"What about me?" Theodore by this time was ghastly pale.
"Oh, you can go to the devil!" said his uncle carelessly. "You insulted Miss Carrol, so I pay you out. The will cutting you off is here," he patted his pocket.
Before Theodore could express the rage which consumed him, there came the sound of advancing feet and the laughter of happy people. The door was suddenly thrown open by Basil, and Patricia entered, followed by the bridegroom and the bride, arm-in-arm English fashion.
"Allow me," said Patricia gaily, and in a ringing voice, "to present to you, Mr. Colpster, the Count and Countess Akira."
[CHAPTER XIX]
THE TRUTH
With the early darkness of February came a spectacle to delight and astonish the home-staying folk of Beckleigh. Suddenly at eight o'clock, when the entire household were gathered on the beach for transport in the launch to the yacht, The Miko became outlined in coloured fire. Radiant and weird against the gloom in red and blue and yellow and green, she flashed into being like a spectral Flying Dutchman. Never before had such a sight been seen in that quiet Devonshire bay, and loudly sounded the amazed voices of the servants, praising the gorgeous illumination. It was like magic to them, and several were heard to express a hope that the devil was not on board the ship of light. However, the Japanese officer in charge of the launch which puffed up spoke sufficient English to reassure them, and they all embarked for an evening's revelry.
The bride and bridegroom, with the two who had witnessed the marriage, had long since gone on board. Mara did not intend to set foot on English soil again, and had taken a final leave of her father. Colpster had not been unkind, although his farewell had been rather cold. But then the newly-made Countess Akira was cold herself and rarely demonstrative, so she did not mind in the least. In fact, Patricia, being a warmhearted Irish girl, reproved her for the coolness with which she took leave both of her parent and of her childhood's home.
"Oh, nonsense!" said Mara with her usual cry. "I wish you'd leave me alone, Patricia. I can't make a fuss when I don't feel the least sorry to go away."
"But surely, Mara, you are sad. You leave your home, your father, your native land, for ever it may be."