Vampire Books Online / The Blood of the Vampire: Part 2

Chapter 6

The day had heralded in the Bataille de Fleurs and all Heyst was en fête. The little furnished villas, hired for the season, were all built alike, with a balcony, on the ground floor, which was transformed into a veritable bower for the occasion. Villa Imperatrice vied with Villa Mentone and Villa Sebastien, as to which decoration should be the most beautiful and effective, and the result was a long line of arbours garlanded with every sort of blossom. From early morning, the occupants were busy, entwining their pillars with evergreens, interspersed with flags and knots of ribbon, whilst the balustrades were laden with growing flowers and the tables inside bore vases of severed blooms. One balcony was decorated with corn, poppies and bluets, whilst the next would display pink roses mixed with the delicate blue of the sea-nettle, and the third would be all yellow silk and white marguerites. The procession of charrettes, and the Bataille[Pg 88] itself was not to commence till the afternoon, so the visitors crowded the sands as usual in the morning, leaving the temporary owners of the various villas, to toil for their gratification, during their absence. Margaret Pullen felt sad as she sat in the hotel balcony, watching the proceedings on each side of her. She had intended her baby’s perambulator to take part in the procession of charrettes, and had ordered a quantity of white field-lilies with which to decorate it. It was to be a veritable triumph—so she and Miss Leyton had decided between themselves—and she had fondly pictured how lovely little Ethel would look with her fluffy yellow hair, lying amongst the blossoms, but now baby was too languid and ill to be taken out of doors, and Margaret had given all the flowers to the little Montagues, who were trimming their mail-cart with them, in their own fashion. As she sat there, with a pensive, thoughtful look upon her face, Harriet Brandt, dressed in a costume of grass-cloth, with a broad-brimmed hat, nodding with poppies and green leaves, that wonderfully became her, on her head, entered the balcony with an eager, excited appearance.

“O! Mrs. Pullen! have you seen the Baroness?” she exclaimed. “We are going to bathe this morning. Aren’t you coming down to the sands?”

“No! Miss Brandt, not to-day. I am unhappy about my dear baby! I am sure you will be sorry to hear that she has been quite ill all night—so restless and feverish!”

“O! she’ll be all right directly her teeth come through!” replied Harriet indifferently, as her eyes scanned the scene before them. “There’s the Baroness! She’s beckoning to me! Good-bye!” and without a word[Pg 89] of sympathy or comfort, she rushed away to join her friends.

“Like the way of the world!” thought Margaret, as she watched the girl skimming over the sands, “but somehow—I didn’t think she would be so heartless!”

Miss Leyton and her fiancé had strolled off after breakfast to take a walk, and Mrs. Pullen went back to her own room, and sat down quietly to needlework. She was becoming very anxious for Doctor Phillips’ arrival; had even written to England to ask him to hurry it if possible—for her infant, though not positively ill, rejected her food so often that she was palpably thinner and weaker.

After she had sat there for some time, she took up her field glasses, to survey the bathers on the beach. She had often done so before, when confined to the hotel—it afforded her amusement to watch their faces and antics. On the present occasion, she had no difficulty in distinguishing the form of the Baroness Gobelli, looking enormous as, clad in a most conspicuous bathing costume, she waddled from her machine into the water, loudly calling attention to her appearance, from all assembled on the sands, as she went. The Baron, looking little less comical, advanced to conduct his spouse down to the water, whilst after them flew a slight boyish figure in yellow, with a mane of dark hair hanging down her back, which Margaret immediately recognised as that of Harriet Brandt.

She was dancing about in the shallow water, shrieking whenever she made a false step, and clinging hold of the Baron’s hand, when Margaret saw another gentleman come up to them, and join in the ring. She turned[Pg 90] the glasses upon him and saw to her amazement that it was her brother-in-law. Her first feeling was that of annoyance. There was nothing extraordinary or improper, in his joining the Baroness’s party—men and women bathed promiscuously in Heyst, and no one thought anything of it. But that Ralph should voluntarily mix himself up with the Gobellis, after Elinor’s particular request that he should keep aloof from them, was a much more serious matter. And by the way, that reminded her, where was Elinor the while? Margaret could not discern her anywhere upon the sands, and wondered if she had also been persuaded to bathe. She watched Captain Pullen, evidently trying to induce Miss Brandt to venture further into the water, holding out both hands for her protection,—she also saw her yield to his persuasion, and leaving go of her hold on the Herr Baron, trust herself entirely to the stranger’s care. Mrs. Pullen turned from the window with a sigh. She hoped there were not going to be any “ructions” between Ralph and Elinor—but she would not have liked her to see him at that moment. She bestowed a silent benediction, “not loud but deep” on the foreign fashion of promiscuous bathing, and walked across the corridor to her friend’s room, to see if she had returned to the Hotel. To her surprise, she found Miss Leyton dismantled of her walking attire, soberly seated at her table, writing letters.

