Melissa is the only woman in this house who sometimes makes an exhibition of herself. I think if I were you I wouldn't show such awful admiration for Montana.”

Katherine got red and looked angry, but concealed her anger. "Why, papa," she said, "you are awfully fond of him--you adore him. I like to do whatever you do."

Marion smiled in spite of himself at the absurdity of the answer. "That's all very well, Katherine," he said, "for me; but for a young woman to go on showing such admiration is quite another thing. I wonder how Trescoe likes it."

"But Frank doesn't care a bit," said Katherine. "He knows it's all right."

“Yes, yes, of course, we all know it's all right," said Marion; "but, my dear, don't you think it would be better to be a little more reserved? I don't wonder at your admiring Montana. He is a man that every one must admire—at least, almost every one," he hastily added, for he remembered how Miss Rowan did not seem quite to admire him. "But then, you know, I think it would be more ladylike to be a little more reserved. After all, Montana is not an old man. He is still what would be called young, and he looks younger than he really is, and he is very handsome."

"But then, you know, papa," said Katherine, "one does not think of him as one does of other men; nobody thinks of flirting with him. I am sure I don't; I am sure I should not have the courage. One might as soon think of flirting with John of Leyden or with some saint."

Marion said no more, but he observed that the adulation went on as much as ever, and that it did not seem to be just the sort of adulation which a woman offers to a John of Leyden or to a saint. However, he was sure there was nothing amiss with Katherine, he said to himself, and Montana was the safest of men. Montana never for a moment put on the manner of one who flirts with women, or is conscious that they are trying to flirt with him. His manner was just the same to men and women whom he liked. Evidently, Marion thought, he did not like Miss Rowan. He seldom spoke to her, although Marion noticed that he often fixed his eyes on her.

Another little trouble to sweet-tempered Captain Marion was the growing melancholy of his daughter Sydney. Young Fanshawe came very often, and was intensely devoted to Miss Rowan. He was very friendly with Sydney, as he was with Melissa, but he showed an undisguised devotion to Geraldine.

She talked to

him and went about with him as freely almost as if he had been her brother. It sometimes happened that poor Sydney was thrown a little into the shade-was left, as it were, in a corner by herself. Once or twice, when Clement Hope called after their walk to the Tower, she caught herself wishing that he would come very often, and thinking what a very handsome young man he was, and how like a picture, and how sweet and tender his ways were, and how very delicious it would be if he were only to be a little friendly and companionlike with her, and talk with her in a recess of the room as somebody was always talking with Geraldine. But then, again, would come the reflection into Sydney's mind that most assuredly if Clement came often he would devote himself either to Melissa or to Geraldine, and that she would be left out in the cold just the same as before. Captain Marion could not help seeing that Sydney was depressed and dull sometimes, and that something was wrong with her. He often thought he noticed, with peculiar pain, that there was a certain coldness in her manner towards himself, and that her affection was much less demonstrative than it had ever been, although at no time had she the demonstrative ways of Katherine.

This puzzled as well as pained him. None of the talk had reached his ears which had sometimes come to those of his daughter. He did not remember that he was still a clever, handsome, attractive man, little past the prime of life as yet, with plenty of money, and that in his house, apparently on the most familiar and affectionate terms with him, and more so with him than with any other of his family, was a young, bright, and handsome girl who was believed to be poor, and who had all the world before her to make a way of living for herself. It never occurred to Captain Marion that a good many people were likely enough to assume, as Mrs. Aquitaine had long since assumed, that Sydney Marion would soon have a young stepmother.

CHAPTER XIV.

A CRISIS.

THE wrecks come to the shore. The shore is not expected to go out and meet the wrecks. Sometimes, badly off as the wrecks already are, it might be better for them if they did not come to the shore. The shore only batters them a little more than the sea

had done. We do not know whether Montana could be fairly likened to a shore in the good sense or the bad, but certainly a good many wrecks came to him during his London visit. Wrecks of projects, wrecks of ideas, of hopes, of philanthropic schemes, of conspiracies-wrecks of men and of women constantly drifted to him. There was hardly a broken-down inventor, projector, or dreamer in London who did not seek him out and endeavour to get a new charter of hope from his helping hand. Men who believed in nothing sought him out in order that they might be confirmed in their unbelief. The visionaries who had plans for bringing all the world to instant peace, the men who had discovered the means whereby war might be brought to an end through the virtue of some invention so destructive that whole armies and fleets disappeared at a touch, the men who had a scheme for the foundation of one universal religion and brotherhood of nations—all these came to him.

