“And, indeed, we shall all be so sorry to lose you—shan’t we, Lenchen?” she turned suddenly to her daughter, who had sat silent hitherto, leaning back wearily in her place. It struck Usk that if her face had looked thin the other day, it was now actually pinched and drawn, and he wondered whether it could be merely the afternoon light filtering through the fresh foliage of the plane-trees which made her look so ghastly. Her lips seemed to be moving, but she roused herself with a start at her mother’s appeal, and Usk felt that there was strong entreaty in the eyes which met his through her veil as she answered—
“Yes, we shall all be very sorry.”
Usk felt vaguely uncomfortable. What could she want him to do? She had blushed violently when his intent gaze showed that he had read her look, and would not meet his eye again; but when the station was reached, and he bade her good-bye, he surprised that piteous glance once more. It haunted him for some time, until at last he thought he had found a clue to it.
“They’re worrying her to marry that brute Ivan Petrovitch, and she wanted to have another talk, and relieve her feelings,” he said to himself. “It’s awfully hard on her, poor little girl! but the Grand-Duchess is a good-natured old lady, and won’t let her be badgered into accepting him if she really dislikes him. What a world it is! One can’t marry the woman he wants, and another is tormented to marry a man she doesn’t want. The pater and mater won’t tease me to get married, but I know they’d be awfully pleased if I did—some nice good little girl with nothing baffling or exciting about her, whose mind I could read like a book. There are those two Jones girls, now, the mater would like one of them—be quite her right hand in pauperising the estate. But I don’t a bit know which of them is which, and yet they must be quite different, of course. It’ll have to depend upon which of them I come across first. No, I really think one might study them a little, even in making a sacrifice of oneself, just to see which was most suitable. But to have the Reverend Goronwy for a father-in-law! Why, he’d be always about the Castle. The mater wouldn’t like that. I think we must get him moved to a distance before doing anything serious. That’s a respite, anyhow. If the mater is very miserable about me, I can tell her I’m thinking of one of the Jones girls, and she’ll be pleased. But I never want to see a girl again. Hope the Trade will move heaven and earth against the Bill, so that we may have a rousing time. Only wish it was the Commons—I do bar the Lords.”
“Exit Viscount Usk!” said Maimie, and read aloud from the paper she was scanning: “‘Viscount Usk left Nice for England on Wednesday. During the present parliamentary session he will act as private secretary to his father, the Marquis of Caerleon, to whom, as a leading light of the Temperance party, it has fallen to pilot the Anti-Tied-Houses Bill through the House of Lords.’ That ends a chapter, Fay.”
“Well, I hope you’re right happy now. You’ve destroyed the one chance I had of being a good woman, and don’t you forget it.”
“I didn’t know you had aspirations that way; but I guess Lady Caerleon would receive you with open arms even now if you went back to her properly penitent.”
“Not I—but I wish I cared for Usk either more or less. If I didn’t care for him, I wouldn’t mind his going; and if I was really in love with him, I wouldn’t have had him go.”
“You don’t care for him,” said Maimie decisively. “If you did, a crown wouldn’t have tempted you. You just felt sort of safe with him, knowing that he would be kind and fair all the time, whatever you might do. And just tell me what would have happened if I hadn’t helped you get rid of him? When the Grand-Duke said he understood you were betrothed to the son of the Marquis of Caerleon, and that in view of such an honourable alliance the Emperor might be willing to acknowledge your father as morganatically married, and give you a patent of nobility—didn’t that show you where you stood? You were on the very point of losing everything. If we hadn’t been able to tell him that there had been some thought of such a thing once, but you had broken it off because Usk objected to your pressing the claim, you’d have been just simply left!”
“That’s so,” responded Félicia. “It’s as well to be through with it, any way. I love that old Grand-Duke—he’s a real nice man.” The liking was mutual, although Félicia had said things to the Grand-Duke which would have made Helene’s hair stand on end with horror if she had heard them. “But I can’t just see why he don’t have his wife and daughter call on us.”