There was a marked difference observable in the manner of Harriet
Brandt after her conversation with the Baroness. Hitherto she had been
shy and somewhat diffident--the seclusion of her conventual life and
its religious teachings had cast a veil, as it were, between her and
the outer world, and she had not known how to behave, nor how much she
might venture to do, on being first cast upon it. But Madame Gobelli’s
revelations concerning her beauty and her prospects, had torn the veil
aside, and placed a talisman in her hands, against her secret fear.
She was beautiful and dangerous--she might become a Princess if she
played her cards well--the knowledge changed the whole face of Nature
for her. She became assured, confident, and anticipatory. She began
to frequent the company of the Baroness, and without neglecting her
first acquaintances, Mrs. Pullen and her baby, spent more time in the
Gobelli’s private sitting-room than in the balcony, or public salon, a
fact for which Margaret did not hesitate to declare herself grateful.
“I do not know how it is,” she confided to Elinor Leyton, “I rather
like the girl, and I would not be unkind to her for all the world, but
there is something about her that oppresses me. I seem never to have
quite lost the sensation she gave me the first evening that she came
here. Her company enervates me--I get neuralgia whenever we have been a
short time together--and she leaves me in low spirits and more disposed
to cry than laugh!”
“And no wonder,” said her friend, “considering that she has that
detestable school-girl habit of hanging upon one’s arm and dragging one
down almost to the earth! How you have stood it so long, beats me! Such
a delicate woman as you are too. It proves how selfish Miss Brandt must
be, not to have seen that she was distressing you!”
“Well! it will take a large amount of expended force to drag Madame
Gobelli to the ground,” said Margaret, laughing, “so I hope Miss Brandt
will direct that portion of her attention to her, and leave me only the
residue. Poor girl! she seems to have had so few people to love, or to
love her, during her lifetime, that she is glad to practise on anyone
who will reciprocate her affection. Did you see the Baroness kissing
her this morning?”
“I saw the Baroness scrubbing her beard against Miss Brandt’s cheek, if
you call that ‘kissing’?” replied Elinor. “The Baroness never kisses! I
have noticed her salute poor Bobby in the morning exactly in the same
manner. I have a curiosity to know if it hurts.”
“Why don’t you try it?” said Margaret.
“No, thank you! I am not so curious as all that! But the Gobellis and
Miss Brandt have evidently struck up a great friendship. She will be
the recipient of the Baroness’s cast-off trinkets and laces next!”
“She is too well off for that, Elinor! Madame Lamont told me she has a
fortune in her own right, of fifteen hundred a year!”
“She will want it all to gild herself with!” said Elinor.
Margaret Pullen looked at Miss Leyton thoughtfully. Did she really mean
what she said, or did her jealousy of the West Indian heiress render
her capable of uttering untruths? Surely, she must see that Harriet
Brandt was handsome--growing handsomer indeed, every day, with the pure
sea air tinting her cheeks with a delicate flush like the inside of a
shell--and that her beauty, joined to her money, would render her a
tempting morsel for the men, and a formidable rival for the women.
“I do not think you would find many people to agree with your opinion,
Elinor!” she said after a pause, in answer to Miss Leyton’s last remark.
“Well! I think she’s altogether odious,” replied her friend with a toss
of her head, “I thought it the first time I saw her, and I shall think
it to the last!”
It was the day that Captain Ralph Pullen was expected to arrive in
Heyst and the two ladies were preparing to go to the station to meet
him.
“The Baroness has at all events done you one good turn,” continued Miss
Leyton, “she has delivered you for a few hours from your ‘Old Man of
the Sea.’ What have you been doing with yourself all the morning! I
expected you to meet me on the sands, after I had done bathing!”
“I have not stirred out, Elinor. I am uneasy about baby! She does not
seem at all well. I have been waiting your return to ask you whether I
had not better send for a doctor to see her. But I am not sure if there
is such a thing in Heyst!”
“Sure to be, but don’t send unless it is absolutely necessary. What is
the matter with her?”
