rned his feet one way and the
other in a restlessness that would not find vent for itself in speech.
Elizabeth looked at him with a smile at finding her prediction so
instantly verified. But she, too, was silent.

"Mistress Royal," said a voice at her side, and in the unevenness of the
tones more marked than usual she recognized Bulchester before she
turned. "Will you introduce me to Mistress Katie Archdale?" he went on
in a breathless undertone that only she could catch.

"She is the most beautiful creature I ever dreamed of--I mean--yes, I do
mean that. I mean, too, that she shall be Lady Bulchester." He ended
with a resolution which made Elizabeth turn pale.

"Oh, no!" she gasped; then silently drew him a little apart. "You must
not dream of such a thing for a moment," she said. "Don't you know she
is the same as married to her cousin?"

"No, I do not," he answered--"nor do you; you are possibly Mistress
Archdale, yourself. Is the young man to be dog in the manger? Let him
take care of himself. Do you forget that all is fair in love and war?"

An inimitable scorn swept over her face.

"No, I do not know any such thing when your opponent has his hands
tied--for the time. But I am insulting Katie by pleading with you. She
is true."

"You will introduce me?" he urged.

"No," answered Elizabeth, and moved away from him. Bulchester turning
about also, found Lady Dacre almost at his elbow. He brought himself
face to face with her and informed her of Elizabeth's refusal. Lady
Dacre looked at him attentively; he had never appeared to her so manly
as when he was boldly declaring his predilection.

"Of course she would not introduce you if you said all this to her. How
could she? As for me, I am hands off; it is none of my business anyway,"
she said. "But, if you will pardon a word of warning at the outset from
an unprejudiced observer--what makes you expect to win, over Stephen
Archdale's head? He is a strong rival and first in the field."

"That's not everything to some women, the being first in the field, I
mean," he answered, this time suppressing his repetition of his friend's
belief that Archdale was no longer in the field.

"True."

"And do you think," he went on in a passionate undertone, "that I am
fit for nothing but Edmonson's fag? I tell you Edmonson--" he stopped
abruptly.

"What about him?" she asked, fixing her eyes upon him. But already
Bulchester had drawn back.

"I have nothing to say about