“To leave me, when I have been waiting years for you? I knew you would come back, Cyril, but I was often sick with longing. Go, Anna; you do not understand. If Count Mortimer were to forsake me again to-morrow, I would welcome him now.”
“Oh, my dearest, I have not deserved this!” broke from Cyril. “That day—that day—when you knelt to me, and I would not listen——”
“Don’t, don’t!” murmured the Queen painfully. “I can’t bear to remember it. Oh, Cyril, you would not even send me a kind word! You did not know how I loved you, or you could not have been so cruel.”
“I didn’t even know how I loved you, Ernestine. I thought it was all over, but I have never had a happy moment since.”
“I am so glad!” she replied, with a radiant smile. “That is selfish of me, isn’t it? but I was always jealous of your policy, you know. Cyril, my beloved, if you knew how I have prayed for this day! I used to wish that I might die, because I thought you would come to me if I was dying. But now—oh, I am too happy! No, you are not to kiss my hands. Come and sit here, and tell me what you have been doing all these years.”
A despairing groan at his side made Mansfield start, as he stood in the shadowy hall, out of earshot of the garden. Turning quickly, he saw Cyril leading the Queen to a seat, and found that Princess Anna, in the shadows beside him, was also a witness of the reconciliation. The sight seemed to destroy her self-command altogether, for she fell upon him as the nearest victim, and stormed at him in Thracian for some minutes. Then, either because her anger had exhausted itself, or because she was mollified by his enforced meekness under her attack, she burst into tears, and was led away, sobbing bitterly, by Baroness von Hilfenstein, who appeared opportunely from out of the gloom.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE PENALTY OF GREATNESS.
“Well, gentlemen!” said Mr Hicks, as Cyril, holding tightly to Mansfield’s arm, stumbled painfully into the cave about sunset, “I’m glad to see you, any way, for I had a notion that the gateway lady might have fixed you both up with safer quarters than these, but I guess the distinguished patient is about played-out?”
“Never felt better in my life!” returned Cyril, collapsing on his bed. “Don’t plague me to-night, Hicks. I shall be as fit as possible after a good rest.”
“No, sir. I think I see myself allowing you to die of starvation. Joy may seem to answer every demand of a man’s nature, but it don’t serve him instead of his regular meals. Come, you don’t incline to give her Majesty the trouble of coming all this way down to see you again right now, do you?”