Louis Raincy grew more and more exasperated. He could not stay, yet if he took himself off in any undignified manner, he felt acutely that they would certainly laugh at him. He wished that he could challenge that prince and all such insolent foreigners—yes, and kill them one by one like a second Julian Wemyss! This thought cheered him, and he had reached his fifth or sixth homicide when Patsy recalled him to himself.
"Miss Aline is in her parlour, Louis. Will you go through the conservatory and tell her that the Prince is here?"
"She wants to be rid of me," the mind of Louis Raincy went storming on to itself. "She is a hard-hearted, deceitful—"
But while he was thus inwardly detailing the character of Patsy to ease his anger, he was also by force of habit obeying her orders.
He found Miss Aline with a letter in her hand and a flush of excitement on her face, which the young man was too occupied with his own affairs to seek to trace to its cause.
"Why, Louis Raincy," cried the old lady, "is it officer's manners to come headfirst into a leddy's room like a bullock breaking dykes? I have seen you do better than that before ever you put on the king's coat."
"I beg your pardon, Miss Aline," said the boy penitently. "I did not know that the door would open so quickly or that you would be so near. I have a message—from Pat—from Miss Ferris—"
"Eh?" cried the old lady, cramming the letter into her pocket; "wha's Miss Ferris?—I dinna ken her—and I thought that you didna either!"
"Well then," said Louis, withdrawing into his sulks, "she bade me tell you that the Prince is with her and will be glad to see you!"
"Oh, he will, will he noo," quoth Miss Aline; "weel, there's a heap o' princes. I hae been meeting them rayther thick thae last twa-three months. And this yin can juist wait."