Part 41 (1/2)
”Because I would not win a love from her which I cannot accept.”
”Baron Ned, there are few men who would be so considerate.”
But I required little coaxing, and when Frances had made ready for the journey, I buckled on my sword, which I had left standing in the corner, took my hat from the floor, and started out with her.
While walking from the Bridge to the Old Swan, I remarked to Frances, ”My engagement with Mary Hamilton is likely to be broken by her family.”
”Why, Baron Ned?” she asked in surprise.
”Count Hamilton has challenged me to a duel, to be fought when he returns, and you see, if I kill him or if he kills me, well--” I answered, shrugging my shoulders.
She was much alarmed at my disclosure, but was rea.s.sured when I made light of the affair, probably because there was no danger in it to George Hamilton, and, perhaps, because if I should kill Count Hamilton, George would inherit the t.i.tle and estates.
”But poor Mary! She will grieve,” said Frances.
”I think you need waste no tears for her sake,” I answered. ”She is a fine, pretty little creature, who will take what comes her way without excess of pain or joy. She is incapable of feeling keenly. G.o.d has been good to her in giving her numbness.”
”No, no, cousin Ned, you are wrong!” she returned. ”Life without pain is not worth living. I have heard that the Arabs have a saying, 'All suns.h.i.+ne makes the desert.' G.o.d is good to us when he darkens the sun now and then and gives us the suns.h.i.+ne afterwards.”
”Perhaps you are right, Frances,” I returned. ”But you and I are in the cloud now, and a little suns.h.i.+ne would be most welcome.”
”Not enough suns.h.i.+ne to make a desert,” she answered.
”Ay! But enough to make a garden,” I returned, as we climbed the narrow flight of steps leading to the private entrance to the Old Swan.
When we paused at the door, Frances said, ”Your garden is at hand.” And when she opened the door, there stood Betty, and I was in Eden. The moist glow of her eyes, the faint blush of her cheeks, the nervous fluttering of her voice, spoke more eloquently than all the tongues of Babel could have spoken, and I could not help comparing her welcome with that which Maxy Hamilton had given me at the queen's ball.
Bettina led us to the parlor, and while we were drinking a cup of tea, we had the great pleasure of asking and answering questions of which we always had a large supply in reserve.
When it was time to go, Bettina walked down to the Bridge with us. As it was growing dark, Frances suggested that I walk back to the Old Swan with Betty, which I did, she taking my arm of her own accord, and both of us very happy, though we spoke not a word, for fear of saying too much, save ”good night” at the door.
”Good night at the door!” G.o.d gave its sweetness to youth right out of the core of His infinite love.
CHAPTER XII
A PERILOUS EMBa.s.sY
Four or five days after our visit to Bettina, I met De Grammont at Charing Cross, and he surprised me with an invitation to his house that night to meet Monsieur l'Abbe du Boise at supper.
”The king and a dozen other gentlemen will be present,” he said, ”but there will be no ladies. Monsieur l'Abbe, being of the church, is not a ladies' man, and besides, ladies have sharper eyes than men, and might see much that is intended to remain unseen.”
The count's remark seemed to settle the question of the Abbe's ident.i.ty, and I hastened to Frances with the news. She a.s.sured me that she was ready to die of fright, but showed no outward sign of dissolution, and when I complimented her on her power of self-control, said:--
”Fortunately, I am part hypocrite, and can easily act a part.”
”You have a hard one ahead of you,” I returned, ”and will need all your strength before it is played to the end.”