"It is Lord Exham," she said in a low voice to Anne Warwick; and the Ladies nodded slightly, and continued a desultory conversation, they hardly knew what about. But Annabel stood erect and silent. She glanced once at Kate, and then turned the full blaze of her dazzling eyes upon the advancing n.o.bleman. For once, their magnetic rays were ineffectual. The d.u.c.h.ess, on her son's arrival, had notified him of the ladies present; and Kate Atheling was the lodestar which drew his first attention. He had in the b.u.t.ton-hole of his coat a few Michaelmas daisies, and after speaking to the other ladies, he put them into Kate's hand, saying, "I gathered them in Atheling garden. Do you remember the bush by the swing in the laurel walk? I thought you would like to have them." And Kate said "thank you" in the way that Piers perfectly understood and appreciated, though it seemed to be of the most formal kind.

The dinner was a family dinner, but far from being tiresome or dull. The Duke and Lord Exham had both adventures to tell. The latter in pa.s.sing through a little market-town had seen the hungry people take the wheat from the grain-market by force, and said he had been delayed a little by the circ.u.mstance.

"But why?" asked the d.u.c.h.ess.

"There were some arrests made; and after all, one cannot see hungry men and women punished for taking food." There was silence after this remark, and Kate glanced at Exham, whose veiled eyes, cast upon the gla.s.s of wine he held in his hand, betrayed nothing. But when he lifted them, they caught something from Kate's eyes, and an almost imperceptible smile pa.s.sed from face to face. No one asked Exham for further particulars; and the Duke hurriedly changed the subject.

"Where do you think I took lunch to-day?" he asked.

"At Stephen's," answered the d.u.c.h.ess.

"Not likely," he replied. "I am neither a fashionable officer, nor a dandy about town. If I had asked for lunch there, the waiters would have stared solemnly, and told me there was no table vacant."

"As you want horses, perhaps you went to Limmers," said Exham.

"No. I met a party of gentlemen and ladies going to Whitbread's Brewery, and I went with them. We had a steak done on a hot malt shovel, and plenty of stout to wash it down. There were quite a number of visitors there; it has become one of the sights of London. Then I rode as far as the Philosophical Society, and heard a lecture on a new chemical force."

"The Archbishop does not approve of your devotion to Science," said the d.u.c.h.ess, reprovingly.

"I know it," he answered. "All our clergy regard Science as a new kind of sin. I saw the Archbishop later, at a very interesting ceremony,--the deposition in Whitehall Chapel of twelve Standards taken in Andalusia by the personal bravery of our soldiers."

"I wish I had seen that ceremony," said Kate.

"And I wish I had myself been one of the heroes carrying the Standard I had won," added Annabel.

The Duke smiled at the pretty volunteers, and continued, "It was a very interesting sight. Three royal Dukes, many Generals and foreign Amba.s.sadors, and the finest troops in London were present. We had some good music, and a short religious service, and then the Archbishop deposited the flags on each side of the Altar."

"I like these military ceremonies," said the d.u.c.h.ess. "I shall not forget the Proclamation of Peace after Waterloo. What a procession of mediaeval splendour it was!"

"I remember it, though I was only a little boy," said Exham. "The Proclamation was read three times,--at Temple Bar, at Charing Cross, and at The Royal Exchange. The blast of trumpets before and after each reading!--I can hear it yet!"

"And the Thanksgiving at St. Paul's after the procession was just as impressive," continued the d.u.c.h.ess. "The Prince Regent and the Duke of Wellington walked together, and Wellington carried the Sword of State. It was a gorgeous festival set to trumpets and drums, and the roll of organ music, and the seraphic singing of '_Lo! the conquering hero comes_.'

The Duke could have asked England for anything he desired that day."

"Yet he is very unpopular now," said Kate, timidly. "Even my father thinks he carries everything with too high a hand."

"His military training must be considered, Miss Atheling," said the Duke. "And the country needs a tight rein now."

"He may hold it too tight," said Exham, in a low voice.

Then the conversation was turned to the theatres, and while they were talking, Squire Atheling was introduced. He had called to escort his daughter home; and after a short delay, Kate was ready to accompany him. The Duke and the Squire--who were deep in some item of political news--went to the entrance hall together; and Lord Exham took Kate's hand, and led her down the great stairway. It was now lighted with a profusion of wax candles in silver candelabra. They were too happy to speak, and there was no need of speech. Like two notes of music made for each other, though dissimilar, they were one; and the melody in the heart of Piers was the melody in the heart of Kate. The unison was perfect; why then should it be explained? Very slowly they came down the low broad steps, hardly feeling their feet upon them; for spirit mingled with spirit, and gave them the sense of ethereal motion.

