Paris, and assured him of my protection, but no! He hates town-life, if you please!”
“Mad,” said Rupert with conviction.
Merivale started up.
“Listen!” he said sharply.
Outside in the hall was some stir, as of an arrival. Those in the dining-room sprang up, looking half shamefacedly at each other.
“A—a caller,” Fanny said. “I’m sure it’s only——”
The door was flung open, and his Grace of Avon stood upon the threshold, booted and spurred, and great- coated. Beside him, her hand in his, was Leonie, flushed and radiant. She had shed her cloak and hat, and her bright curls were tumbled.
There was an outcry. Fanny ran forward, exclaiming incoherently; Rupert waved his napkin over his head.
“What did I tell you?” he shouted. “Mademoiselle de Saint-Vire!”
His Grace raised one white hand, holding them in check. A curiously proud smile hovered about his mouth.
“No, Rupert,” he said, and bowed slightly. “I have the honour to present to you all—my Duchess.”
“Thunder an’ turf!” gasped Rupert, and surged forward.
Fanny reached Leonie first.
“Oh, my sweet life! I am so glad—I can hardly believe—Where did you find her, Justin? Silly, silly child! We have been in such a taking—Kiss me again, my love!”
Rupert pushed her aside.
“Hey, you little madcap!” he said, and kissed her soundly. “What a sister you have given me, Justin! I knew you’d find her! But married already, egad! It beats all, so it does!”
Merivale thrust him away.
“My dear little Leonie!” he said. “Justin, I felicitate you!”
Then Marling and Davenant in their turn pushed forward. Armand grasped Avon’s hand.
“And my permission?” he asked with mock dignity.
Avon snapped his fingers.
“So much for your permission, my dear Armand,” he said, and looked across at Leonie, surrounded by the vociferous family.
“Where was she?” Armand tugged at his sleeve.
His Grace was still watching Leonie.
“Where was she? Where I had expected her to be. In Anjou, with the Cure I spoke of,” he said. “Well, Fanny? Have I your approval?”
She embraced him.
“My dear, ’tis what I planned for you months ago! But to be married thus secretly when I had dreamed of a truly magnificent wedding! It’s too bad, I declare! Dear, dear child! I could weep for joy!”
A hush fell. In the doorway, shrinking, Madame de Saint-Vire stood, her eyes fixed on Leonie. There was a moment’s uncomfortable silence. Then Leonie went forward, and put out her hand with pretty hesitancy.
“Ma—mcre?” she said.
Madame gave a shattering sob, and clung to her. Leonie put an arm about her waist, and led her quietly out.
Fanny’s handkerchief appeared.
“The dear, sweet child!” she said huskily.
Davenant took Avon’s hand, and wrung it.
“Justin, I cannot find words to tell you how glad I am!”
“My dear Hugh, this is most unexpected,” drawled his Grace. “I made sure of a despondent head- shake.”
Hugh laughed.
“No, no, my friend, not this time! You have learned to love another better than yourself at last, and I believe that you will make your Duchess a good husband.”
“It is mine intention,” said his Grace, and struggled out of his coat. There was a tinge of colour in his cheeks, but he put up his glass in the old manner, and surveyed the room. “My house seems to be remarkably full of people,” he observed. “Is it possible we were expected?”
“Expected?” echoed Rupert. “Stap me, but that’s rich! We’ve done naught but expect you for the past ten days, I’ll have you know! It’s very well for you to go careering off to Anjou, but it’s mighty poor sport for us. What with Armand hopping in and out like a jack-in-the-box, and Madame upstairs with the vapours, and half Paris forcing its way in to nose out the mystery, the house is a veritable ants’ nest. I believe Merivale still sleeps with de Chatelet, for I don’t see him here at breakfast, thank the Lord!”
“What I want to know,” said Merivale, ignoring his lordship, “is this: did you journey all the way to Anjou in that preposterous gold dress?”
“Faith, he must have startled the country-side!” chuckled Rupert.
“No, my friends, no,” sighed his Grace. “I changed it for more sober garments at the first halt. Armand, is all well?”
“Completely, Justin! My sister wrote her confession as soon as she was able, and mine erstwhile nephew is to have a farm, and retire from Society. I owe you a debt of gratitude which I can never hope to repay.”
His Grace poured himself out a glass of burgundy.
“I have taken payment, my dear, in the person of your niece,” he said, and smiled.
Then Leonie came in, and went at once to Avon’s side.
“My mother desires to be left alone,” she said gravely. The sparkle came into her eyes again. “Oh, I am so very pleased to see you all again!”
Rupert nudged Davenant.
“Look at Justin’s face!” he whispered. “Did you ever see aught to equal the pride of him? Leonie, I’m devilish hungry, and with your permission I’ll go on with my capon.”
“I am very hungry too,” she nodded. “Madame, you have no idea how nice it is to be a married lady!”
“Oh, have I not indeed?” cried my lady. “How am I to take that?” She led Leonie to her own place at the foot of the table. “Sit down, my love!”
“Madame, that is where you sit!” Leonie said.
“My sweet, I am a guest in your house now,” said Fanny, and curtsied.
Leonie looked at Avon inquiringly.
“Yes, infant. Sit down.”
“
“Very prettily done, my dear,” nodded her ladyship, and went to a seat on Avon’s right.
“And since I am now a Duchess,” said Leonie, twinkling, “Rupert must treat me with respect,
Avon smiled at her across the table.
“You have only to say the word,
“Respect be damned!” said Rupert. “I’ll have you remember you’re my sister now, child! Lord, where are my wits!” He sprang up, wine-glass in hand. “I give you all a toast!” he said. “The Duchess of Avon!”
They rose as one.
“The Duchess!” Davenant bowed.
“My dearest sister!” Fanny cried.
“My wife!” said his Grace softly.
Leonie stood up, blushing, and, taking Rupert’s hand, jumped on to her chair.
“Thank you very much!” she said. “May I give a toast, please?”
“Ay, bless you!” said Rupert.
“Monseigneur!” Leonie said, and made him a quaint little bow. “Oh, where is my glass? Rupert, hand it up to
