The Duchess to the Rescue

It may be that Lord Vernon had been so fortunate as to find a topic of conversation equally absorbing; at any rate, Nell entered the hotel with her sister rather subdued and tremulous, and they mounted to their rooms in silence. A week before, they would probably have thrown themselves into each other's arms and kissed each other and cuddled each other and cried over each other, without precisely knowing why, or, at least, without troubling to put the reason into words. But the events of the past few days had, imperceptibly, wrought a change in their relations. An impalpable veil had come between them, a subtle dissonance in point of view. They were pledged, as it were, to rival interests.

A woman who has no other confidante will, invariably, seek counsel and sympathy of her own reflected self; and if so it was in this case, for each of our two heroines went straight to her room, and locked the door, and sat down before her glass, and, chin in hands, communed long and earnestly with the image pictured there, gazing deep into its eyes, and thinking unutterable thoughts, which completely defy transcription.

At the same moment, to Archibald Rushford, sitting immersed in his morning newspaper, wholly unsuspicious of all this, the Prince of Markeld's card was handed. It may be noted in passing that, with the influx of patrons to the house, the American had found it necessary to retire to the privacy of his own apartment in order to enjoy the paper undisturbed.

"All rights show him up," he said, when he had glanced at the card; and almost immediately the Prince himself appeared.

Rushford started up with hand outstretched.

"Glad to see you, Prince," he said. "I was just figuring on looking you up and wondering how I'd better go about it—I didn't quite know what the etiquette of the thing was."

The Prince laughed.

"The etiquette is simple." he answered. "You have only to come to my door and knock."

"Refreshingly democratic!" and Rushford's eyes danced. "That would appeal to my countrymen. But my ignorance was natural enough. You see, we never have the chance, at home, to hobnob with Highnesses. That's the reason so many of us come abroad. But we're not the real thing—the genuine, simon-pure American stays at home and looks after his business."

"And no doubt gets along very well without Highnesses," laughed Markeld, gripping the proffered fingers with a warmth which pleased their owner. The latter found himself admiring, too, the erect figure, the clean face, the clear eyes; he told himself with pleasure that the Prince looked as well by daylight as by gaslight—a tribute to his youth and the way he had employed it.

"Sit down, won't you?" he asked cordially.

"Yes, the people of the States manage to worry along some way without any nobility. In fact, they've rather got a prejudice against that sort of thing. You see, the only Highnesses they've had to judge by are the fortune-hunters who come over after our girls. Now I've always believed that it isn't any fairer to judge European nobility by those specimens than it is to judge us Americans by the expatriated idiots one finds here in Europe—it's like judging a bin of apples by the rotten ones."

"You are doubtless right," agreed the Prince, who had followed these remarks with an anxiety almost painful. "And I am glad to hear you speak in that way. I infer that you do not object to international marriages."

"Not at all, per se. Other things being equal, I see no reason why a Highness shouldn't make as good a husband as a plain American. There's only one reason for marriage, sir—mutual affection. Where that exists, nothing else matters. Where it doesn't exist—well, marriage becomes simply a convenient arrangement for perpetuating a family, or restoring its estates, or accomplishing some less laudable purpose. But there—shut me off—don't let me preach at you!"

"No, no," protested the Prince. "All that you say interests me deeply—more deeply than you suspect. In fact, I hope to marry an American girl myself."

"Ah," said Mr. Rushford, swallowing with sudden difficulty. "Oh! You mean—"

"I mean that I wish to propose to you for the hand of your daughter," explained the Prince, quite simply.

Rushford was not a man easily astonished, but there was no denying his amazement at this moment. Despite his playful words to Susie, he had never really suspected the direction in which events were trending; besides, the lightning-flash, even though expected, is always a shock.

But the Prince bore his gaze imperturbably.

