The Prince of the Captivity: The Epilogue to a Romance

Maimie, in the meantime, had been taking advantage of the change in the situation. After giving Usk’s message to Félicia, she wandered down to the second of the terraces before the Castle, where King Michael was wont to smoke his after-breakfast cigar. It was his custom to breakfast in his own rooms, and Maimie felt comfortably certain that Usk would not have thought of hunting for him in the garden in order to bid him farewell. When she caught sight of him, he was walking up and down somewhat listlessly, as though he missed the companionship of Captain Andreivics, but she saw a change pass over his face when he heard the tap of her heels on the terrace above. As she came down the steps, she could see him before he saw her, and it gave her a keen delight to see his look of disappointment when he met her at the foot.

“Good morning, Baron!” she remarked cheerfully. “Say, we shall be left awfully lonely to-night, shan’t we—what with the Captain leaving yesterday, and Lord Usk this morning, and you this evening, I suppose?”

“I leave to-morrow,” said the King, looking at her with cold surprise.

“No, is that so? I guess Lord Usk don’t know it, rushing off the way he has. He would never leave Félicia unguarded a whole day.”

“Is Miss Steinherz supposed to be in danger from me?”

Maimie laughed mischievously. “You know your own reputation best, Baron. I don’t see but Lord Usk thought it wasn’t enough to warn Félicia against you, the way he has mounted guard over her.”

“Oh, our friend Usk felt it necessary to warn his bride against me, did he? I think that was not playing the game, as they say here.”

“Well, I guess I oughtn’t to have given him away. He knows his way about, I suppose, and—yes, it was just as well he did it.”

“Why? Has it produced the opposite effect, as usual, and induced the young lady to honour me with her friendly interest?”

Maimie gave him a glance of compassion. “What good would there be in that?” she asked curtly. “No; it just showed Félicia what he expected of her, so’s she concluded to satisfy him at any cost to herself.”

A light seemed to break upon the King. “What! you mean that all this raillery, all the contempt she has poured upon me for a whole week, was nothing but an effort to please her bridegroom?”

“Don’t you try and have me say that Félicia’s an angel,” Maimie admonished him. “I won’t tell you her secrets, any way. And I don’t see but you’ll have to stay till to-morrow as you’ve fixed it so; but I wish you were leaving sooner.”

“Miss Logan’s interest in my movements does me too much honour. Perhaps it will gratify her to know that it is possible I may not even be leaving to-morrow.”

“Ah, I thought that ‘urgent business’ of the Captain’s covered more folks’ affairs than his own. You mean he’ll be coming down with more documents for you to study with Lord Cyril?”

“I had not meant that——” the King was beginning, but as he caught the merest hint of scorn in Maimie’s eye, his face assumed an expression of deep importance. “It is extremely probable. What is the good of an aide-de-camp but to make himself useful?”

“An aide-de-camp—do tell!” cried Maimie. “And you’ve called him your friend all the time! Why, you must be a general, then! Say, General, they promote people pretty young in your country, don’t they?”

“Mademoiselle,” said the King severely, “with a young lady who has contrived to discover so much of my private affairs, it is surely unnecessary to keep up this wearisome farce?”

“M. le Baron,” said Maimie, making him a curtsey, “the farce was of your own providing. If you choose to throw up your part it can’t hurt me, any way.”

“You imply that there is another act, if I care to play it?”

“I don’t imply anything. I’m not taking any risks, if you are.”

“So be it. I take the risk. Andreivics shall arrive from London with important documents. Accept my compliments, mademoiselle. I sent him away because I wished to feel that a few of my secrets still remained in my own possession. You have secured his return by means of a diplomacy which my good stepfather in his best days might have envied.”

Maimie looked him over with a slow gaze of infinite scorn. “I guess,” she said calmly, “that you’re sort of acclimatised to being despised? You seem to lay yourself out for it so naturally. Usk was pretty wise in warning Félicia against you, and she was doing the best for herself when she chilled you off. What she can see in you——”

“Permit me to observe that you are revealing an interesting secret, mademoiselle,” said the King malignantly. “After what you have said it would be ungallant in me not to remain here. I telegraph to Andreivics this morning.”

“Now we begin to be moving!” said Maimie to herself, as she left him in speechless contempt. “He don’t even see that I’m having him go the very way I want him. And now for Fay.”

She found that Félicia, having worked herself up into a high state of resentment against Usk, had determined to punish him by entering upon a flirtation with the King. Maimie shook her head when Félicia declared her intentions.

“I wouldn’t, Fay,” she said. “You’ve done elegantly this far, the way you’ve frozen him off. You’ll only get all of your affairs into a snarl. And what’s more, I don’t believe he’s to be had. He knows just how to take care of himself, and I can’t seem to see you making any sort of impression on him.”

This was all that was needed to put Félicia on her mettle.

“Maimie Logan,” she said decisively, “did you ever know any man that could take care of himself when I was around? I guess Usk will be sorry that he went off this way.”

“Why, what do you mean doing?” Maimie’s tone was full of alarm.

“Oh, just make things uncomfortable a little—nothing more.”

“But if Usk will just stay away four or five days, there’ll be a good deal more,” was Maimie’s mental comment.

“Michael,” said Queen Ernestine to her son four days later, when she had succeeded after many vain attempts in finding him alone, “don’t you think you are paying rather too much attention to Miss Steinherz?”

She spoke timidly, anticipating the black frown which gathered at once upon King Michael’s brow, as he bestowed a mental curse upon Félicia’s methods. It was not in her nature to be content with a secret adoration. The King might waylay her in the garden if he chose, or look for her in her favourite nook in the picture-gallery, and enjoy her society until Maimie, posted judiciously near at hand, felt it her duty to interrupt them, but he must not attempt to hide his chains in public. Hence King Michael’s relations had the pleasure of seeing him dancing attendance upon the whims of a languid beauty, who had vouchsafed to lay aside much of her sharpness of tongue, but still betrayed no delight in his attentions. Even Usk could not have desired more absolute unconsciousness of her conquest than Félicia exhibited.

“Have you ever known me forget my position?” King Michael asked at last, when his mother’s face had grown more and more anxious.

“Never,” she answered, recalling many memories at once humorous and pathetic.

“Then rest assured that I never shall.”

“But, dear,” urged the Queen, “in that case would it not be as well to return to London? It looks—mind, I only say it looks—as if you were taking advantage of Usk’s prolonged absence to rob him of his bride’s affections, and you would not wish to do that.”

