I--acted
bodyguard, attended Cousin Katherine to Naples, wrapped her in cotton
wool, dear thing, sternly determined to protect her at all costs and
all hazards from--well, I am ashamed to say I had no name bad enough at
that time for Richard Calmady! And then this very person, whom we
regarded as her probable destruction, proves to be her absolute
salvation, while she proceeds to turn the tables upon us in the
smartest fashion imaginable. She showed us the door and entreated us,
in the most beguiling manner, to return whence we came and leave her
wholly at the mercy of the enemy. I was furious"--Miss St. Quentin
laughed--"downright furious! And Roger's temper, for all his
high-mightiness, was a thing to swear at, rather than swear by, the
morning he and I left Naples. With the greatest difficulty we persuaded
her even to keep Clara. She had a rage, dear thing, for getting rid of
the lot of us. Oh! we had a royal skirmish and no mistake."

"So Roger told me."

Honoria stretched herself a little, lolled against the back of the
chair, steadying herself by laying one hand affectionately on the other
woman's shoulder. And John Knott, observing her, noted not only her
nonchalant and almost boyish grace, but a swift change in her humour
from light-hearted laughter to a certain, and as he fancied,
half-unwilling enthusiasm.

"But to-day," she went on, "when Cousin Katherine told me about it, I
confess the whole situation laid hold of me. I could not help seeing it
must have been finely romantic to go off like that--those two
alone--caring as she cares, and after the long separation. It sounds
like a thing in some Elizabethan ballad. There's a rhythm in it all
which stirs one's blood. She says the yacht's crew were delightful to
her, and treated her as a queen. One can fancy that--the stately,
lovely queen-mother, and that strange only son!--They called in at the
North African ports, and at Gib and Madeira, and the Cape de Verds, and
then ran straight for Rio. Then they steamed up the coast to
Pernambuco, and on to the West Indies. Richard never went ashore,
Cousin Katherine only once or twice. But they squattered about in the
everlasting summer of tropic harbours, fringed with palms and low, dim,
red-roofed, tropic houses--just sampled it all, the colour, and light,
and beauty, and far awayness of it--and then, when the fancy took them,
got up steam and slipped out again to sea. And the name of the yacht is
the _Reprieve_.