Montana employed several secretaries, and they were kept busy all day long in opening and answering his letters. He made it a point of principle or of honour to answer every letter if he could. Not a few of his correspondents were evidently writers whom the world called mad men or mad women, but still, when a letter was not anonymous, he endeavoured to give it some sort of reply. Happily for him, a considerable percentage of his writers were anonymous, and so much time at least was saved to him and to his staff. He continued to receive pretty regularly the effusions in the handwriting which had sent a cold shiver through the veins of Clement Hope. He hardly read them. He glanced at them just closely enough to see that they were of the same kind, breathing the same hysterical passion of girlish adoration and love. They had absolutely no effect upon Montana. The invitations to assist a new discoverer of perpetual motion had quite as much interest for him.

Not all those who sought Montana were wrecks. Stately galleons floating safely to port, tall ammirals proud in their strength, gilded galleys with silken sails-these sought him out too. It became a matter of competition amongst the aristocratic to secure him for a dinner, and even to get his presence for a few minutes at an evening party was an object to be intrigued for long in advance. He only went amongst those who had shown some interest in his particular movement. No persuasion, no entreaty, could induce him to accept what may be called a general or miscellaneous invitation. He never consented to dine out or go out anywhere for the mere sake of meeting fashionable people and distinguished strangers.

Now, we have already mentioned the invitation pressed upon him

by the Duke of Magdiel in the name of the Duchess, which Montana had coldly and almost contemptuously declined. The refusal naturally only made the Duchess still more eager to have him at her house, or even to meet him at some other house. It was impossible for her ever to unbend so far as to make the attempt again in her own name, even if there had been the least chance of success. She was therefore beginning quietly to give up the idea, and resigning herself to the conviction that after all these Americans have no manners. But her daughter, Lady Vanessa Barnes, was not to be so easily disconcerted. She had married a man whom her mother did not like, and who was not of aristocratic rank, but who made up for his defects by having an immense amount of money, and by looking up to his young wife as the head of his house and the star of his existence.

Lady Vanessa Barnes held herself to be in a sort of rivalry to the Duchess as regarded social distinction, and had never forgiven her mother the coldness which the Duchess at one time showed to her future son-in-law. Lady Vanessa Barnes hardly ever made any movement in social life without having in the recesses of her mind some thought of the opportunity it gave her of showing how great a man her husband was, and how she could bring all the world to his feet as well as to her own. The moment she heard of the rebuff given to the Duchess by Montana, she determined that Montana must appear in her drawing-room, and be seen by the Duchess there. She was very clever, very beautiful, very ignorant, full of audacity and self-complacency, and with about as much reverence in her nature as a schoolboy has. She had heard a great deal about Montana, but to her he was for a long time only a funny sort of man who had odd notions, and about whom people used to tire her with their ravings. But he became a very important personage indeed when there was a chance of bringing him to her drawing-room and showing him off in triumph to her mother the Duchess.

Lady Vanessa quickly went to work. She besought all her male friends who knew anything of Montana to try to get him to dine at her house, or even to come to one of her parties. All her plans proved failures. "I will have him, all the same," she said to herself; and the more the difficulties seemed to grow, the greater grew her determination to overcome them.

She had not many accomplishments, but she was a remarkably good amateur actress. She had so much courage that she could always make the fullest use of any gift she possessed, and she had the audacious purity of a savage girl. She once played the part of a

saucy page at some private theatricals in her own house, and when the play was over she mingled with the company for the rest of the evening, making fearless and full display of her beautiful legs. Lady Vanessa went to hear Montana speak, and formed her opinion of him in a moment.

"The man has no more head than a pin," said the audacious lady. "I don't see anything in him. He is very handsome, but I don't care for beauty-men. I think I can manage him.”

It was not difficult for any one interested in Montana's movements to find out where he passed his days and his evenings, with whom he had luncheon, and with whom he dined. He was dining one day with Captain Marion and his household, and the ladies had left the room and the men were alone, when a servant brought a message that a person, who would give no name, wished particularly to speak a few words with Mr. Montana.

Montana never refused to obey a summons of this kind. It suited his purpose to show that he was ready to receive an appeal from any one, however unknown, and that he placed himself and his services at the disposal of all humanity. He did not ask who the person was, or even whether it was a man or a woman. He instantly rose, as a soldier rises at the word of command, and left the dining-room.

"Montana hardly ever gets a moment to himself," said Captain Marion, with a certain air of vexation, for one of his guests had just succeeded in drawing the leader and prophet into a conversation, animated on Montana's part to an unusual extent.

"Can't think how he manages to see so many people, and to do so much," one of the guests remarked. "Does he see every one that asks for him? They say he does."

"I really think he does," said Marion. "I never heard of his refusing to see anybody. If the crossing-sweeper from over the way wanted to have a discourse on the immortality of the soul with him, Montana would leave his dearest friend and go and talk with the new inquirer."

Meanwhile Montana was shown into the little library, and there he found a tall young woman, veiled, according to the immemorial custom of mysterious heroines."

"You don't know me, Mr. Montana," the lady began, without giving him time for thought; "but I know you; every one knows you. I have come to-night to claim a service at your hands. I ask you to believe that it is one which will do you no discredit, and