"I do not wonder that you are surprised," he said. "You have known me so short a time. But we Markelds always know our own minds. I have thought the matter over very carefully and I am sure that I am acting wisely. Whether you would act wisely in giving her to me is another question, for though I am a Prince, I am a very small one, though with income sufficient, I trust, to maintain a wife at least comfortably. I shall be glad to send my solicitors to talk it over with you, and explain anything about me which you may care to know—"

Mr. Rushford's face had gradually relaxed during this harangue, until it was positively smiling.

"My dear sir," he interrupted, "if there's anything about you I want to know, I'll ask you. But that is hardly necessary as yet; for you're taking hold of the matter by the wrong end. We of America don't give our daughters away, they choose their own husbands—subject, of course, to their parents' approval. Now, my daughter—by the way, you haven't specified which one you're after."

"It is Miss Sue that I want," said the Prince.

"Ah—Susie. Well, she's perfectly capable of choosing for herself, and will probably insist upon doing so. Have you spoken to her on the subject?"

"Oh, most certainly not!" stammered the Prince.

"Well, suppose you take it up with her," suggested Mr. Rushford, encouragingly. "If she wants you, it'll be all right with me. I may even say that I'll be very glad to see you get her—I like you better than I ever imagined I should like a nobleman."

The Prince was on his feet in an instant with outstretched hands.

"Thank you, my dear sir!" he cried. "A thousand thanks! I have, then, your permission to speak to Miss Rushford?"

"My permission—yes. And my best wishes. And, Prince," he added, as the latter turned away, "don't worry about the matter of income. Susie will be able to help you out a little."

Whether the Prince heard or not I do not know, for, as he hurried from the room, he collided with Monsieur Pelletan, who clutched his coat as he would have hastened past.

"Oh, Monsieur le Prince!" gasped the little man. "I haf eferywhere been searching for you. Madame la Duchesse de Markheim arrived some hours ago and awaits you wit' t'e greates' impatience."

"Where is she?"

"She iss in monsieur's apartment. She insiste' t'at I—"

"Very well; I will go to her," said the Prince, and bounded down the stair. A moment later, he was kissing his aunt's extended hand, white and soft as in the days of her maidenhood, though with an added plumpness. "My dear aunt!" he cried. "I but this moment heard that you were here."

"You see I have made myself comfortable, my dear Fritz," smiled the old lady, her impatience forgotten the moment her eyes rested upon his handsome face. "And I have not been lonesome—Monsieur Tellier has been relating to me a number of very interesting things."

"Tellier!" The Prince started round as the detective arose, smirked, and bowed in his humblest manner. "I can't say that I congratulate you on your choice of a companion, madame!"

"Don't put on your grand manner with me, Fritz," she protested, still laughing. "I am very glad that Monsieur Tellier sought me out. But what is the matter with that creature of yours hovering in the background?"

The Prince turned and beheld GlÜck, evidently expecting orders to accomplish an assault upon the detective's person.

"Oh," he explained, "I told GlÜck he might throw Tellier out the next time he tried to get in here. I'm afraid you'll have to wait a few minutes, my friend," he added, and GlÜck retired, visibly disappointed.

"Let me tell you," said the duchess, emphatically, as the door closed behind him, "that your prejudice against Monsieur Tellier is wholly unwarranted and very foolish. He has discovered many things which you seem to have overlooked."

"Perhaps," admitted the Prince; "but he has discovered them in a way that no gentleman could countenance. Which reminds me," he added, suddenly turning a fiery countenance upon the unhappy Frenchman, "that I have an account of my own to settle with him. How dared you annoy—"

But the duchess held up her hand.

"One moment, Fritz," she interrupted, sternly. "Don't begin throwing stones until you are quite sure you are not yourself in a glass house. As I have said, Monsieur Tellier had many things of interest to relate."

"Well, my dear aunt," retorted the Prince, "now that he has related them, I trust we may dispense with his company. I will settle my account with him another time."

"First," said the duchess, with cold irony, "tell me what progress you have made with your embassy, Fritz!"

"Very little, I am sorry to say, madame. But in three days, Lord Vernon has promised to consider the matter."