“Count Mortimer has already given me a pretty strong hint to go, but I will not leave my work undone.”

“But he told me to-day that it was all finished.”

“On the contrary, it is only half-done,” was the reply, with an enigmatical smile. “Who would have thought I should become so deeply interested in a matter entered upon so lightly?”

“So lightly—when the future of your kingdom and your own happiness may depend upon the arrangements you are able to make?” cried the Queen, in surprise. “You don’t take things seriously enough, Michael.”

“Possibly not, but sometimes things take me seriously, quite against my will.”

* * * * * * * *

“I would just love to hustle some folks a little!” Maimie was reflecting, much about the same time. “Usk will arrive home in a day or two, and I’d like to have things fixed. I never thought the Baron would have so much grit in him, but the way he fights off a definite declaration is real fine. But Fay is even with him there. What with his precious kingdom, and her engagement, they can’t seem to get on at all. And until they do, I can’t step in as fairy godmother to put things straight.”

While the thought was still in her mind, the door opened violently, and Félicia ran in. Flinging herself upon the sofa, she began to cry, not weeping in the artistic way which had damped Usk’s departure, but shedding genuine tears of disappointment and mortification.

“I’ll never forgive you!” she sobbed out to Maimie. “This is the second time you’ve put me in just the most horrid sort of a position. You had me encourage the Malasorte man until he cooled off of his own accord, and now the King has told me in so many words that he can’t ask me to marry him—after having me say I cared for him. I wouldn’t mind so much but for that.”

“Well, you can marry Usk yet,” was the unsympathetic reply.

“After expecting to be a queen!” fresh sobs followed “He spoke so’s I really concluded it was all safe. And you sit there and say nothing. I hate you!”

“Why?” asked Maimie calmly.

“How can I help it when you’re so mean and ugly? You told me you could fix things, and I thought you had fixed them right away. And then you have all of this happen!”

“Now look here, Fay,” Maimie grasped her shoulder. “If I operate my scheme right now, will you promise to give up Usk and marry the King? I won’t go a step without knowing that.”

“I don’t feel like giving him up until you have got things fixed. If they should chance to go wrong, I would just find myself left.”

“It may be some time before they go right, I grant that, but you must take some risks. Well, if I let you stay engaged to Usk for the present, will you break off with him when I give the word?”

“Ye-es, but you’ll have to be quite sure about it.”

“I’ll see to that. Where did you leave the King?”

“On the second terrace. He was real sorry to have to say what he did, but I was so mad I wouldn’t stop,” said Félicia, with a curious kind of self-satisfaction.

“It must be real nice to be able to love folks according to what they can give you!” soliloquised Maimie, as she went in search of the King. “She would accept Usk when there was no other man in view, but now the Baron holds the winning cards—unless there should be any fascinating emperors around before we get things fixed. But here’s the lucky man!”

King Michael was walking from end to end of the terrace, smoking moodily. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, and the blackest possible frown was on his brow. He was hard hit, Maimie saw, and scarcely likely to welcome the appearance of the person to whom he might consider that he owed his present unhappy frame of mind, but she met him boldly.

“Say, Baron,” she said, placing herself in his path, “is it true you’ve told my Félicia you love her, but can’t marry her?”

“It is, mademoiselle. If you have chosen this terrace as a promenade, I will go elsewhere.”

“Well, if I was a king, I guess I’d marry the woman I loved.”

“Pardon me, I am not only a king. I am a son of the house of Schwarzwald-Molzau, and we do not mingle the blood of Charlemagne with that of—manufacturers.”

“And so you sigh as a lover and obey as a son? But you wanted to marry Lord Usk’s sister once, I know, for Mr Hicks told me.”

The King’s eyes flashed gloomily. “I do not understand this catechism,” he said angrily. “It is intolerable! The Mortimer blood is equal to that of any semi-royal house in Europe, and there were special reasons why a marriage with Lady Philippa would have been very pleasing to my subjects.”

“Well, I guess a marriage with a Princess of Arragon would about satisfy them, any way.”

“Not if she were a Catholic.”

“Is that so? Well, the girl you have just told that you love her and can’t marry her is a Princess of Arragon and a Protestant.”

“Impossible. I know the Prince of Arragon’s three daughters well, and Don Florian’s only daughter is married to another cousin of mine.”

“You are forgetting. There was a third brother.”

“Don José? But he was not married. Oh, I remember there was some talk of a morganatic marriage. But that is not to the purpose.”

“Excuse me, but I guess it’s very much to the purpose.”

“Allow me to say that you do not know how these things are regarded—how I regard them, necessarily.”

“But suppose the marriage was recognised? Wait, I’ll tell you about it,” and she ran through the circumstances hastily. “If the marriage was good enough for the Arragon family to accept Félicia as one of themselves, I guess it would be good enough for you?”

“Undoubtedly; but I do not see the faintest likelihood that the House of Albret would recognise the marriage.”

“That’s where your help would be wanted. I’d like you to lay the whole thing before Lord Cyril to-day, and have him operate it.”

But the King started back, aghast. “My dear Miss Logan, do you not see that it would be fatal—suicidal—for me to appear in the matter? Count Mortimer has his nephew’s interests to consider.”

“That is so; we mustn’t go ahead too fast,” said Maimie. “Then you incline to think Félicia and I may fight all of the battle for ourselves?”

“Quite so. There can be no objection to your consulting Count Mortimer, purely on her behalf, you know; and if by any chance your efforts should be crowned with success, why—you have given me hope—I am happy again!”

“Oh no, you aren’t—not yet. We shall want your help any way. I know well enough there’s no hope of having Félicia’s family recognise her unless some one puts pressure on them. Are you ready to intimate at the critical moment that you are real keen on marrying her, if they can fix things right?”

“That would be highly injudicious. I think I had better not appear——”

“As you please. You throw up your cards, then, and Félicia will just marry Usk.”

“You place me in a most difficult position, but rather than lose Félicia——”

“I thought so. Then you would better go way back to the Riviera right now, and make a little gentle love to the Grand-Duchess Sonya, just to keep your folks sort of interested, you know. I’ll let you hear when you’re wanted.”

CHAPTER IX.
A CHANGE OF VENUE.

“Why, Uncle Cyril! how awfully good of you to come and meet me!” Yet Usk’s eyes strayed to the dogcart waiting in the road just beyond the station fence, and the stolid groom in charge of it. “Is—is any one else here?”

“No; Félicia is not here. What do you think of putting your bag into the cart, and walking up?”

