“I do not think he was seriously injured.  At least I am sure that his wounds healed rapidly; for in a very few weeks afterward he proposed to Miss Violet Wood, and was accepted by her.  They were married on the fourteenth day of February, and sailed for Europe the next day,” said Mrs. Rothsay.

“Yes; I know.  Disappointed men do such desperate deeds; commit suicide or marry for revenge.  Poor, dear girl!” murmured Rose Stillwater, with a deep sigh.

“Why poor, dear girl?” inquired Cora.

“Oh, you know, she caught his heart in the rebound, and she will not keep it.  But let us talk of something else, dear.  Oh, I am so happy here.  So free from fear and trouble and anxiety.  Oh, what ineffable peace, rest, safety I enjoy here.  No one will pain me by presenting a bill that I cannot pay, or frighten me by telling me that my room will be wanted for some one else.  Oh, how I thank you, Cora.  And how I thank your honored grandfather for this city of refuge, even for a few days.”

“You owe no thanks to me,” replied Cora.

“A thousand thanks, my darling!” said Rose, and hearing the heavy footsteps of the Iron King in the hail, she added—­as if she heard them not:  “And as for Mr. Rockharrt, that noble, large brained, great hearted man, I have no words to express the gratitude, the reverence, the adoration with which his magnanimous character and munificent benevolence inspires me.  He is of all men the most—­”

But here she seemed first to have caught sight of the Iron King, who was standing in the door, and who had heard every word of adulation that she had spoken.

“Cora, is not dinner ready?” he inquired, coming forward.

“Yes, sir; only waiting for you,” answered the lady, touching a bell.

The gray haired butler came to the call.

“Put dinner on the table,” ordered Mr. Rockharrt.

The old butler bowed and disappeared; and after awhile reappeared and announced: 

“Dinner served, sir.”

Mr. Rockharrt gave his arm to Mrs. Stillwater, to take her to the table.

“Will not my Uncle Clarence be home this evening?” inquired Cora, as the three took their seats.

“No; he will not be home before Saturday night.  Since Fabian went away there has been twice as much supervision over the foremen and bookkeepers needed there, and Clarence is very busy over the accounts, working night and day,” replied the Iron King, as he took a plate of soup from the hands of the butler and passed it to Mrs. Stillwater, who received it with the beaming smile that she always bestowed on the Iron King.

She was the life of the little party.  If she was a broken hearted widow, she did not show it there.  She smiled, gleamed, glowed, sparkled in countenance and words.  The moody Iron King was cheered and exhilarated, and said, as he filled her glass for the first time with Tokay, “Though you do not need wine to stimulate you, my child.  You are full of joyous life and spirits.”