“I wish Carlino was at home!” she said at last. “I cannot tell what to say by myself. Ah, yes; I will send him the letter, and he shall tell me how I ought to answer it. How glad he will be to hear that what I have been longing and praying for ever since we were married has come to pass at last! We will take the children with us and go to Tatarjé, and papa’s heart will be softened. Perhaps he will be able to come back to England after all, and spend his old age here. If he is really changed, he might wish to do it, and some of Carlino’s friends in the Government would surely be able to make it safe for him. Oh, how delightful it would be to know that he was quiet and had given up plotting! I am certain Carlino feels it a trial to be connected with a Scythian secret service agent, though he never allows it to appear; and it will be a comfort to him to have him close at hand and to be able to keep an eye on him.”
It did not occur to Nadia, as she sat down at her writing-table to begin her letter to her husband, that the O’Malachy was scarcely likely to be either a very desirable or a particularly contented inhabitant of the Castle unless his character had altered very materially of late years; but Caerleon frowned a good deal over the proposal when it reached him the next morning. He had not bargained for receiving his father-in-law as an inmate of his family, and it seemed to him that it would make for the happiness of all concerned if the gallant officer should elect to end his days at some Continental health-resort. The annoyances which his presence at Llandiarmid was bound to entail would press most heavily on Nadia herself, and therefore she would be inclined to underrate them in prospect; but Caerleon had no intention of allowing his wife to be victimised by her father if he could possibly induce her to see that the sacrifice was not demanded of her. He had slight opportunity, however, of laying his views before her, for even before the time at which he was revolving in his mind the sentences which should produce the impression he desired without appearing to throw cold water on her schemes for her father’s reformation, Nadia had taken a sudden and most important step on her own account.
In the afternoon of the day on which Lady Caerleon had received her father’s letter, and forwarded it to her husband, Wright the coachman, returning from executing various commissions for his mistress in Aberkerran, brought out also a telegram addressed to her, which had been intrusted to him at the post-office, with the view of saving the trouble and expense of a special messenger. He lingered at the door while she opened the envelope, expecting to hear that Lord Caerleon was returning earlier than had been anticipated, or that he had been suddenly called to London; but to his great alarm she turned pale when the message met her eyes, and a startled cry broke from her—
“My father is dangerously ill, Wright, and entreats me to come and see him with the children before he dies. The telegram is from the doctor, who warns me not to lose a moment. We must leave by to-night’s train—the one Lord Cyril took when he was called away.”
“You and the children, my lady? and all in such a ’urry?” said Wright, in bewilderment. “’Ow ever will you get ready?”
“We must manage. I should never forgive myself if we were too late. I must telegraph to the Marquis to meet us in London. He is not so far from town as we are, and will be able to do it well.”
“But you wouldn’t go for to travel alone to town with the children, my lady?”
“Of course I shall take nurse. I think I will take you as well, Wright. You know something about travelling, and if anything should prevent the Marquis from meeting us, you would be most useful.”
“Yes, my lady; but what am I to say to my wife?”
“Tell her that I take you because you were with Lord Caerleon in Eastern Europe before, of course. Have the waggonette ready at six, and bring Stodart to take charge of the horses and drive them home.”