“Why! Elinor,” she said, “I thought you were out with Ralph!”

The young lady was quite composed.

“So I was,” she answered, “until half an hour ago! But as he then expressed his determination to bathe, I[Pg 91] left him to his own devices and came back to write my letters.”

“Would he not have preferred your waiting on the sands till he could join you again?”

“I did not ask him! I should think he would hardly care for me to watch him whilst bathing, and I am sure I should not consent to do so!”

“But everybody does it here, Elinor, and if you did not care to go down to the beach, you might have waited for him on the Digue.”

“My dear Margaret, I am not in the habit of dancing attendance upon men. It is their business to come after me! If Ralph is eager for another walk after his dip, he can easily call for me here!”

“True! and he can as easily go for his walk with any stray acquaintance he may pick up on the sands!”

“O! if he should prefer it, he is welcome to do so,” replied Elinor, resuming her scribbling.

“My dear Elinor, I don’t think you quite understand Ralph! He has been terribly spoilt, you know, and when men have been accustomed to attention they will take it wherever they can get it! He has come over here expressly to be with you, so I think you should give him every minute of your time. Men are fickle creatures, my dear! It will take some time yet to despoil them of the idea that women were made for their convenience.”

“I am afraid the man is not born yet for whose convenience I was made!”

“Well! you know the old saying: ‘Most women can catch a man, but it takes a clever woman to keep him.’ I don’t mean to insinuate that you are in any danger of[Pg 92] losing Ralph, but I think he’s quite worth keeping, and, I believe, you think so too!”

“And I mean to keep him!” replied Miss Leyton, as she went on writing.

Margaret did not venture to give her any further hints, but returned to her own room, and took another look through her spyglass.

The bathers in whom she was interested had returned to their machines by this time, and presently emerged, “clothed and in their right minds,” Miss Brandt looking more attractive than before, with her long hair hanging down her back to dry. And then, that occurred which she had been anticipating. Captain Pullen, having taken a survey of the beach, and seeing none of his own party there, climbed with Harriet Brandt to where they were high and dry above the tide, and threw himself down on the hot, loose sand by her side, whilst the Baron and Baroness with a laughing injunction to the two young people, to take care of themselves, toiled up to the Digue and walked off in another direction.

When they all met at déjeuner, she attacked her brother-in-law on the subject.

“Have you been bathing all this while?” she said to him, “you must have stayed very long in the water!”

“O! dear no!” he replied, “I wasn’t in above a quarter of an hour!”

“And what have you been doing since?”

“Strolling about, looking for you and Elinor!” said Captain Pullen. “Why the dickens didn’t you come out this lovely morning?”

“I could not leave baby!” cried Margaret shortly.

“And I was writing,” chimed in Elinor.

[Pg 93]

“Very well, ladies, if you prefer your own company to mine, of course I have nothing to say against it! But I suppose you are not going to shut yourselves up this afternoon!”

“O! no. It is a public duty to attend the Bataille de Fleurs. Have you bought any confetti, Ralph?”

“I have! Miss Brandt was good enough to show me where to get them, and we are well provided. There is to be a race between lady jockeys at the end of the Digue too, I perceive!”

“What, with horses?”

“I conclude so. I see they have railed in a portion of ground for the purpose,” replied Captain Pullen.

“’Ow could they race without ’orses?” called out the Baroness.

Harriet Brandt did not join in the conversation, but she was gazing all the while at Ralph Pullen—not furtively as she had done the day before, but openly, and unabashedly, as though she held a proprietary right in him. Margaret noticed her manner at once and interpreted it aright, but Miss Leyton, true to her principles, never raised her eyes in her direction and ignored everything that came from that side of the table.

