"The facts that I am about to relate occurred many years ago while I was on a visit to relatives in Charleston, South Carolina. The old house where I was a guest stands on the Battery, and with its beautiful gardens is still one of the show places of the city.

"It was on a warm Sunday afternoon, and I found myself alone in the house, the family and servants at church, and a brooding stillness that presaged the approach of a storm, settling over all. At that time I was a dreamy, romantic, long-haired youth with all sorts of notions about the artistic temperament, carelessness in dress, and painting miniatures for a living. They told me I had some talent, and I believed them thoroughly.

"I had wandered in from the garden, my hands full of flowers for the vases in the library, when a sudden gust of wind tore through the wide hall, the door shut with a bang, and I found myself face to face with my ancestors. Grim gentlemen with somber faces, simpering almond-eyed beauties in cobwebby laces; and in the place of honor a frowning hag, whose wrinkles even the flattering painter dare not hide. Time had added to the sallowness of her complexion, and certain cracks in the canvas but intensified her ugliness. Artistic cracks they were, too, for they fell in just the right places, and heightened the general effect amazingly.

"Doubtless it was from this person, thought I, that I inherited my rather nasty temper and other moral and mental infirmities. I gazed at the lady long and earnestly, for as an ardent believer in heredity I felt that here I had the key to a problem which often worried me. I resolved to look her up at once in the family records.

"But I was saved that trouble.

"'Young man,' piped a high, thin voice close at hand, 'in my day it was considered boorish in the extreme to stare at any one as you are now doing. No gentleman, I am sure, would have been guilty of such a thing. But these modern manners, and modern ways are quite beyond me. Perhaps it is the mode nowadays to ape the rude youths who hung about the London playhouses in my time. N'est'ce pas?'

"I felt decidedly uncomfortable.

"'Pardon me, I——'

"'Stop!' said the voice, which came from the ugly one in the corner, 'stop, if you please! Don't attempt to apologize or explain; it takes too much time, and time with me is very precious just now. You see,' she added in milder tones, 'when one is allowed to have a say only once in a century, and but fifteen minutes at that, one naturally wants to do all the talking. That's perfectly reasonable, is it not? So keep quiet, my dear, and listen to me. No interruptions, if you please.

"'I am Margaret Holmead, your blood relation. You have the Holmead figure, and coloring, and I knew you were one of us as soon as you came into the room. Well.

"'Do you see that hussy in the ruff over there? That is Mary Darragh, Lady Benneville, my bitterest, bitterest enemy! See how she smiles at me! Deceitful minx! When I tell you all you will surely take her out of the room and fling her into the fire! For sixty years she has hung there taunting me. They brought her down from the hall above just to spite me, I do believe. 'Twas done in your grandfather's time. He was a Benneville all over, and of course had no use for me. So for sixty long years I have had to face Mary Darragh and submit to her impertinence, and I tell you I am sick of it! Why do I hate her? For a very good reason, sir. Let me tell you about it.

"'My troubles began at the Duchess of Bolton's ball, long before I came to this dreadful America. The King was there, and Lady Morley-Frere. If my voice trembles as I mention their names, it is with rage I assure you, and no wonder—for God knows that between them they played me a scurvy trick! Yes, these two were there, and Lord Benneville, my cousin, the handsomest man in all England—indeed, in all the world, I thought. He was tall and slight, with wavy hair, light brown, almost golden, in the sunlight. His eyes were gray, a lovely shade, though those who hated him swore 'twas green. A clever supple swordsman, and to the fore in all the rough games that men delight in. His face was very winsome, yet often swept by varying moods. I have seen it hard and stern, and again alight with the keenest appreciation of one of my Lord Kenneth's witticisms. And, too, I have seen it tender, pleading, and melancholy almost unto tears. Ah me!

"'Lord Kenneth, older by several years; taller, darker, soured by a great disappointment—so 'twas said—loved my Lord Benneville with all the affection his selfish nature allowed. And Benneville returned it frankly, in his open boyish fashion. They were ever together, and their adventures and daring escapades more than once nearly threw them into serious trouble. But what cared they, crack-brained as they were? Why, on one pitch dark night, masked and mounted, my Lords Kenneth and Benneville held up the Royal Mail, frightened the passengers almost to death, and alarmed the whole countryside; sober folk who thought the Devil himself was abroad! But the King only smiled indulgently, and nothing came of it save much gossip at court. They were merry days for all of us; balls and routs, and parties on the river, the King so handsome and debonair, and the world so bright with sunshine and happiness. Youth, my dear, is a great thing; what is there to compare with it?

"'But I am losing time. I must hasten to the ball at the Duchess's. 'Tis hardly fair, this terrible silence they have imposed upon me. A century at a stretch—think of it!

"'I looked my best that night, at least every one said I did, and I had my mirror to tell me so too. My gown was a wondrous figured thing from the Indies—a soft, clinging, silken stuff that became me well. Royalty sent an armful of great purple blossoms, strange in shape and smelling ravishingly. My clever Prue spent hours on my hair, with the little Lafitte for the finishing touches. My father was waiting below, and his eyes shone with joy when he saw me; for he was proud, very proud of his only daughter.

"'The King patted my cheek and said such pretty things, and kissed me. Little did I know what was to follow! Child, beware of Princes and princely favor, for therein lies destruction!

