thought well of the man, and
saw no reason why he should not assist, so far as he could, in settling
Patsy in so enviable a position. It would be new, of course, but Patsy
had been carefully taught. The best of blood ran in her veins, and by
nature she was quick, sympathetic and receptive.

The people of Altschloss were simple and would appreciate frankness and
simplicity in others. It was, in fact, almost an ideal arrangement, and
besides, at Altschloss she would find herself in the immediate vicinity
of the Princess Elsa. Nay, she would enter her castle and begin her
duties with the Princess by her side. Nothing could possibly turn out
better. It was wonderful what Elsa could do. There was no doubt she had
caused Patsy to go to London and brought the Prince across half Europe
simply that she might make a love-match--one that would be the very
opposite in every respect of her own unfortunate experience.

Julian Wemyss could contain himself no longer. He must share his delight
with some one. So he turned to his companion, who was busy with the
"drying" of the dishes and utensils.

"Stair," he cried, "what do you think? Our little Patsy is going to be a
Princess!"

"Ah!" said Stair, calmly, without raising his eyes, and finished with
peculiar care the drying of the tall wine-glass which had been brought
over from Abbey Burnfoot by Joseph's special intervention, and reserved
for "the master, who is partial to it."

"Patsy is going to marry the Prince of Altschloss, a man of much courage
and reputation. He was already at the wars when I left Vienna, but I
knew and appreciated his uncle, by whose death at Wagram, Prince Eitel,
then a captain of cavalry in the Bohemian contingent, came to the
title."

"You have heard all this from Patsy?" said Stair suddenly, shooting out
his words as from a catapult. Julian Wemyss, with the trained judgment
of the moods of men and women quick within him, looked once at the young
fellow who pursued his business so methodically.

Could Stair also--? (he thought). No, surely, that was impossible. Yet
who could number the victims of Patsy? He himself--if it had not been
for the Princess and the tables of consanguinity--he knew that he might
very well have committed any folly for Patsy's sake. And why not Stair?

"No," he answered aloud while these thoughts were passing through his
mind, "I have not heard from Patsy. She might have written a note and
forgotten to enclose it. Of that she