Harriet Brandt set off for Brussels in the best of spirits. Captain
Pullen had pledged himself to follow her in a couple of days, and had
sketched with a free hand the pleasure they would mutually enjoy in
each other’s company, without the fear of Mrs. Pullen, or Miss Leyton,
popping on them round the corner. Madame Gobelli also much flattered
her vanity by speaking of Ralph as if he were her confessed lover, and
prospective _fiancé_, so that, what with the new scenes she was passing
through, and her anticipated good fortune, Harriet was half delirious
with delight, and looked as “handsome as paint” in consequence.
Olga Brimont, on the contrary, although quietly happy in the prospect
of keeping house for her brother, did not share in the transports
of her Convent companion. Alfred Brimont, observed, more than once,
that she seemed to visibly shrink from Miss Brandt, and took an early
opportunity of asking her the reason why. But all her answer was
conveyed in a shrug of the shoulders, and a request that he would not
leave her at the Hotel de Saxe with the rest of the party, but take her
home at once to the rooms over which she was to preside for him. In
consequence, the two Brimonts said good-bye to the Gobellis and Harriet
Brandt at the Brussels station, and drove to their apartments in the
rue de Vienne, after which the others saw no more of them. The Baroness
declared they were “a good riddance of bad rubbish,” and that she had
never liked that pasty-faced Mademoiselle Brimont, and believed that
she was jealous of the brilliancy and beauty of her dear ’Arriet. The
Baroness had conceived one of her violent, and generally short-lived,
fancies for the girl, and nothing, for the time being, was too good
for her. She praised her looks and her talents in the most extravagant
manner, and told everyone at the Hotel that the Baron and she had known
her from infancy--that she was their ward--and that they regarded her
as the daughter of the house, with various other falsehoods that made
Harriet open her dark eyes with amazement, whilst she felt that she
could not afford to put a sudden end to her friendship with Madame
Gobelli, by denying them. Brussels is a very pretty town, full of
modern and ancient interest, and there was plenty for them to see and
hear during their first days there. But Harriet was resolved to defer
visiting the best sights until Captain Pullen had joined them.
She went to the concerts at the Quinçonce and Wauxhall, and visited
the Zoological Gardens, but she would not go to the Musée nor the
Académie des Beaux Arts, nor the Cathedral of Sainte Gudule, whilst
Ralph remained in Heyst. Madame Gobelli laughed at her for her
reticence--called her a sly cat--said she supposed they must make up
their minds to see nothing of her when the handsome Captain came to
Brussels--finally sending her off in company of Bobby to walk in the
Parc, or visit the Wiertz Museum. The Baroness was not equal to much
walking at the best of times, and had been suffering from rheumatism
lately, so that she and the Baron did most of their sight-seeing in
a carriage, and left the young people to amuse themselves. Bobby was
very proud to be elected Miss Brandt’s cavalier, and get out of the way
of his formidable Mamma, who made his _table-d’hôte_ life a terror to
him. He was a well-grown lad and not bad-looking. In his blue eyes and
white teeth, he took after his mother, but his hair was fair, and his
complexion delicate. He was an anæmic young fellow and very delicate,
being never without a husky cough, which, however, the Baroness seemed
to consider of no consequence. He hardly ever opened his mouth in
the presence of his parents, unless it were to remonstrate against
the Baroness’s strictures on his appearance, or his conduct, but
Harriet Brandt found he could be communicative enough, when he was
alone with her. He gave her lengthy descriptions of the Red House,
and the treasures which it contained--of his Mamma’s barouche lined
with satin--of the large garden which they had at Holloway, with its
greenhouses and hot-houses, and the numbers of people who came to visit
them there.
“O! yes!” rejoined Harriet, “the Baroness has told me about them,
Prince Adalbert and Prince Loris and others! She said they often came
to the Red House! I should like to know them very much!”
The youth looked at her in a mysterious manner.
