"I will never marry--" Judith stood, motionless, beside him, while he spoke. Her beautiful vivid face was pale for once, and her dark eyes were troubled, as if with painful thought. But she met his glance without flinching, and her voice, when she spoke, was firm, if low. "I think, I hope, you will marry, Alfred," she said. "But I am glad, and proud, that you have said what you have. It was--like you, to say it. It is--an acknowledgment--that I shall never forget, as long as I live-- "I will give you--a pledge--in return. Whatever happens, you will always be welcome here. Whatever happens, you will always find the same welcome here. You will never find--any changes here. I don't think Alfred, the sailor, is dead. I don't think he will ever die--as long as you live! For us, here, at any rate, you will always be--our friend Alfred!" Once again, the King was conscious that Judith understood him better than he understood himself. Once again--was it for the last time?--it seemed to him that she had explained him to himself. What did all his talk amount to? An acknowledgment of the right, of the claim, that Judith had established upon him--that was all. That was all--he could offer to her. That was all--she could accept-- As unaccountably, and as suddenly then as they had come to him, before, words failed him. Abruptly, he turned from Judith, and hurried away from her, round the side of the house-- On the verandah, beside the front door, the Duke and Uncle Bond were standing together deep in talk. Uncle Bond was holding the King's coat, and cap. As the King approached, the Duke shook hands very cordially with Uncle Bond, and then stepped down from the verandah, and crossed to a large closed motor car, which was drawn up in the drive near by, with the uniformed chauffeur standing stiffly to attention at its open door. For a moment, the King thought of passing Uncle Bond without speaking. But that, of course, was impossible. And yet--what could he say? He need not have troubled himself. Uncle Bond might distrust, but he never had any difficulty in finding words. The little man handed the King his coat, and his cap. Then he spoke. "This," he said, with a sweeping gesture which seemed to include the sunlit garden, the wooded landscape beyond, the house, and even Judith and himself, "has all been a dream, my boy. But it is now high time that you should awake out of sleep. Your real life is beginning now." The King wrung the little man's hand in silence, and then followed the Duke to the waiting car. The Duke was already seated inside the car. The King got into the car, and sat down beside him. The uniformed chauffeur, whose keen, clean-shaven face was motionless, impassive, a mask, shut the door, and hurried round to the front of the car, and started the engine. A moment later, the car leapt forward and swept down the drive out into, and up, the narrow, tree-shadowed lane beyond. CHAPTER XVII