Then Margaret leaned forward in her seat, wide, staring eyes intent upon his face, a slow hand reaching out along the balustrade, and groping fingers found an electric bell.
"Are we deposed?" Her voice was low and tremulous with passion. "Will you usurp our crown when you have swept away our Government?"
But the man who was to be tamed heard nothing, because of his pity for this helpless woman cursed with the heavy burden of the Imperial crown—betrayed, abandoned, yet still of unbroken and unflinching courage.
He took from its clasp the rose which the Queen had given, the blood-red Order of the Rose for Englishmen who have served their country well.
"It is bruised," he said, humbly, "by my clumsiness."
"It still has thorns!" cried Margaret. "You have slandered our Ministers, and to-morrow you shall meet them face to face, to repeat this treason word for word at your own peril before the House of Commons. You have insulted your sovereign!" Her hand struck the bell thrice. "Gentlemen of the Guard!"
Presently two orderlies of the Guard drew up in her presence, saluting.
"Gentlemen," said her Majesty, "we have been insulted. Expel this man from the Palace!"
Margaret sat alone in her balcony trying to hate Mr. Brand. She had never been so angry in her life.
All men did her worship, hundreds of millions rendered to her their homage, whole continents obeyed her, and in her name the masters of the world commanded. Her Imperial Majesty had never been disobeyed, and here was a man who dared——