"Oh, dreadful rumours, my Jack----" she was arranging her hair--"says that the gold fiend is going to sell his gold at a penny an ounce. He says that if that's true a sovereign won't buy a loaf of bread next week, but then, dear Miss Temple, that would never matter to my Jack. He always has rusks, you know. Well, good-bye." "Good-bye, pet," said Miss Temple, kissing her on the forehead. "Good-bye, Mrs. Osbourne." "Good-bye, Lord Sydney--Ta-ta!" "Thank goodness she's gone," said Sydney, closing the door behind her. "Oh, but Sydney," Miss Temple quivered, "she'll tell it all over the town." "Better than a newspaper," said the trooper. "Sit down, James," Miss Temple resumed her place, "you tell me that Margaret is being forced into marriage with that odious Russian prince. But what has this to do with Lyonesse?" "Dear old Mummie," answered the Guardsman. "Don't you see? Lyonesse doesn't care who marries the Queen. But Lyonesse is a business concern, and has no use for a Russian Alliance." "And quite right, too." "So Brand says to Ulster, 'Break with Russia, or I lower the price of gold.'" "His father, John Brand II., did that, and Russia went bankrupt!" "Russia will go bankrupt again, France bankrupt, Germany bankrupt. Who'll dare to disobey the man who can bankrupt civilization?" Miss Temple thought that dear Sydney was getting very pompous and uplifted. "Dear me," she tossed her head. "Your Mr. Brand will be getting himself arrested. A sort of commercial person--who is he to give orders to the Chancellor of the Empire?" "This commercial person," Sydney laughed, "happens to live in a respectable democracy where a shopkeeper can sell anything he pleases at his own price." "But, James, if the old Russian Empire was swept away by his father----" "The world may be swept away by the son, Mummie. At all costs the Queen has got to be saved, England has got to be saved. There's still time to prevent this horror. I can't explain--I daren't--but you've got to help, you've got to go to our Lady. Tell her that if she will only give me a private audience I may be able to put an end to the Russian marriage." "But, James, she daren't give a private audience to you. We should be found out, and there'd be such a scandal." "You must be present, Mummie, but even at the risk of scandal go to the Queen." * * * * * In her penance-room our Lady was giving audience to the Chancellor, and while he, in his clear, exact speech, set forth the perils of the State, Margaret was thinking about something else. She sat before the window upon a low, square stool, her elbows on her knees, her chin upon her hands, just crushed into a lovely dimple by the mouth. Her lips were slightly parted, her dreamy, big, blue eyes set on the gardens.