At Love's Cost

"You look rather serious, oh, my prince!" said Howard, as, some few

hours later, he leisurely climbed into the phaeton beside Stafford. "I

have noticed with inward satisfaction that as we approach the moment of

meeting with your puissant parent, the Sultan, an air of gravity and

soberness has clouded that confoundedly careless, devil-may-care

countenance of yours. I say with inward satisfaction, because, with my

usual candour, I don't mind admitting that I am shivering in my shoes.

The shadow of the august presence is already falling on me, and as the

hour draws near I feel my littleness, my utter insignificance, with an

acuteness which almost compels me to ask you to let me get down and

make my way back to London as best I can."

"Don't be an ass," retorted Stafford, rather absently.

"You ask an impossibility of me, my dear fellow; but I will try and

conceal my asininity as best I can. May I ask, to change the subject,

where you were wandering all the morning?"

Stafford coloured slightly and bestowed minute attention to the off

horse.

"Oh, just prowling round," he replied, leisurely.

"You tempt me to finish the quotation. Did you find anyone to devour?

Apropos, has his majesty, the Sultan, ever mentioned matrimony to you,

Staff?"

Stafford looked round at him for an instant.

"No," he said, curtly. "What the devil made you ask?"

"Merely my incessant speculation as to your future, my dear fellow,"

replied Howard, blandly. "Most fathers are ambitious for their sons,

and I should imagine that Sir Stephen would be extremely so. When a man

is simply a plain 'Mr.,' he longs for the 'Sir;' when he gets the

'Sir,' he wants the 'my Lord' for himself, or for his son and heir.

That is the worst of ambition: you can't satisfy it. I have no doubt in

my mind that at this very moment Sir Stephen is making for a peerage

for himself--or you. He can possibly gain his; but you, having no

brains to speak of--the fact that good-looking men are always deficient

in that respect is a continual and blessed consolation to us plain

ones, Staff--will have to make what the world calls a 'good marriage.'

Doubtless your father already has the future bride in his eye; the

daughter of a peer--high in the government, perhaps in the

cabinet--probably. Probably that is why he has asked you to meet him

here. I hope, for your sake, that she is good-looking. I

fancy"--musingly--"that you would be rather particular. If rumour does

you no injustice, you always have been."