But they've never heard the history
Of our transmigration's mystery,
And they've no idea I loved you those millenniums ago.

It was the night of the Academy _soiree_ in the year of Elisabeth's
triumph; she was being petted and _feted_ on all sides, and passed
through the crowded rooms in a sort of royal progress, surrounded by an
atmosphere of praise and adulation. Of course she liked it--what woman
would not?--but she was conscious of a dull ache of sadness, at the back
of all her joy, that there was no one to share her triumph with her; no
one to whom she could say, "I care for all this, chiefly because it
makes me stronger to help you and worthier to be loved by you;" no one
who would be made happy by her whisper, "I have set the Thames ablaze in
order to make warm your fireside."

It was as yet early in the evening when the President turned for a
moment from his duties as "official receiver" to say to her, "Miss
Farringdon, I want to present Farquhar to you. He is a rising man, and
a very good fellow into the bargain, and I know he is most anxious to be
introduced to you."

And then the usual incantation was gone through, which constitutes an
introduction in England--namely, the repetition of two names, whereof
each person hears only his or her own (an item of information by no
means new or in any way to be desired), while the name of the other
contracting party remains shrouded in impenetrable mystery; and
Elisabeth found herself face to face with the man whom she specially
desired to meet.

Cecil Farquhar was a remarkably handsome man, nearer forty than thirty
years of age. He was tall and graceful, with golden hair and the profile
of a Greek statue; and, in addition to these palpable charms, he
possessed the more subtle ones of a musical voice and a fascinating
manner. He treated every woman, with whom he was brought into contact,
as if she were a compound of a child and a queen; and he had a way of
looking at her and speaking to her as if she were the one woman in the
world for whom he had been waiting all his life. That women were taken
in by this half-caressing, half-worshipping manner was not altogether
their fault; perhaps it was not altogether his. Very attractive people
fall into the habit of attracting, and are frequently unconscious of,
and therefore irresponsible for, their success.

"It is so good of you to let me be presented to you," he said to
Elisabeth, as they