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"Now, that is good of you," she says, gratefully, and then, as he stoops to kiss her, she throws her arms around his neck and bursts into tears. The music, soft and almost mournful, echoes through the room; the feet keep time upon the oaken floor; weird-like the two forms move through the settled gloom. With Captain Rodney and Sir Nicholas she makes way at once, though she is a little nervous and depressed, and not altogether like her usual gay insouciant self. She is thrown back upon herself, and, like a timid snail, recoils sadly into her shell..
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For nature made her what she is, For him—strange as it may seem—she had ever but little love. But when he married, and George, the eldest boy, was given into her arms, and as he grew and developed and showed himself day by day to be the very prototype of his grandsire, she "took to him," as the servants said, and clung to him—and afterwards to his memory—until her dying day. "Listen!" said Mīka´pi. "For days and nights I have heard your mourning, and I too have mourned. Your husband was my close friend, and now he is dead, and no relations are left to avenge him. So now I say to you, I will take the load from your hearts; I will go to war and kill enemies and take scalps, and when I return they shall be yours. I will wipe away your tears, and we shall be glad that Fox Eye is avenged." "How strange!" says the duchess, with an amused smile. "Are you quite sure of that?".
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