“Come to dinner to-morrow—eight o’clock. We shall be alone; and, for Heaven’s sake, say nothing.”
I said nothing, and I went to dinner, carrying the ruby ring in my breast-pocket. But I began to wonder whether the little princess was quite as childlike as she seemed.
Lady Daynesborough dined with us. She was a tall, slender girl; very handsome, and, to judge from her appearance, not wanting in resolution and character. She was obviously devoted to her husband, and he treated her with an affectionate deference that seemed to me almost overdone. It was like the manner of a man who is remorseful for having wounded someone he loves.
When she left us, he returned to the table, and, with a weary sigh, said:
“Now, Mr. Jason, I am ready.”
“My task is a very short one,” said I. “I have no message except to convey to you the princess’ best wishes for your happiness on your marriage, of which she has recently heard, and to give you the ring. Here it is.”
“Have women no mercy?” groaned he.
“I beg your pardon?” said I, rather startled.
“She waits seven years—seven years without a word or a sign—and then sends it! And why?”