Mrs. Pullen was annoyed; she knew how angry Elinor would be if she intercepted any telegraphic communication between her lover and Miss Brandt; and she rose from the table as soon as possible, in order to avert such a catastrophe. She had never considered her brother-in-law a very warm wooer, and she fancied that his manner towards Miss Leyton was more indifferent than usual. She took one turn with them along the Digue to admire the flower-bedecked villas, which were[Pg 94] in full beauty, and then returned to her nursery, glad of an excuse to leave them together, and give Elinor a chance of becoming more cordial and affectionate to Ralph, than she had yet appeared to be. The lovers had not been alone long, however, before they were waylaid, to the intense disgust of Elinor, by Harriet Brandt and her friend, Olga Brimont.

Still further to her annoyance, Captain Pullen seemed almost to welcome the impertinent interference of the two girls, who could scarcely have had the audacity to join their company, unless he had invited them to do so.

“The charrettes are just about to start!” exclaimed Harriet. “O! they are lovely, and such dear little children! I am so glad that the Bataille de Fleurs takes place to-day, because my friend’s brother, Alfred Brimont, is coming to take her to Brussels the day after to-morrow!”

“Brussels is a jolly place. Mademoiselle Brimont will enjoy herself there,” said Ralph. “There are theatres, and balls and picture-galleries, and every pleasure that a young lady’s heart can desire!”

“Have you been to Brussels?” asked Harriet.

“Yes! when I was a nasty little boy in jacket and trousers. I was placed at Mr. Jackson’s English school there, in order that I might learn French, but I’m afraid that was the last thing I acquired. The Jackson boys were known all over the town for the greatest nuisances in it!”

“What did you do?”

“What did we not do? We tore up and down the rue Montagne de la Cour at all hours of the day, shouting and screaming and getting into scrapes. We ran up bills at the shops which we had no money to pay—we[Pg 95] appeared at every place of amusement—and we made love to all the school-girls, till we had become a terror to the school-mistresses.”

“What naughty boys!” remarked Miss Brandt, with a side glance at Miss Leyton. She did not like to say all she thought before this very stiff and proper young English lady. “But Captain Pullen,” she continued, “where are the confetti? Have you forgotten them? Shall I go and buy some more?”

“No! no! my pockets are stuffed with them,” he said, producing two bags, of which he handed Harriet one. Her thanks were conveyed by throwing a large handful of tiny pieces of blue and white and pink paper (which do duty for the more dangerous chalk sugar-plums) at him and which covered his tweed suit and sprinkled his fair hair and moustaches. He returned the compliment by flying after her retreating figure, and liberally showering confetti upon her.

“O! Ralph! I do hope you are not going to engage in this horse-play,” exclaimed Elinor Leyton, “because if so I would rather return to the Hotel. Surely, we may leave such vulgarities to the common people, and—Miss Harriet Brandt!”

“What nonsense!” he replied. “It’s evident you’ve never been in Rome during the Carnival! Why, everyone does it! It’s the national custom. If you imagine I’m going to stand by, like a British tourist and stare at everything, without joining in the fun, you’re very much mistaken!”

“But is it fun?” questioned Miss Leyton.

“To me it is! Here goes!” he cried, as he threw[Pg 96] a handful of paper into the face of a passing stranger, who gave him as good as she had got, in return.

“I call it low—positively vulgar,” said Miss Leyton, “to behave so familiarly with people one has never seen before—of whose antecedents one knows nothing! I should be very much surprised if the mob behaved in such a manner towards me. Oh!”

The exclamation was induced by the action of some young épicier, or hotel garçon, who threw a mass of confetti into her face with such violence as almost for the moment to blind her.

“Ha! ha! ha!” roared Ralph Pullen with his healthy British lungs, as he saw her outraged feelings depicted in her countenance.

“I thought you’d get it before long!” he said, as she attempted to brush the offending paper off her mantle.

“It has not altered my opinion of the indecency of the custom!” she replied.

“Never mind!” he returned soothingly. “Here come the charrettes.”