“Yes! they do come, very often, and plenty of other people with them;
the Earl of Watherhouse and Lord Drinkwater, and Lady Mountacue, and
more than I know the names of. But--but--did Mamma tell you _why_ they
come?”
“No! not exactly! To see her and the Baron, I suppose!”
“Well! yes! for that too perhaps,” stammered Bobby. “But there is
another reason. Mamma is very wonderful, you know! She can tell people
things they never knew before. And she has a room where--but I had
better not say any more. You might repeat it to her and then she would
be so angry.” The two were on their way to the Wiertz Museum at the
time, and Harriet’s curiosity was excited.
“I will not, I promise you, Bobby,” she said, “what has the Baroness in
that room?”
Bobby drew near enough to whisper, as he replied,
“O! I don’t know, I daren’t say, but horrible things go on there! Mamma
has threatened sometimes to make me go in with her, but I wouldn’t for
all the world. Our servants will never stay with us long. One girl told
me before she left that Mamma was a witch, and could raise up the dead.
Do you think it can be true--that it is possible?”
“I don’t know,” said Harriet, “and I don’t want to know! There are
no dead that _I_ want to see back again, unless indeed it were dear
old Pete, our overseer. He was the best friend I ever had. One night
our house was burned to the ground and lots of the things in it, and
old Pete wrapped me up in a blanket and carried me to his cabin in
the jungle, and kept me safe until my friends were able to send me to
the Convent. I shall never forget that. I should like to see old Pete
again, but I don’t believe the Baroness could bring him back. It wants
‘Obeah’ to do that!”
“What is ‘Obeah,’ Miss Brandt?”
“Witchcraft, Bobby!”
“Is it wicked?”
“I don’t know. I know nothing about it! But let us talk of something
else. I don’t believe your Mamma can do anything more than other
people, and she only says it to frighten you. But you mustn’t tell her
I said so. Is this the Wiertz Museum? I thought it would be a much
grander place!”
“I heard father say that it is the house Wiertz lived in, and he left
it with all his pictures to the Belgian Government on condition they
kept it just as it was.”
They entered the gallery, and Harriet Brandt, although not a great
lover of painting in general, stood enwrapt before most of the
pictures. She passed over the “Bouton de Rose” and the sacred paintings
with a cursory glance, but the representation of Napoleon in Hell,
being fed with the blood and bones of his victims--of the mother in
a time of famine devouring her child--and of the Suicide between his
good and evil angels, appeared to absorb all her senses. Her eyes
fixed themselves upon the canvasses, she stood before them, entranced,
enraptured, and when Bobby touched her arm as a hint to come and look
at something else, she drew a long breath as though she had been
suddenly aroused from sleep. Again and again she returned to the same
spot, the pictures holding her with a strange fascination, which she
could not shake off, and when she returned to the Hotel, she declared
the first thing she should do on the following morning, would be to
go back to the Wiertz Museum and gaze once more upon those inimitable
figures.
“But such ’orrid subjects, my dear,” said the Baroness, “Bobby says
they were all blood and bones!”
“But I like them--I _like_ them!” replied Harriet, moving her tongue
slowly over her lips, “they interest me! They are so life-like!”
“Well! to-morrow will be Thursday, you know, so I expect you will have
somebody’s else’s wishes to consult! You will ’ave a letter by the
early post, you may depend upon it, to say that the Captain will be
with us by dinner-time!”
Harriet Brandt flushed a deep rose. It was when the colour came into
her usually pale cheeks, and her eyes awakened from their slumbers and
sparkled, that she looked beautiful. On the present occasion as she
glanced up to see Bobby Bates regarding her with steadfast surprise and
curiosity, she blushed still more.
“You’ll be ’aving a fine time of it together, you two, I expect,”
continued the Baroness facetiously, “and Bobby, ’ere, will ’ave to
content ’imself with me and his Papa! But we’ll all go to the theatre
together to-morrow night. I’ve taken five seats for the Alcazar, which
the Captain said was the house he liked best in Brussels.”
