"It must be something about Katie," he thought. And the vision of Lord Bulchester rose before him clearly.
"Listen," said Elizabeth absorbed in her attempt to make him feel what she feared would seem incredible to him. "Stray shots have picked off many superfluous kings in the world—and men and the world not been the wiser. This is what some one said when the war was being talked of, said at your house, and said in speaking of you."
"Said it to you?" interposed Archdale with a quick breath.
"Oh, no, but about you, I am sure, sure, though it has taken me all this time to find it out. And,—oh, wait a moment,—the man who said it was your guest then, and he is here now, else we should not have come; he is here, perhaps he is close by you every day, and he,—he is meaning the shot for you." She waited a moment drawing a breath of relief that she had begun. "You know he is your enemy?" she went on with a longing to be spared explanations.
She was spared them.
"I do know it," said Archdale looking at her, and as she met his eyes a great relief swept over her. Her warning had been heard and believed, she was sure of that. She heard Archdale thanking her, and assuring her that he would give good heed to her warning. And she had not had to tell why Edmonson hated him, she had not even been obliged to utter the name that she was coming to hate. "Do you know?" she had asked wonderingly, and he had told it to her. Did he know the man so thoroughly, then? And were there other causes of hatred, possibly money causes, that had spared her?
She had told her listener more than she dreamed, far more than her words. She had stood before him in the noblest guise a human being can wear, that of a preserver from evil fate; she had looked at him out of holy depths in her clear eyes, she had turned upon him a face in which expression had marvellously brought out physical beauty. Also, in her unconsciousness that he knew the reason of his danger, she had looked at him with a wonder at his ready credulity before there had come her smile of relief that she need speak no more. He knew Edmonson's story, knew how this play at marriage between Elizabeth and himself had interfered with the other's plans, guessed the further truth, looked at her, and muttered under his breath:—"Poor fellow!" It was with his own eyes, and not another man's that Archdale saw Elizabeth. Yet, it was not in human nature that she should not seem the more interesting as she stood there, since he had learned his own life to be in danger because another man had found her so desirable, and so unapproachable. Watching Elizabeth, he acquitted Edmonson of mercenary motives, whatever they might once have been. His appreciation had no thought of appropriation in it. Katie was his love. But comprehension of Elizabeth made him glad that their mistake had saved her from Edmonson. And then again after a moment he muttered under his breath:—"Poor fellow!"
"You are very, very kind," he said to her.
"Don't think me rude," she answered with a smile. "But, you know we must have done this for any one. Only,"—and her voice became earnest again, "I was very grateful that the least thing came to me for you and Katie. I have not done with Katie yet" she added, "here is something that I have brought you from her." And she handed him a letter. "She gave me this as I was leaving," she said.
"Thank you," he said again, and holding it clasped in his hand, stood not looking at it, but as if he still had something to say. "Has Bulchester gone yet, Mistress Royal?" he asked abruptly at last.