le note which indicates respect and the
consideration which men and women of the world pay to one who has
achieved greatness.

And yet, he noticed also, that not one of them was more perfectly at
his ease than Sir Stephen, who laughed and talked as if his only aim
was that of enjoyment, and as if he had never "planned a plan or
schemed a scheme." Every now and then Stafford caught his father's eye,
and each time he did so, Sir Stephen smiled at him with that air of
pride and affection which he made no attempt to conceal or check. Once
or twice Howard, too, caught his eye and smiled significantly as if he
were saying, "How is this for a successful party?"

The dinner went swimmingly, and when the ladies had retired Sir Stephen
begged the men to close up, and passed the wine freely. The talk was of
everything but politics or business--Stafford remarked that not a word
was said of either topic; and Sir Stephen told one or two stories
admirably and set the laughter going.

"What sort of a night is it, Stafford?" he asked, presently.

Stafford drew the curtain from the open French window, and the
moonlight streamed in to fight with the electric lamps.

"Shall we go out on to the terrace?" said Sir Stephen. "Quite warm
enough, isn't it?"

They went out; servants brought coffee and cigars, and some of the
gentlemen sauntered up and down the terrace, and others went down into
the garden. Sir Stephen linked his arm in Stafford's, and they walked a
little apart along one of the smooth paths.

"Not bored, I hope, my boy?" he asked.

"Good gracious, no, sir!" replied Stafford. "I don't think I remember a
more successful dinner. Why should I be bored?"

"That's all right!" said Sir Stephen, pressing his arm. "I was afraid
you might be. They are not a bad set--the men, I mean--if you keep them
off their hobbies; and we managed to do that, I think."

"Yes, I noticed you managed them very well, sir," said Stafford. "What
a lovely night." They had reached a gate opening on to the road, and
they stood and looked at the view in silence for a moment, listening to
a nightingale, whose clear notes joined with the voices and laughter of
the guests.

Suddenly another sound came upon the night air; a clatter of horses'
hoofs and the rattle of wheels.

"Someone driving down the road," said Sir Stephen.

"And coming at a deuce of a pace!" said Stafford. He opened the gate
and looked up the road; then he uttered an ejaculation.