Could it be believed that it was the Chieftain who was the Editor, after all!  That short, fat, undignified, commonplace little man!  “Not in the least the type,”-so Ron had pronounced, in his youthful arrogance, “No one would ever suspect you of being literary!” so saucy Margot had declared to his face.  She blushed at the remembrance of the words, blushed afresh, as, one after another, a dozen memories rushed through her brain.  That afternoon by the tarn, for example, when she had summoned courage to confess her scheme, and he had lain prone on the grass, helpless and shaken with laughter!

No wonder that he had laughed! but oh, the wickedness, the duplicity of the wretch, to breathe no word of her mistake, but promptly set to work to weave a fresh plot on his own account!  This was the reason why he had extracted a promise that George was not to be told of Ron’s ambition during his holiday, feigning an anxiety for his brother’s peace of mind, which he was in reality doing his best to destroy!  This was the explanation of everything that had seemed mysterious and contradictory.  He had been laughing in his sleeve all the time he had pretended to help!

George Elgood listened with a mingling of amaze, amusement, and tenderness to the hidden history of the weeks at Glenaire.  Being in the frame of mind when everything that Margot did seemed perfect in his eyes, he felt nothing but admiration for her efforts on her brother’s behalf.

It was an ingenious, unselfish little scheme, and the manner in which she had laid it bare to the person most concerned was delightfully unsophisticated.  He laughed at her tenderly, stroking her soft, pretty hair with his big man’s hand, the while he explained that he was a business man pure and simple, and had made no excursions whatever into literature; that the “writing” with which he had been occupied was connected with proposed changes in his firm, and a report of a technical character.

Margot flamed with indignation, but before the angry words had time to form themselves on her lips, the thought occurred that after all the help vouchsafed to her had been no pretence, but a very substantial reality.  Ron’s foot had been placed on the first rung of the ladder, while as for herself, what greater good could she have found to desire than that which, through the Chieftain’s machinations, had already come to pass?  She lifted her face to meet the anxious, adoring gaze bent upon her, and cried hurriedly-

“He-he meant it all the time!  He meant it to happen!”

“Meant what, darling?”

“This!”

Margot waved her hand with a gesture sufficiently expressive, whereat her lover laughed happily.

“Bless him! of course he did.  He has been badgering me for years past to look out for a wife; and when we met you he was clever enough to realise that you were the one woman to fill the post.  If he had said as much to me at that stage of affairs, I should have packed up and made off within the hour; if he had said it to you, you would have felt it incumbent upon you to do the same.  Instead, he let you go on in your illusion, while he designed the means of throwing us into each other’s society.  Good old Geoff!  I’m not at all angry with him.  Are you?”

Margot considered the point, her head tilted to a thoughtful angle.

“I’m-not-sure!  I think I am, just a little bit, for I hate to be taken in.  He was laughing at me all the time.”

“But after all, he has done what you wished!  I envy him for being able to give you such pleasure; but perhaps I may be able to do as much in another way.  Geoff tells me that Mr Martin has had financial troubles, and there is nothing I would not do to help any one who belongs to you.  I’m out of my depths in poetry, but in business matters I can count, and in this case I shall not be satisfied until I do.”

Margot drew a long breath of contentment.  “Oh, if Jack is happy, and Ron is successful, and I have-You!-there will be nothing left to wish for in all the world.  Poor Ron! he is waiting eagerly to come in to thank you for publishing his verse, and wondering why in the world you wanted to see me alone.  Don’t you think you ought just to read it, to be able to say it is nice?”

“No, I don’t!  You are all the poetry I can attend to to-night, and for goodness’ sake keep him away; I shall have to interview your father later on, but after waiting all these weeks I must have you to myself a little longer.”

“Oh, I won’t send for him.  I don’t want him a bit,” cried Margot naively, “but he will come!”

And he did!

Waiting downstairs in the study, an hour seemed an absurd length of time, and when no summons came Ron determined to take the law in his own hands and join the conference.  The tableau which was revealed to him on opening the drawing-room door struck him dumb with amazement, and the explanations which ensued appeared still more extraordinary.

George Elgood speedily beat a retreat to the study, where Mr Vane listened to his request with quiet resignation.  Elderly, grey-haired fathers have a way of seeing more than their children suspect, and Margot’s father had recognised certain well-known signs in the manner in which he had been questioned concerning his daughter’s progress during those anxious days at Glenaire.  His heart sank as he listened to the lover’s protestations, but he told himself that he ought to be thankful to know that his little Margot had chosen a man of unblemished character, who was of an age to appreciate his responsibility, possessed an income sufficient to keep her in comfort, and, last but not least, a home within easy distance of his own.

Late that evening, when her lover had taken his departure, Margot stole down to the study and sat silently for a time on her old perch on the arm of her father’s chair, with her head resting lovingly against his own.  He was thankful to feel her dear presence, and to know that she wished to be near him on this night of all others, but his heart was too full to speak, and it was she who at last spoke the first words.

“I never knew,” she said softly, “I never knew that it was possible to be as happy as this.  It’s so wonderful!  One can’t realise it all.  Father dear, I’ve been thinking of you! ...  I never realised before what it meant to you when mother died-all that you lost!  You have been good, and brave, and unselfish, dear, and we must have tried you sorely many times.  We didn’t understand, but I understand a little bit now, daddy, and it makes me love you more.  You’ll remember, won’t you, that this is going to draw us closer together, not separate us one little bit?  You’ll be sure to remember?”