“All right. I shall be glad to stretch my legs. Félicia isn’t ill, is she?”

“I saw no signs of it when I started. But why should you expect her to meet you? I understood you and she had quarrelled?”

“Quarrelled? Why, it was nothing—the most utter nonsense! She never wrote me a word for four whole days, though. But I wrote to her every day, and at last, on the fifth evening, I had a letter from her—an awfully jolly letter, but making the most tremendous fuss about the way she had behaved, calling herself names, and all sorts of things. It seemed so uncalled-for that I really thought she must be going to be ill, for she’s not a bit morbid generally, is she?”

“Few people less so, I should think. The letter reached you five days after you left here, you say. It was written the day before, of course?”

“The evening before. I know she said she was writing when the house was quiet. But I’m awfully glad she’s all right. She’s so unexpected, isn’t she? You never can tell what she’ll do next.”

“I used to notice the same thing about my wife in the early days of our acquaintance. There is a peculiar charm about that unexpectedness when it is introduced into politics. It quite prevents any feeling of flatness.”

“Now one would have imagined”—Usk was still pursuing his own train of thought—“that she would have come to meet me after that letter.”

“The unexpected again, you see.”

“But how did you know anything about our——? Well, it wasn’t a quarrel——”

“The suspension of friendly relations? I inferred it from what I saw after you were gone.”

“And you spoke to Félicia? Very kind of you, I’m sure, but—well, you know——”

“You prefer to conduct your own love affairs? Quite so. Make your mind easy; I did not speak to Félicia. But if I remember rightly, I did send you in your mother’s letter a strong hint not to stay away more than the two days you intended at first.”

“Yes, I know, but you said ‘unless it will damage your chances,’ and it would have done, horribly. You see, it was such a piece of good luck old Morrell’s taking to me so tremendously, when he had hated the very mention of a successor before, that I couldn’t go and hurt his feelings. He would drag me round the constituency, and hunt up all the local organisers to introduce me to them, and we really covered an immense amount of ground. The party agent said I couldn’t have made a better start.”

“Don’t think I want to see you less keen. It isn’t that. Did Félicia tell you any news in her letter—anything that had happened?”

“No; there was nothing of that sort. But really, Uncle Cyril, I don’t think she was angry with me for staying away. I wrote her awfully long letters—and sent her things, too. She couldn’t think I had forgotten her.”

“I never thought she did. But did she express regret for anything in particular, or merely for her general treatment of you? I have an object in asking,” as Usk looked at him in surprise. “Don’t think it’s mere curiosity.”

“She didn’t mention anything definite—except just to say that if things went wrong between us, it was Maimie Logan’s fault, not hers, which I could have told her myself. Oh, by the bye, that’s another queer thing. I had an hour or two to spare in town, so I ran down to Bradcross and looked up Mr and Mrs Steinherz’s marriage at St Mary Windicotes. It was there all right, but the queer thing is that some months ago a lady came and asked about it, and got a copy of the entry, and I’m pretty sure it was Miss Logan.”

“Exactly what I thought. How did you find out?”

“There was the paper pasted on the inside of the cover, just as Mr Steinherz said, and I tried one of the corners with my nail to see if it was loose. Then the clerk’s wife, who had been in a great state of excitement ever since she heard what entry I wanted to see, cried out, ‘Why, that’s just what the lady did as come here in the autumn!’ When I said, ‘What lady?’ she nearly had a fit, and refused point-blank to tell me anything, saying she wished she had bitten her tongue off before the words slipped out. I tried the usual persuasive, and assured her that I had the strongest possible reasons for wishing good and not harm to Mr and Mrs Bertram, as she called them, and their descendants, and at last I got it out of her that the lady was not old, and not very young, not a regular foreigner, but not quite English, and dressed very smartly,—‘fine enough for a carriage,’ the old woman said, which is just what every one here says about these two girls whenever they go out walking. Then she told me what her voice was like, and I couldn’t doubt for a moment that it was Miss Logan.”

“This is most interesting. When did you say it happened?”

“About six months ago, as far as I could make out. Either just before or just after Mr Steinherz’s death, I should think.”

“When she was in London, of course. Well, I am glad to have this cleared up. She told me a lame story of having been put on the track by some writing in an old prayer-book belonging to her mother, and said she had pieced together into a coherent whole things remembered from childhood and details picked up since.”

“She told you!”

“Yes; that is the piece of news I wondered whether you had heard. She knows the whole story, and has confided it to Félicia, and Félicia will be satisfied with nothing short of full rights and recognition. The story, as she told it, was less detailed than what I had heard from you, but it corresponded with it so exactly that I felt certain she could not have developed it in the way she made out. After this discovery of yours, I haven’t a doubt that she was listening, either when Mr Steinherz explained things to you, or when he made Hicks Félicia’s trustee—no, scarcely that, unless he read aloud to him the attested statement which was to be left in his charge. Well, we can’t prove it against her, but that’s the truth, I feel certain.”

“And Félicia knows—the whole thing?”

“The whole thing. Now, Usk, I am going to depart for once from my invariable rule, and give you a piece of good advice. There are two ways in which you can take this. Either you could throw yourself into Félicia’s view of the matter, and do everything in your power to help her press her claim—which is never likely to be established. Do you feel yourself debarred from such a course as that?”

“Absolutely, by my repeated promise to Mr Steinherz.”

“I thought so. Then here’s the alternative. Forbid Félicia to take any step in the matter. Let her understand that if she does, everything is over between you. Give her the choice. Otherwise, whether she wins or loses, you will infallibly drift apart, for no woman will stand seeing a man indifferent or opposed to an aim which is the breath of life to her. If she cares for you enough to give it up for your sake, it’s a different thing.”

“I couldn’t ask it of her,” said Usk. “In one way, it’s almost a relief that this has come out. I have always felt as if I was defrauding her, somehow.”

“Usk,” said his uncle, “there’s a good deal of your mother in you, and that makes it perfectly hopeless to offer you any guidance. One could generally get Caerleon to see reason, after a tremendous amount of hammering, but nothing but fanaticism would move your mother—in her young days, of course. Well, I don’t envy you the next few months. I have cabled to Hicks to let me know the exact nature of the proofs he holds, and also whether the trustees are debarred like you from asserting any claim on Félicia’s behalf. It was necessary to find that out, though those two girls were so impatient of delay that they were ready to set out for Vindobona there and then, and press the claim in person. I had to point out to them that Félicia would do well to remain as far from Pannonia as possible for the present. There are various approved ways of disposing of inconvenient young ladies who persist in raking up forgotten scandals, especially when there are a good many millions in question as well.”