They were really a charming sight. On one cart was drawn a boat, with little children dressed as fishermen and fisherwomen—another represented a harvest-field, with the tiny haymakers and reapers—whilst a third was piled with wool to represent snow, on the top of which were seated three little girls attired as Esquimaux. The mail-carts, and perambulators belonging to the visitors to Heyst were also well represented, and beautifully trimmed with flowers. The first prize was embowered in lilies and white roses, whilst its tiny inmate was seated in state as the Goddess Flora, with a wreath twined in her golden curls. The second was[Pg 97] taken by a gallant Neapolitan fisherman of about four years old, who wheeled a mail cart of pink roses, in which sat his little sisters, dressed as angels with large white wings. The third was a wheel-barrow hidden in moss and narcissi, on which reposed a Sleeping Beauty robed in white tissue, with a coronal of forget-me-nots.

Harriet Brandt fell into ecstasies over everything she saw. When pleased and surprised, she expressed herself more like a child than a young woman, and became extravagant and ungovernable. She tried to kiss each baby that took part in the procession, and thrust coins into their chubby hands to buy bonbons and confetti with. Captain Pullen thought her conduct most natural and unaffected; but Miss Leyton insisted that it was all put on for effect. Olga Brimont tried to put in a good word for her friend.

“Harriet is very fond of children,” she said, “but she has never seen any—there were no children at the Convent under ten years of age, so she does not know how to make enough of them when she meets them. She wants to kiss every one. Sometimes, I tell her, I think she would like to eat them. But she only means to be kind!”

“I am sure of that!” said Captain Pullen.

“But she should be told,” interposed Elinor, “that it is not the custom in civilised countries for strangers to kiss every child they meet, any more than it is to speak before being introduced, or to bestow their company where it is not desired. Miss Brandt has a great deal to learn in that respect before she can enter English Society!”

As is often the case when a woman becomes unjust[Pg 98] in abusing another, Miss Leyton made Captain Pullen say more to cover her discourtesy, than, in other circumstances, he would have done.

“Miss Brandt,” he said slowly, “is so beautiful, that she will have a great deal forgiven her, that would not be overlooked in a plainer woman.”

“That may be your opinion, but it is not mine,” replied Miss Leyton.

Her tone was so acid, that it sent him flying from her side, to battle with his confetti against the tribe of Montagues, who fortunately for the peace of all parties, joined their forces to theirs, and after some time spent on the Digue, they returned, a large party, to the Hotel.

It was not until they had sat down to dinner, that they remembered they had never been to see the lady jockey race.

“He! he! he!” laughed Madame Gobelli, “but I did, and you lost something, I can tell you! We ’ad great difficulty to get seats, but when we did, it was worth it, wasn’t it, Gustave?”

“You said so, mein tear!” replied the Baron, gravely.

“And you thought so, you old rascal! don’t you tell me! I saw your wicked eyes glozing at the gals in their breeches and boots! There weren’t any ’orses, after all, Captain Pullen, but sixteen gals with different-coloured jackets on and top boots and tight white breeches—such a sight you never saw! Gustave ’ere did ’ave a treat! As for Bobby, when I found we couldn’t get out again, because of the crowd, I tied my ’andkerchief over ’is eyes, and made him put ’is ’ead in my lap!”

“Dear! dear!” cried Ralph, laughing, “was it as bad as that, Madame?”

[Pg 99]

“Bad! my dear boy! It was as bad as it could be! It’s a mercy you weren’t there, or we shouldn’t ’ave seen you ’ome again so soon! There were the sixteen gals, with their tight breeches and their short racing jackets, and a fat fellow dressed like a huntsman whipping ’em round and round the ring, as if they were so much cattle! You should ’ave seen them ’op, when he touched ’em up with the lash of ’is whip. I expect they’ve never ’ad such a tingling since the time their mothers smacked ’em! There was a little fat one, there! I wish you could ’ave seen ’er, when ’e whipped ’er to make ’er ’urry! It was comical! She ’opped like a kangaroo!”

“And what was the upshot of it all? Who won?” asked Ralph.

“O! I don’t know! I got Gustave out as soon as I could! I wasn’t going to let ’im spend the whole afternoon, watching those gals ’opping. There were ’is eyes goggling out of ’is ’ead, and his lips licking each other, as if ’e was sucking a sugar-stick—”

“Mein tear! mein tear!” interposed the unfortunate Baron.

