She could not sleep. She wept, and lay thinking of all that had been, and of that letter. It was broad daylight still when she got up. She thought the whole thing over again, and having come to the conclusion once more that she had done right, that she would not recall that letter if she could, and that her only chance of keeping her resolution was not to see him any more, she made up her mind to go away from home, and leave no trace of whither she had gone behind her. Then she opened her writing-case once more, wrote a few lines to her aunt, and went out.
CHAPTER V.
[THE GLORIOUS PRIVILEGE.]
When the Duke of Shropshire left Miss Traynor's house in Tenby Terrace, Knightsbridge, he had the remainder of the afternoon at his disposal. None of the men he had invited would be at his place until nine o'clock. He had no plan for getting rid of the intervening time. When he set out for Tenby Terrace, he had intended staying longer with Marion, but in the mood he then found her, he considered it better not to remain long. He thought the great suddenness of the change had overcome her, and that a few hours to herself would be the best thing for her.
With regard to himself, he could not fully realise the difference recent events had made in his fate. He was now almost as well as he had been when he set out from London to Silverview. He had been detained in the country a few days beyond those necessary for the safety of his health; and his fine constitution, aided by the good air and the marvellous alteration in his fortune, had done wonders towards restoring him to his old fine physical condition.
Macklin and Dowell had promised that he should have little or no trouble in establishing his claim, and they backed their promise by placing their banking account, specially increased for the purpose, at his service. Each member of the firm had been down with him at Silverview, and the only trouble from which each seemed to suffer was the mere fear that he might in some way be inconvenienced.
The lawyers and all the servants at the Castle had been calling him "your grace" for many days; and although the title bestowed upon him by his old companions had protected him from shock in finding himself so addressed, he felt very uncomfortable and ill at ease. He had, while at Silverview, left strict word that he could see no one except those with whom he had made an appointment by letter. But although no unauthorised person was allowed past the lodges, the greatness of his position was continually thrust upon him as soon as he was able to move about, by the bowing servants in the house and the uncovered workmen out of doors.
Although the gates of the demesne were carefully guarded, the castle-fortress was not impregnable. Through the post the new Duke was assailed day and night. After the newspapers had announced his succession to the property and title, he was inundated with letters from people and societies he had hitherto not heard of. The first intimation he received that the outer world knew anything of his altered circumstances, was from a circular about a voice lozenge, without which, it would appear, no public speakers could, with any chance of success, address an audience. Every member of the Houses of Lords and Commons was ready to bear enthusiastic testimony to the efficacy of these lozenges. The word "Lords" was underlined, and the circular was accompanied by two of the wonderful lozenges, and a manuscript request that his grace would give them an early trial.
"If I were a prima donna, getting a hundred a night for singing, they could not show a greater anxiety about my voice," said the Duke to Rowland.
"But you get ten times more for your silence than any prima donna ever got for her singing," said Rowland.