"I am not Queen of Ironia," she said quietly. "I have refused the crown."
There was a tense pause.
Fenton gazed at her a moment in wonderment. Then, as full realisation of what her statement meant flashed through his mind, he drew her hands to his lips with a gesture of passionate gratitude. The unexpected had happened, a miracle had come to pass. Olga would continue his wife!
"I gave my answer to the council an hour before your letter reached me," she said with quiet simplicity. "There was no question as to my course when I found that acceptance of the crown would have meant foregoing my vows to you. Fortunately my decision was rendered easy by the attitude of some of the members of the council, who felt that the strong hand of a man was needed at the helm at this time. Certain ones there are, high in rank in Ironia, who would not scruple to seize the throne themselves. My father's loyal adherents supported me strongly and urged that I should assert my right to the throne, but I gladly, oh so gladly, relinquished all claim. And so I am free—and your wife!"
Fenton had sunk to his knees before her.
"I can hardly understand yet," he said humbly. "You have given up a throne—for me."
"For love and duty," she replied. "I can be of more value to my country now than had I essayed to fill my father's place. With Danilo Vanilis at the head of a provisional government, Ironia will be sure of capable handling during the times of stress that are ahead. After the war—if personal ambitions can be kept in check—Ironia may become a republic."
"But—what can I do to compensate you for what you have given up," cried Fenton.
He read the answer in her eyes.
*****