ut, with an effort, he controlled himself, and turning towards the
timepiece on the chimney, said, 'How late! I could not have believed it was
past one! I hope, my lord, I have made your despatch intelligible?'

'Yes, yes; I think so. Besides, he will be here in a day or two to
explain.'

'I shall, then, say good-night, my lord. Good-night, Cousin Maude.' But
Lady Maude had already left the room unnoticed.

CHAPTER LXVII

WALPOLE ALONE

Once more in his own room, Walpole returned to the task of that letter to
Nina Kostalergi, of which he had made nigh fifty drafts, and not one with
which he was satisfied.

It was not really very easy to do what he wished. He desired to seem a
warm, rapturous, impulsive lover, who had no thought in life--no other hope
or ambition--than the success of his suit. He sought to show that she had
so enraptured and enthralled him that, until she consented to share his
fortunes, he was a man utterly lost to life and life's ambitions; and while
insinuating what a tremendous responsibility she would take on herself if
she should venture by a refusal of him to rob the world of those abilities
that the age could ill spare, he also dimly shadowed the natural pride a
woman ought to feel in knowing that she was asked to be the partner of
such a man, and that one, for whom destiny in all likelihood reserved the
highest rewards of public life, was then, with the full consciousness of
what he was, and what awaited him, ready to share that proud eminence with
her, as a prince might have offered to share his throne.

In spite of himself, in spite of all he could do, it was on this latter
part of his letter his pen ran most freely. He could condense his raptures,
he could control in most praiseworthy fashion all the extravagances of
passion and the imaginative joys of love, but, for the life of him, he
could abate nothing of the triumphant ecstasy that must be the feeling of
the woman who had won him--the passionate delight of her who should be his
wife, and enter life the chosen one of his affection.

It was wonderful how glibly he could insist on this to himself; and
fancying for the moment that he was one of the outer world commenting
on the match, say, 'Yes, let people decry the Walpole class how they
might--they are elegant, they are exclusive, they are fastidious, they are
all that you like to call the spoiled children of Fortune in their wit,
their brilliancy, and their readiness, but