He led her to the carriage, out into the night wind again.
“Obey orders,” he said, softly. “It’s so magnificently simple—like Balaclava. Says the private: The general may be wrong, but I, if I obey, must be right. And our General cannot be wrong.” He leaned over the door of the brougham in closing it. “Be of good courage,” he whispered. “I have overcome the world.”
She caught at his hand and kissed it in the presence of her sleepily staring footman. Then she sank back among the cushions as the brougham rolled away.
“Divine interference,” she murmured—“Divine interference. Oh, my God! my God!”
The Dominé stood watching her away into the darkness.
“Ursula and Gerard!” he reflected. “Had Gerard but acted differently! How I wish it could have been! For to human perceptions the estate seems rightfully his. I trust I have entirely forgiven Otto the wrong he did my child!”
He had done so, fully; but a doubt of the fulness was one of his most constant troubles.