iscalculated the time which he would require. It had taken longer than
he had anticipated to reach the villa against the storm; his conflict
with Jenny in the portico had consumed valuable minutes; he had been at
some pains to over-persuade the Princess-mother; Jenny herself amongst
the trees in the darkness had waited more than the quarter of an hour
demanded of her; Wogan himself, absorbed each moment in that moment's
particular business,--now bending all his wits to vanquish Jenny, now to
vanquish the Princess-mother,--even Wogan had neglected how the time
sped. He looked at his watch. It was twenty-five minutes to ten, and at
ten the magistrate would be knocking at the door.

"I am ready," said Clementina, drawing the wet cloak about her shoulders
and its hood over her head. She barely shivered under its wet heaviness.

"There's one more thing to be done before you go," said Wogan; but
before he could say what that one thing was, Jenny, who had now
recovered her shoe, ran across the room and took the beautiful heiress
by both hands. Jenny was impulsive by nature. The Princess-mother's
distress and Clementina's fearlessness made her suddenly ashamed that
she had spoken so sourly.

"There, there, old lady," she said soothingly; "don't you fret. They are
very good friends your niece is going with." Then she drew Clementina
close to her. "I don't wonder they are all mad about you, for I can't
but say you are very handsome and richly worth the pains you have
occasioned us." She kissed Clementina plump upon the cheek and
whispered in her ear, "O'Toole won't mind the wet cloak, my dear, when
he sees you."

Clementina laughed happily and returned her kiss with no less sincerity,
if with less noise.

"Quick, Jenny," said Wogan, "to bed with you!"

He pointed to the door which led to the Princess's bedroom.

"Now you must write a letter," he added to Clementina, in a low voice,
as soon as the door was shut upon Jenny. "A letter to your mother,
relieving her of all complicity in your escape. Her Highness will find
it to-morrow night slipped under the cover of her toilette."

Clementina ran to a table, and taking up a pen, "You think of
everything," she said. "Perhaps you have written the letter."

Wogan pulled a sheet of paper from his fob.

"I scribbled down a few dutiful sentiments," said he, "as we drove down
from Nazareth, thinking it might save time."

"Mother," exclaimed Clementina, "not content with contrivi