"Three days! And do you imagine all the rest of the world will stand still at your command, Fritz, and wait for you? Are you another Joshua?"

The Prince flushed. There was no denying the justice of the taunt.

"But that aside for the moment," continued the duchess. "Tell me something of this American girl you have met here, and with whom you have grown so fond of making the promenade."

"I hope soon to have the pleasure of presenting her to you, madame," said the Prince, flushing still more. "I believe you will find her admirable."

"Perhaps," said the duchess, sceptically. "Is it really necessary that
I should meet her?"

"That, of course, will be as madame pleases. I thought you would naturally wish to meet the woman whom it is my intention to marry."

The duchess fairly jumped in her chair.

"To marry!" she cried. "To marry! What nonsense!"

"You will see," continued the Prince, calmly, "how unwise it was to begin the conversation in the presence of this—gentleman."

"No!" cried the duchess. "It was more than ever wise! Do you happen to know who this woman is?"

"I refuse to discuss my affairs further," said the Prince, "until we are alone."

"But do you know who she is? She has no dot! Perhaps you will say that is nothing, that you expected none, though it seems to me it is your duty to repair the fortunes of our house. But it is even worse than that—she is the daughter of an inn-keeper."

"I refuse to believe it," answered the Prince, quietly.

"Monsieur Tellier, relate to him—"

"If Tellier so much as moves a finger, I will kick him down the stairs," added the Prince, still more calmly.

"But he has the papers from the notary!"

"That is nothing to me."

The duchess made a gesture of despair.

"Yet, after all," she cried, "that is a little thing beside this other. Look at this," and she snatched a folded paper from the table at her elbow. "She is a traitor to you—she has been playing with you—she has been assisting these Englishmen to deceive you! You who are such a stickler for honour in women no less than men! Look at this!"

"What is this paper?" asked the Prince, making no motion to take it from her eager hand.

"It is a note which this impostor wrote to her and to her sister."

"And obtained how?" he questioned, a little pale, but keeping himself well in hand.

"Obtained by Monsieur Tellier," replied the duchess. "It does not matter how."

"No," said the Prince, "perhaps not; yet one can easily guess. By bribing the chambermaid, perhaps; by forcing a lock; by rifling her desk, examining her private papers. Oh, it is abominable!" and he turned upon the Frenchman, fury in his eyes.

"No, no, Monsieur le Prince!" protested Tellier. "It was none of these—I swear it! She left the note lying quite carelessly—"

But the Prince was upon him. With one hand at the back of his neck, he steered him, sputtering, to the door.

"GlÜck!" he cried, and pitched the Frenchman into the arms of the faithful servant. The duchess, sitting within the room, caught the sound of a scuffle, of fierce swearing; then a succession of dull bumps sounded through the apartment. The Prince closed the door and turned back to her.

"But, my dear Fritz!" she protested. "It may be true that Tellier is abominable, yet sometimes one must use such instruments—surely, at this moment, we are justified in using any instrument. I have paid him, thank heaven! You must listen to reason. You have been fooled—we have all been fooled—they have been playing with us—laughing at us behind our backs for our simplicity—the girl as well as the others."

"No!" he said, fiercely. "No!"

"Fritz," she cried, her voice trembling, a mist before her eyes as she looked at him, "you believe that I love you, do you not—oh, better than anything else in the world. You believe that I desire your happiness! But it must be happiness with honour, Fritz, as becomes a Markeld. You have your name to consider, your house. You know that I would rather—oh, a hundred times!—wound myself than wound you! You must listen, then, when I tell you that this girl is not worthy of you; when I tell you that this note proves it!"

"Read it!" he commanded, in a hoarse voice. "Read it, then!"

"'Lord Vernon will be deeply grateful,'" she read, "'if he is not mentioned in connection with to-day's adventure.' To-day's adventure—when he kicked Jax away from her. Can you doubt? Can you be so stupid as to doubt? These Americans—they have no sense of honour!"

He turned to the window without answering, but his face was drawn and white.