“Yes. She is safest here, if she is resolved to go on. But what I can’t make out is why Miss Logan should have been silent so long, if she knew everything six months ago.”

“I can’t be certain, but I have my suspicions that my hopeful stepson comes in somewhere. That’s why I should be glad to see you put your foot down, and end the matter one way or the other.”

“You mean that he and Miss Logan are plotting that he shall marry Félicia if the claim is allowed? Rather fine from their point of view, wouldn’t it be? But they are reckoning without Félicia.”

“Where did you get your wide knowledge of women?” asked Cyril, with intense interest. Usk answered quite unsuspiciously—

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know many, but I know Félicia.”

“And you won’t even attempt to dissuade her from pressing the claim?”

“I mean to tell her how anxious her father was that she should let things alone, but I can’t help it if she decides not to. It’s her own concern, and she has a right to judge for herself.”

It would have been well if Félicia had also been able to adopt this moderate view, and to concede to Usk the right of judging for himself. But she demanded not merely his passive permission, but his active approval, for all that she saw fit to do, and as he was not disposed to go a step beyond the line he had laid down, the relations between them became somewhat strained. The two lived in an atmosphere of argument. Even the low-toned conversations in the drawing-room at night were devoted to persistent efforts to make Usk confess that Félicia was in the right, and that her success was certain. He kept his temper admirably on the whole, but this led only to further attacks, for Félicia could not believe he was in earnest. She lost her temper somewhat frequently, but Usk understood that this was due to “nerves.”

“I guess I know why you’d like to have me let things slide,” she said angrily one morning on the terrace. “You’re thinking of the dollars.”

“The dollars! What dollars?” asked Usk.

“Mine, of course. Pappa’s pile, which was to procure me the honour of admission into your noble family.”

“Are you trying to see what I’m like when I’m ‘riz,’ as Hicks says?” asked Usk laughing. “Why, Fay, he would tell you that it was the thought of your dollars that frightened me more than anything—kept me back for ever so long.”

“Then what was it made you conclude to go ahead at last?”

“Look in the glass,” said Usk, and Félicia was mollified.

“I’m real glad I have the dollars, any way,” she said, slipping her hand into his arm. “This place wants making over from cellar to garret.”

“Does it? I suppose it seems so to other people, but it’s perfect to us. By the bye, Fay, you hurt old Wright’s feelings terribly the other day by depreciating his stables.”

“Why, I only said I’d have those old shacks pulled down, and a real elegant range of stabling built—just like at Bagatelle.”

“One may like good horses, and drive them too, without making palaces of their stables. Ours are all right.”

“Well, I’ll never be satisfied until they’re just as good as those at Bagatelle, with all sorts of cunning little notions around everywhere. Why, even Baron von Neuburg had heard of the Bagatelle stables, and we made an excursion over there for the day, so’s he might see them. But there’s just everything to be done to this house and the grounds. I’ve an idea of a glass piazza to close in that upper terrace, but the whole front of the house wants modernising real badly.”

Usk restrained himself with some difficulty. “Perhaps you don’t know that the Castle is considered one of the finest houses in the country?” he said. “It would be horribly out of character to try to make an American summer hotel out of it.”

“Well, I’d as lief have it that as a ruin,” said Félicia indifferently. “But it don’t even look old, only shabby. That’s what I would just admire, to add on towers and battlements, and all that, and make it a real castle.”

“A sham castle,” said Usk. “And I don’t think you would care to live in it.”

“Oh, I’d have plate-glass windows, and electricity everywhere, of course. And inside! Why, your mother has the rooms so bare, they feel to me ’most indecent. When I fix up the picture-gallery, you’ll see it’ll be just elegant. All those musty old pictures and horrid suits of armour and swords and things will take a back seat. Now you feel like looking at them because there’s nothing else to see, but when I’ve inaugurated my reforms, one of them will just be on hand here and there as a surprise.”

“And how do you intend to dispose of them, then?”

“Why, instead of that horrid old dull tapestry and black panelling, I’ll have silk hangings in pastel shades, each room a different colour. I’ll have them weave them on purpose for me in France. And all those cute little recesses in the gallery I’ll turn into cosy nooks, with French furniture and nicknacks and Japanese things, and now and then a suit of armour that’ll just give you the coldest kind of a shudder. And some of the pictures can be cleaned, and the rest be hidden back of the hangings. It’ll be too cunning for anything.”

“Rather!” said Usk, with a short laugh. “I am only delighted to think that my father and mother will probably be supreme here for twenty or thirty years yet, happily, and that by that time you’ll have learnt to be so fond of the Castle that you won’t want to lay a finger on it.”

“Now that’s real horrid of you!” said Félicia angrily. “I don’t see but Lord and Lady Caerleon would very well leave the Castle to us, and go and live some other place. I don’t choose to board, especially with your folks. I want a house of my own, so’s I can stamp my individuality upon it.”

“That you can have in London. There’s no likelihood whatever of my parents giving up the Castle to us, I am thankful to say. Why should they?”

“Why, because they’ve had it ever so long,” cried Félicia. “I shall want to have house-parties here, when we’re not in town. Say, Usk! I’ll restore the Abbey, and we’ll have that for our country-house.”

“The Abbey!” Usk was aghast. “Do you know that all our family are buried there?”

“Oh, we’ll soon fix them up somewhere else. Why, I’ll have just the loveliest sort of house-parties, not like any other person’s. We’ll call them ‘retreats,’ and I’ll design a cunning little nun’s dress for every one to wear. The papers will just gloat over it, and all of the smart set will be fighting for invitations.”

“I don’t like jokes of this kind,” said Usk, with forced calmness. “Of course, when you are mistress of the Castle, you can alter the arrangements as you please, provided you don’t destroy or make away with the old things, but I give you fair warning that you won’t touch a single stone of the walls, or do anything to desecrate the Abbey.”

“Ah, I guess I’ll have to burn the Castle down. Then I can build it up again as I want it!” said Félicia airily, leaving Usk with the uncomfortable conviction that she had been joking all the time, and that he had made a foolish display of strong feeling, and invoked his authority quite unnecessarily. However, it pleased Félicia so much to have made him angry at last, that she treated him better for the next few days, until the tension became acute once more under the influence of a stray piece of news from the Riviera.

