who attended her, told him that she would sit for long whiles with a red spot burning in each cheek.  Wogan feared that her pride was chafing her gentleness, that she guessed there was reluctance in the King’s delay.  “But she must marry the King,” he still persevered in declaring.  Her hardships, her imprisonment, her perilous escape, the snows of Innspruck,—­these were known now; and if at the last the end for which they had been endured—­Wogan broke off from his reflections to hear the world laughing.  The world would not think; it would laugh.  “For her own sake she must marry,” he cried, as he paced about his rooms.  “For ours, too, for a country’s sake;” and he looked northwards towards England.  But “for her own sake” was the reason uppermost in his thoughts.

But the days passed.  The three promised patents came from Rome, and Cardinal Origo unlocked the drawer and joined Wogan’s to them.  He presented all four at the same time.

“The patents carry the titles of ‘Excellency,’” said he.

O’Toole beamed with delight.

“Sure,” said he, “I will have a toga with the arms of the O’Tooles embroidered on the back, to appear in at the Capitol.  It is on June 15, your Eminence.  Upon my soul, I have not much time;” and he grew thoughtful.

“A toga will hardly take a month, even with the embroidery, which I do not greatly recommend,” said the Cardinal, drily.

“I was not at the moment thinking of the toga,” said O’Toole, gloomily.

“And what of the King in Spain?” asked Wogan.

“We must wait, my friend,” said the Cardinal.

In a week there was brought to Wogan one morning a letter in the King’s hand.  He fingered it for a little, not daring to break the seal.  When he did break it, he read a great many compliments upon his success, and after the compliments a statement that the marriage should take place at Montefiascone as soon as the King could depart from Spain, and after that statement, a declaration that since her Highness’s position was not meanwhile one that suited either her dignity or the love the King had for her, a marriage by proxy should take place at Bologna.  The Chevalier added that he had written to Cardinal Origo to make the necessary arrangements for the ceremony, and he appointed herewith Mr. Charles Wogan to act as his proxy, in recognition of his great services.

Wogan felt a natural distaste for the part he was to take in the ceremony.  To stand up before the Cardinal and take Clementina’s hand in his, and speak another’s marriage vows and receive hers as another’s deputy,—­there was a certain mockery in the situation for which he had no liking.  The memory of the cabin on the mountain-side was something too near.  But, at all events, the King was to marry the Princess, and Wogan’s distaste was swallowed up in a great relief.  There would be no laughter rippling over Europe like the wind over a field of corn.  He stood by his window in the spring sunshine with a great contentment of spirit, and then there came a loud rapping on his door.