ot!" the girl cried. "You are my dear, kind father. I
won't let you go alone. I'll stay with you, close beside you, while
you live."

She threw herself into his arms and Kreutzer, there enfolding her,
looked proudly out above the wonderful bowed head of the distressed
and sobbing girl at Mrs. Vanderlyn. This time there was a note of
triumph in his voice--a note of triumph which had not been there, even
when he had made the announcement of the glory of his birth and
family.

Mrs. Vanderlyn looked at them in chagrin. A slow flush spread upon her
face.

"_Now_, mother," her son asked, "what have you to say?"

She forced a sigh as of a self-effacing resignation, but upon her face
there lurked, in spite of her, a little smirk of satisfaction--of snobbery
which had been gratified, at last, after many disappointments. Her manner
had changed utterly. Her tones were honeyed, now; her glance was quite as
sweetly motherly as she could make it as she looked from Anna to her
questioner and back again.

"What have I to say? My boy, I cannot let you lose your happiness....
And the dear man's confession has made everything so different!" An
ecstatic smile spread on her face. "Why, John, he is a friend of the
dear Emperor!" She turned, now, again to Kreutzer. Everything
considered she made good weather of it on a difficult occasion. "My
dear Count," she pleaded, "won't you reconsider, please?"

The old flute-player shook his head. "I do not wish to hurt your
feelings, Madame, but it is impossible--impossible."

"Mother," said John Vanderlyn, not viciously, but, still, a little
wickedly, "you are up against it. He'll never reconsider."

"But he must! He must!" said Mrs. Vanderlyn, entirely capitulating.
"There is nothing I won't do!" She turned, imploringly, to Kreutzer.
"Listen. To-night I hold a reception. It shall be in your daughter's
honor and I will, while it is going on, announce her engagement to my
son." She took the ring which the flute-player had passed over to her,
and, holding it between her thumb and forefinger, advanced towards
Anna with it. "See, I will, myself, put on the ring."

John protested, though, at this. "No, mother," he said hastily, "I
will attend to that."

He took the ring from her reluctant fingers, and, raising Anna's hand,
slipped it into place in open token of betrothal. Then, with an air of
manly resolution the young man turned to the father. "And I'll do
more," he said. "You and Anna shall