“I suppose, Mr. Lauriston,” he began, after waiting for both his visitors to seat themselves, “that you are anxious for your marriage to take place without delay.”
“Yes, yes, he is, we are,” answered Nouna for him readily, tapping on the floor with her little feet.
“Certainly,” said George, with much more deliberation. “But—” Nouna turned sharply round and looked at him with aggrieved astonishment. “But there is one passage in the letter from the Countess which you forwarded to me this morning that I should like to point out to you before we go on to other things, as it seems to argue that there has been some misunderstanding on her part which I can’t account for.”
George got up, and bending down beside Mr. Angelo’s writing-table, pointed out the passages in the Countess’s letter which referred to “position” and “presentation at Court.”
“You see, sir, that Madame di Valdestillas seems to think my pecuniary position is much better than it is, or than it is likely to be,” he said. “And yet you know how plainly I have stated it.”
“But I don’t want to be presented at Court,” chimed in Nouna, who had hopped off her chair to read over Mr. Angelo’s shoulder the passages referred to, and who was evidently in great anxiety lest the much-coveted prize, a real live husband, should slip through her fingers. “One of my school-fellows had a sister who was presented, and she had her dress torn and caught a cold. I would much rather wear my nice dresses at home, where one can keep warm and not have them spoilt. Tell mamma, Mr. Angelo, please, that I don’t want to go to Court.”
The lawyer gave a pale but indulgent little smile.
“I think, Mr. Lauriston, that this little matter will prove no serious obstacle. The wife of an officer with a career before him, such as I am sure you have, will certainly be presented in due course; and if when that time comes, this young lady should wish to indulge in any special extravagance for the occasion, I feel sure the Countess would help her daughter to make a becomingly splendid appearance.”
George listened in perplexity, while Nouna swept across the room, curtseyed low to the iron safe in the corner, and kissed an imaginary royal hand with graceful and fervent loyalty. Then, attracted by the sight of a couple of birds perched on a housetop, she stood on tiptoe to look out of the window, and for a moment left the gentlemen a chance to converse without her assistance.
“You will, I suppose, be married by licence, as that admits of the least delay. By taking out a licence at the Vicar-General’s office to-day, you can be married at your own church on Monday.”