Whither Thou Goest Part 48

"Contraras dead? How did he die?"

"It appears that he always carried some poisoned tablets in his pocket in case of accidents. Before they handcuffed him--they are a bit slower here than in Paris or London--he swallowed one of them, and died as they took him downstairs. Poor old man! He was a terrible fanatic, but he was more honest than most of them. I don't suppose there will be much mourning in Fitzjohn's Avenue. I expect his family will be glad to have got rid of him."

He kissed her very tenderly, as he bade her good-bye.

"A new life, little woman, from to-day?"

"A new life from to-day," she repeated softly, "as long as I am sure that you really care."

"I do care," replied Moreno, speaking with unusual fervour for a man of his cautious temperament.

Of the London section of the brotherhood little remains to be told.

Shortly afterwards Lucue was stabbed to death in a violent quarrel with a brother anarchist. Jaques and Maceda, alarmed at the fate of their Spanish colleagues, took but a perfunctory part in further propaganda.

In twelve months' time the London section had ceased to exist as an active force.

On a mellow October day, a few months after those thrilling events in Madrid, Isobel was married in the quiet little church on her uncle's estates. It was in this church that her father had been christened.

Her bridesmaids were Lady Mary and two cousins. Her uncle, the head of the family, gave her away.

For the Head of the Family and his wife had behaved quite properly on the occasion. They had insisted that she should be married from their house, that she should have the whole-hearted support of her kindred.

Such an arrangement suited her very well. Her bereavement had been so recent that the idea of a fas.h.i.+onable wedding would have been repugnant to her. Here in this quiet little church, where generations of Clandons had been christened, many of them married, she gave herself to the man of her choice.

With the advent of his great-aunt's considerable fortune, Guy's brief fit of ambition died out. And it must be admitted that, although he had stuck gallantly to his post, and refused to show the white feather, his experience of diplomatic life had been more exciting than pleasant. So he severed his connection with the Foreign Office, having made up his mind to lead the easy and agreeable life of a man of wealth and position.

They were to spend their honeymoon in Italy. On their return, they would renovate Aunt Henrietta's charming country residence in Hamps.h.i.+re and take a house in London, where they intended to spend a good deal of their time.

For Guy was very proud of his beautiful Isobel, and he could see a time when she would become a very charming and popular hostess.

The young couple drove away amidst the cordial greetings of the small company a.s.sembled. Only a few intimate connections of the two families were present.

Moreno had been invited, but he had excused himself on some plausible pretext. He had no desire to thrust himself into an aristocratic _milieu_, to which he was unaccustomed. He sent the bride a very handsome present, with a card on which was written: "From Andres Moreno, as a souvenir of thrilling times in Spain."

While Lord Saxham was saying good-bye to the Clandons, Maurice Farquhar conducted Lady Mary to the car which was to drive them back to Ticehurst Park, a distance of about fifty miles.

"You will not forget that you are due to us on the twenty-fifth," she reminded him as they shook hands.

"Is it likely? I have been looking forward to it ever since you sent me the invitation."

"I am looking forward to it, too," said Mary softly, and a rather becoming colour swept over her cheek, making her look quite attractive.

The Earl joined them and mounted the car. He waved his hand cheerfully as they drove off. "Not good-bye, but _au revoir_, Farquhar. See you on the twenty-fifth."

He watched the car drive out of sight, thinking of many things. He had loved Isobel with all the fervour of first love, but Isobel was gone from him. And Mary was very sweet and attractive, and took no pains to conceal that she took great pleasure in his society. Well--perhaps some day!

But even in his secret thought the young and ambitious barrister could hardly bring himself to believe that a girl of Mary's birth and long descent would give herself to a man who had only his brains to recommend him.

Still, this younger generation of the Rossetts had a strange democratic strain in them. Guy had chosen his bride from the small squirearchy.

It was openly rumoured in the clubs that, having come into a snug little income from great-aunt Henrietta, Lord Ticehurst had made up his mind to marry his chorus-girl, and defy his father.

Lady Mary had also been well provided for from the same kind source.

She might prove as democratic as the others.

And, while Farquhar was ruminating over all these things, Isobel and her husband had set out on the first stage of their journey to the enchanted land of wedded romance.

The End.