nt on, "has happened to disturb you?"

"Nothing at all," she declared hastily. "I am tired. I ran up-stairs
perhaps a little too quickly. Aline had not told me that there was any
one here."

"I had a fancy to see you this afternoon," the prince explained, "and,
finding you out, I took the liberty of waiting. If you would rather I
went away and came for you later, please do not hesitate to say so."

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "I do not know why I should have been so
silly. Aline, take my coat and veil," she directed, turning to the maid,
who was lingering at the other end of the room. "I am not wet. Serve
some tea in here. I will have my bath later, when I change to go to the
theater."

She spoke bravely, but fear was in her heart. She tried to tell herself
that this visit was a coincidence, that it meant nothing, but all the
time she knew otherwise.

The door closed behind Aline, and they were alone. The prince, as if
anxious to give her time to recover herself, walked to the window and
stood for some moments looking out. When he turned around, Louise had at
least nerved herself to meet what she felt was imminent.

The prince approached her deliberately. She knew what he was going to
say.

"Louise," he began, drawing a chair to her side, "I have found myself
thinking a great deal about you during the last few weeks."

She did not interrupt him. She simply waited and watched.

"I have come to a certain determination," he proceeded; "one which, if
you will grace it with your approval, will give me great happiness. I
ask you to forget certain things which have passed between us. I have
come to you to-day to beg you to do me the honor of becoming my wife."

She turned her head very slowly until she was looking him full in the
face. Her lips were a little parted, her eyes a little strained. The
prince was leaning toward her in a conventional attitude; his words had
been spoken simply and in his usual conversational manner. There was
something about him, however, profoundly convincing.

"Your wife!" Louise repeated.

"If you will do me that great honor."

It seemed at first as if her nerves were strained to the breaking-point.
The situation was one with which her brain seemed unable to grapple. She
set her teeth tightly. Then she had a sudden interlude of wonderful
clear-sightedness. She was almost cool.

"You must forgive my surprise, Eugene," she begged. "We have known each
other now for some twelve ye