After the departure of the Athelings, father and son walked silently up the stairs together; but at the top of them, the Duke paused and said, “Piers, the King opens Parliament on the Second of November. We have only three days’ truce. Then for the fight.”
“We have foemen worthy of our steel. Grey–Durham–Brougham–Russel and Graham. They will not easily be put down.”
“We shall win.”
“Perhaps. The House of Lords is very near of one mind. Will you come to my smoking-room and have a pipe of Turkish?”
“I must see the ladies again; afterwards I may do so.”
With these words they parted, and Piers went dreamily along the state corridor. In its dim, soft light, he suddenly saw Miss Vyner approaching him. He was thinking of Kate; but he had no wish to escape Annabel. He was even interested in watching her splendid figure in motion. Only from some Indian loom had come that marvellous tissue of vivid scarlet with its embroidery of golden butterflies. It made her look like some superb flower. She smiled as she reached Piers, and said,–
“I only am left to wish you a ‘good-night and happy dreams.’The Ladies Warwick were sleepy, the Duchess longing to be rid of such a lot of tiresome girls, and I–”
“What of ‘I’?” he asked with a sudden, unaccountable interest.
“I am going to the Land where I always go in sleep. I shut my eyes, and I am there.”
“Then, ‘Good-night.’”