“With her there couldn’t have been; it was as impossible as it proved in the end for her to marry Waldo. For her it was a virtue in me that I knew it.”
“She wasn’t married to Arsenio Valdez when she ran away from Waldo?”
“In her own eyes she was, and when he called her—called her back—well, she had to go.”
“Ah, I’ve sometimes fancied that there might have been some untold history like that.”
“She now wishes that you and Waldo—just you two—should know that there was. Will you tell him, sir? I’d rather not. She thinks it may make you and him feel more gently to her; she’s proud herself, you know, and was sorry to wound others in their pride.”
“It’s generous of her. I’ll tell him—what I must; and you need tell me no more than you have. I shouldn’t wonder if the idea isn’t quite new to him either. There are—quarters—from which something of the sort may have been suggested, eh, Julius?”
“I know nothing as to that, but, as you say, it’s very possible. You’ll have gathered how the feelings of these two ladies towards one another runs through the whole business. And we’re not finished with them yet. Before Waldo sets his hand to that agreement, he must know that the arrangement which is to bring me to Cragsfoot will bring Lucinda there too.”
“Yes, as its mistress; even in my lifetime, if she so pleases; after me, in any case.” He looked across to me, smiling. “And the moment so difficult—the more difficult because it’s otherwise so triumphant! The Heir-Apparent is born—a month ago—I wrote you about it. The dynasty is assured; Her Majesty is at her grandest and—I will add—her most gracious. I saw her about again for the first time the day before yesterday, and she said to me, ‘Now I’m really content, Sir Paget!’—implying, as it seemed to me, that the subject world ought to be content also. All the Court was there—the Heir itself, our dear old Prince Consort, the Grand Vizier—forgive me mixing East and West, but that seems to be the sort of position which she assigns to young Godfrey Frost; an exalted but precarious position, with a throne on one hand, and a bowstring on the other! Oh, yes, and there was a Lady-in-Waiting into the bargain, a pretty girl called Eunice Something-or-other.”
“Oh, yes, she was at Villa San Carlo—Eunice Unthank,” said I, smiling. Nina—pertinacious as a limpet!