“I have not made up my mind, madame. But I shall not forget to deliver your message. May I have the honour of escorting you home?”
She declined the offer with a gesture, and, descending into the road, walked slowly towards the house in the trees, while Usk turned his steps again towards Nice. This new information gave him the crowning test of which he had vaguely felt the need. After all, it was just possible that Félicia might even now care for him enough to decide in his favour rather than lose him altogether, and she should determine matters for herself. The hour of struggle on the hill-top had not been wasted, for he had made his decision. He would not be her slave any longer.
Félicia gave a little scream when he was suddenly announced at the Villa. She was in a small upstairs sitting-room, which was sacred to her and Maimie, and she was wearing a black gown with white ruffles, which gave her a most incongruously Puritan look. Usk’s lip curled in spite of himself as he saw that her hair was dressed to correspond with the gown, for it was evident that she was ready to receive the Grand-Duke. Maimie, no doubt, had suggested the pose, so well carried out, of the daughter only lately bereaved, turning wistfully for consolation to her dead father’s family. Usk himself knew too much to be anything but an intruder at this moment.
“I wasn’t just expecting you,” Félicia gasped.
“I won’t stay unless you wish it,” he returned. “If you will just tell me whether you intend to marry King Michael or me, I shall know whether to go or not.”
“But I can’t tell you right now,” objected Félicia, taken aback, “because—why——”
“Because you don’t know. You’ll marry Michael if you can get him, and if not, then you’ll put up with me. But I don’t care for being put up with, and if you mean to think of Michael still, I will go.”
“Well, then, you’re just horrid!” cried Félicia angrily. “I guess I’ve told you ’most a dozen times that I like you best, but if I’m a princess I must marry according to my rank.”
“Won’t do, Fay. If you stick to me I’ll stick to you, princess or no princess; but if not, I prefer to depart now rather than later.”
There were genuine tears in Félicia’s eyes. “You won’t understand, Usk,” she said, “and I don’t see but it must seem strange to you. I don’t pretend to be romantic—American girls aren’t generally that, I guess—but I like you, really. If they reject my claim after all, I’ll just settle down real happily with you, and you’ll forget all of this.”