“What think you, Madam, of the heroine of this strange love-story?” he asked with a touch of bitterness in his voice. “Does it not strike you that even in this arid world of much deception, there may be after all such a thing as innocence?—such a treasure as true and trusting love? Were not the eyes of this girl Gloria, when lifted to your face, something like the eyes of a child who has just said its prayers to God,—who fears nothing and loves all? Yet I doubt whether you were moved!”
“Were you?” she asked indifferently, yet with a strange fluttering at her heart, which she could not herself comprehend.
“I was!” he answered. “I confess it! I was profoundly touched to see a girl of such beauty and innocence confront us here, with no other shield against our formal and ridiculous conventionalities, save the pure strength of her own love for Humphry, and her complete trust in him. It is easy to see that her life hangs on his will; it is not so much her with whom we have to deal, as with him. What he says, she will evidently obey. If he tells her he has ceased to love her, she will die quite uncomplainingly; but so long as he does love her, she will live, and expand in beauty and intelligence on that love alone; and you may be assured, Madam, that in that case, he will never wed another woman! Nor could I possibly blame him, for he is bound to find all—or most women inferior to her!”
She regarded him wonderingly.
“Your admiration of her is keen, Sir!” she said, amazed to find herself somewhat irritated. “Perhaps if she were not morganatically your daughter-in-law, you might be your son’s rival?”
He turned upon her indignantly.
“Madam, the days were, when you, as my wife, had it in your power to admit no rivals to the kingdom of your own beauty! Since then, I confess, you have had many! But they have been worthless rivals all,—crazed with their own vanity and greed, and empty of truth and honour. A month or two before I came to the Throne, I was beginning to think that women were viler than vermin,—I had grown utterly weary of their beauty,—weary—ay, sick to death of their alluring eyes, sensual lips, and too freely-offered caresses; the uncomely, hard-worked woman, earning bread for her half-starved children, seemed the only kind of feminine creature for which I could have any respect—but now—I am learning that there are good women who are fair to see,—women who have hearts to love and suffer, and who are true—ay—true as the sun in heaven to the one man they worship!”
“A man who is generally quite unworthy of them!” said the Queen with a chill laugh; “Your eloquence, Sir, is very touching, and no doubt leads further than I care to penetrate! The girl Gloria is certainly beautiful, and no doubt very innocent and true at present,—but when Humphry tires of her, as he surely will, for all men quickly tire of those that love them best,—she will no doubt sink into the ordinary ways of obtaining consolation. I know little concerning these amazingly good women you speak of; and nothing concerning good men! But I quite agree with you that many women are to be admired for their hard work. You see when once they do begin to work, men generally keep them at it!” She gathered up her rich train on one arm, and prepared to leave the apartment. “If you think,” she continued, “as you now say, that Humphry will never change his present sentiments, and never marry any other woman, the girl’s oath is a mere farce and of no avail!”
“On the contrary, it is of much avail,” said the King, “for she has sworn before us both never to claim any right to share in Humphry’s position, till the nation itself asks her to do so. Now as the nation will never know of the marriage at all, the ‘call’ will not be forthcoming.”
The Queen paused in the act of turning away.