ich lucid commentary he stopped, gazing with anxious inquiry
into Captain Jack's smiling eyes. "Ah, I believe you have just a
glimmer of the truth with that confounded perspicacity of yours,"
saying which the sailor laughed and blushed not unbecomingly. "This is
how it came about: I had transactions with old John Harewood, the
banker, in Bristol, transactions advantageous to both sides, but
perhaps most to him--sly old dog. At any rate, the old fellow took a
monstrous fancy to me, over his claret, and when I mentioned Bath,
recommended me to call upon his wife (a very fine dame, who prefers
the fashion of the Spa to the business of Bristol, and consequently
lives as much in the former place as good John Harewood will allow).
Well, you wonder at my looking prosperous and happy. Listen, for here
is the _hic_: At Lady Maria Harewood's I met one who, if I mistake
not, is of your kin. Already, then, somewhere at the back of my memory
dwelt the name of Savenaye----Halloa, bless me! I have surely said
nothing to----!"

The young man broke off, disconcerted. Sir Adrian's face had become
unwontedly clouded, but he waved the speaker on impatiently: "No, no,
I am surprised, of course, only surprised; never mind me, my thoughts
wandered--please go on. So you have met her?"

"Ay, that I have! Now it is no use beating about the bush. You who
know her--you do know her of course--will jump at once to the only
possible conclusion. Ah, Adrian!" Captain Jack pursued, pacing
enthusiastically about, "I have been no saint, and no doubt I have
fancied myself as a lover once or twice ere this; but to see that
girl, sir, means a change in a man's life: to have met the light of
those sweet eyes is to love, to love in reality. It is to feel ashamed
of the idiotic make-believes of former loves. To love her, even in
vague hope, is to be glorious already; and, by George, to have her
troth, is to be--I cannot say what ... to be what I am now!"

The lover's face was illumined; he walked the room like one treading
on air as the joy within him found its voice in words.

Sir Adrian listened with an extraordinary tightness at his heart. He
had loved one woman even so; that love was still with him, as the
scent clings to the phial; but the sight of this young, joyful love
made him feel old in that hour--old as he had never realised before.
There was no room in his being for such love again. And yet...? There
was a tremulous anxiety in the question he p