As she spoke he saw Maude detach herself from the group and approach
them.
"Stafford--forgive me, Lady Blanche! but will you let him come to Sir
Stephen? He has just heard news--"
They followed her, and Sir Stephen seeing Stafford, held out his hand.
The old man was flushed and his dark eyes sparkled.
"Stafford!" he said, and his rich voice shook. "I have just heard--they
have just brought me--"
He held up an official-looking paper with the great red seal on the
envelope.
"It is from the prime minister--it is the peerage," said Maude, in a
voice thrilling with restrained triumph.
Stafford shook his father's hand.
"I congratulate you, sir," he said, trying all he knew to force
congratulation, rejoicing, into his voice.
Sir Stephen nodded, and smiled; his lips were quivering.
"Congratulations, Sir Stephen!" said a man, coming up. "I can see the
good news in your face."
"Not Sir Stephen--Lord Highcliffe!" said another, correctingly.
Maude slid her arm in Stafford's, and stood, her lovely face flushed,
her eyes sparkling, as she looked round.
"And no title has been more honourably gained," a voice said.
"Or will be more nobly borne!" echoed another.
Stafford, with all a man's hatred of fuss, and embarrassment in its
presence, drew nearer to his father.
"Won't you come and sit down--out of the crowd?" he added, in a low
voice.
Sir Stephen nodded, and was moving away--they made a kind of lane for
him--when a servant came up to him with a cablegram on a salver. As he
did so, Howard stepped forward quickly.
"Take it into the study!" he said, almost sharply, to the man; then to
Stafford he whispered: "Don't let him open it. It is bad news.
Griffenberg has just told me--quick! Take it!"
But before Stafford, in his surprise, could take the cablegram, Sir
Stephen had got it. He stood with his head erect, the electric light
falling on his handsome face: the embodiment of success. He opened the
telegram with the smile still on his lips, and read the thing; then the
crowd of staring--shall it be written, gaping?--persons saw the smile
fade slowly, the flushed face grow paler, still paler, then livid. He
looked up and round him as if he were searching for a face, and his
eyes, full of anguish and terror, met Stafford's.
"Stafford--my boy!" he cried, in accents of despair.
Stafford sprang to him.
"Father--I am here!" he said, for Sir Stephen's gaze grew vacant as if
he had been stricken blind.