“How good you are to me!” exclaimed Harriet, as she wound her slight
arms about the uncouth form of the Baroness.
“Good! Nonsense! Why! Gustave and I look upon you as our daughter, and
you’re welcome to share everything that is ours. You can come and live
altogether at the Red ’Ouse, if you like! But I don’t expect we shall
keep you long, though I must say I should be vexed to see you throw
yourself away upon an army Captain before you have seen the world a
bit!”
“O! don’t talk of such a thing, pray don’t!” said the girl, hiding
her face in the Baroness’s ample bosom, “you know there is nothing as
yet--only a pleasant friendship.”
“He! he! he!” chuckled Madame Gobelli, “so that’s what you call a
pleasant friendship, eh? I wonder what Captain Pullen calls it! I
expect we shall ’ear in a few days. But what ’e thinks is of no
consequence, so long as _you_ don’t commit yourself, till you’ve looked
about you a little. I do want you to meet Prince Adalbert! ’Is ’air’s
like flax--such a nice contrast to yours. And you speaking French so
well! You would get on first-rate together!”
Bobby did not appear to like this conversation at all.
“I call Prince Adalbert hideous,” he interposed. “Why! his face is as
red as a tomato, and he drinks too much. I’ve heard Papa say so! I am
sure Miss Brandt wouldn’t like him.”
“’Old your tongue,” exclaimed the Baroness, angrily, “’Ow dare you
interrupt when I’m speaking to Miss Brandt? A child like you! What
next, I wonder! Just mind your own business, Bobby, or I’ll send you
out of the room. Go away now, do, and amuse yourself! We don’t want any
boys ’ere!”
“Miss Brandt is going into the Parc with me,” said Bobby sturdily.
“Ah! well, if she is going to be so good, I ’ope you won’t worry ’er,
that’s all! But if you would prefer to come out in the carriage with
the Baron and me, my dear, we’ll take a drive to the Bois de Cambres.”
“All right, if Bobby can come too,” acquiesced Harriet.
“Lor! whatever do you want that boy to come with us for? ’E’ll only
take up all the room with ’is long legs.”
“But we mustn’t leave him alone,” said the girl, kindly, “I shouldn’t
enjoy my drive if we were to do so!”
The lad gave her a grateful glance through eyes that were already moist
with the prospect of disappointment.
“Very well then,” said Madame Gobelli, “if you will ’ave your own way,
’e may come, but you must take all the trouble of ’im, ’Arriet, mind
that!”
Bobby was only too happy to accompany the party, even in these
humiliating circumstances, and they all set out together for the Bois
de Cambres. The next day was looked forward to by Harriet Brandt as
one of certain happiness, but the morning post arrived without bringing
the anticipated notice from Ralph Pullen that he should join them as
arranged in the afternoon. The piteous eyes that she lifted to the
Baroness’s face as she discovered the defalcation, were enough to
excite the compassion of anyone.
“It’s all right!” said her friend, across the breakfast table, “’E said
’e would come, so there’s no need of writing. Besides, it was much
safer not! ’E couldn’t stir, I daresay, without one of those two cats,
Mrs. Pullen or Miss Leyton, at ’is elbow, so ’e thought they might find
out what ’e was after, and prevent ’is starting. Say they wanted to
leave ’Eyst or something, just to keep ’im at their side! You mark my
words, I’ve means of finding out things that you know nothing of, and
I’ve just seen it written over your ’ead that ’e’ll be ’ere by dinner
time, so you can go out for your morning’s jaunt in perfect comfort!”
Harriet brightened up at this prophecy, and Bobby had never had a
merrier time with her than he had that morning.
