avert such an unfortunate denouement. I don't care a rap about Count Gonzaga. Conceding your natural charms, which are legion, the count's affections are undoubtedly centered in your supposed fortune. That is usually the principal item in the matrimonial calculations of European nobility that seeks alliance with American beauty. As a matter of fact, I should rather enjoy seeing Gonzaga thrown down, if you will excuse the slang. Come. A bargain is a bargain!"
There is a silence. Isabel is presumably weighing the situation carefully, and she disappoints Ashley by rising and remarking: "I think I will return to the ball-room, Mr. Ashley, if you will kindly escort me."
"One moment," detains Jack. Isabel resumes her seat. "Have you carefully considered the probable result of your silence?"
"Perfectly."
"You must have some powerful reason for sealing your lips on that Raymond affair," comments Jack; and then he growls under his breath: "Why in thunder don't they come?"
"We may as well terminate this interview. Do your worst, Mr. Ashley."
"That is rather theatric, Mrs. Harding," banters Jack. "Clever woman, this," he thinks. "She knows I would not be such a beastly cad as to tell her story to Gonzaga. Ah!"
Footsteps are heard approaching. They stop just without the summer house.
"Stay!" Ashley whispers in Isabel's ear. "The count is here."
She starts to ask, "how do you know it is he?" but remains mute. An instant later the new arrival is joined by another.
"Captain Alvarez!" breathes Jack, gripping Isabel's arm. "Not a word!"
Isabel sinks into a seat. Ashley can feel her tremble. He tosses away his cigar and remains standing. The silence that broods over the garden nook is broken by
