Should she now reveal her whereabouts? Should she communicate with her husband and deny the scandalous charges before it became too late? By her husband’s accession her position had been very materially altered. Her duty to the country of her adoption was to be at her husband’s side, and assist him as ruler. Not that she regretted for one single instant leaving Treysa. She had not the slightest desire to re-enter that seething world of intrigue; it was only the call of duty which caused her to contemplate it. At heart, indeed, if the truth were told, she still retained a good deal of affection for the man who had treated her so brutally. When her mind wandered back to the early days of her married life and the sweetness of her former love, she recollected that he possessed many good traits of character, and felt convinced that only the bitterness of her enemies had aroused the demon jealousy within him and made him what he had now become.
If she were really able to clear herself of the stigma now upon her, there might, after all, be a reconciliation—if not for her own sake, then for the sake of the little Princess Ignatia.
These were the vague thoughts constantly in her mind during those warm days which passed so quietly and pleasantly before the summer sea.
Ignatia was often very inquisitive. She asked her mother why they were there, and begged that Allen might come back. From Leucha she was learning to speak English, but with that Cockney twang which was amusing, for the child, of course, imitated the maid’s intonation and expression.
One calm evening, when Ignatia had gone to bed and they were sitting together in the twilight upon a seat before the softly-lapping waves up at the west end of the town, Leucha said,—
“To-day I heard from father. He is in Stockholm, and apparently in funds. He arrived in Sweden from Hamburg on the day of writing, and says he hopes in a few days to visit us here.”
Claire guessed by what means Roddy Redmayne had replenished his funds, but made no remark save to express pleasure at his forthcoming visit. From Stockholm to Worthing was a rather far cry, but with Roddy distance was no object. He had crossed the Atlantic a dozen times, and was, indeed, ever on the move up and down Europe.
“Guy has also left London,” “the Ladybird” said. “He is in Brighton, and would like to run over and call—if Madame will permit it.”
“To call on you—eh, Leucha?” her royal mistress suggested, with a kindly smile. “Now tell me quite truthfully. You love him, do you not?”
The girl flushed deeply.