He prayed continually: “May God be my Rock and my High Tower; may the Almighty be my Shield this night....” while in two minutes Margaret had begun to be a wonder to her neighbours--heaved sighs, threw herself, beat plate with knife, hummed a little, yet conscious of wrong-doing, her eyes fixed upon Frankl. “Oh, my!” her sigh heaved mortally, head tumbling dead on shoulder. “Are you--unwell?” asked a startled neighbour, all shirt-front, eye-glass and delicacy. “I see a long table with gold plates”, she whined pitifully, “on every plate an eyeball dying....” Frankl controlled her with a glance of anger. And in the second course after turtle, with a fainting prayer to Jehovah, the Jew clandestinely held up a forefinger; upon which she, after some hesitation, remembered the signal, and like a dart shot to her feet. Now every eye fastened upon her, from Regent's and Prince's to the bottom, those near her, who knew her now, feeling a miserable heart-shrinking of shame. With sideward head she stood some seconds, smiling; and she sighed: “My name is Rachel--” But soon, her mood now rushing into sprightliness, she stamped, and with an active alacrity of eye, sang: “Will you come to the wedding? Will you come? Bring your own bread-and-butter, And your own tea-and-sugar, And we'll all pay a penny for the Rum, Rum, Rum, We'll all pay a penny for the Rum”. The Regent had risen, while Frankl, calm now in reaction, gazed sweetly upon his face: the vengeance of a Jew--nor was he half done with vengeance. Certainly, Hogarth was pale: he had sought her long, and found her _so_. “Why it is my own heart”, he thought, “and they have made her mad”. One moment a stab of shame pierced him at the reflection: “_Here!_” but in the next his heart yearned upon her, and he rose nimbly and naturally far beyond Lord Mayor and Prince, and the rut of the world. After a perfectly deliberate bow, he left his place, and walked down the length of the hall to her, amid the gaping gods, Loveday, too, and three others, when he was half-way, following. He had her hand, touched her temple lightly, yet compellingly, healingly.... “Dear, don't you know me?--Richard?--_Dick?_” No, but at sight of Loveday some kind of recognition seemed to light, and die, in her eyes. “Will you come, dear, and sit up yonder with me?” Hogarth asked, his face a mask of emotion. Wearily she shook her head; and “John”, said Hogarth, “take her home”; whereupon Loveday led her out, the Regent returning to the canopy. Half an hour later he found it _à propos_ of something to say to the Prince: “That lady who sang is my sister, Your Royal Highness--seems to have been subjected to gross cruelties, and has gone crazy”. The next morning everyone knew that she was the Regent's sister; and a man said to a man: “There is madness in the family, then....” XLVIII THE SEA-FORTS