“Bless you, dear!” he said, and stroked her hand with tender fingers.  “It is sweet to hear you say so, at least.  I’m glad you are going to be happy, and if I am to give you away at all, I am glad it is to a strong, sensible man whom I can trust and respect; but it will be a sad day for me when you leave the old home, Margot.”

Margot purred over him with tenderest affection.

“How I wish Agnes would marry!”

“What has that to do with it, pray?”

“Then you could live with me, of course!  I should love it,” said Margot warmly; and though her father had no intention of accepting such an invitation, it remained through life a solace to him to remember that it had been in the girl’s heart to wish it.

Next morning at twelve o’clock a daintily attired damsel ascended a dusty staircase in Fleet Street and desired to see the Editor in his den.  The dragon who guarded the fastness inquired of her if she had an appointment, and, unsoftened by the charm of her appearance, volunteered the information that Mr Elgood would see no stray callers.

“He will see me!” returned Margot arrogantly; and she was right, for, to the surprise of the messenger, the sight of the little printed card was followed by an order to “Show the lady in at once.”

A moment later Margot made her first entrance into an Editor’s den, and round the corner of a big desk caught a glimpse of a decorous, black-coated figure whom at first sight it was difficult to associate with the light-hearted Chieftain of Glenaire.  As they confronted each other, however, the round face twinkled into a smile, which served as fuel to the girl’s indignation.  She stopped short, ostentatiously disregarding the outstretched hand, drew her brows together, and proclaimed haughtily-

“I have come to let you know that you are found out.  I know all about it now.  You have been laughing at me all the time?”

“Well,-very nearly!” he assented smilingly.  “You are such a nice little girl to laugh at, you see, and it was an uncommonly good joke!  Do you remember the day when you confided to me solemnly that you had journeyed to Scotland on purpose to stalk me, and run me to earth?  You’d have been a bit embarrassed if I’d told you the truth then and there, wouldn’t you now?  And besides-I see quite enough of literary aspirants all the year round.  It was a bit hard to be hunted down on one’s holidays.  I felt bound to prevaricate, for the sake of my own peace.  Then again there was George!  Where would George have come in?  If I had confessed my identity, should I have been kept awake, as I was last night, listening to his rhapsodies by the hour together?  By the way, we are going to be near relatives.  Don’t you want to shake hands?”

“I’m very angry indeed!” maintained Margot stubbornly-nevertheless her hand was in his, and her fingers involuntarily returned his pressure.  “Are you-glad!  Do you think I shall-do?  Does he seem really happy?”

“Ah, my dear!” he sighed, and over the plump features there passed once more the expression of infinite longing which Margot had seen once before, when, in a moment of confidence, he had spoken of his dead love.  “Ah, my dear, how happy he is!  There is no word to express such happiness!  George has not frittered away his affections on a number of silly flirtations-his heart is whole, and it is wholly yours.  Do you owe me no thanks for bringing you together?  You wanted to help your brother; I wanted to help mine; so we are equally guilty or praiseworthy, as the case may be.  For myself I am very well satisfied with the result?”

Margot blushed, and cast down her eyes.

“I’m satisfied, too!” she said shyly.  “Much more than satisfied-and Ron is enraptured.  Have you seen him?  He said he was coming to see you first thing this morning!”

“Have I seen him, indeed?  I should think I had!  I thought I should never get rid of the boy.  I told him straight that the magazine comes first to me, and that not even a prospective sister-in-law-with dimples!-could induce me to accept a line for publication otherwise than on its own merits.  But the boy has power.  I can’t tell yet how far it may go, but it’s worth encouraging.  When he gave me his manuscript book to read I was struck by one fragment, and wrote it out in shorthand, to publish as a surprise to you both.  I like the lad, and will be glad to help him so far as it is in my power.  I can give him a small post in this office, where at least he will be in the atmosphere; but after that his future rests with himself.  What he writes that is worth publishing, I will publish, but it will be judged on its merits alone, and without any remembrance of his private associations.  He will have his chance!”

He put out his hands and held her gently by the elbows, smiling at her the while with the kindliest of smiles.

“Now are you satisfied, little girl?  From the moment that you looked at me with her eyes, and asked my help, I have had no better wish than to give it.  I did not set about it quite in your own way, perhaps, but the end is the same.  Don’t trouble any more about the lad, but let me smooth the way with your father, while you devote yourself to George.  His happiness is in your hands.  Be good to him!  He looks upon you as an angel from heaven!  Be an angel for his sake!  He sees in you everything that is good, and pure, and womanly.  Be what he believes!  Humanly speaking, his life is yours, and these little hands will draw him more strongly than any power in the world.  It’s a big responsibility, little girl, but I am not afraid!  I know a good woman when I see one, and can trust George to your care.  You will be very happy.  I wonder if in the midst of your happiness you will sometimes remember-a lonely man?”

Margot twisted herself quickly from his grasp, and her arms stretched out and encircled his neck.  She did not speak, but her lips, pressed against his cheek, gave an assurance more eloquent than words.