Clementina

"Mr. Wogan," said he, "our Holy Father the Pope wishes to testify his

approbation of your remarkable enterprise on behalf of a princess who is

his god-daughter. He bids me hand you, therefore, your patent of Roman

Senator, and request you to present yourself at the Capitol in Rome on

June 15, when you will be installed with all the ancient ceremonies."

Wogan thanked his Eminence dutifully, but laid the patent on the table.

"You hardly know what you refuse," said his Eminence. "The Holy Father

has no greater honour to bestow, and, believe me, he bestows it

charily."

"Nay, your Eminence," said Wogan, "I do not undervalue so high a

distinction. But I had three friends with me who shared every danger. I

cannot accept an honour which they do not share; for indeed they risked

more than I did. For they hold service under the King of France."

The Cardinal was pleased to compliment Wogan upon his loyalty to his

friends.

"They shall not be the losers," said he. "I think I may promise indeed

that each will have a step in rank, and I do not doubt that when the

Holy Father hears what you have said to me, I shall have three other

patents like to this;" and he locked Wogan's away in a drawer.

"And what of the King in Spain?" asked Wogan.

"I sent a messenger thither on the night of your coming," said the

Cardinal; "but it is a long journey into Spain. We must wait."

To Wogan it seemed the waiting would never end. The Cardinal had found

a little house set apart from the street with a great garden of lawns

and cedar-trees and laurels; and in that garden now fresh with spring

flowers and made private by high walls, the Princess passed her days.

Wogan saw her but seldom during this time, but each occasion sent him

back to his lodging in a fever of anxiety. She had grown silent, and her

silence alarmed him. She had lost the sparkling buoyancy of her spirits.

Mrs. Misset, 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.