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Updated: May 24, 2025
A clang of bells and the hooting of an outward-bound liner came up from the city and the port. Richard's calm had returned. His expression had softened. "Will those two marry?" he asked presently. Lady Calmady paused before speaking. "I hope so for Ludovic's sake," she said. "He has served, if not quite Jacob's seven years, yet a full five for his love." "If for Ludovic's sake, why not for hers?"
The mother of this young man had been Peter's first cousin, and when she died Ludovic had in some sort fallen into the hands of his relative the town-clerk. Ludovic's father was still alive; but he was a thriftless, aimless man, who had never been of service either to his wife or children, and at this moment no one knew where he was living, or what he was doing.
When the great sins of Ludovic's father had been magnified to her by Madame Staubach and by Peter, with certain wise hints that swans never came out of the eggs of geese, Linda would declare with some pride of spirit that the son was not like the father; that the son had never been known to be idle.
If the story of Ludovic's coming could be kept from her aunt's ears, it might even yet be possible to her to keep Steinmarc at a distance without any compact. One thing was certain to her. He should be kept at a distance, either with or without a compact. Days went on, and Fanny Heisse was married, and all probability of telling the story was at an end.
Theodora went back to her stitches with another laugh. "If Ludovic could be hurried up, I'm not the one to do it. I'm too shy. It sounds ridiculous to hear a woman of my age and inches say that, but it is true. Of course, I know it's the only way any Speed ever did make out to get married. For instance, there's a cousin of mine married to Ludovic's brother.
"Ludovic's sister little Lady Constance Quayle." He drew in his breath sharply. "Would she would her people consent?" he said. "I think so. Judging by appearances, I am almost sure they would consent." A long silence followed. Richard lay still, looking at the rosy flush that broadened in the morning sky and touched the bosoms of those delicate clouds with living, pulsating colour.
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