CHAPTER XIX.—THE CHAPEL ROYAL.

Otago Witness, Issue 2905, 17 November 1909, Page 68

CHAPTER XIX.— THE CHAPEL ROYAL.

It AFFORD left the council with the dawning consciousness that he was not a very wise man. There are kings and kings, he reflected — kings to serve, honour, and obey, and king* to harass, embarrass, : and decapitate ; but it was best on the whole to leave the choice of treatment to the subjects of the particular monarch to be dealt with. He had sided against Karl from an innate love of excitement and a romantic enthusiasm for the rebel Princes 6. He I had saved Karl from premature death, I because he was a welJ-brought-up Englishman with a sneaking respect for the sixth, commandment. The result was that the revolution, which had been by no means bloodless, was likely to be followed by an aftermath, of civil war infinitely more sanguinary. Had he not interfered Karl might still have been on the throne. Had he persisted in his revolutionary policy, logically and relentlessly, Grimland might haver found peace aaid tranquillity under the unopposed banner of Mathilde. A* it was, Karl was evidently in Weissheim, and the good Wefesheimers, according to Herr Gottfried, were preparing glacis and grapeshot for these who did not see eye to eye with them in things political. He found his way to the Rubens .room, and seated himself, wondering how long it was necessary to wait before demanding access to the private apartments. The short winter day was well-nigh done, and the great unlit chamber looked vast and gihostly in the failing night. The shadowed corners, the rich' stillness, touched and oppressed his imagination. Great men and proud women had passed in sumptuous pageantry through the walls of that noble chamber ; and Traffiord felt their presence, and strove to exercise them with the fumes of a cigarette. But the impalp-

