Thus prudence, which at another time would have held him—­would have made him remember what was best for her among this crowd of hostile women—­flew to the winds.  He must go to her—­must show her he loved and would protect her, and, above all, that he would permit no other man to usurp his place.

And Theodora, who had been suffering silently a miserable feeling of loneliness and neglect, felt her heart bound with joy at the sight of his loved, familiar face, and she welcomed him more warmly than she had ever done before.

“Have these demons of women been odious to you, darling?” he whispered, hardly conscious of the term of endearment he had used.  “Do not mind them; it is only jealousy because you are so beautiful and young.”

“They have not been anything at all,” she said, softly; “they have just left me alone and kept to themselves, and—­and laughed at Josiah, and that has made me very angry, because—­what has he done to them?”

“I loathe them all!” said Hector.  “They are hardly fit to be in the same room with you, dear queen—­and if you really belonged to me I would take you away from them now—­to-night.”

His voice was a caress, and that sentence, “belonged to me,” always made her heart beat with its pictured possibilities.  Oh, how she loved him!  Could anything else in the world really matter while he could sit there and she could feel his presence and hear his tender words?

And so they talked awhile, and then they looked up and surveyed the scene.  Josiah had been joined by Sir Patrick, and they were earnestly conversing by the fireplace.  One or two pairs sat about on the sofas; but the general company showed signs of flocking off to the bridge-tables, which were laid out in another drawing-room beyond.  And the couples joined them gradually, until only Lord Wensleydown and Morella Winmarleigh remained near and watched them with mocking eyes.

Hector had never before realized that Morella could have so much expression in her face.

How could he ever have thought under any conceivable circumstances, even at the end of his life, it would be possible to marry her!  How thankful he felt he had never paid her any attention, or from his behavior given color to his mother’s hopes.

He remembered a fairy story he had read in his youth, where a magic power was given to the hero of discovering what beast each human being was growing into by grasping their hands.  And he wondered, if the gift had been his, what he should now find was the destiny of those two in front of him!

Wensleydown, no doubt, would be a great, sensual goat and Morella a vicious mule.  And the idea made him laugh as he turned to Theodora again, to feast his eyes on her pure loveliness.

The Crow, who had arrived late and been among the last to enter the drawing-room before dinner, had not yet had an opportunity of speaking to Mrs. Brown, as he had been dragged off among the first of the bridge-players.