Mollie's Prince: A Novel

by Rosa Nouchette Carey

Mollie's pretty bloom was returning to her cheeks, and on her left hand there was a splendid half-hoop of diamonds. She showed her ring to Althea, with a child's shy eagerness.

"It is far too beautiful," she said, proudly; "but he did not buy it for me—it belonged to that old relative who left him the property."

"Oh, indeed," returned Althea, with polite interest; but there was an amused gleam in her eyes. Of course the ring had belonged to old Lady Ralston, who had been a beauty and an heiress, and whose diamonds had been the envy of all the dowagers at the county ball. And then Moritz had come in and interrupted them. He was evidently taken aback at the sight of his cousin Althea; but her cordial welcome and her warm congratulations soon restored his equanimity, and he was soon chatting to her and Mollie in his old light-hearted fashion.

Mollie was to go down to Eastbourne the following week, and the two girls were to be chaperoned by Nurse Helena. Mollie was recovering her strength so fast that Nurse Helena's office was likely to be a sinecure. But when Althea pointed this out very gently to Moritz, he put his foot down very decidedly.

"Of course, Mollie was getting better," he said, with the air of an autocrat, and the sea-breezes would soon set her up. But how could his cousin Althea imagine that two girls could be alone at a place like Eastbourne? The very idea shocked him. As Mr. Ward could not leave town, except from Saturday to Monday, he had insisted that Nurse Helena should be put in charge. "I shall run down myself every few days," he finished, "and I suppose one has to study the proprieties." Then Althea very wisely held her peace.

Moritz went to the station to see them off. The girls were in high spirits, and Mollie, who knew that she would see him again before many days were over, could hardly summon up gravity enough to bid him good-bye. It was Moritz who looked melancholy; London was a howling wilderness to him without his darling. He had sent Noel back to keep house with his father, and he meant to go down to Brentwood Hall and seek consolation with Gwen and her boy. Gwen would give him all the sympathy he demanded; she was as romantic and unconventional as he was. Gwen dearly liked a lover; she would listen patiently to all his discourse on Mollie's perfections, and she would help him with the decorations, and the refurnishing of the rooms that were to be got ready for his young wife.

Moritz, who had been such a patient wooer, was now in hot haste to clinch his bargain.

Mollie, startled and protesting, had been carried away by his masterful eloquence, and had signed away her freedom. They were to be married in the middle of August, and to spend their honeymoon at his shooting box in the Highlands. The moorland air would be good for Mollie, he said, and they and the grouse would have it to themselves.

"I don't hold with rushing about from place to place, on one's wedding trip," he observed to Althea—for he had his theories on this subject also. "When Jack and Gwen were married, they went off to the Austrian Tyrol, and Heaven knows where besides. But I know a thing or two better than that. The Hut is a cosy little place, and there are some comfortable rooms in it. I will send down Murdoch—he is a Highlander and a handy fellow, too, and his wife is a capable woman—to make things ship-shape for a lady. We will have a few days in Edinburgh first, and show Mollie Holyrood and Arthur's Seat, and she shall feast her eyes on the shops in Princes Street"—for Moritz remembered, with lover-like accuracy, Mollie's girlish penchant for shop-windows. Moritz could be practical on occasion, and he somewhat astonished Althea, when he took her into his confidence, by his thoughtfulness for his young fiancée's comfort.

It was to his cousin Althea that Moritz entrusted the formidable but delightful task of ordering the trousseau. Gwen was too far from London to undertake such an onerous business; he had already talked the matter over with Mr. Ward, and had wrung from him a reluctant consent. Even Everard's pride and independence could not resist Moritz's urgent entreaties that a trousseau befitting Mollie's future rank should be provided at his expense. But before this could be done, Mollie must see her future home, and be made aware of her splendid position. And for this purpose it was arranged that, when the month at Eastbourne was over, she should pay a visit to the Red House; and then Moritz's long-deferred picnic to Brentwood should take place.