y noble and selfless.
In a measure this evening--so calm and peaceful in contrast to the
turbulence of the other night--marked one of the great crises in the
history of her love. Even when she heard that Fate itself was conspiring
to help on the clandestine marriage by causing Sir Marmaduke and
Mistress de Chavasse to absent themselves at a most opportune moment,
she had resolved to break the news to her lover of her own immense
wealth.
Of this he was still in total ignorance. One or two innocent remarks
which he had let fall at different times convinced her of that. Nor was
this ignorance of his to be wondered at: he saw no one in or about the
village except the old Quakeress and Adam Lambert with whom he lodged.
The woman was deaf and uncommunicative, whilst there seemed to be some
sort of tacit enmity against the foreigner, latent in the mind of the
blacksmith. It was, therefore, quite natural that he should suppose her
no whit less poor than Sir Marmaduke de Chavasse or the other
neighboring Kentish squires whose impecuniousness was too blatant a fact
to be unknown even to a stranger in the land.
Sue, therefore, was eagerly looking forward to the happy moment when she
would explain to her prince that her share in the wonderful enterprise
which he always vaguely spoke of as his "great work" would not merely be
one of impassiveness. Where he could give the benefit of his
personality, his eloquence, his knowledge of men and things, she could
add the weight of her wealth.
Of course she was very, very young, but already from him she had
realized that it is impossible even to regenerate mankind and give it
political and religious freedom without the help of money.
Prince Amede d'Orleans himself was passing rich: the fact that he chose
to hide in a lonely English village and to live as a poor man would
live, was only a part of his schemes. For the moment, too, owing to that
ever-present vengefulness of the King of France, his estates and
revenues were under sequestration. All this Sue understood full well,
and it added quite considerably to her joy to think that soon she could
relieve the patriot and hero from penury, and that the news that she
could do so would be a glad surprise for him.
Nor must Lady Sue Aldmarshe on this account be condemned for an ignorant
or a vain fool. Though she was close on twenty-one years of age, she had
had absolutely no experience of the world or of mankind: all she knew of
eithe
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