The nurse was sitting by the open window with little Ethel on her lap.
The infant looked much the same as usual--a little paler perhaps, but
in a sound sleep and apparently enjoying it.
“She does not seem ill to me,” continued Elinor, “is she in any pain?”
“Not at all, Miss,” said the nurse, “and begging the mistress’s pardon,
I am sure she is frightening herself without cause. Baby is cutting two
more teeth, and she feels the heat. That’s all!”
“Why are you frightened, Margaret?” asked Miss Leyton.
“Because her sleep is unnatural, I am sure of it,” replied Mrs. Pullen,
“she slept all yesterday, and has hardly opened her eyes to-day. It is
more like torpor than sleep. We can hardly rouse her to take her bottle
and you know what a lively, restless little creature she has always
been.”
“But her teeth,” argued Elinor Leyton, “surely her teeth account for
everything! I know my sister, Lady Armisdale, says that nothing varies
so quickly as teething children--that they’re at the point of death one
hour and quite well the next, and she has five, so she ought to know!”
“That’s quite right, Miss,” interposed the nurse, respectfully, “and
you can hardly expect the dear child to be lively when she’s in pain.
She has a little fever on her too! If she were awake, she would only be
fretful! I am sure that the best medicine for her is sleep!”
“You hear what Nurse says, Margaret, but if you are nervous, why
not send for a doctor to see her! We can ask Madame Lamont as we go
downstairs who is the best here, and call on him as we go to the
station, or we can telegraph to Bruges for one, if you think it would
be better!”
“O! no! no! I will not be foolish! I will try and believe that you
and Nurse know better than myself. I will wait at all events until
to-morrow.”
“Where has baby been this morning?”
“She was with Miss Brandt on the sands, Miss!” replied the nurse.
“Since you are so anxious about Ethel, Margaret, I really wonder that
you should trust her with a stranger like Miss Brandt! Perhaps she let
the sun beat on her head.”
“O! no, Elinor, Nurse was with them all the time. I would not let Miss
Brandt or anyone take baby away alone. But she is so good-natured and
so anxious to have her, that I don’t quite know how to refuse.”
“Perhaps she has been stuffing the child with some of her horrid
chocolates or caramels. She is gorging them all day long herself!”
“I know my duty too well for that, Miss!” said the nurse resentfully,
“I wouldn’t have allowed it! The dear baby did not have anything to eat
at all.”
“Well! you’re both on _her_ side evidently, so I will say no more,”
concluded Miss Leyton, “At the same time if _I_ had a child, I’d
sooner trust it to a wild beast than the tender mercies of Miss Brandt.
But it’s past four o’clock, Margaret! If we are to reach the _entrepôt_
in time we must be going!”
Mrs. Pullen hastily assumed her hat and mantle, and prepared to
accompany her friend. They had opened the door, and were about to leave
the room when a flood of melody suddenly poured into the apartment. It
proceeded from a room at the other end of the corridor and was produced
by a mandoline most skilfully played. The silvery notes in rills and
trills and chords, such as might have been evolved from a fairy harp,
arrested the attention of both Miss Leyton and Mrs. Pullen. They had
scarcely expressed their wonder and admiration to each other, at the
skilful manipulation of the instrument (which evinced such art as
they had never heard before except in public) when the strings of the
mandoline were accompanied by a young, fresh contralto voice.
“O! hush! hush!” cried Elinor, with her finger on her lip, as the rich
mellow strains floated through the corridor, “I don’t think I ever
heard such a lovely voice before. Whose on earth can it be?”
The words of the song were in Spanish, and the only one they could
recognise was the refrain of, “Seralie! Seralie!” But the melody was
wild, pathetic, and passionate, and the singer’s voice was touching
beyond description.
“Some professional must have arrived at the Hotel,” said Margaret, “I
am sure that is not the singing of an amateur. But I hope she will not
practise at night, and keep baby awake!”
Elinor laughed.
