Lady Nora stayed behind.  “Your eminence,” she said, “the evening will be fine; shall we dine on deck?”

“That will be charming,” said the cardinal.

“Whenever you wish to go to your room,” said Lady Nora, “you have but to press this button, and the head steward will come.”  She still loitered.  “I think it very likely,” she said, hesitating, “that the Earl of Vauxhall will drop in; he often does.  I should have mentioned it before, but I was so delighted at your staying that I forgot all about him.”

“My dear lady,” said the cardinal, “to supplant the Earl of Vauxhall in your thoughts is great honor.”

She looked at him quickly, blushed, cast down her eyes, and began, nervously, to play with a gold boat-whistle that hung at her belt.  When she had exhausted the possibilities of the whistle she looked up again, and the cardinal saw that there were tears upon her cheeks.  When she knew that he had seen them she disregarded them, and threw up her head, proudly.

“Yes,” she said, “I think of him far too often; so often that it makes me angry, it makes me ashamed.  He is an earl; he is tall and straight and beautiful and clean, and—­he loves me—­I know it,” she exclaimed, her face illumined; “but why,” she went on, “should I give myself to him on these accounts?  Why should he not earn me?  Why does he compel me to so one-sided a bargain?  I, too, am tall and straight and clean, and not ill-favored, and, in addition, I have that curse of unmarried women—­I have money.  Why does he not do something to even up the transaction?  Why does he not write a page that some one will read?  Why does he not write a song that some one will sing?  Why does he not do something that will make the world call me his wife, instead of calling him my husband?  The other day, when he and love were tugging at me, I told him I would marry him if he brought me the turquoise cup.  It was an idle thing to say, but what I say I stand by.  I shall never marry him unless he brings it to me.  You know us Irish women.  We have our hearts to contend with, but we keep our word.  I set my lord a trivial task.  If he really wants me he will accomplish it.  I am not dear at the price.”

“With true love,” said the cardinal, “I do not think there is any question of price.  It is an absolute surrender, without terms.  I say this guardedly, for I am no expert as to this thing called human love.  I recognize that it is the power that moves the world, but, for more than fifty years, I have tried to forget the world.”

“Yes,” cried Lady Nora, “and, but for a cruel mistake, you would have married my grandmother.”

“Yes,” said the cardinal, “but for a cruel mistake.”

“The mistake was hers,” exclaimed Lady Nora.

The cardinal threw up his hands.  “It was a mistake,” he said, “and it was buried fifty years ago.  Why dig it up?”

“Forgive me,” said Lady Nora, and she started toward the hatch.