"The heroic are plotted against by evil spirits, comforted by good ones, but in no way constrained," observed the Ambassador; "let us then support Mr. Orange, and wait for his own decision. I doubt whether we could drive him to Lady Fitz Rewes." "To whom else?" asked Sara, fastening some flowers in her belt. They were white camellias sent that morning from the infatuated, still hopeful Duke of Marshire. "To whom else--if not Pensée?" "I dare not answer such questions yet. Have patience and you shall see what you shall see. Much will hinge on the events of the next few days." "I will not believe," she insisted, "that Robert Orange has been deceived by that woman." "You may change your opinion. Come to Hadley Lodge next Saturday--I ask no more." "Really, sir," said Sara, with a mocking smile, "you frighten me. Am I at last to fly through an intrigue on the wings of a conspiracy?" The Prince smiled also, but he saw that the lady had risen to the occasion and would not prove false to her Asiatic blood. "Mrs. Parflete and Castrillon are cut out for each other," said he, "but Orange has no business in that _galère_. He is reserved for a greater fate." "What do you mean?" said Sara. "All now depends on you." "On me?" "Plainly. Reckage wishes Orange to get out of his way and become a Religious. Can this be permitted?" "It would be outrageous. It would be a crime." "Ah, worse than that. It might prove a success. We don't want any more strong men in the Church just now." Sara agreed. She, too, was opposed to the Church. And she was glad of the excuse this thought offered for the pains she would take to save Orange from the Vatican grasp. "Then we are allies," said His Excellency. "You will help me." "Gladly, and what is more, as a duty. But how?" "Keep the two men apart, and treat both of them--both--with kindness." His Excellency then rose, kissed her hands once more, and took his departure. Sara, when the door was closed, paced the floor with swift and desperate steps, as though she were encircled by thoughts which, linked together, danced round her way so that whether she retreated or advanced, swayed to the right or to the left, they held her fast. CHAPTER XIX Lord Garrow, under his daughter's command, had issued invitations for a dinner-party that same evening to a few friends, who, it was hoped, would support the Meeting which Reckage was endeavouring to organise as a protest against Dr. Temple's nomination. The guests included Reckage himself, Orange, Charles Aumerle, the Dowager Countess of Larch, Hartley Penborough, Lady Augusta Hammit, and the Bishop of Calbury's chaplain,--the Rev. Edwin Pole-Knox. Sara, arrayed in white satin and opals, sat at the piano playing the _Faust_ of Berlioz, and wondering whether she had really arranged her table to perfection, when the footman brought the following note--dashed off in pencil--from Lord Reckage:-- ALMOUTH HOUSE.