Mrs. Brevoort laughed outright, and looked up at Ned Strong mockingly.
“Are you threatened with a day of doom, Mr. Strong?”
“Perhaps,” he answered mournfully. Then he exclaimed, with cheerfulness, “At all events, it is to be preceded by an evening of perfect bliss.” She drew a bit closer to him at the words, as if to emphasize their truth.
The carriage, rolling noisily toward the city, contained at that moment a condensed illustration of the curious vagaries that pertain to human affairs. Cupid was perched upon the box beside the driver, and chuckled mischievously to himself as he realized what was going on within the vehicle. Well he knew, the little rascal, that two of his victims looked into the future with hope and joy. The other arrows that he had used had made wounds for which time could promise no relief. But it is in such contrasts as these that Cupid finds the pleasure of his impish life. The humdrum contentment that would have made the quartette less romantic but more evenly blessed would have bored Cupid with the crowd. He would have placed a substitute upon the box, and have flown away, to continue his sport with deluded human hearts, where he could see his victims wince beneath his shafts.
“Tell me,” said Prince Carlo, “why you are so silent. Are you in great pain?” His voice had in it a caressing note as he whispered to Kate Strong and tried to look into her downcast face.
“I hardly know,” she answered wearily. “I feel very tired.”
What had been to the prince a shadowy temptation, painting day-dreams before his eyes, as he gazed that afternoon on the sun-kissed waters of the Sound, had taken to itself a concrete form. Here beside him was the one woman in all the world for whom he would willingly renounce all the glittering but unsubstantial glory of his kingship. He had said, on the impulse of the moment, that he would go back to the troubled land to which his duty called him; but his heart rebelled against his avowed purpose as he held Kate Strong’s cold hand for a moment in his as the carriage rumbled onward toward the beckoning lights of the great city. The girl withdrew her hand. He did not know how great an effort it had cost her to repress a sob.
Presently Kate looked up at him, her eyes bright with the emotion she controlled.
“In Rexopolis,” she said, “there is great disorder. The newspapers this morning printed long accounts of what they called a crisis at your capital.”
Prince Carlo was silent for a moment. His worst forebodings seemed about to be realized.