“Mrs. Graham—my old friend, Mrs. Graham! Is this possible?”
“Oh, Caroline, it is Mr. Templeton!” said she; while her daughter, drawing her veil still closer over her face, trembled dreadfully. Meanwhile Mrs. Graham had seized my hand with cordial warmth, and pressed it in all the earnestness of friendship. Her joy—and it was very evident it was such—was little participated in by her son-in-law elect, who stood, pale and conscience-stricken, in a distant part of the room.
“I must entreat these gentlemen’s permission to speak a few words here alone, as these ladies are very old friends I have not seen for some years.”
“I would humbly suggest to your Excellency that, as the ceremony still waits——”
“I wish it, Marquis,” said Mrs. Graham, in a tone half-command, half-entreaty; and, with a deep bow of submission, Salvatori and his friend withdrew, accompanied by the chaplain.
“The title by which you have just addressed that person, Mrs. Graham,” said I, in a voice trembling from agitation, “shews me how you have been duped and deceived by him, and in what total ignorance you are as to his real character.”
“Oh, Mr. Templeton!” broke in her daughter, now speaking for the first time, and in accents I shall never forget, such was their heart-thrilling earnestness,—“Oh, sir, this does indeed exceed the license of even old friendship! We are well aware how the Marquis of Salvatori has suffered from persecution; but we little expected to have found you among the number of his enemies.”
“You do me great wrong, Miss Graham,” said I, eagerly; “in nothing greater than supposing me capable of being the enemy of such a man as this. Unworthy as the sentiment is, it at least implies a sense of equality. Now, are you certain of what this person is? are you aware in what capacity he has been employed by our government, and by that of other countries?”
“We know that the Marquis has been engaged in secret missions,” said Miss Graham, proudly.
“Your reply, brief as it is, conveys two errors, Miss Graham. He is not a Marquis; little as the title often implies in Italy, he has no right to it. He asked Lord William Bentinck to let him call himself Marquis, and so to address him, as a means of frequenting circles where important information was accessible. Lord William said, ‘Call yourself what you please—Grand Duke, if you like it—I am no dispenser of such designations.’ The gentleman was modest;—he stopped at Marquis. As to his diplomatic functions, we have a short and expressive word for them;—he was and is, a Spy!”