She scarcely heard his words. The room seemed wheeling round with her, the floor unsteady beneath her feet. The atmosphere of the place had suddenly become horrible,--the faint odor of burning leaves, the pictures, almost like caricatures, which mocked her from the walls, the grinning idols, the strangely shaped weapons in their cases of black oak. She faltered as she crossed the room, but recovered herself.
"Aunt," she said, "if you are ready, I think that we ought to go."The Duchess was more than ready. She rose promptly. The Prince walked with them to the door and handed them over to his majordomo.
"It has been so nice of you," he said to the Duchess, "to honor my bachelor abode. I shall often think of your visit.""My dear Prince," the Duchess declared, "it has been most interesting. Really, I found it hard to believe, in that charming room of yours, that we had not actually been transported to your wonderful country.""You are very gracious," the Prince answered, bowing low.
Penelope's hands were within her muff. She was talking some nonsense--she scarcely knew what, but her eyes rested everywhere save on the face of her host. Somehow or other she reached the door, ran down the steps and threw herself into a corner of the brougham. Then, for the first time, she allowed herself to look behind. The door was already closed, but between the curtains which his hands had drawn apart, Prince Maiyo was standing in the room which they had just quitted, and there was something in the calm impassivity of his white, stern face which seemed to madden her. She clenched her hands and looked away.
"Really, I was not so much bored as I had feared," the Duchess remarked composedly. "That Stretton-Wynne woman generally gets on my nerves, but her nephew seemed to have a restraining effect upon her. She didn't tell me more than once about her husband's bad luck in not getting Canada, and she never even mentioned her girls. But I do think, Penelope," she continued, "that I shall have to talk to you a little seriously. There's the best-looking and richest young bachelor in London dying to marry you, and you won't have a word to say to him. On the other hand, after starting by disliking him heartily, you are making yourself almost conspicuous with this fascinating young Oriental. I admit that he is delightful, my dear Penelope, but I think you should ask yourself whether it is quite worth while. Prince Maiyo may take home with him many Western treasures, but I do not think that he will take home a wife.""If you say another word to me, aunt," Penelope exclaimed, "Ishall shriek!"
The Duchess, being a woman of tact, laughed the subject away and pretended not to notice Penelope's real distress. But when they had reached Devenham House, she went to the telephone and called up Somerfield.
"Charlie," she said,--"Right o'!" he interrupted. "Who is it?"
"Be careful what you are saying," she continued, "because it isn't any one who wants you to take them out to supper.""I only wish you did," he answered. "It's the Duchess, isn't it?""The worst of having a distinctive voice," she sighed. "Listen. Iwant to speak to you."
"I am listening hard," Somerfield answered. "Hold the instrument a little further away from you,--that's better.""We have been to the Prince's for tea this afternoon--Penelope and I," she said.
"I know," he assented. "I was asked, but I didn't see the fun of it. It puts my back up to see Penelope monopolized by that fellow," he added gloomily.
"Well, listen to what I have to say," the Duchess went on.
"Something happened there--I don't know what--to upset Penelope very much. She never spoke a word coming home, and she has gone straight up to her room and locked herself in. Somehow or other the Prince managed to offend her. I am sure of that, Charlie!""I'm beastly sorry," Somerfield answered. "I meant to say that Iwas jolly glad to hear it."
The Duchess coughed.
"I didn't quite hear what you said before," she said severely.
"Perhaps it is just as well. I rang up to say that you had better come round and dine with us tonight. You will probably find Penelope in a more reasonable frame of mind.""Awfully good of you," Somerfield declared heartily. "I'll come with pleasure."Dinner at Devenham House that evening was certainly a domestic meal. Even the Duke was away, attending a political gathering.
Penelope was pale, but otherwise entirely her accustomed self.
She talked even more than usual, and though she spoke of a headache, she declined all remedies. To Somerfield's surprise, she made not the slightest objection when he followed her into the library after dinner.
"Penelope," he said, "something has gone wrong. Won't you tell me what it is? You look worried."She returned his anxious gaze, dry-eyed but speechless.
"Has that fellow, Prince Maiyo, done or said anything--"She interrupted him.
"No!" she cried. "No!" don't mention his name, please! I don't want to hear his name again just now.""For my part," Somerfield said bitterly, "I never want to hear it again as long as I live!"There was a short silence. Suddenly she turned towards him.
"Charlie," she said, "you have asked me to marry you six times.""Seven," he corrected. "I ask you again now--that makes eight.""Very well," she answered, "I accept--on one condition.""On any," he exclaimed, his voice trembling with joy. "Penelope, it sounds too good to be true. You can't be in earnest""I am," she declared. "I will marry you if you will see that our engagement is announced everywhere tomorrow, and that you do not ask me for anything at all, mind, not even--not anything--for three months' time, at least. Promise that until then you will not let me hear the sound of the word marriage?""I promise," he said firmly. "Penelope, you mean it? You mean this seriously?"She gave him her hands and a very sad little smile.
"I mean it, Charlie," she answered. "I will keep my word."
