“My dear chap, don’t worry about me,” broke in Earle, in English, with a grin. “I am quite capable of making the return journey alone, if that is what you are thinking about; indeed, to be candid, I have for some time been contemplating such a possibility, for I foresaw all this. Why, can’t you see what is the matter with the Queen? She has fallen in love with you—and you with her, though perhaps you scarcely realise it as yet—”
“By Jove! I do, though,” retorted Dick, “and if I thought there was the slightest chance of what you say being true, I’ll be hanged if I wouldn’t stay behind and—”
“Well, ask her, man; ask her, and see what she says,” returned Earle.
And Dick did ask her, there and then; and very simply, very sweetly, and very frankly, Myrra confessed that the idea of Dick ever leaving her was intolerable, and that if he would only consent to remain, she would gladly marry him, and defy all the nobles of Ulua to say her nay, if need be.
This understanding of course involved a considerable delay of Earle’s departure, for he at once announced his determination not to leave Ulua until he had seen all prospective difficulties removed, and Dick, as Myrra’s husband, securely seated upon the throne of Ulua.
And difficulties to overcome there certainly were, for to the more ambitious among the Uluan nobles the idea of the queen’s marriage to an alien was distasteful in the extreme, and a very determined effort was made to stir up a popular demonstration against it. But Lyga, the Keeper of Statutes, pronounced unreservedly in favour of it, and his influence was far-reaching. The populace generally also looked upon the project with undisguised favour, for Dick had contrived in a quiet way to become exceedingly popular by the frank warmth and geniality of his manner, no less than by his conspicuous gallantry upon the occasion of the fight on the night of the late king’s interment. Lastly, the nobles, finding that opposition would have no chance of success, reconciled themselves to the inevitable, each consoling himself with the reflection that although the queen had had the bad taste to reject him, she had at least had the good taste not to accept either of his rivals.
When, having come to an understanding with the queen, Dick and Earle withdrew from her Majesty’s presence, Cavendish scarcely knew whether he was standing on his head or his feet; for with a few impetuous words he had completely altered his entire outlook upon life, and changed his worldly prospects to an extent which he had never thought possible, even in his wildest dreams. No more of the sea life for him; he must bid a definite and final good-bye to that once cherished hope of one day commanding another such ship as the Everest; and—worst of all—there was now the possibility that he might never more set eyes upon his beloved sister, Grace. In the whirlwind of tumultuous feeling that had temporarily swept him off his feet, he had momentarily forgotten her, and, but for what Earle had once in a burst of confidence confided to him upon that subject, he would now have suffered several very severe qualms of conscience. But he knew Earle by this time, knew him thoroughly, not only as the soul of honour, but as the man to whom, above all others, he would and could most safely confide Grace’s happiness, and although the dear girl would doubtless shed a few tears for her lost brother, Dick felt he could trust Earle to quickly dry them.
Then again, as to the abandonment of his most cherished ambitions, Dick felt that he was but exchanging them for others of an even more important character. For he had not dwelt among the Uluans for so long without perceiving that, young and comparatively inexperienced though he was, his knowledge of the outer world fitted him to rule and govern the remarkable people among whom he had mingled, far better and more wisely than any of the ignorant, bigoted, and narrow-minded nobles whom he had met.
Something of all this he confided to Earle when at length the two found themselves once more in the seclusion of their own apartments. But Earle soon put the youngster upon better terms with himself; he stoutly maintained that, in acting as Dick had acted, he had done the right thing, not only for the queen, but for himself as well. He pointed out at length the immense power for good which Dick, as King of the Uluans, would wield, the many reforms which it would be possible for him to introduce, the many evils which he could abolish, and, with the instinct for business characteristic of the American, he rapidly sketched out the numerous advantages to the Uluans which must result from the opening of communication between them and the outer world—an easy matter to accomplish, with the vast wealth at their command. And, as to Grace, he pooh-poohed the idea that she and Dick were never again to meet; indeed, in his enthusiasm, he more than half promised that his and Grace’s honeymoon tour should include a visit to Ulua. And lastly, he touched, with the warmth and delicacy of a true friend and gentleman, upon the manifold perfections and virtues of the girl queen, and especially upon her frank and whole-hearted affection for Dick—to say nothing of his for her; so that, before their chat was over, every one of Dick’s doubts and fears was dissipated and he felt free to regard himself, as indeed he was, one of the most fortunate young men in the world.
“Come to think of it, you know, Dick,” remarked Earle, when at length they were able to get back naturally to more mundane matters, “this is the most lucky thing that could possibly have happened for both of us. For I have had that emerald mine of ours upon my mind for some time, and have felt a bit puzzled as to how it was to be worked to our mutual advantage. But with you as King of Ulua, the thing will be as simple as falling off a log. You will be on the spot, so to speak—for, after all, in actual mileage, the mine is really not very far from here—and it will be an easy matter for you to arrange with our friends, the Mangeromas, to work the mine and bring in the emeralds to you. Then, I have been studying my map, and according to it and our observations, I calculate that we are here only some four hundred miles from the town of Cerro de Pasco, in Peru, which appears to be connected by railway with Lima and Callao. I propose to return home by that route, roughly surveying the ground as I go, and I think it not improbable that I may discover a practicable road between the two places, by means of which you may be able to communicate with the outer world and perhaps establish a profitable trade with it. With your permission, I will take along half-a-dozen or so of good, reliable Uluans with me, sending them back to you with a detailed report of the results of my exploration as soon as I reach civilisation; then, if you think it worth while, you can get to work to make a proper road. But we can discuss all these little business matters more at length, later on. There will be plenty of time, now, before I go.”