able dust of centuries seemed to impregnate the air, and "bygone monarchs looked askance at him from their dim gold frames in a scornful wonder at the English interloper who sat so carelessly in the seat of kings. He rose, impatient of their glances, and walked to the window. Snow was falling. The sun that had graced and greeted the new crowned Queen had sunk beneath the rugged outline of th< encircling mountains; the sky, which had been of no uncertain blue, was a nondescript monotone weeping a white haze of crystalline tears. His thoughts harked back to 1 the ashen face and sad eyes of the new- | crowned Queen. Why had she not grasped the fact that Karl's immurement in the Eisenmadchen was a humane act of rescue, not a piece of callous cruelty? She herself had experienced the same hidingplace under *be same innocuous conditions, and yet it did not seem to have occurred to her that the spikes might still be reposing at the bottom of his overcoat pocket. That the others should have failed to suspect the truth, was only I natural. That they would be angry on dis- | covering it was probable — but for that he cared not one jot. I What troubled his awakening conscience i was that good men and true must go [ down before peace reigned again, in. the ■ troubled monarchy of ' Grimland. , After a few more minutes of such mcdi- ' bataon he made his way thrcugih the | Bubens-saal in- the direction of the -private j apartments. In the corridor leading to te Queen's Chamber stood the officer on ! guard, and talking to him was no less a personage than yon Hugelweiler. | "My orders are precise," • the former was aying. "Her Majesty is resting, and jril£ see no one." j "But have the goodness at least to send in my name," Yon Hugelweiler returned pettishly. "It would be no use, Captain," re-^ torted the other. "The Queen is resting, and must not be disturbed." Yon Hugelweiler' s disappointment . showed itself plainly in his crestfallen air j "I want access to her Maj-esty," he said doggedly "It is true that by admitting me you risk offending the Queen, but by not admitting me you offend me for a certainty." "I a.m very sorry, Captain," said the officer in a conciliatory manner. He was quite a young man, " and he -was rather alarmed at having to defy so important a person as Yon Hugelweiler had become. Still, neW stoutly to his position in the centre of the corridor. "You may be sorrier still if you persist." said the Captain darkly, detecting, as he fancied, symptoms -of wavering on the other's part. "We move. in strange times, Lieutenant, and my .is bfettor worth having than my enmity. ' At this juncture Trafford, who had overiieard this -conversation, and whces approach had been inaudible on the t>bick carpet of the palace corridor, coughed affectedly, and advanced with admirable swagger. "I wish to see her Majesty," Tie said, addressing the lieutenant on guard, and completely ignoring Yon Hugelweiier. It was the latter, however, who answered him. j "Tlie Queen is resting, and will ccc lo one," he said roughly. j Trafford^ paid not the slightest citention to the Captain's words. "My name is Trafford,*' he went on, to the officer. The Lieutenant's face was a picture of puzzled dis>may. His orders were to conduct Trafford to the royal apartments as soon as he presented himself. To all others lie was to give tlie message that her Majesty was exceedingly fatit,ved, and would on no account sec anyone. After a moment's embarrassed indecision, during which he felt Yon Hugelweiler 's eye absolutely scovohiftg Mm, he bade Trafford follow, and, turning his back on the furious Captain, led the way down the long corridor. Arriving at a doorway concealed by a heavy curtain he pushed open a maesive oak portal, and signalled Trafford to enter. / The chamber in which the latter now found himself was lofty, smelling of mxense, and lib by lamps hanging from a frescoed ceiling. At the far end was an altar garnished with many candles and a silver crucifix. This undoubtedly was the private chapel of tlie Neptunburg. "We are awaiting you," said the quiet voicSf of Mathilde. Trafford advanced towards the new Queen, who was standing before the steps of the altar in the company of a priestThe chapel was dark, for the stained-glass windows shut out most of the remaining light, and the -hanging lamps were little •more than points of ruby flame. And yet he could see that Mathilde's face was j still of an even- pallor, and that her eyes were red from recent tears. "I am a woman of my word," she went on in dull tones. "I promised to marry i you under certain conditions, and, those, conditions being fulfilled, I waste no time." "You are carrying out the letter of the contract," returned Trafford, "but are you observing the spirit? I did not bargain for a tearful bride." "The tears are dried and gone." "But not the cause tliat made them flow. You wept because you are a woman, and the woman who regards even the formula of marriage as a little matter has yet to see the light of day. And you wept because you are not sure which thing conscience commands — the violation of a contract or the taking of falfie vows." "You are strangely wise to-day," she said with a faint smile. "I did not know such intuition lurked' in that wild brain of yours." "I am right, then?" "I cannot say" — she hesitated 1 . "Yes, the marriage vow is a serious thing, and this wedding, as 1 warned you, can be no more than a solemn moctoery. lam Queen of Grimlandi. You are a bra<ve man and a gentleman— but you are not a prince of blood royaL"- J

