"Have you Don Carlos?" spoke Geraldine, much astonished. "I did think that he was stolen from Sir Grey."
"And so think I; but I have had no hand in that business, save that I did hear something of the matter, and fearing foul play I resolved to become master of the gallant beast. Grey had disappeared, I knew not where. My evil anger had burned itself out, and I loathed myself for what I had done in the past. I thought that I might perchance make some reparation by purchasing the good horse he loved, since I heard it was to be sold, that I might keep it awhile, and restore it to its owner if kind fortune gave me the chance. It seemed to me all the amends I might ever make to the steed and his rider for the mischief I sought once to do to both. So, my friend, the horse is yours whensoever you like to lay claim to him. I restore him the more readily in that none of my people can ride him. He brooks not long a strange rider on his back. He has condescended to carry me for a brief while, but he goes unwillingly; he frets after his old master. He would win no races for a new one. So tell me only where and when to deliver him, and you shall have him so soon as you desire. I trow the old miser of Hartsbourne, who, I hear, is now dead, filched him from you by subtlety, for you would never sell your friend."
Grey, ashamed of the thoughts he had harboured against Lord Sandford in this matter, told the whole tale of the creature's disappearance; but he added, with a smile,—
"I suspect that whatever price you paid for him is lying in one of the coffers now discovered in the old house, and I will gladly buy him back."
"Nay, nay; that must not be. It is my wedding-gift to you or to your gentle lady here; and all I ask is, that upon some future day you will suffer me to visit you in your wedded home at Hartsbourne, and see Don Carlos and his master united once more."
CHAPTER XX.
MERRY AS A MARRIAGE BELL.
The brilliant light of a sunny June morning was illumining the private chapel, where a marriage was being solemnized in presence of the Queen, and of certain favoured persons connected with the Court, of whom the Duchess of Marlborough was one.
The Duke himself was in Holland, whither he had gone so soon as the army was able to leave its winter quarters. The year of victory, from which he had returned a few months before, was destined to be followed by a year of disaster to the Allies, and already the brow of the Duchess seemed somewhat clouded by care. She had her own troubles, too, at Court. The Queen's favour was distinctly waning, and the imperious temper of the Duchess knew not how to put up with what seemed to her coldness or slights. She felt the influence of Harley, and of her kinswoman and his, Mrs. Masham, gaining ground daily; and the presage of coming trouble seemed to be hanging over her now. Yet she bore herself bravely, and to-day her face was wreathed in smiles; for Sir Grey Dumaresq was her particular favourite, and had been her guest for a great part of the year, whenever he was in town; and the Queen's interest in the young man and his career and success was one of the strongest links which still bound them together.
And to-day Grey Dumaresq was to wed the Lady Geraldine, and the Queen had decreed that the ceremony should take place at an early hour in her own private chapel in Kensington Palace, that she might witness the nuptials herself; for she had been greatly pleased by the beauty and modesty and gentleness of Geraldine, who had been presented to her by the Duchess, and she desired to show her approval of the young baronet's choice by her own presence at his espousals.