was a catch in her voice, as she uttered that soft, dreamy sentence,
almost a sigh. She turned her face away suddenly and then arose, crying
in tones so low and despairing that he could hardly believe they came
from the usually merry lips: "Oh, how I envy her this life and love!
How wonderful it all is!"

"It has its drawbacks," he lamented. "As a brother I am a nonentity,
Lady Huntingford; it's not altogether relishable, you know. It's a sort
of pantomime, for me, by Jove. I'm the fool, and this seems to be the
fool's errand."

"If you will play a part in the pantomime, Mr. Ridge, let an
Englishwoman suggest that you be the harlequin. How I loved the
harlequin in the Drury Lane pantomimes at Christmas time! He was always
the ideal lover to me, for there was no trick, no prank this bespangled
hero could not play to success. He always went incognito, for he wore
his narrow m