“Your Highness, if you have any regard for us who have served you, read this!”
He rose and went back to the fireplace.
“There is no need, madam. I am not interested in the correspondence of others.”
He was becoming impatient; he had spent enough time on this lady. She was not young enough to give him any desire to detain her. She was an uncommon-looking woman, certainly, but at her age that fact could matter to nobody. He wondered, casually, whether the old stories about her and Charles Edward’s father were true. Women struck him only in one light.
“You will not read this, your Royal Highness?” said Christian, with a little tremor of voice.
“No, ma’am. I may tell you that my decision has not altered. The case is not one that admits of any question.”
“Your Highness,” said Christian, rising, “I have never made an abject appeal to anyone yet, and even now, though I make it to the son of my king, I can hardly bring myself to utter it. I deplore my—my boy’s action from the bottom of my soul. I sent him from me—I parted from him nearly a year ago because of this man Logie.”
He faced round upon her and put his hands behind his back.
“What!” he exclaimed, “you knew of this? You have been keeping this affair secret between you?”