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Frothingham and his excited little daughter, and had borne down upon the Palace of the Litany two hours before noon. Amory, frantic with apprehension, had stayed behind with Jarvo, certain that St. George could not have left the mountain. But now that Olivia stood before the prince it required but a moment to convince her that Prince Tabnit really knew nothing of St. George's whereabouts.
"What did Missy do to her?" Strong asked. "Why, hang me, if she didn't begin talking about the late Amory, my predecessor," the Baronet said, with a grin. "She got some picture out of the Keepsake, and said she was sure it was like her dear father, She wanted to know where her father's grave was. Hang her father!
"I have had queer visions and many presentiments since I lived in the Valley. I seem to be able to see beyond . . . if you know what I mean. They have come true in many instances it is not mere imagination. But perhaps you have as little belief as I once had in these things?" "Where ought Mr. Amory to be just now have you any idea?"
"Are you ready, adôn?" asked Jarvo and Akko at the same moment. "Ready!" cried St. George impatiently. "Ready," said Amory languidly, and added one thought more: "I hope for Chillingworth's sake," he said, "that Frothingham is a notary public. We'll have to have somebody's seal at the bottom of all this copy." The baskets were lightly lifted.
He leaned eagerly forward. "What would you suggest?" he said. Jarvo's eyes brightened. At once he sprang to his feet and stood before Amory, taking soft steps here and there as he talked, in movement graceful and tenuous as the greyhound of which he had reminded St. George.
He swept through the portico before them, and they followed dumbly. The betrothal of the prince. St. George heard, and his eager hope went down in foreboding. He turned, hardly daring to read his own dread in the eyes of Amory. Amory, as St.
"That was a sweet little play upon words," Warrington remarked, with a puff "Amory Amori. It showed profound scholarship. Let us hear a bit of the rubbish." And he stretched over from his easy chair, and caught hold of Pen's manuscript with the fire-tongs, which he was just using in order to put a coal into his pipe.
Here in the temple certain precious and delicate idols were believed to be hidden in alcoves walled up by mighty stone; and here, Jarvo was telling them, were secret exits to the road contrived by the priests of the temple at the time of their oppression by the worshipers of another god; but yet what special interest could he and Amory have in brooding upon these, or the ancient Phoenicians having "invited to traffic by a signal fire," when they could sit still and remember?
To shrink from expression is a characteristic in which the extremes of cultivation and mediocrity meet; the reserve of delicacy in St. George and Amory would have been a reserve of false shame in Bennietod, and of an exaggerated sense of humour in Little Cawthorne.
What if her father's safety were not the only consideration? What if, not unnaturally dazzled by the fairy-land which had opened to her ... even while he feared, St. George knew far better. But the number of terrors possible to a man in love is equal to those of battle-fields. Amory bent toward him, murmuring excitedly. "Jupiter," he said, "is she the American girl?"
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