The Illustrious Prince Part 19

He smiled as he wrote his own name, unrebuked, in four places.

"Our first dance, then, is number 10," he said. "It is the next but one.

I shall find you here, perhaps?"

"Here or amongst the chaperons," she answered, as they pa.s.sed on.

"You admire Miss Morse?" the d.u.c.h.ess asked him.

"Greatly," the Prince answered. "She is natural, she has grace, and she has what I do not find so much in this country--would you say charm?"

"It is an excellent word," the d.u.c.h.ess answered. "I am inclined to agree with you. Her aunt, with whom she lives, is a confirmed invalid, so she is a good deal with me. Her mother was my half-sister."

The Prince bowed.

"She will marry, I suppose?" he said.

"Naturally," the d.u.c.h.ess answered. "Sir Charles, poor fellow, is a hopeless victim. I should not be surprised if she married him, some day or other."

The Prince looked behind for a moment; then he stopped to admire a magnificent orchid.

"It will be great good fortune for Sir Charles Somerfield," he said.

Somerfield scarcely waited until the little party were out of sight.

"Penelope," he exclaimed, "you've given that man four dances!"

"I am afraid," she answered, "that I should have given him eight if he had asked for them."

He rose to his feet.

"Will you allow me to take you back to your aunt?" he asked.

"No!" she answered. "My aunt is quite happy without me, and I should prefer to remain here."

He sat down, fuming.

"Penelope, what do you mean by it?" he demanded.

"And what do you mean by asking me what I mean by it?" she replied. "You haven't any especial right that I know of."

"I wish to Heaven I had!" he answered with a noticeable break in his voice.

There was a short silence. She turned away; she felt that she was suddenly surrounded by a cloud of pa.s.sion.

"Penelope," he pleaded,--

She stopped him.

"You must not say another word," she declared. "I mean it,--you must not."

"I have waited for some time," he reminded her.

"All the more reason why you should wait until the right time," she insisted. "Be patient for a little longer, do. Just now I feel that I need a friend more than I have ever needed one before. Don't let me lose the one I value most. In a few weeks' time you shall say whatever you like, and, at any rate, I will listen to you. Will you be content with that?"

"Yes!" he answered.

She laid her fingers upon his arm.

"I am dancing this with Captain Wilmot," she said. "Will you come and bring me back here afterwards, unless you are engaged?"

The Prince found her alone in the winter garden, for Somerfield, when he had seen him coming, had stolen away. He came towards her quickly, with the smooth yet impetuous step which singled him out at once as un-English. He had the whole room to cross to come to her, and she watched him all the way. The corners of his lips were already curved in a slight smile. His eyes were bright, as one who looks upon something which he greatly desires. Slender though his figure was, his frame was splendidly knit, and he carried himself as one of the aristocrats of the world. As he approached, she scanned his face curiously. She became critical, anxiously but ineffectively. There was not a feature in his face with which a physiognomist could have found fault.

"Dear young lady," he said, bowing low, "I come to you very humbly, for I am afraid that I am a deceiver. I shall rob you of your pleasure, I fear. I have put my name down for four dances, and, alas! I do not dance."

She made room for him by her side.

"And I," she said, "am weary of dancing. One does nothing else, night after night. We will talk."

"Talk or be silent," he answered softly. "Myself I believe that you are in need of silence. To be silent together is a proof of great friends.h.i.+p, is it not?"

She nodded.

"It seems to me that I have been through so much the last fortnight."

she said.

"You have suffered where you should not have suffered," he a.s.sented gravely. "I do not like your laws at all. At what they called the inquest your presence was surely not necessary! You were a woman and had no place there. You had," he added calmly, "so little to tell."

"Nothing," she murmured.

"Life to me just now," he continued, "is so much a matter of comparison.

It is for that, indeed, that I am here. You see, I have lived nearly all my life in my own country and only a very short time in Europe. Then my mother was an English lady, and my father a j.a.panese n.o.bleman. Always I seem to be pulled two different ways, to be struggling to see things from two different points of view. But there is one subject in which I think I am wholly with my own country."

"And that?" she asked.

"I do not think," he said, "that the rougher and more strenuous paths of life were meant to be trodden by your s.e.x. Please do not misunderstand me," he went on earnestly. "I am not thinking of the paths of literature and of art, for there the perceptions of your s.e.x are so marvellously acute that you indeed may often lead where we must follow. I am speaking of the more material things of life."

She was suddenly conscious of a s.h.i.+ver which seemed to spread from her heart throughout her limbs. She sat quite still, gripping her little lace handkerchief in her fingers.

"I mean," he continued, "the paths which a man must tread who seeks to serve his country or his household,--the every-day life in which sometimes intrigue or force is necessary. Do you agree with me, Miss Morse?"

"I suppose so," she faltered.

"That is why," he added, "it was painful to me to see you stand there before those men, answering their questions,--men whose walk in life was different, of an order removed from yours, who should not even have been permitted to approach you upon bended knees. Do not think that I am suggesting any fault to you--do not think that I am forcing your confidence in any way. But these are the thoughts which came to me only a little time ago."

She was silent. They listened together to the splas.h.i.+ng of the water.

What was the special gift, she wondered, which gave this man such insight? She felt her heart beating; she was conscious that he was looking at her. He knew already that it was through her medium that those despatches which never reached London were to have been handed on to their destination! He must know that she was to some extent in the confidence of her country's Amba.s.sador! Perhaps he knew, too, those other thoughts which were in her mind,--knew that it had been her deliberate intent to deceive him, to pluck those secrets which he carried with him, even from his heart! What a fool she had been to dream, for a moment, of measuring her wits against his!

He began to speak again, and his voice seemed pitched in lighter key.