When they reached the vestibule, Kate's maid advanced and threw round her a wrap of pink silk, trimmed with minever; and as Piers watched the shrouding of her rose-like face in the pretty hood, a sudden depression came like a cloud over him. Oh, yes! True love has these moments of deep gloom, in which intense feeling suspends both movement and speech.

He could only look into the warm, secret foldings of silk and fur which hid Kate's beauty; he had not even the common words of courtesy at his command; but Kate divined the much warmer "good-night" that was masked by the formal bow and uncovered head.

After the departure of the Athelings, father and son walked silently up the stairs together; but at the top of them, the Duke paused and said, "Piers, the King opens Parliament on the Second of November. We have only three days' truce. Then for the fight."

"We have foemen worthy of our steel. Grey--Durham--Brougham--Russel and Graham. They will not easily be put down."

"We shall win."

"Perhaps. The House of Lords is very near of one mind. Will you come to my smoking-room and have a pipe of Turkish?"

"I must see the ladies again; afterwards I may do so."

With these words they parted, and Piers went dreamily along the state corridor. In its dim, soft light, he suddenly saw Miss Vyner approaching him. He was thinking of Kate; but he had no wish to escape Annabel. He was even interested in watching her splendid figure in motion. Only from some Indian loom had come that marvellous tissue of vivid scarlet with its embroidery of golden b.u.t.terflies. It made her look like some superb flower. She smiled as she reached Piers, and said,--

"I only am left to wish you a 'good-night and happy dreams.'The Ladies Warwick were sleepy, the d.u.c.h.ess longing to be rid of such a lot of tiresome girls, and I--"

"What of 'I'?" he asked with a sudden, unaccountable interest.

"I am going to the Land where I always go in sleep. I shut my eyes, and I am there."

"Then, 'Good-night.'"

"Good-night." She put her little, warm, brown hand, flashing with gems, into his; and then with one long, unwinking gaze--in which she caught Piers' gaze--she strangely troubled the young man. His blood grew hot as fire; his heart bounded; his face was like a flame; and he clasped her hand with an unconscious fervour. She laughed lightly, drew it away, and pa.s.sed on. But as she did so, the Indian scarf she had over her arm trailed across his feet, and thrilled him like some living thing.

He had a sense of intoxication, and he hurried forward to his own room, and threw himself into a chair.

"It is that strange perfume that clings around her," he said in a voice of controlled excitement. "I perceived it as soon as I met her.

It makes me drowsy. It makes me feverish--and yet how delicious it is!"

He threw his head backward, and lay with closed eyes, moving neither hand nor foot for some minutes. Then he rose, and began to walk about the room, lifting and putting down books, and papers, and odd trifles, as they came in the way of his restless fingers. And when at last he found speech, it was to reproach himself--his real self--the man within him.

"You, poor, weak, false-hearted lover!" he muttered bitterly. "Piers Exham! You hardly needed temptation. I am ashamed of you! Ashamed of you, Piers! Oh, Kate! I have been false to you. It was only a pa.s.sing thought, Kate; but you would not have given to another even a pa.s.sing thought. Forgive me. _O Thou Dear One!_"

"Thou Dear One!" These three words had a meaning of inexpressible tenderness to him. For one night,--when as yet their Love was but learning to speak,--one warm, sweet July night, as they stood under the damask roses, he said to Kate,--

"How beautiful are the words and tones which your mother uses to the Squire. She does not speak thus to every one."

"No," replied Kate. "To strangers mother always says '_you_.' To those she loves, she says '_thou_.'"

And Piers answered, "Dear--if only--" and then he let the silence speak for him. But Kate understood, and she whispered softly,--

"_Thou Dear One!_"

It seemed to Piers as if no words to be spoken in time or in eternity could ever make those three words less sweet. They came to his memory always like a sigh of soft music on a breath of roses. And so it was at this hour. They filled his heart, they filled his room with soft delight.

He stood still to realise their melody and their fragrance, the music of their sweet inflections, the perfume of their pure and perfect love.

"_Thou Dear One!_" He said these words again and again. "It has always been Kate and Piers! Always _I_ and _Thou_--and as for _the Other One_--"

This mental query, utterly unthought of and uncalled for, very much annoyed him. Who or What was it that suggested "The Other One"? Not himself; he was sure of that. He went to his father, and they talked of the King, and the Ministers, and the great Mr. Brougham, whom both King and Ministers feared--but all the time, and far below the tide of this restless conversation, Piers heard this very different one,--

"_I_ and _Thou_!"

"And _the Other One_."

"There is no 'Other One.'"

"Annabel."

"No."