“O! you mother!” she said, “I thought you were lamenting just now that
your ewe lamb slept too much! For my part, I should like to be lulled
to sleep each night by just such strains as those. Listen, Margaret!
She has commenced another song. Ah! Gounod’s delicious ‘Ave Maria.’ How
beautiful!”
“I don’t profess to know much about music,” said Margaret, “but it
strikes me that the charm of that singing lies more in the voice than
the actual delivery. Whoever it is, must be very young!”
“Whoever it proceeds from, it is charming,” repeated Elinor. “How Ralph
would revel in it! Nothing affects him like music. It is the only
thing which makes me regret my inability to play or sing. But I am
most curious to learn who the new arrival is. Ah! here is Mademoiselle
Brimont!” she continued, as she caught sight of Olga Brimont, slowly
mounting the steep staircase, “Mademoiselle, do you happen to know
who it is who owns that lovely voice? Mrs. Pullen and I are perfectly
enchanted with it!”
Olga Brimont coloured a little. She had never got over her shyness of
the English ladies, particularly of the one who spoke so sharply. But
she answered at once,
“It is Harriet Brandt! Didn’t you know that she sang?”
Miss Leyton took a step backward. Her face expressed the intensest
surprise--not to say incredulity.
“Harriet Brandt! Impossible!” she ejaculated.
“Indeed it is she,” repeated Olga, “she always sang the solos in the
Convent choir. They used to say she had the finest voice in the Island.
O! yes, it is Harriet, really.”
And she passed on to her own apartment.
“Do _you_ believe it?” said Elinor Leyton, turning almost fiercely upon
Mrs. Pullen.
“How can I do otherwise,” replied Margaret, “in the face of
Mademoiselle Brimont’s assertion? But it is strange that we have heard
nothing of Miss Brandt’s talent before!”
“Has she ever mentioned the fact to you, that she could sing?”
“Never! but there has been no opportunity. There is no instrument here,
and we have never talked of such a thing! Only fancy her possessing so
magnificent a voice! What a gift! She might make her fortune by it if
she needed to do so.”
“Well! she ought to be able to sing with that mouth of hers,” remarked
Miss Leyton almost bitterly, as she walked into the corridor. She was
unwilling to accord Harriet Brandt the possession of a single good
attribute. As the ladies traversed the corridor, they perceived that
others had been attracted by the singing as well as themselves, and
most of the bedroom doors were open. Mrs. Montague caught Margaret by
the sleeve as she passed.
“O! Mrs. Pullen, what a heavenly voice! Whose is it? Fred is just mad
to know!”
“It’s only that girl Brandt!” replied Elinor roughly, as she tried to
escape further questioning.
“Miss Brandt! what, the little West Indian! Mrs. Pullen, is Miss Leyton
jesting?”
“No, indeed, Mrs. Montague! Mademoiselle Brimont was our informant,”
said Margaret.
But at that moment their attention was diverted by the appearance of
Harriet Brandt herself. She looked brilliant. In one hand she carried
her mandoline, a lovely little instrument, of sandal-wood inlaid with
mother-of-pearl,--her face was flushed with the exertion she had gone
through, and her abundant hair was somewhat in disorder. Mrs. Montague
pounced on her at once.
“O! Miss Brandt! you are a sly puss! We have all been
delighted--enchanted! What do you mean by hiding your light under a
bushel in this way? Do come in here for a minute and sing us another
song! Major Montague is in ecstasies over your voice!”
“I can’t stop, I can’t indeed!” replied Miss Brandt, evidently pleased
with the effect she had produced, “because I am on my way down to dear
Madame Gobelli. I promised to sing for her this afternoon. I was only
trying my voice to see if it was fit for anything!”
She smiled at Mrs. Pullen as she spoke and added,
“I hope I have not disturbed the darling baby! I thought she would be
out this lovely afternoon!”
“O! no! you did not disturb her. We have all been much pleased, and
surprised to think that you have never told us that you could sing!”
