tyd smiled. "I should imagine that the last clause was added
advisedly. I was a man of the world myself in my young days, and
I recognize one in you. Judging from your physiognomy and general
personality I should say that you have loved a good many women, and
have lived in the widest sense of the word."

"Well--yes," admitted Dartmouth, with a laugh. "That sort of thing
leaves a man's heart untouched, however."

"It may, and I am willing to believe that you have given your heart to
Weir for good and all."

"I think I have," said Dartmouth.

And then the question of settlements was broached, and when it had
been satisfactorily arranged, Dartmouth lingered a few moments longer
in conversation with his host, and then rose to go. Sir Iltyd rose
also and walked with him to the door.

"Do you mind our being married in a month?" asked Dartmouth, as they
crossed the room. "That will give Weir all the time she wants, and we
should like to spend the spring in Rome."

"Very well; let it be in a month. I cannot see that the date is of any
importance; only do not forget me in the summer."

"Oh, no," said Dartmouth; "we expect you to harbor us off and on all
the year around."

And then Sir Iltyd opened the door and bowed with his old-time
courtier-like dignity, and Dartmouth passed out and into the hall.

V.

He found Weir kneeling on the hearth-rug. The hall was an immense
place with a vaulted ceiling upheld by massive beams; the walls were
wainscotted almost to the top with oak which had been polished for
many a century; and the floor, polished also, was covered with rugs
which had been very handsome in their day. There were several superb
suits of armor and a quantity of massive, carved oaken furniture,
extremely uncomfortable but very picturesque. In the open fire-place,
which would have held many more than Harold and Weir within its
depths, great logs were burning. The lamps had been brought in but
had not been turned up, and save for the firelight the great cathedral
apartment was a thicket of shadows, out of which the steel warriors
gleamed, menacing guardians of the girl.

Weir made a pretty picture kneeling on the hearth-rug, with the
fire-light playing on her dark face and pliant figure, in its
closely-fitting black gown, throwing golden flickers on her hair,
and coquetting with the lanterns in her eyes. She rose as Dartmouth
approached, and he gave her one of his brilliant, satisfied smiles.

"We ar