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“Ah! Ambrose Drayton,” he sighed to himself as he clambered down the rocks alone, and sauntered along the shore, “there is no fool like an old fool. Where were your eyes that you couldn’t have seen what was the matter? Her heart was fighting against itself all the time, poor child! And you, selfish brute, bringing to bear on her all your antiquated charms and fascinations–Heaven save the mark!–and bullying her into the belief that you could make her happy! Thank God, Ambrose Drayton, that your awakening did not come too late. A minute more would have made her and you miserable for life–and Redmond too, confound him! And yet they might have told me; one of them might have told me, surely. Even at my age it is hard to remember one’s own insignificance. And I did love her! God knows how I loved her! I hope he loves her as much; but how can he help it! And she–she won’t remember long! An old fellow who made believe he was her uncle, and made rather a fool of himself; went back to Europe, and never been heard of since. Ah, me!”

“Where did you get acquainted with Mr. Drayton, Frank?”

“At Dresden. It was during the vacation at Freiberg last winter, and I had come over to Dresden to have a good time. We stayed at the same hotel. We played a game of billiards together, and he chatted with me about America, and asked me about my mining studies at Freiberg; and I thought him about the best fellow I’d ever met. But I didn’t know then –I hadn’t any conception what a splendid fellow he really was. If ever I hear anybody talking of their ideal of a gentleman, I shall ask them if they ever met Ambrose Drayton.”

“What did he do?”

“Well, the story isn’t much to my credit; if it hadn’t been for him, you might never have heard of me again; and it will serve me right to confess the whole thing to you. It’s about a–woman.”

“What sort of a woman?”

“She called herself a countess; but there’s no telling what she really was. I only know she got me into a fearful scrape, and if it hadn’t been for Mr. Drayton–“

“Did you do anything wrong, Frank?”

“No; upon my honor as a gentleman! If I had, Mary, I wouldn’t be here now.”

Mary looked at him with a sad face. “Of course I believe you, Frank,” she said. “But I think I would rather not hear any more about it.”

“Well, I’ll only tell you what Mr. Drayton did. I told him all about it –how it began, and how it went on, and all; and how I was engaged to a girl in America–I didn’t tell him your name; and I wasn’t sure, then, whether you’d ever marry me, after all; because, you know, you had been awfully angry with me before I went away, because I wanted to study in Europe instead of staying at home. But, you see, I’ve got my diploma, and that’ll give me a better start than I ever should have had if I’d only studied here. However–what was I saying? Oh! so he said he would find out about the countess, and talk to her himself. And how he managed I don’t know; and he gave me a tremendous hauling over the coals for having been such an idiot; but it seems that instead of being a poor injured, deceived creature, with a broken heart, and all that sort of thing, she was a regular adventuress–an old hand at it, and had got lots of money out of other fellows for fear she would make a row. But Mr. Drayton had an interview with her. I was there, and I never shall forget it if I live to a hundred. You never saw anybody so quiet, so courteous, so resolute, and so immitigably stern as he was. And yet he seemed to be stern only against the wrong she was trying to do, and to be feeling kindness and compassion for her all the time. She tried everything she knew, but it wasn’t a bit of use, and at last she broke down and cried, and carried on like a child. Then Mr. Drayton took her out of the room, and I don’t know what happened, but I’ve always suspected that he sent her off with money enough in her pocket to become an honest woman with if she chose to; but he never would admit it to me. He came back to me after a while, and told me to have nothing more to do with any woman, good or bad except the woman I meant to marry, and I promised him I wouldn’t, and I kept my promise. But we have him to thank for our happiness, Mary.”