The prince kept his word, and she was fairly free to see him at least once a week, somewhere within the leafy thicknesses of the park or in the woods, usually at the hour when dusk finally yields to the overwhelming embrace of night.

Sir Marmaduke was away. In London or Canterbury, she could not say, but she had scarcely seen him since that terrible time, when he came back from town having left Richard Lambert languishing in disgrace and in prison.

Oh! how she missed the silent and thoughtful friend who in those days of pride and of joy had angered her so, because he seemed to stand for conscience and for prudence, when she only thought of happiness and of love.

There was an almost humiliating isolation about her now. n.o.body seemed to care whither she went, nor when she came home. Mistress de Chava.s.se talked from time to time about Sue's infatuation for the mysterious foreign adventurer, but always as if this were a thing of the past, and from which Sue herself had long since recovered.

Thus there was no one to say her nay, when she went out into the garden after evening repast, and stayed there until the shades of night had long since wrapped the old trees in gloom.

And strangely enough this sense of freedom struck her with a chill sense of loneliness. She would have loved to suddenly catch sight of Lambert's watchful figure, and to hear his somewhat harsh voice, warning her against the foreigner.

This had been wont to irritate her twelve weeks ago. How mysteriously everything had altered round her!

And yearning for her friend, she wondered what had become of him. The last she had heard was toward the middle of October when Sir Marmaduke, home from one of his frequent journeyings, one day said that Lambert had been released after ten weeks spent in prison, but that he could not say whither he had gone since then.

All Sue's questionings anent the young man only brought forth violent vituperations from Sir Marmaduke, and cold words of condemnation from Mistress de Chava.s.se; therefore, she soon desisted, storing up in her heart pathetic memories of the one true friend she had in the world.

She saw without much excitement, and certainly without tremor, the rapid advance of that date early in November when she would perforce have to leave Acol Court in order to follow her husband whithersoever he chose to command her.

The last time that they had met there had been a good deal of talk between them, about her fortune and its future disposal. He declared himself ready to administer it all himself, as he professed a distrust of those who had watched over it so far--Master Skyffington, the lawyer, and Sir Marmaduke de Chava.s.se, both under the control of the Court of Chancery.

She explained to him that the bulk of her wealth consisted of obligations and shares in the Levant and Russian Companies, her mother having been the only daughter and heiress of Peter Ford the great Levantine and Oriental merchant; her marriage with the proud Earl of Dover having caused no small measure of comment in Court circles in those days.

There were also deeds of property owned in Holland, grants of monopolies for trading given by Ivan the Terrible to her grandfather, and receipts for moneys deposited in the great banks of Amsterdam and Vienna. Master Skyffington had charge of all those papers now: they represented nearly five hundred thousand pounds of money and she told her husband that they would all be placed in her own keeping, the day she was of age.

He appeared to lend an inattentive ear to all these explanations, which she gave in those timid tones, which had lately become habitual to her, but once--when she made a slip, and talked about a share which she possessed in the Russian Company being worth 50,000, he corrected her and said it was a good deal more, and gave her some explanations as to the real distribution of her capital, which astonished her by their lucidity and left her vaguely wondering how it happened that he knew.

She had finally to promise to come to him at the cottage in Acol on the 2d of November--her twenty-first birthday--directly after her interview with the lawyer and with her guardian, and having obtained possession of all the share papers, the obligations, the grants of monopolies and the receipts from the Amsterdam and Vienna banks, to forthwith bring them over to the cottage and place them unreservedly in her husband's hands.

And she would in her simplicity and ignorance gladly have given every sc.r.a.p of paper--now in Master Skyffington's charge--in exchange for a return of those happy illusions which had surrounded the early history of her love with a halo of romance. She would have given this mysterious prince, now her husband, all the money that he wanted for this wonderful "great work" of his, if he would but give her back some of that enthusiastic belief in him which had so mysteriously been killed within her, that fateful moment in the vestry at Dover.

CHAPTER XXIV

NOVEMBER THE 2D

A dreary day, with a leaden sky overhead and the monotonous patter of incessant rain against the window panes.

Sir Marmaduke de Chava.s.se had just come downstairs, and opening the door which lead from the hall to the small withdrawing-room on the right, he saw Mistress de Chava.s.se, half-sitting, half-crouching in one of the stiff-backed chairs, which she had drawn close to the fire.