"'The night wore on, and the affair became gayer and more crowded. I had been much with my Lord Benneville, who seemed quiet and preoccupied, yet very tender and sweet withal. At that time there existed an understanding between Arthur and me. Nothing announced as yet, for my lover feared the King. His Majesty, of late, had been singularly attentive to me. In fact, so marked had this been that the Queen's manner toward me became more distant every day; thanks to Lady Morley-Frere, Mary Darragh, and the other busybodies who had the royal ear, and hated me. If I coquetted with the King 'twas but to see my heart's real master frown, and his face grow wan and sad, for by those very tokens I knew that he loved me.

"'As I say, something was wrong with my dear Lord that night, and after I had danced twice with the King, and once with the old Duke, Benneville came to claim me. He took me away from the throng into a little gilded room with scattered tables for cards, and there we were quite to ourselves.

"'"My darling," said he, "the King has honored me with a very special mission. His Majesty deems that of all his loving subjects I am the best fitted for this most important business," and my lover's voice hoarsened, and there was hatred in his face. "I start at once for that far city where the Grand Turk holds court. It is a long journey, and a hard; and who can say when I will return? I have feared this all along, sweetest one, and I have tried in vain to put off the evil day; and yet, by Heaven, I will thwart him! You shall be Lady Benneville before sunrise! And you will, dearest?"

"'He took me in his arms. I was trembling from head to foot; fearful, yet joyous. Mine is an emotional nature. But his next words sent a chill through me.

"'"Lady Morley-Frere has promised to help me. You must leave the palace with her, and drive straight to St. Stephens-in-the-Fields. She has arranged it all, like the dear, clever woman she is. As for me, I am in Kenneth's hands."

"'"No! No!" I cried out suddenly, quite aghast. "Not Lord Kenneth! O God; not that man!" I feared and hated Robert, Lord Kenneth, and knew well that he had no liking for me. "Not Lord Kenneth," I urged.

"'"He is my friend," said Lord Benneville gravely.

"'So what more could I say?

"'"Your father has gone home, tired out," he said, by all this frivolity, but Lady Morley-Frere will keep you to the end; and then to Morley House with her. That at least is what she told him, and he seemed well content."

"'I nodded passively, but wondered, knowing as I did my father's especial detestation for Lady Morley-Frere. Why, they scarcely spoke! But of course my Arthur knew. There was no further time for parley, however, as several of the guests, upon gaming bent, invaded our retreat, and we returned to the ballroom.

"'Old Lady Morley-Frere gave me a meaning look when we met at supper, but had only the opportunity to whisper in passing, "At two o'clock; the little door under the green lanthorn." I knew the place well, having often taken chair there when the crowd pressed in front. Two o'clock came, and we succeeded in leaving the palace quite unobserved, thanks to the private door. It was bitterly cold and snowing hard, and we had scarce left the court-yard when I fell to shivering, my teeth clicking like castanets. Lady Morley-Frere, seeing my plight, held out a silver flask, and from the depths of her cloak growled out, "Drink, drink! 'Twill set you right in a trice. 'Tis hot and spiced, and good for you." I obeyed her. I had hardly swallowed it before a delicious warmth stole over me, and every nerve tingled with pleasure. I sank back into the cushions revived—exalted! Then I fell asleep. Oh, the shame of it! The shame of it! A thousand curses upon a tipple that caused such woe! May eternal perdition be the portion of the giver!

"'Strong arms enfolded me when I came to my senses. My Benneville, I was sure of it!

"Darling," I murmured, still feeling strangely, "I have come to you. Yes, out of the storm have I come to you! Like a weary, drenched bird, I seek rest in thy dear arms! Kiss me, my dearest, kiss me!"

"'He kissed me again and again ... How can I go on?... There was a sound of smothered laughter—the irritating laugh of a woman I hated.... His face was close to mine.... I opened my eyes.... Oh, God! It was the King!

"'In my rage and confusion I flung him from me, and fell, half-fainting, to the floor. Then I heard my Lord Benneville say brokenly, as one crushed by awful trouble, "Your Majesty is right. I pray you forgive my harsh words of yesterday. Fool, fool that I am to have been so tricked! O my Liege, my Liege, death would have been far preferable to this!" And then my dear Lord, sobbing, went out into the gray dawn, and out of my life forever!

"'They took me from the King's chamber, and revived by the sharp air in the street I managed to grope my way to my father's house. To him I told nothing, for he was proud of me, and should I have killed him? Yet he was much perplexed at my determination, for I never showed my face at court again!'

"My relative's voice, growing weaker every moment, flickered and died out in a hissing whisper just as the silver chime over the mantel proclaimed that her time was up. Then I must have awakened.

"It may have been a dream, but so impressed was I by the old lady's story that all the rest of the week I searched for further light upon it. Into old carven chests I dived, opening package after package of mouldy papers. In the attic trunks and boxes were rifled, until at last, about to give up in despair, I found in an old desk a letter. It was in French with the Benneville crest and seal, brown with age, and by no means easy to decipher. The place of writing, and the date, quite beyond human ken, so frayed and stained was the upper margin. Freely translated, the letter read:

"'My Dear Old Bobby:

"'Here we are, safe and sound. And what can I say to you, friend of friends? This last scrape was the worst of all; was it not? Worse by far than the affairs with the little Italian, or the fat Princess, eh, Bobby, my boy? Our heartfelt thanks to his Majesty, God bless him! and to Lady Morley-Frere, and to your dear self—our eternal love! Oh, Bobby, the thought of marrying that sour-visaged cousin of mine makes me ill, even now! And yet—at the time, before I told you—I felt myself slowly drifting into it. The ground seemed to be slipping from under my feet, as it were. I felt wholly lost—trapped, by Jove! She was very determined. We are here with the Ambassador until the affair blows over. My sweetest Mary joins me in love.

"'Ever your affectionate friend,

"'Benneville.'"