“You go on with your dinner, Gustave, and leave me alone! I saw you! And no more lady jockey races do you attend, whilst we’re in this Popish country. They ain’t good for you.”

“I’m very thankful that I have been saved such a dangerous experiment,” said Captain Pullen, “though if I thought that you would tie your handkerchief over my eyes, and put my head in your lap, Madame, I should feel tempted to try it as soon as dinner is over!”

“Go along with you, you bad boy!” chuckled the[Pg 100] Baroness, “there’s something else to see this evening! They are going to ’ave a procession of lanterns as soon as it’s dark!”

“And it is to stop in front of every hotel,” added Harriet, “and the landlords are going to distribute bonbons and gâteaux amongst the lantern-bearers.”

“O! we must not miss that on any account!” replied Captain Pullen, addressing himself to her in reply.

Margaret and Elinor thought, when the time came, that they should be able to see the procession of lanterns just as well from the balcony as when mingled with the crowd, so they brought their work and books down there, and sat with Ralph, drinking coffee and conversing of all that had occurred. The Baroness had disappeared, and Harriet Brandt had apparently gone with her—a fact for which both ladies were inwardly thankful.

Presently, as the dusk fell, the procession of lanterns could be seen wending its way from the further end of the Digue. It was a very pretty and fantastical sight. The bearers were not only children—many grown men and women took part in it, and the devices into which the Chinese lanterns had been formed were quaint and clever. Some held a ring around them, as milkmaids carry their pails—others held crosses and banners designed in tiny lanterns, far above their heads. One, which could be seen topping all the rest, was poised like a skipping-rope over the bearer’s shoulders, whilst the coloured lanterns swung inside it, like a row of bells. The members of the procession shouted, or sang, or danced, or walked steadily, as suited their temperaments, and came along, a merry crowd, up and down the Digue,[Pg 101] stopping at the various hotels for largesse in the shape of cakes and sugar-plums.

Ralph Pullen found his eyes wandering more than once in the direction of the Baroness’s sitting-room, to see if he could catch a glimpse of her or her protégée (as Harriet Brandt seemed to be now universally acknowledged to be), but he heard no sound, nor caught a glimpse of them, and concluded in consequence that they had left the hotel again.

“Whoever is carrying that skipping-rope of lanterns seems to be in a merry mood,” observed Margaret after a while, “for it is jumping up and down in the most extravagant manner! She must be dancing! Do look, Elinor!”

“I see! I suppose this sort of childish performance amuses a childish people, but for my own part, I think once of it is quite enough, and am thankful that we are not called upon to admire it in England!”

“O! I think it is rather interesting,” remarked Margaret, “I only wish my dear baby had been well enough to enjoy it! How she would have screamed and cooed at those bright-coloured lanterns! But when I tried to attract her attention to them just now, she only whined to be put into her cot again. How thankful I shall be to see dear Doctor Phillips to-morrow!”

The procession had reached the front of the Hotel by this time, and halted there for refreshment. The waiters, Jules and Phillippe and Henri, appeared with plates of dessert and cakes and threw them indiscriminately amongst the people. One of the foremost to jump and scramble to catch the falling sweetmeats was the girl who carried the lantern-skipping rope above[Pg 102] her head, and in whom Ralph Pullen, to his astonishment, recognised Harriet Brandt. There she was, fantastically dressed in a white frock, and a broad yellow sash, with her magnificent hair loose and wreathed with scarlet flowers. She looked amazingly handsome, like a Bacchante, and her appearance and air of abandon, sent the young man’s blood into his face and up to the roots of his fair hair.

“Surely!” exclaimed Margaret, “that is never Miss Brandt!”

“Yes! it is,” cried Harriet, “I’m having the most awful fun! Why don’t you come too? I’ve danced the whole way up the Digue, and it is so warm! I wish the waiters would give us something to drink! I’ve eaten so many bonbons I feel quite sick!”

“What will you take, Miss Brandt?” asked Captain Pullen eagerly, “limonade or soda water?”

“A limonade, please! You are good!” she replied, as he handed her the tumbler over the balcony balustrades. “Come along and dance with me!”

“I cannot! I am with my sister and Miss Leyton!” he replied.

“O! pray do not let us prevent you,” said Elinor in her coldest voice; “Margaret was just going upstairs and I am quite ready to accompany her!”

