The invitations had been couched in this form:  “I want you to meet my daughter, Mrs. Josiah Brown, my dear lady,” or “dear fellow,” as the case might be.  “She is having a little dinner at Madrid on Monday night, and so hopes you will let me persuade you to come.”

And the French Count, and Mr. Clutterbuck R. Tubbs and his daughter, Theodora had asked herself.  Also the Austrian Prince.  The party consisted of about twenty people—­and the menu and the Tziganes were as perfect as they could be, while the night might have been a night of July—­it happened to be that year when Paris was blessed with a gloriously warm May.

Lord Bracondale was late:  had not the post come in just as he was starting, and brought him a letter, whose writing, although he had never seen it before, filled him with thrills of joy.

Theodora had found time during the day to read and reread his epistle, and to kiss it more than once with a guilty blush.

And she had written this answer: 

     “I have received your letter, and it says many things to me—­and,
     Hector, it will comfort me always, this dear letter, and to know
     you love me.

“I have led a very ordinary life, you see, and the great blast of love has never come my way, or to any one whom I knew.  I did not realize, quite, it was a real thing out of books—­but now I know it is; and oh, I can believe, if circumstances were different, it could be heaven.  But this cannot alter the fact that for me to think of you much would be very wrong now.  I do love you—­I do not deny it—­though I am going to try my utmost to put the thought away from me and to live my life as best I can.  I do not regret anything either, dear, because, but for you, I would never have known what life’s meaning is at all—­I should have stayed asleep always; and you have opened my eyes and taught me to see new beauties in all nature.  And oh, we must not grieve, we must thank fate for giving us this one peep into paradise—­and we must try and find the angel to steer our barks for us beyond the rocks.  Listen—­I want you to do something for me to-night.  I want you not to look at me much, or tempt me with your dear voice.  It will be terribly hard in any case, but if you will be kind you will help me to get through with it, and then, and then—­I hardly dare to look ahead—­but I leave it all in your hands.  I would like to meet your mother and sister—­but when, and where?  I feel inclined to say, not yet, only I know that is just cowardice, and a shrinking from possible pain in seeing you.  So I leave it to you to do what is best, and I trust to your honor and your love not to tempt me beyond bearing-point—­and remember, I am trying, trying hard, to do what is right—­and trying not to love you.

“And so, good-bye.  I must never say this again—­or even think it
unsaid; but to-night, oh!  Yes, Hector, know that I love you! 
THEODORA.”