“How could I tell that anyone would care about it?” replied Harriet,
indifferently, with a shrug of her shoulders. “But the Baron is very
musical! He has a charming tenor voice. I have promised to accompany
him! I mustn’t delay any longer! Good afternoon!”
And she flew down the stairs with her mandoline.
“It is all the dear Baroness and the dear Baron now, you perceive,”
remarked Elinor to Mrs. Pullen, as they walked together to the
railway-station, “you and the baby are at a discount. Miss Brandt is
the sort of young lady, I fancy, who will follow her own interests
wherever they may lead her!”
“You should be the last to complain of her for that, Elinor, since you
have tried to get rid of her at any cost,” replied her friend.
Captain Ralph Pullen arrived punctually by the train which he had
appointed, and greeted his sister-in-law and _fiancée_ with marked
cordiality.
He was certainly a man to be proud of, as far as outward appearance
went. He was acknowledged, by general consent, to be one of the
handsomest men in the British Army, and he was fully aware of the
fact. He was tall and well built, with good features, almost golden
hair; womanish blue eyes, and a long drooping moustache, which he was
always caressing with his left hand. He regarded all women with the
same languishing, tired-to-death glance, as if the attentions shewn
him by the _beau sexe_ had been altogether too much for him, and the
most he could do now was to regard them with an indolent, worn-out
favour, which had had all the excitement, and freshness, and flavour
taken out of it long before. Most women would have considered his
method of treatment as savouring little short of insult, but Elinor
Leyton’s nature did not make extravagant demands upon her lover, and
so long as he dressed and looked well and paid her the courtesies due
from a gentleman to a gentlewoman, she was quite satisfied. Margaret,
on the other hand, had seen through her brother-in-law’s affectations
from the first, and despised him for them. She thought him foolish,
vain, and uncompanionable, but she bore with him for Arthur’s sake. She
would have welcomed his cousin Anthony Pennell, though, with twice the
fervour.
Ralph was looking remarkably well. His light grey suit of tweed was
fresh and youthful looking, and the yellow rose in his buttonhole was
as dainty as if he had just walked out of his Piccadilly club. He was
quite animated (for him) at the idea of spending a short time in Heyst,
and actually went the length of informing Elinor that she looked “very
fit”, and that if it was not so public a place he should kiss her. Miss
Leyton coloured faintly at the remark, but she turned her head away and
would not let him see that she was sorry the place was so public.
“Heyst seems to have done you both a lot of good,” Captain Pullen went
on presently, “I am sure you are fatter, Margaret, than when you were
in Town. And, by the way, how is the daughter?”
“Not very well, I am sorry to say, Ralph! She is cutting more teeth.
Elinor and I were consulting whether we should send for a doctor to see
her, only this afternoon.”
“By the way, I have good news for you, or you will consider it so. Old
Phillips is coming over to join us next week.”
“Doctor Phillips, my dear old godfather!” exclaimed Margaret, “O! I
_am_ glad to hear it! He will set baby to rights at once. But who told
you so, Ralph?”
“The old gentleman himself! I met him coming out of his club the other
day and told him I was coming over here, and he said he should follow
suit as soon as ever he could get away, and I was to tell you to get a
room for him by next Monday!”
“I shall feel quite happy about my baby now,” said Mrs. Pullen, “I
have not much faith in Belgian doctors. Their pharmacopœia is quite
different from ours, but Doctor Phillips will see if there is anything
wrong with her at once!”
“I hope you will not be disappointed with the Hotel visitors, Ralph,”
said Elinor, “but they are a terrible set of riff-raff. It is
impossible to make friends with any one of them. They are such dreadful
people!”
“O! you mustn’t class them all together, Elinor,” interposed Margaret,
“I am sure the Montagues and the Vieuxtemps are nice enough! And _du
reste_, there is no occasion for Ralph even to speak to them.”
