LOVE'S HANDICAP.

As Rallywood galloped steadily through the night under the shrinking moon, with the tsa behind him and the pearl-grey road withering away into the level distance ahead, it happened that the two women of whom he must have had some thoughts during that lonely ride met and spoke together.

'Valerie, I called for you to go with me to the Abenfeldt's reception, because I have a question to ask you,' began Isolde at once when the door of the carriage was closed.

The passing lamps shone varyingly upon their faces as they passed through the lighted streets, and Madame de Sagan looked at her companion.

'Where is Captain Rallywood?' she added abruptly.

His name had not passed between them since the interview at the block-house.

'I cannot tell you. I don't know,' said Valerie coldly.

'Oh, my dear child, all is fair in love and war! Why be so dreadfully cross with me still?'

'Is it necessary to recur to the subject at all?'

'Will you never forgive me, I wonder?'

Valerie looked steadily back into the lovely face, where the underlying spirit of mockery was transmuted into an innocent playfulness like a child's.

'On the contrary, I thank you.'

'Why—for humbling him? Valerie, you are——'

'Happy!' Valerie could not forego the very womanly triumph, 'very happy! And you made me so.'

'But,' said Isolde with some perplexity, 'you would have it that he did not mean what he said.'

In her heart she thought Valerie a great goose for making any such disclaimer. Vanity has knowledge of no tongue whereby to interpret pride.

'No, but it showed me what he was.'

'I wonder how Baron von Elmur would like to hear that his future wife was not ashamed to declare her love for another man!' retorted Isolde.

'I mean to tell him.'

'No, no, Valerie, don't!' exclaimed Madame de Sagan, whose weakness exuded very often in a sort of kind-heartedness, 'I should not tell him. Such a confidence is apt to turn sour in a husband's memory. You may trust me—I will keep your secret.' Valerie smiled scornfully.

'But I can keep a secret! For instance, I want to hear where Captain Rallywood is, because I know the Count hates him, and also,' she nodded her head slowly, 'and also our dear friend Baron von Elmur.'

Valerie was startled.

'Baron von Elmur?' she repeated.

'Oh, you quite mistake the matter. The ill-feeling has nothing to do whatever with you or with me. The Count and von Elmur hate him on very different grounds. Everything appears to interest men now-a-days but ourselves!' she ended sadly.

'Because he is English, perhaps?'

'Well, yes, it has something to do with it. You remember that last night at the Castle? I conclude it was Jack who spoiled their plans when Simon and the Baron went to the Duke's apartments.'

'The Count and Baron von Elmur together? What did they go for?'

The question dried up the little stream of babble.

'How should I know? But there was a fight—I'd back Jack against most people! That is one reason I—liked him. We heard the shots, and though I was horribly frightened I told you none of the particulars, yet I knew all. Speak to me, Valerie! What are you thinking of?'

Valerie had been rapidly going over in her mind the incidents Isolde had alluded to. For the first time she understood. There had been a German plot which she had helped to defeat, a plot to place Count Sagan at the head of the State, and the price he was to pay was the freedom of MaÄsau. She must see her father before she slept and warn him of the conspiracy, which although it had failed temporarily at the Castle of Sagan was still in existence. She felt certain that her father knew nothing of the German plot, nor of Sagan's bitter enmity against himself, as proved by the attempt on her own life. Fears for her father, for Rallywood, and for MaÄsau crowded upon her, though she kept up an appearance of composure that Isolde might not guess the importance of the information she had given.

'I was thinking of Captain Rallywood,' answered the girl at last, offering the excuse Isolde would be most likely to accept as true. 'I did not know he had so many enemies. But is he not in RÉvonde?'

'No, he has not been at the barracks since yesterday afternoon. I sent him an invitation. You never give me credit for sincerity, but I am steady in my friendships. I do not mean to drop him because he talked all that nonsense at Kofn Ford. You boasted about M. Selpdorf's power—make him use it now to save Rallywood. I begin to believe that you are really as cold as you pretend to be, Valerie, you care so little! Whereas I, in spite of all that has happened, would serve him if I could.'

'I shall see my father when I return to-night, I promise you.'

Isolde buttoned her glove thoughtfully.

'You must be careful not to let him suspect that you have any especial interest in Jack,' she said, 'for that would be merely an additional reason for letting Rallywood—go.'

Valerie could not misunderstand the euphemism.

'Isolde, my father is not a savage!' she exclaimed.

'Perhaps not,' said Madame de Sagan simply. 'He is, I know, a very charming man in society, but my experience goes to show that every man is a savage—au fond.'

Words which embody the opinion of more women than one cares to number.

It was three o'clock when an officer of the Guard, leaving the wind-swept darkness of the country behind him, rode through the north gate of RÉvonde into the vivid black and white perspectives of the city, where close outside the brilliant line of electric lights night herself seemed to stand incarnate, a jealous intensity of blackness.

