“And I wish I had myself been one of the heroes carrying the Standard I had won,” added Annabel.
The Duke smiled at the pretty volunteers, and continued, “It was a very interesting sight. Three royal Dukes, many Generals and foreign Ambassadors, and the finest troops in London were present. We had some good music, and a short religious service, and then the Archbishop deposited the flags on each side of the Altar.”
“I like these military ceremonies,” said the Duchess. “I shall not forget the Proclamation of Peace after Waterloo. What a procession of mediæval splendour it was!”
“I remember it, though I was only a little boy,” said Exham. “The Proclamation was read three times,–at Temple Bar, at Charing Cross, and at The Royal Exchange. The blast of trumpets before and after each reading!–I can hear it yet!”
“And the Thanksgiving at St. Paul’s after the procession was just as impressive,” continued the Duchess. “The Prince Regent and the Duke of Wellington walked together, and Wellington carried the Sword of State. It was a gorgeous festival set to trumpets and drums, and the roll of organ music, and the seraphic singing of ‘Lo! the conquering hero comes.’ The Duke could have asked England for anything he desired that day.”
“Yet he is very unpopular now,” said Kate, timidly. “Even my father thinks he carries everything with too high a hand.”
“His military training must be considered, Miss Atheling,” said the Duke. “And the country needs a tight rein now.”
“He may hold it too tight,” said Exham, in a low voice.
Then the conversation was turned to the theatres, and while they were talking, Squire Atheling was introduced. He had called to escort his daughter home; and after a short delay, Kate was ready to accompany him. The Duke and the Squire–who were deep in some item of political news–went to the entrance hall together; and Lord Exham took Kate’s hand, and led her down the great stairway. It was now lighted with a profusion of wax candles in silver candelabra. They were too happy to speak, and there was no need of speech. Like two notes of music made for each other, though dissimilar, they were one; and the melody in the heart of Piers was the melody in the heart of Kate. The unison was perfect; why then should it be explained? Very slowly they came down the low broad steps, hardly feeling their feet upon them; for spirit mingled with spirit, and gave them the sense of ethereal motion.
When they reached the vestibule, Kate’s maid advanced and threw round her a wrap of pink silk, trimmed with minever; and as Piers watched the shrouding of her rose-like face in the pretty hood, a sudden depression came like a cloud over him. Oh, yes! True love has these moments of deep gloom, in which intense feeling suspends both movement and speech. He could only look into the warm, secret foldings of silk and fur which hid Kate’s beauty; he had not even the common words of courtesy at his command; but Kate divined the much warmer “good-night” that was masked by the formal bow and uncovered head.