In answer to Cyril’s telegram, Mr Hicks had cabled that there was nothing to prevent the trustees from supporting Félicia’s claim, if she did not consider her father’s strongly expressed wish as binding on her, and he added such details as to the papers and other objects left in his charge by Mr Steinherz as enabled Cyril to draw up a statement at once. The relationship between his wife and the royal family of Arragon gave him the opportunity of proceeding privately, much to his satisfaction, for expecting the whole affair to end in smoke, he did not care for it to be canvassed in the European press. Félicia would have preferred publicity, for she had been looking forward confidently to becoming the heroine of the sensation-mongering American papers, and felt that she was being defrauded of the interviews and portraits that were her due. She yielded, however, to the strong pressure brought to bear on her by Maimie, who pointed out that a Steinherz boom would certainly alienate King Michael, not knowing that King Michael himself was on the verge of rendering this precaution unnecessary by carrying out too faithfully his part of the programme. It was a paragraph in a weekly society paper which made his doings known at Llandiarmid. Queen Ernestine brought the paper to her husband when it reached the Castle, and pointed out to him anxiously the “Lady’s Letter from the Riviera.”

“Listen to this, Cyril,” she said. “‘Among last week’s arrivals at Nice was the young King of Thracia, travelling incognito as Baron von Neuburg. He may be seen every day in close attendance on the pretty Grand-Duchess Sonya, who is making a short stay at the Conciliation with her father, the Grand-Duke Eugen of Scythia, and the announcement of their betrothal is daily expected. It is well known that the attachment between them is of long standing, but that the course of true love was interrupted by the attempt of the Dowager Queen and her English husband to marry King Michael to the latter’s niece, a daughter of the Marquis of Caerleon. Happily the young lady was possessed of less ambition or more good sense than her august relations, and made a love-match with a commoner a year or two ago, so that her unwilling suitor is at liberty to return to the real object of his affections.’”

“It strikes me,” said Cyril, “that there is something more than the unbridled imagination of the lady journalist at work here. I seem to recognise the touch of a well-known hand. Let me look.” He turned back to the beginning of the letter, with its usual altruistic self-congratulation on the number of distinguished personages sojourning on the Riviera, and pointed out among them the name of the Princess Dowager of Dardania. “As usual!” he said. “Well, that relieves your mind a little, doesn’t it? All the same, it might be as well to write and advise Michael not to play his part too seriously.”

But if Cyril’s acuteness, born of experience, had lessened the Queen’s anxiety, there was no one to reassure Félicia in the same way. She found the paper that evening and read the paragraph, and the crown which had been merely shadowy seemed to become real and desirable in proportion as it receded from her view. She blamed Maimie for mismanaging things, blamed herself for consenting to remain at Llandiarmid and prosecute her claim by deputy, and blamed the King most of all for his inconstancy, showing a jealousy which her own equivocal position did not by any means justify. She slept little that night, and Maimie, who sat up for hours alternately arguing with and soothing her, was at her wits’ end. It was her chief terror that Félicia might insist on following the King to the Riviera forthwith, but it would be almost as bad if she betrayed herself by making scenes at Llandiarmid. She tried to persuade her to remain in bed the next day, but Félicia refused pettishly, and made her appearance about an hour before lunch, looking so ghastly that Usk uttered an exclamation of horror. Unfortunately, this was a fresh grievance.

“If I am looking sick, you needn’t tell me so,” she complained.

“But you ought to see the doctor. Let me ride over and fetch him.”

“No; I want to have you amuse me. Don’t look at me that way. You make me nervous. Why don’t you say something amusing? I guess you would make yourself sick worrying if you were tormented like me—not knowing whether you were a princess or just a no-account girl.”

“Isn’t it enough to be Miss Steinherz of the United States? Look here, Fay, why not chuck it all? It’s only making you ill and miserable, and you have a capital opportunity now. Uncle Cyril asked me to tell you that Don Ramon of Arragon flatly refuses to recognise or even consider your claim, and you can accept that as final. Otherwise you’ll have to approach the Emperor of Pannonia, and go through all this bother again, with just the same result.”

“How do you know it would be just the same?” demanded Félicia sharply. “It’s to your advantage to try and keep me out of my rights, because you don’t want to lose me.”

“Well, oughtn’t you to be pleased at that? But I don’t see why I should lose you if your claim was allowed.”

“Well, I guess if I was a princess——”

“You’d throw me over? Thanks, awfully! Do you imagine that if I became a prince it would make any difference to you?”

“Ah, but you’d raise me to your level, any way. I couldn’t raise you.”

“No, indeed, and I’m thankful for it. But don’t let us bother about such nonsense, Fay. You’re no more likely to be a princess than I am to be a prince, so why not recognise the fact and withdraw gracefully, instead of wearing yourself to death worrying about it?”

“Because I don’t feel like acting that way,” said Félicia obstinately. “Well, supposing they did acknowledge me, and we had to break off our engagement, what would you do?”

“What other men do when they’re jilted, I imagine—grin and bear it.”

“Would the world become a blank to you? Would you never believe in a woman again?”

“I should never believe in you again, certainly. But other women—why, there’d be the mater and Phil just the same. Why shouldn’t I believe in them?”

“Well, you might say you wouldn’t, any way,” pouted Félicia.

“Look here,” said Usk. “You said you wanted to be amused, and I hope you are. All this sort of stuff doesn’t amuse me at all. Let’s come out.”

“No, thanks. I’m awfully interested, analysing you. I do wish you were different—sort of imperious, you know, so’s I daren’t disobey you. I’d love to be made to feel that I just had to do whatever you wanted, and there was no choice about loving you or anything. It would save so much trouble.”

“I’m sorry, for your sake, that I’m not that kind of man. I never met one, but I’ve read about them in books. Seems to me you’d have a cheerful time—especially when you wanted to disobey him, and didn’t dare to.”

“I guess it would be better than this, any way. I can’t think why things should be so horrid. I just want to have a good time, that’s all, and every single thing seems to conspire to prevent it. It’s real hateful!” and Félicia broke into genuine sobs. Usk’s first impulse was to walk away, but he restrained it and stood awkwardly by. His own temper was considerably ruffled by this time, and he was not disposed to blame himself for Félicia’s tears, but her sobs became more and more vehement, and he cast his injured dignity to the winds.

“Don’t, Fay, don’t!” he entreated, kneeling down beside her. “I was a brute to say what I did. I didn’t mean it—whatever it was; at least, I didn’t mean you to take it like this. It was my fault, I know. What was it I said that hurt your feelings? You know I didn’t mean it. Oh, do stop. Here’s your Maimie coming, and she’ll be sure to say I made you cry, and I don’t know what I could have said.”

