you goodby," he said, with an effort
at lofty courtesy, "and I will leave my adieux for your friends with
you."

"Are you going--back to the States?" stammered Lucy.

"Yes, I am going back to the States," he replied sternly. "A man of
merit there has his place, regardless of rank. Jem Perry can hold his
head there as high as any beggarly prince. Farewell, Miss Dunbar."

He strode down the path and disappeared. Lucy shook her head and cried
from sheer wretchedness. She felt that she had been beaten to-day with
many stripes.

Suddenly the bushes beside her rustled. "Forgive me," he said
hoarsely. She looked up and saw his red honest eyes. "I behaved like
a brute. Good-by, Lucy! I never loved any woman but you, and I never
will."

"Stay, stay!" she cried.

He heard her, but he did not come back.

CHAPTER VIII

Lucy was silent and dejected for a day or two, being filled with pity
for Mr. Perry's ruined life. But when she saw his name in a list of
outgoing passengers on the Paris her heart gave a bound of relief.
Nothing more could now be done. That chapter was closed. There had
been no other chapter of moment in her life, she told herself sternly.
Now, all the clouds had cleared away. It was a new day. She would
begin again.

So she put on new clothes, none of which she had ever worn before, and
tied back her curly hair with a fresh white ribbon, and came down to
breakfast singing gayly.

Miss Vance gave her her roll and milk in silence, and frowning
importantly, drew out a letter.

"Lucy, I have just received a communication from Prince Wolfburgh. He
is in Bozen."

"Here!" Lucy started up, glancing around like a chased hare.

Then she sat down again and waited. There was no other chapter, and
the book was so blank!

"His coming is very opportune," she said presently, gently.

"Oh! do YOU think so, my dear? Really! Well, I always have liked the
young man. So simple. So secure of his social position. The
Wolfburghs, I find, go back to the eleventh century. Mr. Perry had
noble traits, but one never felt quite safe as to his nails or his
grammar."

"But the prince--the prince?" cried Jean.

"Oh, yes. Well, he writes--most deferentially. He begs for the honor
of an interview with me this afternoon upon a subject of the most vital
importance. He says, 'regarding you, as I do, in loco parentis to the
hochgeboren Fraulein Dunbar.'" "Hochgeboren!" said Lucy. "My
grandfather