“Of course not,” said Captain Pullen, “I have come over for the sake
of your company and Margaret’s, and have no intention of making the
acquaintance of any strangers. When is the _Bataille de Fleurs_? Next
week? that’s jolly! Old Phillips will be here by that time, and he and
Margaret can flirt together, whilst you and I are billing and cooing,
eh, Elinor?”
“Don’t be vulgar, Ralph,” she answered, “you know how I dislike that
sort of thing! And we have had so much of it here!”
“What, billing and cooing?” he questioned. But Elinor disdained to make
any further remark on the subject.
The appearance of Ralph Pullen at the _table d’hôte_ dinner naturally
excited a good deal of speculation. The English knew that Mrs. Pullen
expected her brother-in-law to stay with her, but the foreigners
were all curious to ascertain who the handsome, well-groomed,
military-looking stranger might be, who was so familiar with Mrs.
Pullen and her friend. The Baroness was not behind the rest in
curiosity and admiration. She was much before them in her determination
to gratify her curiosity and make the acquaintance of the new-comer,
whose name she guessed, though no introduction had passed between them.
She waited through two courses to see if Margaret Pullen would take
the initiative, but finding that she addressed all her conversation to
Captain Pullen, keeping her face, meanwhile, pertinaciously turned from
the party sitting opposite to her, she determined to force her hand.
“Mrs. Pullen!” she cried, in her coarse voice, “when are you going to
introduce me to your handsome friend?”
Margaret coloured uneasily and murmured,
“My brother-in-law, Captain Pullen--Madame Gobelli.”
“Very glad to see you, Captain,” said the Baroness, as Ralph bowed to
her in his most approved fashion, “your sister thought she’d keep you
all to ’erself, I suppose! But the young ladies of Heyst would soon
make mincemeat of Mrs. Pullen if she tried that little game on them. We
’aven’t got too many good-looking young men ’ereabouts, I can tell you.
Are you going to stay long?”
Captain Pullen murmured something about “uncertain” and “not being
quite sure”, whilst the Baroness regarded him full in the face with a
broad smile on her own. She always had a keen eye for a handsome young
man!
“Ah! you’ll stay as long as it suits your purpose, won’t you? I expect
you ’ave your own little game to play, same as most of us! And it’s a
pretty little game, too, isn’t it, especially when a fellow’s young
and good-looking and ’as the chink-a-chink, eh?”
“I fancy I know some of your brother officers, Mr. Naggett, and Lord
Menzies, they belong to the Rangers, don’t they?” continued Madame
Gobelli, “Prince Adalbert of Waxsquiemer used to bring ’em to the
Red ’Ouse! By the way I ’aven’t introduced you to my ’usband, Baron
Gobelli! Gustave, this is Captain Ralph Pullen, the Colonel’s brother,
you know. You must ’ave a talk with ’im after dinner! You two would
’it it off first-rate together! Gustave’s in the boot trade, you know,
Captain Pullen! We trade under the name of Fantaisie et Cie! The best
boots and shoes in London, and the largest manufactory, I give you my
word! You should get your boots from us. I know you dandy officers are
awfully particular about your tootsies. If you’ll come and see me in
London, I’ll take you over the manufactory, and give you a pair. You’ll
never buy any others, once you’ve tried ’em!”
Ralph Pullen bowed again, and said he felt certain that Madame was
right and he looked forward to the fulfilment of her promise with the
keenest anticipation.
Harriet Brandt meanwhile, sitting almost opposite to the stranger,
was regarding him from under the thick lashes of her slumbrous eyes,
like a lynx watching its prey. She had never seen so good-looking and
aristocratic a young man before. His crisp golden hair and drooping
moustaches, his fair complexion, blue eyes and chiselled features,
were a revelation to her. Would the Princes whom Madame Gobelli had
promised she should meet at her house, be anything like him, she
wondered--_could_ they be as handsome, as perfectly dressed, as
fashionable, as completely at their ease, as the man before her? Every
other moment, she was stealing a veiled glance at him--and Captain
Pullen was quite aware of the fact. What young man, or woman, is not
aware when they are being furtively admired? Ralph Pullen was one of
the most conceited of his sex, which is not saying a little--he was
_accomblé_ with female attentions wherever he went, yet he was not
_blasé_ with them, so long as he was not called upon to reciprocate
in kind. Each time that Harriet’s magnetic gaze sought his face, his
eyes by some mystical chance were lifted to meet it, and though all
four lids were modestly dropped again, their owners did not forget the
effect their encounter had left behind it.
