The Man with the Double Heart Part 77

"I'm the Marquis Maramonte," he said, "and you are my very dear liege lady."

For a moment she stared at him, amazed. Then, like a sunlit April shower, laughter stole into her eyes, still shining with her tears.

She clapped her hands. She danced for joy.

"Oh! what a gorgeous sell for Stephen!"

McTaggart caught her outstretched hands, laughing aloud.

"Isn't it?" Relief at her change of mood, delight at the way she took her new honours: her simple child-like fearlessness, made him exult in his bride.

"He'll have to 'kow-tow' to you now, old lady. He won't like that--Master Stephen!--I expect he will, though"--he veered round--"he'll be trying to borrow no end of money!"

"He won't get it," Jill cried gayly. "He can come and smash my windows first." She hardly knew what she was saying, for the reaction had set in, the excitement of this great adventure.

"He'd find it hard..." said McTaggart grimly. "This place has stood many a siege. They had a playful way, you know, of slinging donkeys in by catapults!"

"Well"--Jill giggled--"why not Stephen?" Then her face grew thoughtful again. "It's wonderful!..." She glanced down the long walls hung with pictures. Men in armour, half concealed by sumptuous cloaks; red-robed prelates; court beauties, smiling proudly; stern old age, reckless youth!

"These made history," said Jill and paused, sobered by the thought...

"_Your_ people." She looked at her husband, full of honest pride for him.

"Yes." McTaggart smiled back. "Splendid chaps, some of them. That's the hero of Montaperti, Giordano Maramonte. And that frivolous-looking boy charged through and broke the Standard--the great white lilies of Florence--off from the famous 'Carroccio.'

"I don't fancy any of these won their honours our way--the modern way in old England--a fat subscription to 'Secret Funds'! They were rather a bad lot, all the same..."

"I don't doubt it," Jill laughed, mischief in her mocking glance.

"Perhaps they all had 'double hearts'--it seems to lead to a lot of trouble! Look at those lovely pearls there--on the lady in the satin gown--and the single drop on her forehead! You could pick it up--it looks so real."

"So you shall. We've got it still. Safe in my Roman bank--for _you_!--And all sorts of other jewels--an emerald ring that belonged to a Pope. You're going to be a little queen!--have every mortal thing you want. And you're worth it, you dearest child. You're the loveliest woman in the world!"

"Hush!" she smiled--"I want to think..."

But a new idea had struck McTaggart.

Absently she let him lead her to where two great gilded chairs stood on a das, under a canopy.

"Sit there," he commanded.

She settled herself easily, her slim shape swallowed up between the great carved arms, beneath the shield of the Maramonte. He stood back to look at her, as she went on, thoughtfully:

"We're rich, then, Peter?--ever so rich."

"Yes," he nodded his head gravely. "What are you puzzling out now?"

"I was thinking of Roddy," she confessed--"Of all that this may mean--to him."

"He's to be your Court Painter, my queen"--McTaggart's eyes never left her--"Won't he love Italy? And Aunt Elizabeth?--She knows!--I told her the whole story, Jill. She's been a brick to keep the secret."

Then he mounted the das--impatiently--as she still dreamed on.

"I say, Jill. You've never thanked me! This is my wedding present, you see."

Jill gave a little start. Impulsively she opened her arms.

"Oh, Peter!--do forgive me." But he slipped down at her feet.

For a moment he knelt there, arms about her, his face pressed against her knees.

She could feel, through her dress, his burning cheeks, the wave of longing that swept across him ... Then, slowly, he lifted his head.

His eyes, blue as the heavens beyond, drank their fill. He whispered her name.

"Jill ... my darling little wife!"

THE END