But the prophecy was not fulfilled. Ralph Pullen was by that time
in England with his bereaved sister-in-law, and the night arrived
without the people in Brussels hearing anything of him. He had not
even written a line to account for his failure to keep his engagement
with them. The fact is that Captain Pullen, although as a rule most
punctilious in all matters of courtesy, felt so ashamed of himself
and the folly into which he had been led, that he felt that silence
would be the best explanation that he had decided to break off the
acquaintanceship. He had no real feeling for Harriet Brandt or anybody
(except himself)--with him “out of sight” was “out of mind”--and the
sad occurrence which had forced him to return to England seemed an
excellent opportunity to rid himself of an undesirable entanglement.
But Harriet became frantic at the nonfulfilment of his promise. Her
strong feelings could not brook delay. She wanted to rush back to Heyst
to demand the reason of his defalcation--and in default of that, to
write, or wire to him at once and ascertain what he intended to do. But
the Baroness prevented her doing either.
“Look ’ere, ’Arriet!” she said to the girl, who was working herself up
into a fever, “it’s no use going on like this! ’E’ll come or ’e won’t
come! Most likely you’ll see ’im to-morrow or next day, and if not,
it’ll be because ’is sister won’t let ’im leave ’er, and the poor young
man doesn’t know what excuse to make! Couldn’t you see ’ow that Doctor
Phillips was set against the Captain joining us? ’E went most likely
and told Mrs. Pullen, and she ’as dissuaded her brother from coming
to Brussels. It’s ’ard for a man to go against ’is own relations, you
know!”
“But he should have written,” pleaded Harriet, “it makes me look a
fool!”
“Not a bit of it! Captain Pullen thinks you no fool. ’E’s more likely
to be thinking ’imself one. And, after all, you know, we shall be going
back to ’Eyst in a couple more days, and then you can ’ave ’im all to
yourself in the evenings and scold ’im to your ’eart’s content!”
But the girl was not made of the stuff that is amenable to reason. She
pouted and raved and denounced Ralph Pullen like a fury, declaring she
would not speak to him when they met again,--yet lay awake at night all
the same, wondering what had detained him from her side, and longing
with the fierceness of a tigress for blood, to feel his lips against
her own and to hear him say that he adored her. Bobby Bates stood by
during this tempestuous time, very sorrowful and rather perplexed. He
was not admitted to the confidence of his mother and her young friend,
so that he did not quite understand why Harriet Brandt should have so
suddenly changed from gay to grave, just because Captain Pullen was
unable to keep his promise to join them at Brussels. He had so enjoyed
her company hitherto and she had seemed to enjoy his, but now she bore
the gloomiest face possible, and it was no pleasure to go out with her
at all. He wondered if all girls were so--as capricious and changeable!
Bobby had not seen much of women. He had been kept in the schoolroom
for the better part of his life, and his Mamma had not impressed him
with a great admiration for the sex. So, naturally, he thought Harriet
Brandt to be the most charming and beautiful creature he had ever seen,
though he was too shy to whisper the truth, even to himself. He tried
to bring back the smiles to her face in his boyish way, and the gift of
an abnormally large and long _sucre de pomme_ really did achieve that
object better than anything else. But the defalcation of Captain Pullen
made them all lose their interest in Brussels, and they returned to
Heyst a day sooner than they had intended.
As the train neared the station, Harriet’s forgotten smiles began to
dimple her face again, and she peered eagerly from the windows of the
carriage, as if she expected Ralph Pullen to be on the platform to
meet them. But from end to end, she saw only cinders, Flemish country
women with huge baskets of fish or poultry on their arms, priests in
their _soutanes_ and broad-brimmed hats, and Belgians chattering and
screaming to each other and their children, as they crossed the line.
Still, she alighted with her party, expectant and happy, and traversed
the little distance between the _entrepôt_ and the Hotel, far quicker
than the Baroness and her husband could keep up with her. She rushed
into the balcony and almost fell into the arms of the _proprietaire_,
Madame Lamont.
“Ah! Mademoiselle!” she cried, “welcome back to Heyst, but have you
heard the desolating news?”
