Devonshire looked grave and his eyes met Mackie’s significantly, but he took her hand.
“My child,” he said kindly, “you will go in my carriage to Lady Russell’s and then I will go to Kensington; we will not surrender until we are beaten. You are not wont to be faint hearted.”
“I am changed,” she replied; “the old Betty is quite dead, I think, my lord; now I am only the shadow of Clancarty; as he suffers so also do I. If I could but see him!”
“I have sent to the Tower,” said the duke reassuringly, “and I think I may get a letter for you. Would a word be any comfort?”
“Ah, my lord!” she exclaimed, and kissed his hand impulsively.
Once in the coach they travelled rapidly; the duke talking of other things, seeing well enough that her strength was overtaxed. He was still talking when the carriage turned from Little Queen Street and stopped in Bloomsbury Square. He led her by the hand into the presence of Rachel, Lady Russell, his kinswoman by marriage, and Lady Betty never forgot the benevolence of the great man’s face, the kindly pressure of his hand, the fatherly interest of his glance, as he walked beside her in the splendid dress he had assumed to go to court. Nor did she forget the sad, sweet dignity of the widow who rose to meet them and came forward with such reserve of manner until she saw Lady Betty’s face, then she held out both hands, tears glistening in her eyes; she scarcely courtesied to the duke.
“My child!” she exclaimed, “my poor child, I too have suffered so. Ah, my lord, when will the Traitor’s Gate close, save on a woman’s bleeding heart?” and she kissed the young countess on brow and cheek.
“My husband,” faltered Betty, “you know, dear madam, that he is a Jacobite?”
“I know it,” Lady Russell answered sadly; “but he is also a brave man and, as I know, the idol of one woman’s heart. Alas, my lord,” she added gravely to Devonshire, “do you love us well enough to make amends for the broken hearts—the faithful broken hearts?”
His Grace of Devonshire only bowed his head while the elder sufferer clasped the younger in her arms and caressed her, speaking kind and soothing words, like a mother to the daughter of her heart. A moment later, when she glanced an inquiry at him over Betty’s head, he shook his gravely, framing “no” with his lips, for he had no hope, or next to none. So he told young Mackie as they left the house together.