"No," she said, in a low voice. "But how can I answer you more than
this--that if I am not to give myself to you I will give myself to no
other? I will be your wife, or the wife of no one. Dear friend, I can
say no more."

"It is enough."

She went quickly to the front of the box; in both bouquets there were
forget-me-nots. She hurriedly selected some, and returned and gave them
to him.

"Whatever happens, you will remember that there was one who at least
wished to be worthy of your love."

Then they followed their friends into the saloon, and sat down at a
small table, though Natalie's hands were trembling so that she could
scarcely undo her gloves. And George Brand said nothing; but once or
twice he looked into his wife's eyes.

CHAPTER XXI.

FATHER AND DAUGHTER.

When Ferdinand Lind told Calabressa that Natalie had grown to be a
woman, he no doubt meant what he said; but he himself had not the least
notion what the phrase implied. He could see, of course, that she had
now a woman's years, stature, self-possession; but, for all that, she
was still to him only a child--only the dark-eyed, gentle, obedient
little Natalushka, who used to be so proud when she was praised for her
music, and whose only show of resolution was when she set to work on the
grammar of a new language. Indeed, it is the commonest thing in the
world for a son, or a daughter, or a friend to grow in years without
those nearest them being aware of the fact, until some chance
circumstance, some crisis, causes a revelation, and we are astounded at
the change that time has insidiously made.

Such a discovery was now about to confront Ferdinand Lind. He was to
learn not only that his daughter had left the days of her childhood
behind her, but also that the womanhood to which she had attained was of
a fine and firm character, a womanhood that rung true when tried. And
this is how the discovery was forced on him:

On his arrival in London, Mr. Lind drove first to Lisle Street, to pick
up letters on his way home. Beratinsky had little news about business
matters to impart; but, instead, he began--as Lind was looking at some
of the envelopes--to drop hints about Brand. It was easy to see now, he
said, why the rich Englishman was so eager to join them, and give up his
life in that way. It was not for nothing. Mr. Lind would doubtless hear
more at home; and so forth.

Mr. Lind was thinking of other things; but when he came to understand