She was in his arms, sobbing and crying, and yet laughing.
She clutched at him, drew down his face and covered
his lips with kisses.
“Oh! I am so thankful,” she cried,
“so thankful! Francis, I ached—my
heart ached to have you sit there and talk as you did.
Now I know that you are the man I thought you were.
Francis, we will work together.”
“You mean it?”
“I do, England was my mother’s country,
England shall be my husband’s country.
I will tell you many things that should help.
From now my work shall be for you. If they find
me out, well, I will pay the price. You shall
run your risk, Francis, for your country, and I must
take mine; but at least we’ll keep our honour
and our conscience and our love. Oh, this is
a better parting, dear! This is a better good
night!”
Mrs. Benedek was the first to notice the transformation
which had certainly taken place in Norgate’s
appearance. She came and sat by his side upon
the cushioned fender.
“What a metamorphosis!” she exclaimed.
“Why, you look as though Providence had been
showering countless benefits upon you.”
There were several people lounging around, and Mrs.
Benedek’s remark certainly had point.
“You look like Monty, when he’s had a
winning week,” one of them observed.
“It is something more than gross lucre,”
a young man declared, who had just strolled up.
“I believe that it is a good fat appointment.
Rome, perhaps, where every one of you fellows wants
to get to, nowadays.”
“Or perhaps,” the Prince intervened, with
a little bow, “Mrs. Benedek has promised to
dine with you? She is generally responsible for
the gloom or happiness of us poor males in this room.”
Norgate smiled.
“None of these wonderful things have happened—and
yet, something perhaps more wonderful,” he announced.
“I am engaged to be married.”
There was a mingled chorus of exclamations and congratulations.
Selingman, who had been standing on the outskirts of
the group, drew a little nearer. His face wore
a somewhat puzzled expression.
“And the lady?” he enquired. “May
we not know the lady’s name? That is surely
important?”
“It is the Baroness von Haase,” Norgate
replied. “You probably know her by name
and repute, at least, Mr. Selingman. She is an
Austrian, but she is often at Berlin.”
Selingman stretched out his great hand. For some
reason or other, the announcement seemed to have given
him real pleasure.
“Know her? My dear young friend, while
I may not claim the privilege of intimate friendship
with her, the Baroness is a young lady of the greatest
distinction and repute in Berlin. I congratulate
you. I congratulate you most heartily. The
anger of our young princeling is no longer to be wondered
at. I cannot tell you how thoroughly interesting
this news is to me.”