But Félicia sobbed on, and Maimie glared at Usk as she came up.

“I do think you’re real horrid,” she said judicially. “Here’s Fay making herself sick crying, and you teasing her all the time. I’ll have her go up to town and see a nerve-specialist, now the weather’s warmer. Your cars are so draughty in winter that I’d just as lief have taken her to the Arctic. But I know all this is telling upon her nerves, and it’s awfully bad the way you go on exciting her. Come, Fay, darling.”

She swept away the still sobbing Félicia, leaving Usk to mental abuse of himself and her in turn, and having settled her in her room, went with a grave face in search of Lady Caerleon. She felt certain that the shock and strain of the autumn and winter had been too much for Félicia’s strength, and that it was imperative to take her to a London doctor at once. Grieved and startled, Lady Caerleon offered to accompany the two girls herself, but Maimie declined her escort gracefully. She and Félicia and the maid would run up to town for two nights, and see whether the complete change from her present surroundings would do anything to restore Félicia’s cheerfulness. The inference was obvious, and Lady Caerleon interposed to restrain her husband when he wished to insist upon accompanying the girls. It was out of the question, he declared, for them to make the journey alone, and stay at a hotel by themselves, but his wife was strongly of opinion that it was better to leave them to take their own course. Things could not go on as they were at present, and a little reflection might show Félicia how severely she had of late tried the patience of her friends.

It is possible that there was in Lady Caerleon’s mind the thought, or even the hope, that Félicia might discover that she was happier apart from Usk, and take the opportunity of breaking off her engagement, but the actual upshot of the visit to London was quite unexpected. It was announced in a letter from Maimie, brief and agitated in appearance.

There was no note enclosed, and this omission threw Usk into a terrible state of alarm. Félicia was ill, perhaps dying, and he was to blame. He would hear of nothing but rushing off to Nice at once, and he was throwing his things into a bag when his uncle came down the corridor and saw his preparations through the open door of his room.

“I think this is a little unnecessary,” he observed gently.

“Why, she may be gone before I get there!” cried Usk.

“Scarcely. It may interest you to know that her boxes and Miss Logan’s are all packed and locked. It’s no good shutting your eyes to it, Usk. The visit to the doctor was a polite fiction to enable the girls to leave the Castle without interference. We will put it more kindly, and say they were bent on going, and wished to save us the trouble of dissuading them. The question now is, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know why I should do anything but go to her,” said Usk doggedly.

“Are you certain you are wanted?”

Usk turned on his uncle. “If you know anything, say it, and don’t keep hinting things,” he cried. “Why shouldn’t she want me?”

“You think you would not be de trop when Michael was present?”

Usk’s eyes flamed, and he made a step forward, but his hands dropped suddenly to his side. “I’ll see her,” he said hoarsely, “and tell her she must choose once for all between that fellow and me. I won’t be kept hanging on, to be made useful if she doesn’t succeed in landing him. But I don’t believe it’s that at all. She’s anxious and worried about this wretched claim of hers, as she told me herself, and it’s just a chance that he happens to be at Nice.”

“Very well. As you say, it’s as well to see her before you judge. Your aunt and I think of going to Nice to look after Michael a little, and you may as well travel with us, and not rush off in this dramatic way. You won’t want to make your differences of opinion public, I suppose, in any case?”

CHAPTER X.
A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS.

Nice was looking its loveliest, but to Usk, making his way along the Promenade des Anglais in the direction of the Villa Bougainvillea, it was not lovely at all. He was uneasy and troubled in mind, and thoroughly out of tune with his surroundings, and with the gay groups of well-dressed people he met. The palms and the sunshine, the blue sea and the white houses set in flowers and greenery, all jarred with his mood. Not another word had reached him from Félicia herself or from Maimie, but although he had only arrived the night before, there had been time to learn that the Baron von Neuburg now divided his abundant leisure and his petits soins between the Grand-Duchess Sonya and a beautiful American girl who was staying with the fascinating grass-widow, Mrs van Zyl. Even now, as he turned into one of the side-avenues, in order to reach the smart white house nestling in its groves of orange- and lemon-trees, he met a motor-car of the latest and most elaborate construction, and recognised in the two men who occupied it, disguised as they were by huge spectacles and mackintosh coats and caps, King Michael and Captain Andreivics. He saw a meaning glance pass between them as they returned his salute, and he walked on faster, reaching the villa quickly enough to find the two ladies who had shared the drive still lingering on the rose-hung piazza in front of the house. They wore businesslike dust-proof gowns, edged and faced with highly decorated leather, and their faces were hidden by long gauze veils crossed behind and tied, French fashion, under the chin, but Félicia’s exquisite figure was unmistakable, and Usk mounted the steps without waiting for an invitation. He was received with a little shriek.

“Well, now, I was sort of expecting you!” cried Félicia. “It’s just wonderful how one’s friends find one out. Sadie, this is Viscount Usk, the son of the kind folks that have been boarding Maimie and me all winter.”

A kind of chill ran through Usk’s veins. “She hasn’t even told the woman of our engagement!” he said to himself.

“Awfully good of you to come so soon!” said Mrs van Zyl, a small, sharp-featured woman with artificially bleached hair and a high voice. “I guess we must change these horrid gowns now, but maybe you’ll five o’cloquer with us this afternoon. I know there are just about three hundred people coming.”

“You are very kind,” said Usk, then he turned to Félicia. “I will come at any time when it is convenient for you to see me,” he said pointedly.

“Well, I don’t see but you can do that at tea,” she replied.

“Say, Lord Usk, we can’t have you monopolise Miss Steinherz!” cried Mrs van Zyl. “She’s just about the most popular girl in Nice, and she’s getting fresh invitations all the time.”

“I won’t detain her long,” said Usk, not offering to withdraw.

“Ah, you’re bringing some message from your mother!” said Félicia. “You come this afternoon, any way, and I’ll see you have a chance to deliver it.”