“What news?” exclaimed Harriet with staring eyes and a blanched cheek.
“Why! that the English lady, _cette Madame, si tranquille, si
charmante_, lost her dear _bébé_ the very day that Mademoiselle and
Madame la Baronne left the Hotel!”
“Lost,” repeated Harriet, “do you mean that the child is _dead_?”
“Ah! yes, I do indeed,” replied Madame Lamont, “the dear _bébé_ was
taken with a fit whilst they were all at dinner, and never recovered
again. _C’était une perte irréparable!_ Madame was like a creature
distracted whilst she remained here!”
“Where is she then? Where has she gone?” cried Harriet, excitedly.
“Ah! that I cannot tell Mademoiselle. The dear _bébé_ was taken
away to England to be buried. Madame Pullen and Mademoiselle Leyton
and Monsieur Phillippe and _le beau Capitaine_ all left Heyst on the
following day, that is Wednesday, and went to Ostende to take the boat
for Dover. I know no more!”
“Captain Pullen has gone away--he is not here?” exclaimed Miss Brandt,
betraying herself in her disappointment. “Oh! I don’t believe it!
It cannot be true! He has gone to Ostende to see them on board the
steamer, but he will return--I am sure he will?”
Madame Lamont shrugged her shoulders.
“Monsieur paid everything before he went and gave _douceurs_ to all the
servants--I do not think he has any intention of returning!”
At that juncture the Baron and Baroness reached the hotel. Harriet flew
to her friend for consolation.
“I cannot believe what Madame Lamont says,” she exclaimed; “she
declares that they are all gone for good, Mrs. Pullen and Miss Leyton
and Captain Pullen and the doctor! They have returned to England. But
he is sure to come back, isn’t he? after all his promises to meet us in
Brussels! He couldn’t be so mean as to run off to England, without a
word, or a line, unless he intended to come back.”
She clung to Madame Gobelli with her eyes wide open and her large mouth
trembling with agitation, until even the coarse fibre of the Baroness’s
propriety made her feel ashamed of the exhibition.
“’Ould up, ’Arriet!” she said, “you don’t want the ’ole ’ouse to
’ear what you’re thinking of, surely! Let me speak to Madame Lamont!
What is all the row about, Madame?” she continued, turning to the
_proprietaire_.
“There is no ‘row’ at all, Madame,” was the reply, “I was only telling
Mademoiselle Brandt of the sad event that has taken place here during
your absence--that that _chère_ Madame Pullen had the great misfortune
to lose her sweet _bébé_, the very day you left Heyst, and that the
whole party have quitted in consequence and crossed to England. I
thought since Mademoiselle seemed so intimate with Madame Pullen and
so fond of the dear child, that she would be _désolée_ to hear the sad
news, but she appears to have forgotten all about it, in her grief at
hearing that the _beau Capitaine_ accompanied his family to England
where they go to bury the _petite_.”
And with rather a contemptuous smile upon her face, Madame Lamont
re-entered the _salle à manger_.
“Now, ’Arriet, don’t make a fool of yourself!” said the Baroness. “You
’eard what that woman said--she’s laughing at you and your Captain, and
the story will be all over the Hotel in half an hour. Don’t make any
more fuss about it! If ’e’s gone, crying won’t bring ’im back. It’s
much ’arder for Mrs. Pullen, losing her baby so suddenly! I’m sorry for
’er, poor woman, but as for the other, there’s as good fish in the sea
as ever came out of it!”
But Harriet Brandt only answered her appeal by rushing away down the
corridor and up the staircase to her bedroom like a whirlwind. The girl
had not the slightest control over her passions. She would listen to
no persuasion, and argument only drove her mad. She tumbled headlong
up the stairs, and dashing into her room, which had been reserved for
her, threw herself tumultuously upon the bed. How lonely and horrible
the corridor, on which her apartment opened, seemed. Olga Brimont, Mrs.
