us helped, in some degree,
to restore me to myself. I was able at last to satisfy Major Fitz-David
that his considerate and courteous explanation had not been thrown away
upon me.

"I thank you, most sincerely, Major," I said "You have convinced me that
I must not ask you to forget, on my account, the promise which you have
given to my husband. It is a sacred promise, which I too am bound to
respect--I quite understand that."

The Major drew a long breath of relief, and patted me on the shoulder in
high approval of what I had said to him.

"Admirably expressed!" he rejoined, recovering his light-hearted looks
and his lover-like ways all in a moment. "My dear lady, you have the
gift of sympathy; you see exactly how I am situated. Do you know, you
remind me of my charming Lady Clarinda. _She_ has the gift of sympathy,
and sees exactly how I am situated. I should so enjoy introducing you
to each other," said the Major, plunging his long nose ecstatically into
Lady Clarinda's flowers.

I had my end still to gain; and, being (as you will have discovered by
this time) the most obstinate of living women, I still kept that end in
view.

"I shall be delighted to meet Lady Clarinda," I replied. "In the
meantime--"

"I will get up a little dinner," proceeded the Major, with a burst of
enthusiasm. "You and I and Lady Clarinda. Our young prima donna shall
come in the evening, and sing to us. Suppose we draw out the _menu?_ My
sweet friend, what is your favorite autumn soup?"

"In the meantime," I persisted, "to return to what we were speaking of
just now--"

The Major's smile vanished; the Major's hand dropped the pen destined to
immortalize the name of my favorite autumn soup.

"_Must_ we return to that?" he asked, piteously.

"Only for a moment," I said.

"You remind me," pursued Major Fitz-David, shaking his head sadly, "of
another charming friend of mine--a French friend--Madame Mirliflore. You
are a person of prodigious tenacity of purpose. Madame Mirliflore is a
person of prodigious tenacity of purpose. She happens to be in London.
Shall we have her at our little dinner?" The Major brightened at the
idea, and took up the pen again. "Do tell me," he said, "what _is_ your
favorite autumn soup?"

"Pardon me," I began, "we were speaking just now--"

"Oh, dear me!" cried Major Fitz-David. "Is this the other subject?"

"Yes--this is the other subject."

The Major put down his pen for the second time, and regretfu