“No, no, Elinor,” whispered Mrs. Pullen with a shake of her head, “stay here, and keep Ralph company!”

“But it is nearly ten o’clock,” replied Miss Leyton, consulting her watch, “and I have been on my feet all day! and feel quite ready for bed. Good-night, Ralph!” she continued, offering him her hand.

“Well! if you two are really going to bed, I shall go[Pg 103] too,” said Captain Pullen, rising, “for there will be nothing for me to do here after you’re gone!”

“Not even to follow the procession?” suggested Miss Leyton, with a smile.

“Don’t talk nonsense!” he rejoined crossly. “Am I the sort of man to go bobbing up and down the Digue amongst a parcel of children?”

He shook hands with them both, and walked away rather sulkily to his own quarter of the hotel. But he did not go to bed. He waited until some fifteen minutes had elapsed, and then telling himself that it was impossible to sleep at that hour, and that if Elinor chose to behave like a bear, it was not his fault, he came downstairs again and sauntered out on the sea front.

It was very lonely there at that moment. The procession had turned and gone down to the other end again, where its lights and banners could be seen, waving about in the still summer air.

“Why shouldn’t the girl jump about and enjoy herself if she chooses,” thought Ralph Pullen. “Elinor makes no allowances for condition or age, but would have everyone as prim and old-maidish as herself. I declare she gets worse each time I see her! A nice sort of wife she will make if this kind of thing goes on! But by Jingo! if we are ever married, I’ll take her prudery out of her, and make her—what? The woman who commences by pursing her mouth up at everything, ends by opening it wider than anybody else! There’s twice as much harm in a prude as in one of these frank open-hearted girls, whose eyes tell you what they’re thinking of, the first time you see them!”

He had been strolling down the Digue as he pondered[Pg 104] thus, and now found himself meeting the procession again.

“Come and dance with me,” cried Harriet Brandt, who, apparently as fresh as ever, was still waving her branch of lanterns to the measure of her steps. He took her hand and tried to stop her.

“Haven’t you had about enough of this?” he said, “I’m sure you must be tired. Here’s a little boy without a lantern! Give him yours to hold, and come for a little walk with me!”

The touch of his cool hand upon her heated palm, seemed to rouse all the animal in Harriet Brandt’s blood. Her hand, very slight and lissom, clung to his with a force of which he had not thought it capable, and he felt it trembling in his clasp.

“Come!” he repeated coaxingly, “you mustn’t dance any more or you will overtire yourself! Come with me and get cool and rest!”

She threw her branch of lanterns to the boy beside her impetuously.

“Here!” she cried, “take them! I don’t want them any more! And take me away,” she continued to Ralph, but without letting go of his hand. “You are right! I want—I want—rest!”

Her slight figure swayed towards him as he led her out of the crowd, and across a narrow street, to where the road ran behind all the houses and hotels, and was dark and empty and void. The din of the voices, and the trampling of feet, and the echo of the songs still reached them, but they could see nothing—the world was on the Digue, and they were in the dusk and quietude together—and alone.

[Pg 105]

Ralph felt the slight form beside him lean upon his shoulder till their faces almost touched. He threw his arm about her waist. Her hot breath fanned his cheek.

“Kiss me!” she murmured in a dreamy voice.

Captain Pullen was not slow to accept the invitation so confidingly extended. What Englishman would be? He turned his face to Harriet Brandt’s, and her full red lips met his own, in a long-drawn kiss, that seemed to sap his vitality. As he raised his head again, he felt faint and sick, but quickly recovering himself, he gave her a second kiss more passionate, if possible, than the first. Then the following whispered conversation ensued between them.

“Do you know,” he commenced, with his head close to hers, “that you are the very jolliest little girl that I have ever met!”

“And you—you are the man I have dreamt of, but never seen till now!”

“How is that? Am I so different from the rest of my sex?”

“Very—very different! So strong and brave and beautiful!”

“Dear little girl! And so you really like me?”

“I love you,” said Harriet feverishly, “I loved you the first minute we met.”

“And I love you! You’re awfully sweet and pretty, you know!”

“Do you really think so? What would Mrs. Pullen say if she heard you?”

“Mrs. Pullen is not the keeper of my conscience. But she must not hear it.”

“O! no! nor Miss Leyton either!”

