“Myself, of course. It is what I have thought myself. There is Count Samoval. He promised that if ever any such thing happened he would help me. And he assured me I could count upon him. I think it may have been his offer that made me fanciful.”
“I should go to Sir Terence before I went to Count Samoval. By which I mean that I should not go to Count Samoval at all under any circumstances. I do not trust him.”
“You said so once before, dear,” said Lady O’Moy.
“And you assured me that I spoke out of the fullness of my ignorance and inexperience.”
“Ah, forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. No doubt you were right. But remember that instinct is most alive in the ignorant and inexperienced, and that instinct is often a surer guide than reason. Yet if you want reason, I can supply that too. Count Samoval is the intimate friend of the Marquis of Minas, who remains a member of the Government, and who next to the Principal Souza was, and no doubt is, the most bitter opponent of the British policy in Portugal. Yet Count Samoval, one of the largest landowners in the north, and the nobleman who has perhaps suffered most severely from that policy, represents himself as its most vigorous supporter.”
Lady O’Moy listened in growing amazement. Also she was a little shocked. It seemed to her almost indecent that a young girl should know so much about politics—so much of which she herself, a married woman, and the wife of the adjutant-general, was completely in ignorance.
“Save us, child!” she ejaculated. “You are so extraordinarily informed.”
“I have talked to Captain Tremayne,” said Sylvia. “He has explained all this.”
“Extraordinary conversation for a young man to hold with a young girl,” pronounced her ladyship. “Terence never talked of such things to me.”