“’Ave you been round Heyst yet, Captain Pullen,” vociferated Madame
Gobelli, “and met the Procession? I never saw such rubbish in my life.
I laughed fit to burst myself! A lot of children rigged out in blue and
white, carrying a doll on a stick, and a crowd of fools following and
singing ’ymns. Call that Religion? It’s all tommy rot. Don’t you agree
with me, Mrs. Pullen?”
“I cannot say that I do, Madame! I have been taught to respect every
religion that is followed with sincerity, whether I agree with its
doctrine or not. Besides, I thought the procession you allude to a very
pretty sight. Some of the children with their fair hair and wreaths of
flowers looked like little angels!”
“O! you’re an ’umbug!” exclaimed the Baroness, “you say that just to
please these Papists. Not that I wouldn’t just as soon be a Papist as
a Protestant, but I ’ate cant. I wouldn’t ’ave Bobby ’ere, brought up
in any religion. Let ’im choose for ’imself when ’e’s a man, I said,
but no cant, no ’umbug! I ’ad a governess for ’im once, a dirty little
sneak, who thought she’d get the better of me, so she made the boy
kneel down each night and say, ‘God bless father and mother and all
kind friends, and God bless my enemies.’ I came on ’em one evening and
I ’ad ’im up on his legs in a moment. I won’t ’ave it, Bobby, I said,
I won’t ’ave you telling lies for anyone, and I made ’im repeat after
me, ‘God bless father and mother and all kind friends, and d--n my
enemies.’ The governess was so angry with me, that she gave warning,
he! he! he! But I ’ad my way, and Bobby ’asn’t said a prayer since,
’ave you, Bobby?”
“Sometimes, Mamma!” replied the lad in a low voice. Margaret Pullen’s
kind eyes sought his at once with an encouraging smile.
“Well! you’d better not let me ’ear you, or I’ll give you ‘what for’. I
’ate ’umbug, don’t you, Captain Pullen?”
“Unreservedly, Madame!” replied Ralph in a stifled voice and with an
inflamed countenance. He had been trying to conceal his amusement for
some time past, greatly to the disgust of Miss Leyton, who would have
had him pass by his opposite neighbour’s remarks in silent contempt,
and the effort had been rather trying. As he spoke, his eyes sought
those of Harriet Brandt again, and discovered the sympathy with
his distress, lurking in them, coupled with a very evident look of
admiration for himself. He looked at her back again--only one look, but
it spoke volumes! Captain Pullen had never given such a glance at his
_fiancée_, nor received one from her! It is problematical if Elinor
Leyton _could_ make a telegraph of her calm brown eyes--if her soul (if
indeed she had in that sense a soul at all) ever pierced the bounds
of its dwelling-place to look through its windows. As the dessert
appeared, Margaret whispered to her brother-in-law,
“If we do not make our escape now, we may not get rid of her all the
evening,” at which hint he rose from table, and the trio left the
_salle à manger_ together. As Margaret descended again, equipped for
their evening stroll, she perceived Harriet Brandt in the corridor also
ready, and waiting apparently for her. She took her aside at once.
“I cannot ask you to join us in our walk this evening, Miss Brandt,”
she said, “because, as it is the first day of my brother’s arrival, we
shall naturally have many family topics to discuss together!”
For the first time since their acquaintance, she observed a sullen look
creep over Harriet Brandt’s features.