Pullen, Miss Leyton, and Ralph, all gone! No one to talk to--no one
to walk with--except the Baroness and her stupid husband! Of course
this interpreted simply, meant that Captain Pullen had left the place
without leaving a word behind him, to say the why or wherefore, or hold
out any prospect of their meeting again. Of course it was impossible
but that they must meet again--they _should_ meet again, Harriet
Brandt said to herself between her closed teeth--but meanwhile, what
a wilderness, what a barren, dreary place this detestable Heyst would
seem without him!
The girl put her head down on the pillow, and taking the corner of
the linen case between her strong, white teeth, shook it and bit it,
as a terrier worries a rat! But that did not relieve her feelings
sufficiently, and she took to a violent fit of sobbing, hot, angry
tears coursing each other down her cheeks, until they were blurred and
stained, and she lay back upon the pillow utterly exhausted.
The first dinner bell rang without her taking any notice of it, and
the second was just about to sound, when there came a low tap at her
bedroom door. At first she did not reply, but when it was repeated,
though rather timidly, she called out,
“Who is it? I am ill. I don’t want any dinner! I cannot come down!”
A low voice answered.
“It is _I_, dear Miss Brandt, Bobby! May I come in? Mamma has sent me
to you with a message!”
“Very well! You can enter, but I have a terrible headache!” said
Harriet.
The door opened softly, and the tall lanky form of Bobby Bates crept
silently into the room. He held a small bunch of pink roses in his
hand, and he advanced to the bedside and laid them without a word on
the pillow beside her hot, inflamed cheek. They felt deliciously cool
and refreshing. Harriet turned her face towards them, and in doing so,
met the anxious, perturbed eyes of Bobby.
“Well!” she said smiling faintly, “and what is your Mamma’s message?”
“She wishes to know if you are coming down to dinner. It is nearly
ready!”
“No! no! I cannot! I am not hungry, and my eyes are painful,” replied
Harriet, turning her face slightly away.
The lad rose and drew down the blind of her window, through which the
setting sun was casting a stream of light, and then captured a _flacon_
of eau de Cologne from her toilet-table, and brought it to her in his
hand.
“May I sit beside you a little while in case you need anything?” he
asked.
“No! no! Bobby! You will want your dinner, and your Mamma will want
you. You had better go down again at once, and tell her that if my head
is better, I will meet her on the Digue this evening!”
“I don’t want any dinner, I could not eat it whilst you lie here sick
and unhappy. I want to stay, to see if I can help you, or do you any
good. I wish--I _wish_ I could!” murmured the lad.
“Your roses have done me good already,” replied Harriet, more brightly.
“It was sweet of you to bring them to me, Bobby.”
“I wish I had ten thousand pounds a year,” said Bobby feverishly, “that
I might bring you roses, and everything that you like best!”
He laid his blonde head on the pillow by the side of hers and Harriet
turned her face to his and kissed him.
The blood rushed into his face, and he trembled. It was the first time
that any woman had kissed him. And all the feelings of his manhood
rushed forth in a body to greet the creature who had awakened them.
As for Harriet Brandt, the boy’s evident admiration flattered and
pleased her. The tigress deprived of blood, will sometimes condescend
to milder food. And the feelings with which she regarded Captain Pullen
were such as could be easily replaced by anyone who evinced the same
reciprocity. Bobby Bates was not a _beau sabreur_, but he was a male
creature whom she had vanquished by her charms, and it interested her
to watch his rising passion, and to know that he could never possibly
expect it to be requited. She kissed and fondled him as he sat beside
her with his head on the pillow--calling him every nice name she could
think of, and caressing him as if he had been what the Baroness chose
to consider him--a child of ten years old.
His sympathy and entreaties that she would make an effort to join them
on the Digue, added to his lovelorn eyes, the clear childish blue of
which was already becoming blurred with the heat of passion, convinced
her that all was not lost, although Ralph Pullen _had_ been ungrateful
and impolite enough to leave Heyst without sending her notice, and
presently she persuaded the lad to go down to his dinner, and inform
the Baroness that she had ordered a cup of tea to be sent up to her
bedroom, and would try to rise after she had taken it, and join them
on the Digue.
