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Then he stopped in embarrassment. "Are you going back that way?" he asked. "No," said the other, gloomily. "We'll go over the river to where I live." They took the path in that direction, and on the way Vibbard began explaining how he had arranged his property. "It's just as well not to go up to the Winwoods' until we've finished this," he said, parenthetically.
An inspired youth took his place at the Winwoods' dinner table that evening. The elderly, ugly heiress, Miss Durning, concerning whom Miss Winwood had, with gentle malice, twitted him some months before, sat by his side. He sang her songs of Araby and tales of far Cashmere places which in the commonplace way of travel he had never visited.
"My friends," cried Paul, "are people with great true hearts like the Winwoods and the princess, if you like and you, and Barney Bill." "That's a sentiment as does you credit," said the old man. "Great true hearts! Now if you ain't satisfied, my dear, you're a damn criss-cross female. And yer ain't, are yer? She laughed and Paul laughed. The little spell of intensity was broken.
Then it was only a kiss of the hand and a hurried remark or two, at a large dinner-party at the Winwoods'. You see, there are such forces as rank and precedence at London dinner-parties, to which even princesses and fortunate youths have to yield. On this occasion, as he bent over her hand, he murmured: "May I say how beautiful you are to-night, Princess?"
Had England and France each possessed a Barneveld at that epoch, they might well have given in exchange for him a wilderness of Epernons and Sillerys, Bouillons and Conde's; of Winwoods, Lakes, Carrs, and Villierses.
He had travelled about Europe, sometimes with the Winwoods, sometimes by himself. He was a young man of cultivation and accomplishment. On this fifth anniversary he sat gazing unseeingly at the autumn rack, the Princess's letter in his band, and letting his thoughts wander down the years. He marvelled how valiantly the stars in their courses had fought for him.
Paul went off yachting with the Chudleys and returned for the shooting to Drane's Court. In the middle of September the Winwoods' new secretary arrived and received instruction in his duties. Then came the Princess to Morebury Park. "Dearest," she said, in his arms, "I never want to leave you again. France is no longer France for me since I have England in my heart." "You remember that?
In the midst of these fine thoughts it occurred to him that he had hidden the prison episode in his father's career from the Winwoods as well as from the Princess. His checks flushed; it was one more strain on the loyalty of these dear devoted friends. He went downstairs, and found the Colonel and Miss Winwood in the dining-room. Their faces were grave.
But by and by he grew restless, and finally, taking his hat and his cane, which had an odd-shaped handle made of two carved snakes at once embracing and wounding one another, he went out and strolled across the bridge toward the Winwoods'. By the time he reached there dusk had closed in, though the horizon afar off was overhung by a faint, stirring light from the rising moon.
The door opened. The butler snatched him in hurriedly. He asked to see the Winwoods. He found them in the library. "Here's an awful mess," said he, throwing up his hands. "I thought I'd have a word or two with you before I tackle Savelli. Have you seen him this morning?" "Oh, yes." "Well, what do you think about it?"
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