“I am going to walk with the Baron and Baroness, thank you all the
same!” she replied to Margaret’s remark, and turning on her heel,
she re-entered her room. Margaret did not believe her statement, but
she was glad she had had the courage to warn her--she knew it would
have greatly annoyed Elinor if the girl she detested had accompanied
them on that first evening. The walk proved after all to be a very
ordinary one. They paraded up and down the Digue, until they were tired
and then they sat down on green chairs and listened to the orchestra
whilst Ralph smoked his cigarettes. Elinor was looking her best. She
was pleased and mildly excited--her costume became her--and she was
presumably enjoying herself, but as far as her joy in Captain Pullen
went, she might have been walking with her father or her brother. The
conscious looks that had passed between him and Harriet Brandt were
utterly wanting.
They began by talking of home, of Elinor’s family, and the last news
that Margaret had received from Arthur--and then went on to discuss
the visitors to the Hotel. Miss Leyton waxed loud in her denunciation
of the Baroness and her familiar vulgarity--she deplored the ill fate
that had placed them in such close proximity at the _table d’hôte_, and
hoped that Ralph would not hesitate to change his seat if the annoyance
became too great. She had warned him, she said, of what he might expect
by joining them at Heyst.
“My dear girl,” he replied, “pray don’t distress yourself! In the first
place I know a great deal more about foreign hotels than you do, and
knew exactly what I might expect to encounter, and in the second, I
don’t mind it in the least--in fact, I like it, it amuses me, I think
the Baroness is quite a character, and look forward to cultivating her
acquaintance with the keenest anticipations.”
“O! _don’t_, Ralph, pray don’t!” exclaimed Miss Leyton, fastidiously,
“the woman is beneath contempt! I should be exceedingly annoyed if you
permitted her to get at all intimate with you.”
“Why not, if it amuses him?” demanded Margaret, laughing, “for my part,
I agree with Ralph, that her very vulgarity makes her most amusing as a
change, and it is not as if we were likely to be thrown in her way when
we return to England!”
“She is a _rara avis_,” cried Captain Pullen enthusiastically, “she
certainly must know some good people if men like Naggett and Menzies
have been at her house, and yet the way she advertises her boots and
shoes is too delicious! O! dear yes! I cannot consent to cut the
Baroness Gobelli! I am half in love with her already!”
Elinor Leyton made a gesture of disgust.
“And you--who are considered to be one of the most select and
fastidious men in Town,” she said, “I wonder at you!”
Then he made a bad matter worse, by saying,
“By the way, Margaret, who was that beautiful girl who sat on the
opposite side of the table?”
“The _what_,” exclaimed Elinor Leyton, ungrammatically, as she turned
round upon the Digue and confronted him.
“He means Miss Brandt!” interposed Margaret, hastily, “many people
think that she is handsome!”
“No one could think otherwise,” responded Ralph. “Is she Spanish?”
“O! no; her parents were English. She comes from Jamaica!”
“Ah! a drop of Creole blood in her then, I daresay! You never see such
eyes in an English face!”
“What’s the matter with her eyes?” asked Elinor sharply.
“They’re very large and dark, you know, Elinor!” said Mrs. Pullen,
observing the cloud which was settling down upon the girl’s face, “but
it is not everybody who admires dark eyes, or you and I would come off
badly!”
“Well, with all due deference to you, my fair sister-in-law,” replied
Ralph, with the stupidity of a selfish man who never knows when he is
wounding his hearers, “most people give the preference to dark eyes
in women. Anyway Miss Brandt (if that is her name) is a beauty and no
mistake!”
“I can’t say that I admire your taste,” said Elinor, “and I sincerely
hope that Miss Brandt will not force her company upon us whilst you
are here. Margaret and I have suffered more than enough already in
that respect! She is only half educated and knows nothing of the
world, and is altogether a most uninteresting companion. I dislike her
exceedingly!”
“Ah! don’t forget her singing!” cried Margaret, unwittingly.
“Does she sing?” demanded the Captain.
“Yes! and wonderfully well for an amateur! She plays the mandoline
also. I think Elinor is a little hard on her! Of course she is very
young and unformed, but she has only just come out of a convent where
she has been educated for the last ten years. What can you expect of
a girl who has never been out in Society? I know that she is very
good-natured, and has waited on baby as if she had been her servant!”
