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Francis Markrute who was a good judge had said that he had made some decent speeches in the House of Lords already, and he would go on and do his best, and Zara would help him. He wondered if she liked reading and poetry. He was such a magnificently healthy sportsman he had always been a little shy of letting people know his inner and gentler tastes.
Zara had not danced for a very long time four years at least and she had not an idea of the two-steps and barn-dances and other sorts of whirling capers that they invented; but she did her best, and gradually something of the excitement of the gay young spirits spread to her, and she forgot her sorrows and began to enjoy herself. "You don't ever dance, I suppose, Mr. Markrute?"
And Ethelrida advanced, her fair hair in two long plaits, with her mother's all-round diamond crown upon her head, and clothed in some white brocade garment, arranged with a blue merino cloak, trimmed with ermine and silver. She looked perfectly regal, and as nearly beautiful as she had ever done; and to the admiring eyes of Francis Markrute, she seemed to outshine all the rest.
"No one has ever thought of anything so exquisite for me before, although, as you saw this morning, every one is so very kind. How shall I thank you, Mr. Markrute? I do not know." "You must not thank me at all, you gracious lady," he said. "And now I must tell you that the half-hour is nearly up, and we must go down. But may I will you let me come again, perhaps to-morrow afternoon?
And so they all went back into the house, and Lady Anningford, who now began to have grave suspicions, whispered to the Crow: "I believe you are perfectly right, Crow. I am certain Ethelrida is in love with Mr. Markrute! But surely the Duke would never permit such a thing! A foreigner whom nobody knows anything of!"
"In spite of that I have found you an English husband whom you will be good enough to take, madame," Francis Markrute announced authoritatively. She gave a little laugh if anything so mirthless could be called a laugh. "You have no power over me; I shall do no such thing." "I think you will," the financier said with quiet assurance, "if I know you. There are terms, of course "
But he knew that for his nature there could be no love without desire and no desire without love. And then his conversation with Francis Markrute came back to him, the day they had lunched in the city, when the financier had given his views about women. Yes, they were right, those views. A woman, to be dangerous, must appeal to both the body and brain of a man.
He pulled one of the holland sheets off his own big chair, and sat down in it. Poor Zara, poor, unhappy Zara! were his first thoughts then he stiffened suddenly. This man must have been her lover before even her first marriage! for Francis Markrute had told him she had married very soon.
The young fiancé was quite ignorant about his prospective bride's late father! "Yes," he said hurriedly. "Zara married very young, she is quite young now only about twenty-three. Her husband was a brute, and now she has come to live with Francis Markrute. He is an awfully good fellow, Mother, though you don't like him; extremely cultivated, and so quaintly amusing, with his cynical views on life.
She would come by the nine o'clock morning train, so as to be in ample time for dinner; and it would be so much easier for every one, if they could get the meeting over, the whole family together, rather than have the ordeal of private presentations. And Francis Markrute had agreed, while Lord Tancred had chafed. "I shall meet her at the station, whatever you say, Francis!" he had exclaimed.
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