[Pg 106]

“Most certainly not Miss Leyton. She is a terrible prude! She would be awfully shocked!”

“It must be a secret,—just between you and me!” murmured the girl.

“Just so! A sweet little secret, all our own, and nobody else’s!”

And then the fair head and the dark one came again in juxtaposition, and the rest was lost in—Silence!

Chapter 7

Doctor Phillips had not been in the Hôtel Lion d’Or five minutes before Margaret Pullen took him upstairs to see her baby. She was becoming terribly anxious about her. They encountered Captain Ralph Pullen on the staircase.

“Hullo! young man, and what have you been doing to yourself?” exclaimed the doctor.

He was certainly looking ill. His face was chalky white, and his eyes seemed to have lost their brightness and colour.

“Been up racketing late at night?” continued Doctor Phillips. “What is Miss Leyton about, not to look after you better?”

“No, indeed, Doctor,” replied the young man with a smile, “I am sure my sister-in-law will testify to the good hours I have kept since here. But I have a headache this morning—a rather bad one,” he added, with his hand to the nape of his neck.

“Perhaps this place doesn’t agree with you—it was always rather famous for its smells, if I remember aright![Pg 107] However, I am going to see Miss Ethel Pullen now, and when I have finished with her, I will look after you!”

“No, thank you, Doctor,” said Ralph laughing, as he descended the stairs. “None of your nostrums for me! Keep them for the baby!”

“He is not looking well,” observed Doctor Phillips to Margaret, as they walked on together.

“I don’t think he is, now you point it out to me, but I have not noticed it before,” replied Margaret. “I am sure he has been living quietly enough whilst here!”

The infant was lying as she had now done for several days past—quite tranquil and free from pain, but inert and half asleep. The doctor raised her eyelids and examined her eyeballs—felt her pulse and listened to her heart—but he did not seem to be satisfied.

“What has this child been having?” he asked abruptly.

“Having, Doctor? Why! nothing, of course, but her milk, and I have always that from the same cow!”

“No opium—no soothing syrup, nor quackeries of any kind?”

“Certainly not! You know how often you have warned me against anything of the sort!”

“And no one has had the charge of her, except you and the nurse here? You can both swear she has never been tampered with?”

“O! I think so, certainly, yes! Baby has never been from under the eye of one or the other of us. A young lady resident in the hotel—a Miss Brandt—has often nursed her and played with her, but one of us has always been there at the time.”

[Pg 108]

“A Miss—what did you say?” demanded the doctor, sharply.

“A Miss Brandt—a very good-natured girl, who is fond of children!”

“Very well then! I will go at once to the pharmacien’s, and get a prescription made up for your baby, and I hope that your anxiety may soon be relieved!”

“O! thank you, Doctor, so much!” exclaimed Margaret “I knew you would do her good, as soon as you saw her!”

But the doctor was not so sure of himself. He turned the case over and over in his mind as he walked to the chemist’s shop, wondering how such a state of exhaustion and collapse could have been brought about.

The baby had her first dose and the doctor had just time to wash and change his travelling suit before they all met at the dinner-table.

Here they found the party opposite augmented by the arrival of Monsieur Alfred Brimont, a young Brussels tradesman, who had come over to Heyst to conduct his sister home. He was trying to persuade Harriet Brandt to accompany Olga and stay a few days with them, but the girl—with a long look in the direction of Captain Pullen—shook her head determinedly.

“O! you might come, Harriet, just for a few days,” argued Olga, “now that the Bataille de Fleurs is over, there is nothing left to stay for in Heyst, and Alfred says that Brussels is such a beautiful place.”

“There are the theatres, and the Parc, and the Quinçonce, and Wauxhall!” said young Brimont, persuasively. “Mademoiselle would enjoy herself, I have no doubt!”

[Pg 109]

But Harriet still negatived the proposal.

“Why shouldn’t we make up a party and all go together,” suggested the Baroness, “me and the Baron and Bobby and ’Arriet? You would like it then, my dear, wouldn’t you?” she said to the girl, “and you really should see Brussels before we go ’ome! What do you say, Gustave? We’d go to the Hôtel de Saxe, and see everything! It wouldn’t take us more than a week or ten days.”

“Do as you like, mein tear,” acquiesced the Baron.

