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Mr. Erwyn smiled. “Her tender heart,” said Mr. Erwyn, “is affected by the pathetic and moving spectacle of the poor hungry swans, pining for their native land and made a raree-show for visitors in the Pantiles; and she has gone to stay them with biscuits and to comfort them with cakes.”

“Really!” said Lady Allonby.

“And,” Mr. Erwyn continued, “to defend her from the possible ferocity of the gold-fish, Captain Audaine had obligingly afforded service as an escort.”

“Oh,” said Lady Allonby; then added, “in the circumstances she might permissibly have broken the engagement.”

“But there is no engagement,” said Mr. Erwyn–“as yet.”

“Indeed?” said she.

“Harkee,” said he; “should he make a declaration this afternoon she will refuse him.”

“Why, but of course!” Lady Allonby marveled.

“And the eighth time,” said he.

“Undoubtedly,” said she; “but at whatever are you hinting?”

“Yet the ninth time–“

“Well, what is it, you grinning monster?”

Mr. Erwyn allowed himself a noiseless chuckle. “After the ninth time,” Mr. Erwyn declared, “there will be an engagement.”

“Mr. Erwyn!” cried Lady Allonby, with widened eyes, “I had understood that Dorothy looked favorably upon your suit.”

“Anastasia!” cried he; and then his finger-tips lightly caressed his brow. “‘Tis the first I had heard of it,” said Mr. Erwyn.

“Surely–” she began.

“Nay, but far more surely,” said he, “in consideration of the fact that, not a half-hour since, you deigned to promise me your hand in marriage–“

“O la now!” cried Lady Allonby; and, recovering herself, smiled courteously. “‘Tis the first I had heard of it,” said she.

They stared at each other in wonderment. Then Lady Allonby burst into laughter.

“D’ye mean–?” said she.

“Indeed,” said Mr. Erwyn, “so unintentional was I of aspiring to Miss Allonby’s affections that all my soul was set upon possessing the heart and person of a lady, in my humble opinion, far more desirable.”

“I had not dreamed–” she commenced.

“Behold,” said Mr. Erwyn, bitterly, “how rightly is my presumption punished. For I, with a fop’s audacity, had thought my love for you of sufficient moment to have been long since observed; and, strong in my conceit, had scorned a pleasing declaration made up of faint phrases and whining ballad-endings. I spoke as my heart prompted me; but the heart has proven a poor counsellor, dear lady, and now am I rewarded. For you had not even known of my passion, and that which my presumption had taken for a reciprocal tenderness proves in the ultimate but a kindly aspiration to further my union with another.”

“D’ye love me, toad?” said Lady Allonby, and very softly.

“Indeed,” said Mr. Erwyn, “I have loved you all my life, first with a boyish inclination that I scarce knew was love, and, after your marriage with an honorable man had severed us, as I thought, irrevocably, with such lore as an ingenuous person may bear a woman whom both circumstances and the respect in which he holds her have placed beyond his reach,–a love that might not be spoken, but of which I had considered you could never be ignorant.”

“Mr. Erwyn,” said she, “at least I have not been ignorant–“

“They had each one of them some feature that reminded me of you. That was the truth of it, a truth so patent that we will not discuss it. Instead, dear madam, do you for the moment grant a losing gamester the right to rail at adverse fate! for I shall trouble you no more. Since your widowhood I have pursued you with attentions which, I now perceive, must at many times have proven distasteful. But my adoration had blinded me; and I shall trouble you no more. I have been too serious, I did not know that our affair was but a comedy of the eternal duel between man and woman; nor am I sorry, dear opponent, that you have conquered. For how valorously you fought! Eh, let it be! for you have triumphed in this duel, O puissant lady, and I yield the victor–a devoted and, it may be, a rather heavy heart; and I shall trouble you no more.”