“But you will keep a look-out for me, Bobby, won’t you?” she said in
parting. “You will not let me miss your party, or I shall feel so
lonely that I shall come straight back to bed!”
“Miss you! as if I would!” exclaimed the boy fervently, “why, I shall
not stir from the balcony until you appear! O! Miss Brandt! I love you
so. You cannot tell--you will never know--but you seem like part of my
life!”
“Silly boy!” replied Harriet, reproachfully, as she gave him another
kiss. “There, run away at once, and don’t tell your mother what we’ve
been about, or she will never let me speak to you again.”
Bobby’s eyes answered for him, that he would be torn to pieces before
he let their precious secret out of his grasp, as he took his unwilling
way down to the _table d’hôte_.
“Well! you _’ave_ made a little fool of yourself, and no mistake,”
was the Baroness’s greeting, as Harriet joined her in the balcony an
hour later, “and a nice lot of lies I’ve ’ad to tell about you to Mrs.
Montague and the rest. But luckily, they’re all so full of the poor
child’s death, and the coffin of white cloth studded with silver nails
that was brought from Bruges to carry the body to England in, that
they ’ad no time to spare for your tantrums. Lor! that poor young man
must ’ave ’ad enough to do, I can tell you, from all accounts, without
writing to you! Everything was on ’is ’ands, for Mrs. Pullen wouldn’t
let the doctor out of ’er sight! ’E ’ad to fly off to Bruges to get the
coffin and to wire half over the world, besides ’aving the two women
to tow about, so you mustn’t be ’ard on ’im. ’E’ll write soon, and
explain everything, you may make sure of that, and if ’e don’t, why, we
shall be after ’im before long! Aldershot, where the Limerick Rangers
are quartered, is within a stone’s throw of London, and Lord Menzies
and Mr. Nalgett often run over to the Red ’Ouse, and so can Captain
Pullen, if he chooses! So you just make yourself ’appy, and it will be
all right before long.”
“O! I’m all right!” cried Harriet, gaily, “I was only a little startled
at the news, so would anyone have been. Come along, Bobby! Let us walk
over the dunes to the next town. This cool air will do my head good.
Good-bye, Baroness! You needn’t expect us till you see us! Bobby and I
are going for a good long walk!”
And tucking the lad’s arm under her own, she walked off at a tremendous
pace, and the pair were soon lost to view.
“I wish that Bobby was a few years older,” remarked the Baroness
thoughtfully to her husband, as they were left alone, “she wouldn’t
’ave made a bad match for him, for she ’as a tidy little fortune, and
it’s all in Consols. But perhaps it’s just as well there’s no chance
of it! She ain’t got much ’eart--I couldn’t ’ave believed that she’d
receive the news of that poor baby’s death, without a tear or so much
as a word of regret, when at one time she ’ad it always in ’er arms.
She quite forgot all about it, thinking of the man. Drat the men!
They’re more trouble than they’re worth, but ’e’s pretty sure to come
after ’er as soon as ’e ’ears she’s at the Red ’Ouse!”
“But to what good, mein tear,” demanded the Baron, “when you know he is
betrothed to Miss Leyton?”
“Yes! and ’e’ll marry Miss Leyton, too. ’E’s not the sort of man to
let the main chance go! And ’Arriet will console ’erself with a better
beau. I can read all that without your telling me, Gustave. But Miss
Leyton won’t get off without a scratch or two, all the same, and that’s
what I’m aiming at. I’ll teach ’er not to call me a female elephant!
I’ve got my knife into that young woman, and I mean to turn it!
Confound ’er impudence! What next?”
And having delivered herself of her feelings, the Baroness rose and
proceeded to take her evening promenade along the Digue.