“Don José? But he was not married. Oh, I remember there was some talk of a morganatic marriage. But that is not to the purpose.”
“Excuse me, but I guess it’s very much to the purpose.”
“Allow me to say that you do not know how these things are regarded—how I regard them, necessarily.”
“But suppose the marriage was recognised? Wait, I’ll tell you about it,” and she ran through the circumstances hastily. “If the marriage was good enough for the Arragon family to accept Félicia as one of themselves, I guess it would be good enough for you?”
“Undoubtedly; but I do not see the faintest likelihood that the House of Albret would recognise the marriage.”
“That’s where your help would be wanted. I’d like you to lay the whole thing before Lord Cyril to-day, and have him operate it.”
But the King started back, aghast. “My dear Miss Logan, do you not see that it would be fatal—suicidal—for me to appear in the matter? Count Mortimer has his nephew’s interests to consider.”
“That is so; we mustn’t go ahead too fast,” said Maimie. “Then you incline to think Félicia and I may fight all of the battle for ourselves?”
“Quite so. There can be no objection to your consulting Count Mortimer, purely on her behalf, you know; and if by any chance your efforts should be crowned with success, why—you have given me hope—I am happy again!”
“Oh no, you aren’t—not yet. We shall want your help any way. I know well enough there’s no hope of having Félicia’s family recognise her unless some one puts pressure on them. Are you ready to intimate at the critical moment that you are real keen on marrying her, if they can fix things right?”