Usk accepted his dismissal, and went away, in no wise comforted. He said nothing to his uncle or aunt of the reception he had met with, but in the afternoon he returned to the Villa Bougainvillea with absolute punctuality, determined to come to an understanding with Félicia. He was shown into a small room, which was apparently the private boudoir of the mistress of the house, so full was it of the rococo and the bizarre. Presently Félicia glided in, in a wonderful shimmering tea-gown of heliotrope shot with silver, and partly veiled with long falling scarves of filmy lace, and Usk noticed with a pang that her whole face and bearing seemed to have changed. There had been a starved look about her at Llandiarmid, as if the cold northern air and the simple life of the Castle had afflicted her with actual pinching hunger, but here she was evidently in her element. The luxury of the surroundings, the curious and costly objects which over-filled every corner, seemed only a fitting frame for her beauty. Her face was calmer and softer in outline, and her voice had lost its sharp tone as she said, laying a little hand lightly on Usk’s arm—

“Are you awfully mad with me, Usk?”

It would be brutal to say that he was, and moreover, Usk was conscious that his anger seemed to have melted away. It was impossible to cherish it in the presence of those speaking eyes, that caressing hand.

“Oh, Fay, Fay!” he cried, catching her in his arms. “I knew it was all right really. I knew you didn’t mean to be so horribly unkind.”

“Unkind? to you? Oh, Usk!” Félicia dropped her head on his shoulder for an instant, then raised it hastily and felt surreptitiously at her hair.

“Well, you were, you know. It nearly broke my heart this morning when I saw you hadn’t told Mrs van Zyl that we were engaged.”

“But I did tell her, Usk, only she’s real mad about it. They all beg and entreat me not to make it public just yet on account of the claim. Sadie is ready to swear that the Emperor won’t ever entertain it if he thinks I’m provided for now. The only chance is to have myself appear as a wealthy heiress entirely at my own disposal.”

“And so you throw me over to deceive your father’s people?”

“I don’t throw you over. I just ask you to wait and not announce our engagement for the present. That can’t hurt you, any way.”

“It does hurt me very much to see you encouraging King Michael.”

“Encouraging him? because Sadie and I went for a ride on his automobile? You get one, and we’ll come with you.”

“It’s not that. There’s an idea that he will marry you if your claim is substantiated.”

“Do tell! I’m real grateful to his Majesty. Well, Usk, I’m not responsible for any plans he and Maimie may have fixed up together, but I haven’t ever said a single word to him about any such thing, nor he to me.”

“Then you are not thinking of marrying him, even if by some miracle the Emperor should persuade your father’s people to recognise you?”

“I’ve imagined all the time that I was thinking of marrying you. No, Usk, I won’t make any pledges. I’m going to have you trust me.” She laid her white arms, from which the hanging sleeves fell back, round his neck. “If you don’t feel like it, say so, and I’ll set you free this moment, but if you’re the right kind of a man, you’ll believe in me.”

“I do believe in you,” said Usk hoarsely, kissing first one wrist and then the other; “but don’t make it harder for me than you can help, Fay.”

“I’ll make it just as hard as I can,” laughed Félicia, stepping back, “to punish you for doubting me at all. I shall fairly admire to test your faith and see what it’s worth, so just remember that when you find things in a snarl. You do trust me?”

“I do, absolutely.”

“Good boy! And you’ll defend me against the nasty suspicious things your uncle says? It’s real kind of him to be so anxious to secure me in the family, but I don’t feel like gratifying him just yet.”

“But you won’t encourage the King? It’s that which makes him——”

“I won’t promise not to go riding with him, if that’s what you mean. Sadie will go around with me everywhere, you needn’t be afraid. She knows what it is to be a chaperon in Europe, and she’ll do her duty to the death. And now I guess we’ve had just about enough high-falutin’. But before we go in the salon, just look at these patterns for our dominos for the corso Tuesday. Don’t you think this shade of heliotrope is quite too sweet for anything?” She held it up to her face.

“It’s a pretty colour,” said Usk hesitatingly. “But, Fay——”

“And we’re going to fix up the carriage with those light-purple anemones—just a mass of them. I wanted hepaticas—you can get real nice shades in them, a much pinker purple, you know—but every one says they wouldn’t last above an hour. Don’t you think it’ll be awfully elegant?”

“But surely you aren’t going? Your mourning——”

“Silly boy! don’t you call this mourning?” She flourished the heliotrope silk before his eyes. “But maybe, if you are very good and unexacting beforehand, I won’t go. I’d just as lief see it from a window. Now mind, I won’t have you trail me around everywhere. You’ll get your turn with the rest, but it don’t do to be covetous.”

It was with some misgivings that Usk followed her to the salon, which was full of people, of a type with which he had not hitherto had much acquaintance. The ladies were mostly Americans, either sojourning in Europe without their husbands, like Mrs van Zyl, or married to Continental noblemen of various nationalities. There was a sprinkling of these gentlemen present, but most of the men were unencumbered by domestic ties, and purely cosmopolitan, the product of the modern health resort. Originally French, Brazilian, or Hungarian by race, they had travelled so much in search of sport or distraction that the whole civilised world was equally dull to them, and the only place which was still able to kindle a spark of excitement in their breasts was Monte Carlo. With them the talk was of the tables or of pigeon-shooting, while the ladies preferred generally to discuss flowers and fancy dresses. Lent fell late this year, so that although it was the middle of March, the last days of the Carnival were still to come, and every one was on the alert to discover what her neighbour was going to wear.

Usk left the villa before any of the other guests, meeting King Michael on the threshold as he did so. The two young men eyed one another with unfriendly glances. Each resented the other’s presence, without having the right to object to it; but Usk noticed uneasily that the King walked straight into the hall, and that Maimie, looking more eager and anxious than ever, in a sprightly black-and-white gown, fluttered out to meet him, and took him into the little boudoir whither he himself had been conducted only an hour before. His uncle’s words recurred to him, but he set his teeth. “She has asked me to trust her, and I will—I do,” he repeated.

It was natural, perhaps, that Cyril should not be so ready to accept this view of the case. When Usk entered the appartement at the Hôtel des Rois, which had been taken in the names of Lord and Lady Cyril Mortimer, he was met by the secretary Paschics, who said that his uncle wished to see him as soon as he came in. Usk was not at all anxious to see his uncle, and his misgivings returned sharply upon him as he sought him on the balcony of their sitting-room.

“Well, have you had any talk with Félicia?” asked Cyril.

“Just a little. I only had her to myself for a minute or two.”

“And is she willing to have the engagement announced?”

“Well, no; not just yet. She has got some idea that it would prejudice her claim if it was known.”

“Then you have broken it off?”

“Rather not. I have agreed to keep it private a little longer.”

“In fact,” said Cyril, with slow scorn, “you set out to end an anomalous state of things, and then agree to perpetuate it. You bind yourself and leave her free, though it’s perfectly clear that she is merely keeping you on as a last resource in case she loses Michael.”

