“Stop a moment,” said the President. “I don’t exactly like to have this quiet house of mine made a hell of. I cannot have you part on these terms.”
But the lady had curtseyed, and was gone. For a minute or two nothing was said. Then a sort of scream was heard from upstairs.
“My Janet!” cried Lord Carse.
“I will go and see,” said the President. “Janet is my especial pet, you know.”
He immediately returned, smiling, and said, “There is nothing amiss with Janet. Come and see.”
Janet was on her mother’s lap, her arms thrown round her neck, while the mother’s tears streamed over them both. “Can you resist this?” the President asked of Lord Carse. “Can you keep them apart after this?”
“I can,” he replied. “I will not permit her the devilish pleasure she wants—of making my own children my enemies.”
He was going to take Janet by force: but the President interfered, and said authoritatively to Lady Carse that she had better go: her time was not yet come. She must wait; and his advice was to wait patiently and harmlessly.
It could not have been believed how instantaneously a woman in such emotion could recover herself.