“Don’t you think we have had about enough of Miss Harriet Brandt?” said
Elinor, “I want to hear what Ralph thinks of Heyst, or if he advises
our going on to Ostende. I believe Ostende is much gayer and brighter
than Heyst!”
“But we must wait now till Doctor Phillips joins us,” interposed
Margaret.
“He could come after us, if Ralph preferred Ostende or Blankenburghe,”
said Elinor eagerly.
“My dear ladies,” exclaimed Captain Pullen, “allow me to form an
opinion of Heyst first, and then we will talk about other places. This
seems pleasant enough in all conscience to me now!”
“O! you two are bound to think any place pleasant,” laughed Margaret,
“but I think I must go in to my baby! I do not feel easy to be away
from her too long, now that she is ailing. But there is no need for you
to come in, Elinor! It is only just nine o’clock!”
“I would rather accompany you,” replied Miss Leyton, primly.
“No! no! Elinor, stay with me! If you are tired we can sit in the
balcony. I have seen nothing of you yet!” remonstrated her lover.
She consented to sit in the balcony with him for a few minutes, but she
would not permit his chair to be placed too close to hers.
“The waiters pass backward and forward,” she said, “and what would they
think?”
“The deuce take what they think,” replied Captain Pullen, “I haven’t
seen you for two months, and you keep me at arms’ length as if I should
poison you! What do you suppose a man is made of?”
“My dear Ralph, you know it is nothing of the kind, but it is quite
impossible that we can sit side by side like a pair of turtle doves in
a public Hotel like this!”
“Let us go up to your room then?”
“To my bedroom?” she ejaculated with horror.
“To Margaret’s room then! she won’t be so prudish, I’m sure! Anywhere
where I can speak to you alone!”
“The nurse will be in Margaret’s room, with little Ethel!”
“Hang it all, then, come for another walk! Let us go away from the
town, out on those sand hills. I’m sure no one will see us there!”
“Dear Ralph, you must be reasonable! If I were seen walking about Heyst
alone with you at night, it would be all over the town to-morrow.”
“Let it be! Where’s the harm?”
“But I have kept our engagement most scrupulously secret! No one knows
anything, but that you are Margaret’s brother-in-law! You don’t know
how they gossip and chatter in a place like this. I could never consent
to appear at the public _table d’hôte_ again, if I thought that all
those vulgarians had been discussing my most private affairs!”
“O! well! just as you choose!” replied Ralph Pullen discontentedly,
“but I suppose you will not object to _my_ taking another turn along
the Digue before I go to bed! Here, garçon, bring me a chasse!
Good-night, then, if you will not stay!”
“It is not that I _will_ not--it is that I _cannot_, Ralph!” said Miss
Leyton, as she gave him her hand. “Good-night! I hope you will find
your room comfortable, and if it is fine to-morrow, we will have a nice
walk in whichever direction you prefer!”
“And much good that will be!” grumbled the young man, as he lighted his
cigarette and strolled out again upon the Digue.
As he stood for a moment looking out upon the sea, which was one
mass of silvery ripples, he heard himself called by name. He looked
up. The Gobellis had a private sitting-room facing the Digue on the
ground floor, and the Baroness was leaning out of the open window, and
beckoning to him.
“Won’t you come in and ’ave a whiskey and soda?” she asked. “The Baron
’as ’is own whiskey ’ere, real Scotch, none of your nasty Belgian
stuff, ’alf spirits of wine and ’alf varnish! Come along! We’ve got a
jolly little parlour, and my little friend ’Arriet Brandt shall sing to
you! Unless you’re off on some lark of your own, eh?”
“No! indeed,” replied Ralph, “I was only wondering what I should do
with myself for the next hour. Thank you so much! I’ll come with
pleasure.”
And in another minute he was seated in the company of the Baron and
Baroness and Harriet Brandt.