Part 22 (1/2)

”Madam, I need but quote to you the words her husband used. For my part, I think that n.o.bler words were never spoken, and with her whole heart she repeats them. They are these: 'The boy would only live to serve his King; why should he not serve his King before he lives?'”

The mother was still silent, but Wogan could see that the tears overbrimmed her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Clementina was silent for a while too, and stood with her eyes fixed thoughtfully on Wogan. Then she said gently,-

”Her name.”

Wogan told her it, and she said no more; but it was plain that she would never forget it, that she had written it upon her heart.

Wogan waited, looking to the Princess, who drying her tears rose from her chair and said with great and unexpected dignity,-

”How comes it, sir, that with such servants your King still does not sit upon his throne? My daughter shall not fall below the great example set to her. My fears are shamed by it. My daughter goes with you to-night.”

It was time that she consented, for even as Wogan flung himself upon his knee and raised her hand, M. Chateaudoux appeared at the door with a finger on his lips, and behind him one could hear a voice grumbling and cursing on the stairs.

”Jenny,” said Wogan, and Jenny stumbled into the room. ”Quiet,” said he; ”you will wake the house.”

”Well, if you had to walk upstairs in the dark in these horrible shoes-”

”Oh, Jenny, your cloak, quick!”

”Take the thing! A good riddance to it; it's dripping wet, and weighs a ton.”

”Dripping wet!” moaned the mother.

”I shall not wear it long,” said Clementina, advancing from the embrasure of the window. Jenny turned and looked her over critically from head to foot. Then she turned away without a word and let the cloak fall to the ground. It fell about her feet; she kicked it viciously away, and at the same time she kicked off one of those shoes of which she so much complained. Jenny was never the woman to mince her language, and to-night she was in her surliest mood. So she swore simply and heartily, to the mother's utter astonishment and indignation.

”d.a.m.n!” she said, hobbling across the room to the corner, whither her shoe had fallen. ”There, there, old lady; don't hold your hands to your ears as though a clean oath would poison them!”

The Princess-mother fell back in her chair.

”Does she speak to me?” she asked helplessly.

”Yes,” said Wogan; and turning to Jenny, ”This is the kind-hearted aunt.”

Jenny turned to Clementina, who was picking the cloak from the floor.

”And you are the beautiful heiress,” she said sourly. ”Well, if you are going to put that wet cloak on your shoulders, I wish you joy of the first kiss O'Toole gives you when you jump into his arms.”

The Princess-mother screamed; Wogan hastened to interfere.

”Jenny, there's the bedroom; to bed with you!” and he took out his watch. At once he uttered an exclamation of affright. Wogan had miscalculated the time which he would require. It had taken longer than he had antic.i.p.ated to reach the villa against the storm; his conflict with Jenny in the portico had consumed valuable minutes; he had been at some pains to over-persuade the Princess-mother; Jenny herself amongst the trees in the darkness had waited more than the quarter of an hour demanded of her; Wogan himself, absorbed each moment in that moment's particular business,-now bending all his wits to vanquish Jenny, now to vanquish the Princess-mother,-even Wogan had neglected how the time sped. He looked at his watch. It was twenty-five minutes to ten, and at ten the magistrate would be knocking at the door.

”I am ready,” said Clementina, drawing the wet cloak about her shoulders and its hood over her head. She barely s.h.i.+vered under its wet heaviness.

”There's one more thing to be done before you go,” said Wogan; but before he could say what that one thing was, Jenny, who had now recovered her shoe, ran across the room and took the beautiful heiress by both hands. Jenny was impulsive by nature. The Princess-mother's distress and Clementina's fearlessness made her suddenly ashamed that she had spoken so sourly.

”There, there, old lady,” she said soothingly; ”don't you fret. They are very good friends your niece is going with.” Then she drew Clementina close to her. ”I don't wonder they are all mad about you, for I can't but say you are very handsome and richly worth the pains you have occasioned us.” She kissed Clementina plump upon the cheek and whispered in her ear, ”O'Toole won't mind the wet cloak, my dear, when he sees you.”

Clementina laughed happily and returned her kiss with no less sincerity, if with less noise.

”Quick, Jenny,” said Wogan, ”to bed with you!”