“I never doubted for one instant that you would, Miss Towerbridge, but Lord Somerville has his duties to his King and to Society; and it would be quite unnecessary to take a long voyage when I can vouch for his speedy recovery, and can promise that he shall take part in the procession.”
“My dear Sir Edward, I am so sorry to disappoint you again, but the royal procession will not include my unworthy person, nor shall I witness the royal pageant. It may be bad taste on my part, but I resign all my duties at Court from to-day. As to social duties—they only existed in our imaginations, and the sooner we emancipate ourselves from such bondage the better. Besides, my dear Sir Edward, who knows whether there will be a Coronation?”
“You are tired, dear friend”—the physician laid his hand on Lionel’s brow. “You have done far too much in one day, and need rest. But I will tell you just to put your mind at ease, that the date of the Coronation is fixed. I met the Lord Chamberlain an hour ago, and he informed me that we may look forward at an early date to our Sovereign’s public apotheosis.”
“Always the same incorrigible snobbery.” Lionel heaved a long sigh and lay back on his pillow. “My poor Sir Edward, England has missed the opportunity it ever had of learning a lesson; and we are ambling back to Canterbury on a Chaucerian cob.”
“Dear Miss Towerbridge”—Sir Edward came close to Gwen and spoke in a whisper—“I am afraid Lord Somerville is not yet out of the wood. I notice symptoms of the recurring fever. If by ten o’clock this evening the patient has not completely recovered his senses, call for me; for I fear the case will then be very grave, and one that will need the greatest care.”
“Do not worry about him, dear Sir Edward,” said Gwen, smiling her most bewitching smile. “Lord Somerville will never recover what you call his senses, and as soon as he can be taken away with safety we shall start for the Continent.”
“Good gracious! you do not realise what condition he is in! And what about your father? What about Society? You are very self-sacrificing, but you are reckless. Pray let me advise you, my dear young lady.”
“We shall start as soon as Lionel can be moved,” firmly answered Gwen.
“Yes, dear Sir Edward,” added Lionel, looking wistfully at the surgeon; “but we shall keep you posted up as to our whereabouts.”
“And we shall always sympathise with you in your tragic state of overclothing,” playfully said Gwen.