After Lady Pole had gone upstairs, Arabella sat alone. “How stupid of me!” she thought. “When I know very well that any mention of dancing distresses her beyond measure! How can I have been so unguarded? I wonder what it was that she wished to tell me? I wonder if she knows herself? Poor thing! Without the blessing of health and reason, riches and beauty are worthless indeed!”

She was moralizing to herself in this strain, when a slight noise behind her caused her to look round. Immediately she rose from her seat and walked rapidly towards the door with hands outstretched.

“It is you! How glad I am to see you! Come! Shake hands with me. This will be our last meeting for a long time.”

That evening she said to Strange, “One person at least is delighted that you have turned your attention to the study of John Uskglass and his fairy-subjects.”

“Oh? And who is that?”

“The gentleman with the thistle-down hair.”

“Who?”

“The gentleman who lives with Sir Walter and Lady Pole. I told you before.”

“Oh, yes! I remember.” There was a silence of some moments while Strange considered this. “Arabella!” he suddenly exclaimed.

“Do you mean to tell me that you have still not learnt his name?” He began to laugh.

Arabella looked annoyed. “It is not my fault,” she said. “He has never said his name and I have never remembered to ask him. But I am glad you take it so lightly. I thought at one time that you were inclined to be jealous.”

“I do not remember that I was.”

“How odd! I remember it quite distinctly.”

“I beg your pardon, Arabella, but it is difficult to be jealous of a man whose acquaintance you made a number of years ago and whose name you have yet to discover. So he approves of my work, does he?”

“Yes, he has often told me that you will never get anywhere until you begin to study fairies. He says that that is what true magic is – the study of fairies and fairy magic.”

“Indeed? He seems to have very decided views upon the subject! And what, pray, does he know about it? Is he a magician?”

“I do not think so. He once declared that he had never read a book upon the subject in his life.”

“Oh! He is one of those, is he?” said Strange, contemptuously. “He has not studied the subject at all, but has managed to devise a great many theories about it. I meet with that sort very often. Well, if he is not a magician, what is he? Can you at least tell me that?”

“I think I can,” said Arabella in the pleased manner of someone who has made a very clever discovery.

Strange sat expectantly.

“No,” said Arabella, “I will not tell you. You will only laugh at me again.”

“Probably.”

“Well, then,” said Arabella after a moment, “I believe he is a prince. Or a king. He is certainly of royal blood.”