There was a cheerful blaze on the hearth, and the room itself--being small--always looked cozier than any other at Acol Court.

Nevertheless, Editha's face was pallid and drawn, and she stared into the fire with eyes which seemed aglow with anxiety and even with fear.

Her cloak was tied loosely about her shoulders, and at sight of Sir Marmaduke she started, then rising hurriedly, she put her hood over her head, and went towards the door.

"Ah! my dear Editha!" quoth her brother-in-law, lightly greeting her, "up betimes like the lark I see.... Are you going without?" he added as she made a rapid movement to brush past him and once more made for the door.

"Yes!" she replied dully, "I must fain move about ... tire myself out if I can ... I am consumed with anxiety."

"Indeed?" he retorted blandly, "why should you be anxious? Everything is going splendidly ... and to-night at the latest a fortune of nigh on 500,000 will be placed in my hands by a fond and adoring woman."

He caught the glitter in her eyes, that suggestion of power and of unspoken threats which she had adopted since the episode in the Bath Street house. For an instant an ugly frown further disfigured his sour face: but this frown was only momentary, it soon gave way to a suave smile. He took her hand and lightly touched it with his lips.

"After which, my dear Editha," he said, "I shall be able to fulfill those obligations, which my heart originally dictated."

She seemed satisfied at this a.s.surance, for she now spoke in less aggressive tones:

"Are you so sure of the girl, Marmaduke?" she asked.

"Absolutely," he replied, his thoughts reverting to a day spent at Dover nearly three months ago, when a knot was tied of which fair Editha was not aware, but which rendered Sir Marmaduke de Chava.s.se very sure of a fortune.

"Yet you have oft told me that Sue's love for her mysterious prince had vastly cooled of late!" urged Editha still anxiously.

"Why yes! forsooth!" he retorted grimly, "Sue's sentimental fancy for the romantic exile hath gone the way of all such unreasoning attachments; but she has ventured too far to draw back.... And she will not draw back," he concluded significantly.

"Have a care, Marmaduke! ... the girl is more willful than ye wot of....

You may strain at a cord until it snap."

"Pshaw!" he said, with a shrug of his wide shoulders, "you are suffering from vapors, my dear Editha ... or you would grant me more knowledge of how to conduct mine own affairs.... Do you remember, perchance, that the bulk of Sue's fortune will be handed over to her this day?"

"Aye! I remember!"

"Begad, then to-night I'll have that bulk out of her hands. You may take an oath on that!" he declared savagely.

"And afterwards?" she asked simply.

"Afterwards?"

"Yes ... afterwards? ... when Sue has discovered how she has been tricked? ... Are you not afraid of what she might do? ... Even though her money may pa.s.s into your hands ... even though you may inveigle her into a clandestine marriage ... she is still the daughter of the late Earl of Dover ... she has landed estates, wealth, rich and powerful relations.... There must be an 'afterwards,' remember! ..."

His ironical laugh grated on her nerves, as he replied lightly:

"Pshaw! my dear Editha! of a truth you are not your own calm self to-day, else you had understood that forsooth! in the love affairs of Prince Amede d'Orleans and Lady Susannah Aldmarshe there must and can be no 'afterwards.'"

"I don't understand you."

"Yet, 'tis simple enough. Sue is my wife."

"Your wife! ..." she exclaimed.

"Hush! An you want to scream, I pray you question me not, for what I say is bound to startle you. Sue is my wife. I married her, having obtained a special license to do so in the name of Prince Amede Henri d'Orleans, and all the rest of the romantic paraphernalia. She is my wife, and therefore, her money and fortune are mine, every penny of it, without question or demur."

"She will appeal to the Court to have the marriage annulled ... she'll rouse public indignation against you to such a pitch that you'll not be able to look one of your kith and kin in the face.... The whole shameful story of the mysterious French prince ... your tricks to win the hand of your ward by lying, cheating and willful deceit will resound from one end of the country to the other.... What is the use of a mint of money if you have to herd with outcasts, and not an honest man will shake you by the hand?"

"None, my dear Editha, none," he replied quietly, "and 'tis of still less use for you to rack your nerves in order to place before me a gruesome picture of the miserable social pariah which I should become, if the story of my impersonation of a romantic exile for the purpose of capturing the hand of my ward came to the ears of those in authority."