“It’s nothing of the kind,” said Usk. “She has no thought of Michael—she told me so herself.”

“You are in love with love,” said Cyril bitterly, “and honour, and self-sacrifice, and all the other things of which Miss Steinherz knows no more than she does of good taste. Don’t you see the girl’s fooling you?”

“It may look like that to you, but you don’t know her as I do. She’s playing for a great stake, and she shall have her chance. I won’t let her be able to say that she would have won if I had not baulked her. She won’t win, of course, but at least it won’t be my fault, and she will leave off thinking about it, and we shall be all right.”

“She is nothing but an adventuress who can’t make up her mind to burn her boats.”

Usk turned very white. “You have no right to say that of the lady who has promised to marry me,” he said.

“I beg your pardon; I ought not to have thought aloud. It is a bad habit that has grown on me of late. My dear Usk, if she had promised to marry you I should see daylight. As it is, she may have promised and she may not. Can you assert a promise if the lady sees fit to deny it?”

“She won’t deny it. And, anyhow, it’s a thing that only affects me. I am satisfied to wait until she chooses to announce our engagement, and I don’t see what any one else has to do with it.”

“In other words, I am to mind my own business. But, unfortunately, this is my business, though I assure you no one can regret it more than I do. I have just heard that the Grand-Duke and Duchess of Schwarzwald-Molzau are on their way here. He is Michael’s uncle, and it is quite natural that he should be frightened by the reports about the Grand-Duchess Sonya, and come to find out the truth for himself, but I haven’t a doubt that he is also commissioned to inquire into Félicia’s affair on behalf of the Emperor of Pannonia, his brother-in-law. They have come to the conclusion that her claim is a serious one, and he is to see if she is presentable, and whether she can be bought off. Now, suppose Michael takes it into his head to say that he will marry Sonya Eugenovna unless he is allowed to marry Félicia, what am I to do? No one would expect me to help him to cut out one of my own family, but I am not allowed to say she is engaged to you. I tell you frankly I should very much prefer to eliminate you from the matter, for you and she are not in the least suited to one another; but it seems that you object to that. It’s what I should like best of all to see Félicia engaged to Michael, and her fortune made useful in re-establishing Thracian credit, and yet I must invent obstacles to prevent it. Of course the usual convenient fiction of the overmastering avarice and ambition of the Mortimer family will come to the front, and I shall be accused of plotting to engineer Félicia into a marriage with you for the sake of her money, and putting her up to this preposterous claim of hers in order to strengthen my position by an alliance with royalty. Pleasant, very!”

“I’m awfully sorry, but you can hardly expect me——”

“To renounce your fiancée in order to spare my battered reputation a few more knocks? I quite see that. Oh, don’t think I blame you. Here am I groping helplessly to try and find the thread of affairs which I could once have worked out in my sleep, and losing my temper with you over it. It’s that which drives me wild.”

He rose hastily, and left the balcony by the farther window, and Usk, feeling perplexed and somewhat guilty, returned into the sitting-room, where Queen Ernestine was writing at the table.

“Don’t trouble your uncle more than you can help, Usk,” she said, looking up. “He is very much worried just now.”

“It’s not my fault——” began Usk indignantly. Then he stopped, and fidgeted awkwardly with the inkstand. “I don’t want to bother you, or to do anything rude,” he broke out; “but if you could say a word or two to the King! Of course it’s only natural he should admire her, and that she should be pleased, but—well, you see how it is. I don’t think I’m jealous generally, but it really is rather rough on a man. And it’s just the uncertainty that’s weighing on Uncle Cyril, too. Don’t you think—is there any reason why the King shouldn’t marry this Scythian Princess?”

The Queen looked almost terrified. “You don’t understand,” she said. “It is not that we could have any objection to Sonya herself; it is simply that the marriage is being pressed on by my cousin, the Princess of Dardania, for her own purposes. She has hated your uncle for many years, and she hates me because I am his wife. It was her influence which banished your uncle from Thracia, and led to the present troubles. To see Michael delivered over to her again—— No, I must fight to the end against that.”

“I’m sorry,” said Usk. “I only thought—well, if he was married to some one else, you see, there would be no excuse for these women to persuade Félicia that he was after her. That’s what it is, you know. It’s not her fault, it’s theirs. They get round her and make her think that he really means something, and she doesn’t know——”

“That he is only amusing himself?” supplied the Queen, as he paused. “Oh, Usk, I see your trouble, and I will do anything I can to help you. I fear it might not be much use to speak to Michael, but if we could only see him happily married! There is just a chance that he might take to the Schwarzwald-Molzaus’ youngest daughter, who is coming here with them. But she is a mere child, only confirmed last year, and I could not wish them to marry unless they loved one another. I am afraid I have been indiscreet in speaking of it, but it would smooth your path, wouldn’t it? Indeed I will help you if I can.”

She held out her hand mechanically, and Usk kissed it, in the way he had learned from his uncle. The Queen laughed.

“I ought to play my part better by this time, at any rate in my own family, ought I not?” she said. “Are you going to see that poor Mr Nicholson, Usk? If there is anything he would like, flowers or fruit, or books, you will tell me, won’t you? It seems sad to be so ill away from home, and all alone.”

Nicholson was a college friend of Usk’s, who was now at Nice as a hopeless invalid. Usk had not cared for him particularly at Cambridge, but had been startled and touched to meet him in the hall that morning, and learn that he was alone save for a servant. Nicholson himself protested that the Riviera had done him no end of good, and that he was going to join in the Carnival gaieties on Shrove Tuesday, but his appearance made the words seem a bitter mockery.

“Thanks awfully,” said Usk. “I was just going to sit with him a bit, and I’m sure he’ll think it tremendously kind of you. I was wondering whether I might ask him in to tea one afternoon? I thought he would like to talk to you a little. He doesn’t know in the least who you are, of course, but his people don’t seem to realise how ill he is, any more than he does himself, and there seems to be no one——”

“I understand. Yes, of course, ask him to come in to-morrow if he feels well enough, and we will take care not to invite any one else.”

Usk took his departure, and spent an hour with his sick friend, whose society was harrowing enough, owing to the ghastly contrast between his plans and ambitions and his state of health. But there was a reward for Usk when he returned to his own room, for a tiny note was awaiting him from Félicia. It was written with purple ink upon paper of a lighter shade, and perfumed with heliotrope—all the very latest Parisian fancy of the moment—but Usk tore it open without a glance at anything but the direction.