"The TraffoTds are not people of partid^ Larly humble origin," he retorted drily "Nor would it a,ffect me if Vhey were. But *he State would never sanction my marriage with a commoner." "Then is it worth while going through, the mockery?" he demanded. "I have asked myself that^ question, and the answer is that you find me here. My word ie pledged." '•Tour word, but not your heart." "I once told you that I had no heart.™ "Then you uttered a falsehood," lie insisted. "Your heart, whose existence yott deny, bled at the thought of Karl's suffering. Your heart, which was disposed to entertain some kindly emotion for me, has cooled towards me because I compassed Karl's cruel demise." "Go on, wise man !" « "I will not ask you if I am right, 5*5 * pursued* Trafford, "for I read acquiescence in those tear-epotted eyes. But I will say one thing more : as Queen -of Grimland your marriage to me will be null and void. What if you are deposed from your sovereignty, and became' again Mathilde yon Schatbenberg, the exile?" "That will not occur just yet,"" die replied. "I am not so <»rtam, v he mused. "What if those rumours mentioned by .Gottfried" were true in substance and in fact? What : I if Karl really escaped with General Meyer and Saunders and- others to -WekssieHn? What if Grimlaiwl's King is still in Ub own country, alive, alert, sumwaxled by sag£ counsel *nd loyal hearts? Is jour position then so very sure?" "But Karl .vas put into the Eisenmadh 7:hen," she protested wonderingly. "So were you," -was Trafford's retort. ••I — yes. But you had unscrewed all the spikes. The Maiden vras as harmless as an unfanged snake." "I put those spikes in my - overcoat pocket,' said Trafford slowly. "They are still — in my overcoat pocket." For a dazed moment Matbdlde stood staring at him. Then sbe reeled — literally — grasping at the altar rails for support. "You put him into the Iron Maiden — to save his life?" she gasped. ' "That was my rough idea. You see, t am an Englishman and a fool, and I hat* killing things — especially brave -things. I can never bear seeing terriers kill a rat. I gave up shooting pheasants and..hnnting foxes because my sympathy for far* naturae was stronger than my love of sport. There are plenty of men I would kill in the heat of battle — one or two, perhaps, whom I would kill without much heat — but Karl, -whatever his deeds or misdeeds, was playing the man that night in the Palace yard, "and I would sooner have cut- off my right, hand than have done him injury. Forgive . me, your. Majesty, foi ,1 served badly. • Providence, - which gave me a fair share of muscle and brute courage, was stinting to me in the matter of logic. I should have been logical and replaced the spikes in the Eisenmadchen. " "Herr Trafford !?t! ?t A -hand was laklpn Trafford's arm, and in the scanty lightof tie shadowy chapel the Englishman found himself looking into eyes bright with tears, but tears not of sorrow or vexation, but of happiness and | vast relief. "You have taken a weight off my heart ' that was heavier than I could bear," she mmimured. "I felt like a murderess, a guilty creature who bad risen through blood to the summit of her base ambitions." "Then I am forgiven?" "There is nothing to forgive. You have helped me and served me with your splendid impetuosity and your fearless resource. A Grimlander would have slain Karl, and crowned his services with a deed of shame. You were illogical — and I—lI — 1 almost love you for your noble lack of logic." ■ ' "You almost love me?" he asked in a trance. "At Jeast as much as I ever loved the others — poor Ulrich and the redoubtable ' Herr Saunders. I will. marry you, George Trafford, the Englishman, and if the Queen of Grimland cannot wed ' a commoner, then I. will no longer be. Queen -of Grimland." ' Trafford gassed into the pale, brave face as- he had never gazed at any living thing. His breath caught with a short gasp. A' strange fire had sprung to quivering life in his bosom ? a wild march was- pealing in hjs ravished ears. His feet were no longer on the chequered marble pavement of the Chapel Royal, but somewhere in the fine Tegions of rolling planets and shimmering nebulae. It was no common man who bent over that sweet young face and kissed the warm tears from the drooping eyelids ; no mere human being who breathed the word "Matfhilde" in an echo of long-drawn sound, but a demi-god, an heroic anachronism with the passions of Phoebus in his kindling soul. He strained the slim form to him as he could never have compelled Angela Knox, even in her; most human moments. "I thought love was worship," he said. "So it is, and something more — something infinitely and deliriously more." • "We "are in church," she remonstrated, gently disengaging herself, "iand v>b alone." Again he kissed her, and thk time gently on the brow. "I was forgetting, all things save one," he said, "and 1 that is that you love me.*"Almost love you," J&e corrected. "At least as much as you loved thtf others," he affirmed. "And that contents you ?" she demanded. -Her question- . puzzled -him. "It ought not to, of course," he said* with wrinkled brow. "I ought to want all or nothing. That was my state with Angela Knox, but Saunders tells me that that was an unhealthy passion. With you I am content aa it » — would be content if it were even leas you gave, for in $h«

dim light of this ancient chamber I eeem to ace the workings of Fate." "Then you are willing on such a basis to go one with tbe ceremony?" "If you are content to do so," he returned, "knowing that Karl is alive and may prevail, and that in that event ao Parliament will trouble to undo what the good priest does this afternoon." Mathdkfe looked him frankly ;n; n the face. '1, too, believe in Fate," she said softly, after a pause. "Father Ambrose, you have been gammoned Here for a, purpose. Fulfil that purpose."