owed
itself in his slapping him on the shoulder and making dints in his hat.
Trannel seemed to enjoy these caresses, and, when they parted again for
the afternoon's sight-seeing, Ellen had no longer a qualm in letting
Boyne drive off with him.

He had, in fact, known how to make himself very acceptable to Boyne. He
knew all the originals of his heroical romances, and was able to give
the real names and the geographical position of those princesses who
had been in love with American adventurers. Under promise of secrecy he
disclosed the real names of the adventurers themselves, now obscured in
the titles given them to render them worthy their union with sovereigns.
He resumed his fascinating confidences when they drove off after
luncheon, and he resumed them after each separation from the rest of the
party. Boyne listened with a flushed face and starting eyes, and when at
last Trannel offered, upon a pledge of the most sacred nature from him
never to reveal a word of what he said, he began to relate an adventure
of which he was himself the hero. It was a bold travesty of one of the
latest romances that Boyne had read, involving the experience of an
American very little older than Boyne himself, to whom a wilful young
crown-princess, in a little state which Trannel would not name even to
Boyne, had made advances such as he could not refuse to meet without
cruelty. He was himself deeply in love with her, but he felt bound in
honor not to encourage her infatuation as long as he could help, for he
had been received by her whole family with such kindness and confidence
that he had to consider them.

"Oh, pshaw!" Boyne broke in upon him, doubting, and yet wishing not to
doubt, "that's the same as the story of 'Hector Folleyne'."

"Yes," said Trannel, quietly. "I thought you would recognize it."

"Well, but," Boyne went on, "Hector married the princess!"

"In the book, yes. The fellow I gave the story to said it would never
do not to have him marry her, and it would help to disguise the fact.
That's what he said, after he had given the whole thing away."

"And do you mean to say it was you? Oh, you can't stuff me! How did you
get out of marrying her, I should like to know, when the chancellor came
to you and said that the whole family wanted you to, for fear it would
kill her if--"

"Well, there was a scene, I can't deny that. We had a regular family
conclave--father, mother, Aunt Hitty, and all the folks--and we kept it