Rallywood had picked up Unziar's relays of horses at certain points, and on the whole had made good time of the ride. Now he crossed the bridge that lies opposite to the gate of the Palace, and mounted the curving streets towards the Chancellerie.

He swung from his horse at the foot of the broad flight of granite steps under its overhanging portico as a carriage dashed up on the other side. The high doors above were flung open and a roll of red cloth dropped from step to step down to the pavement, a couple of footmen placing it with the quick deftness of use until it reached the carriage.

As she alighted Mademoiselle Selpdorf recognised the tall figure in the travel-stained riding cloak.

'Captain Rallywood, where have you come from?' she asked almost involuntarily.

'From the frontier, Mademoiselle.'

'Will you give me your arm? What has happened? Has Major Counsellor come back?' she whispered as they went up the steps.

'He is at the Ford. He has met with an accident.'

Valerie said no more, but as she entered the hall she read Rallywood's face.

'Has his Excellency returned?' she asked of an attendant. 'Then place refreshments in the small library. Captain Rallywood, I will join you in a few moments. M. Selpdorf will be home very soon. He is anxious to see you.'

It was a little necessary make believe before the numerous servants. How far it deceived them may be faintly guessed when one considers anyone's secrets in relation to anyone's servants.

'Man designs his own game,' thought Rallywood as he followed the servant into whose charge he was given, 'or he is forced to stand out and circumstances play it for him. In the years all is one.'

Whichever way the issue of this night's work turned, MaÄsau and Valerie must both pass from his life forever. The one supreme obstacle which lurks always beside the mercenary's path had arisen to bar his advance at last.

Valerie opened the door softly. She was trembling and afraid, but she would not be outdone in generosity by Rallywood. She had determined to thank him for the words spoken at Kofn Ford, and to show him how entirely she comprehended their chivalrous intention. But when her eyes fell upon him all thought of self faded. He was standing midway between the gleaming wine and glass of the side-table and the flickering glow of the open stove, upright and stately as he ever appeared to her, but in his new attitude her sharpened senses perceived a suggestion of disheartenment and solitude.

Swept away by the feeling of the moment, she crossed the room to his side and laid her hand upon his arm.

'What is it? Something has happened,' she said.

Rallywood looked down at her. The beautiful eyes like starlit darkness, her clear-hued loveliness, the soft dusky curls about her brow, her girlish reserves and petulances, all her sweet unapproachable personality enhanced to pain the knowledge that he was looking his last upon them.

'Nothing to distress you, Mademoiselle, because M. Selpdorf knows all about it.'

'Then tell me; I know so much already.'

'I wish I could. But I think his Excellency might prefer to tell you himself.'

'Is it good news, then? Major Counsellor has succeeded? Then why are you so sad?'

'Sad, Mademoiselle?' he answered with a smile. 'Men often look sad when they are only hungry and dog-tired.'

'Then eat,' she said. 'Let me give you some wine.'

She drew him to the table and poured out a glass of wine.

'To the success of MaÄsau and of England,' she said. Then touching it with her lips in the graceful fashion of MaÄsau, she handed it to him.

'Hark! I think I hear my father arriving, and there is something I must say to you before he comes.'

She clasped her hands nervously, the bare shapely hands with their gleaming rings, and Rallywood watched her and felt as if he were dreaming.

'Captain Rallywood, I want to thank you. I can never thank you enough for that night at Kofn Ford. I understood—pray believe I understood it—and I think you are the noblest gentleman alive!'

Rallywood did not hesitate. There was one thing Valerie should know and be certain of in the uncertain future.

'Give me a moment, Mademoiselle,' he exclaimed, detaining her. 'I see you do not quite understand. I could not expect you to understand. But now—now that I am leaving MaÄsau, I must tell you the truth. Perhaps you will believe it some day. I am proud——'

'I know it, and yet you—oh, say no more! For my sake you stooped to say it. It was not true! But I knew that.'

He took her hands between his own in a firm strong clasp.

'Listen, Mademoiselle. It was true! Since first I saw you it has always been true!'

'I remember!' she said breathlessly. She could not help saying it.

'Do you?' he answered; the temptation to wander a little was too sweet. 'You wore this cloak,' he touched it softly with his fingers, then laid his hand over hers deliberately, in the quiet confident way in which he did everything and which she had grown to love, 'and ever since I have carried the glove you despised. And though this is my good-bye, I will carry it—always.'

'But—but——'

'Oh, I don't ask you to believe me now,' he said bitterly. 'I am not noble, Mademoiselle. I was only too proud to say I loved you that night, as,' with another smile, 'I was only too proud not to say it before.'

Valerie raised her face and her eyes were full of light.

'Then it was true—thank God!'

But Rallywood, though he saw the purpose of her speech, would not understand its significance. He led her towards the door by which she had entered.

'You must go, Mademoiselle. I—dare not keep you with me longer. Good-bye, and may God go with you, Valerie!'

She stopped suddenly and kissed the hand that held hers.

'I too am proud,' she whispered, and the door closed upon her.