her with some ardour. It would not grieve him to
see her make a fool and a tool of the impressionable yet adroit
diplomatist, whose vanity was matched by his unreliability, and who had
a passion for philandering--unlike Count Landrassy, who had no
inclination to philander, who carried his citadels by direct attack in
great force. Yes, Jasmine could help him, and, as in the dead years
when it seemed that she would be the courier star of his existence,
they understood each other without words.

"It is so," he said at last, in a low voice, his eyes still regarding
her with almost painful intensity.

"Do you trust me--now--again?" she asked, a tremor in her voice and her
small hand clasping ever and ever tighter the fingers of the lad, whose
eyes watched her with such dog-like adoration.

A mournful smile stole to his lips--and stayed. "Come where we can be
quiet and I will tell you all," he said. "You can help me, maybe."

"I will help you," she said, firmly, as the nurse entered the room
again and, approaching the bed, said, "I think he ought to sleep now";
and forthwith proceeded to make Jigger comfortable.

When Stafford bade Jigger good-bye, the lad said: "I wish I could 'ear
the singing to-night, y'r gryce. I mean the primmer donner. Lou says
she's a fair wonder."

"We will open your window," Jasmine said, gently. "The ball-room is
just across the quadrangle, and you will be able to hear perfectly."

"Thank you, me lydy," he answered, gratefully, and his eyes closed.

"Come," said Jasmine to Stafford. "I will take you where we can talk
undisturbed."

They passed out, and both were silent as they threaded the corridors
and hallways; but in Jasmine's face was a light of exaltation and of
secret triumph.

"We must give Jigger a good start in life," she said, softly, as they
entered her sitting-room. Jigger had broken down many barriers between
her and the man who, a week ago, had been eternities distant from her.

"He's worth a lot of thought," Ian answered, as the pleasant room
enveloped him, and they seated themselves on a big couch before the
fire.

Again there was a long silence; then, not looking at her, but gazing
into the fire, Ian Stafford slowly unfolded the wide and wonderful
enterprise of diplomacy in which his genius was employed. She listened
with strained attention, but without moving. Her eyes were fixed on his
face, and once, as the proposed meaning of the scheme was made dear by
the turn o