“This most extraordinary young man, this Mr. Scott—­you have known him some time, my lord?” said Sir Lemuel Levison, in a low tone.

“Ay, probably as long as you have, Sir Lemuel,” replied the Premier, with a peculiarly intelligent smile.

“Ah, yes!  I see!  Your lordship has possibly detected my recognition of this young gentleman,” said Sir Lemuel.

“Of course.  And I, on my part, knew him when I first saw him again after some years.”

“His name was common enough to escape detection.”

“Yes, but his face was not, my dear sir.  The profile of the ’princely Hereward’ could never be mistaken.  Our first meeting was purely accidental.  He was pointed out to me one evening at a public meeting, as the ‘Justus’ of the ‘National Liberator.’  I looked and recognized the Marquis of Arondelle.  Nothing surprises or should surprise a middle-aged man.  Therefore, I was not in the least degree moved by what I had discovered.  I sent, however, to the office of the Liberator to inquire the address, not of the Marquis of Arondelle, but of the writer, under the signature of ‘Justus.’  Received for answer that it was Mr. John Scott, office of the Liberator.  I wrote to Mr. John Scott, and invited him to call on me.  That was the beginning of my more recent acquaintance with this gifted young gentleman.  Why he has chosen to drop his title I cannot know.  He has every right to be called by his family name, only, if he so pleases.  And, Sir Lemuel, we must regard his pleasure in this matter.  Not even to my wife have I betrayed him,” said the Premier, as they passed into the drawing-room.

“Umph, umph, umph,” grunted the banker, who, surfeited with wealth though he was, could think of but one cause to every evil in the world, and that the want of money, and of but one remedy for that evil, and that was—­plenty of money.  “Umph, umph, umph!  It is his poverty has made him drop the title that he cannot support.  If he would only marry my girl now, it would all come right.”

The entrance of the tea-service occupied the guests for the next half hour, at the end of which the little company broke up and took leave.

Salome Levison went home more thoughtful and dreamy than ever before—­more out of favor with herself, more in love with her “paladin,” more resolved never to marry any man except he should be John Scott, Marquis of Arondelle.

She almost loathed the hollow world of fashion in which she lived.  Yet she went more into society than ever, though she enjoyed it so much less.  She had a powerful motive for doing so.  She attended all the balls, parties, dinners, concerts, plays, and operas to which she was invited, only with the hope of meeting again with him whose image had never left her heart since it first met her vision.

But she never was gratified.  She never saw him again in society.  John Scott was unknown to the world of fashion.