“And why shouldn’t you come with us, Captain?” continued Madame Gobelli to Ralph. “You don’t look quite the thing to me! A little change would do you good. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy! ’Ave you been to Brussels?”

“I lived there for years, Madame, and know every part of it!” he replied.

“Come and renew your acquaintance then, and take me and ’Arriet about!! The Baron isn’t much good when it comes to sight-seeing, are you, Gustave? ’E likes ’is pipe and ’is slippers too well! But you’re young and spry! Well! is it a bargain?”

“I really could not decide in such a hurry,” said Ralph, with a glance at Margaret and Elinor, “but we might all go on to Brussels perhaps, a little later on.”

“I don’t think you must buoy up the hopes of the Baroness and Miss Brandt with that idea,” remarked Miss Leyton, coldly, “because I am sure that Mrs. Pullen has no intention of doing anything of the sort. If you wish to accompany Madame Gobelli’s party, you had better make your arrangements without any reference to us!”

[Pg 110]

“All right! If you prefer it, I will,” he answered in the same indifferent tone.

“Who is that young lady sitting opposite, with the dark eyes?” demanded Doctor Phillips of Mrs. Pullen.

“The same I spoke to you of, upstairs, as having been kind to baby—Miss Harriet Brandt!”

“I knew a Brandt once,” he answered. “Has she anything to do with the West Indies?”

“O! yes! she comes from Jamaica! She is an orphan, the daughter of Doctor Henry Brandt, and has been educated in the Ursuline Convent there! She is a young lady with an independent fortune, and considered to be quite a catch in Heyst!”

“And you and Miss Leyton are intimate with her?”

“She has attached herself very much to us since coming here. She has few friends, poor girl!”

“Will you introduce me?”

“Miss Brandt, my friend, Doctor Phillips, wishes for an introduction to you.”

The usual courtesies passed between them, and then the doctor said,

“I fancy I knew your father, Miss Brandt, when I was quartered in Jamaica with the Thirteenth Lances. Did he not live on the top of the Hill, on a plantation called Helvetia?”

“That was the name of our place,” replied Harriet, “but I left it when I was only eleven. My trustee, Mr. Trawler, lives there now!”

“Ah! Trawler the attorney! I have no doubt he made as much out of the property as he could squeeze.”

“Do you mean that he cheated me?” asked Harriet, naïvely.

[Pg 111]

“God forbid! my dear young lady. But he was a great crony of your father’s, and a d—d sharp lawyer, and those sort of gentry generally feather their own nest pretty well, in payment of their friendship.”

“He can’t do me any harm now,” said Harriet, “for I have my property in my own hands!”

“Quite right! quite right! that is, if you’re a business woman,” rejoined the doctor. “And are you travelling all by yourself?”

Harriet was about to answer in the affirmative, when the Baroness took the words out of her mouth.

“No, Sir, she ain’t! She came over with her friend, Mademoiselle Brimont, and now she’s under my chaperonage. She’s a deal too ’andsome, ain’t she? to be travelling about the world alone, with her money-bags under her arm. My name’s the Baroness Gobelli,—this is my ’usband, Baron Gustave Gobelli, and this is my little boy, Bobby Bates—by my first ’usband, you’ll understand—and when you return to London, if you like to come and see Miss Brandt at our ’ouse—the Red ’Ouse, ’Olloway, we shall be very pleased to see you!”

“I am sure, Madame, you are infinitely kind,” replied Doctor Phillips gravely.

“Not at all! You’ll meet no end of swells there, Prince Loris of Taxelmein, and Prince Adalbert of Waxsquiemer, and ’eaps of others. But all the same we’re in trade, the Baron and I—and we’re not ashamed of it either. We make boots and shoes! Our firm is Fantaisie et Cie, of Oxford Street, and though I say it, you won’t find better boots and shoes in all London than ours. No brown paper soles, and rotten uppers! Not a bit of it! It’s all genuine stuff with us. You can take[Pg 112] any boot out of the shop and rip it to pieces, and prove what I say! The best materials, and the best workmen, that’s our principle, and it answers. We can’t make ’em fast enough!”

“I have no doubt of it,” again gravely responded the old doctor.

“Ah! you might send some of your patients to us, Doctor, and we’ll pay back by recommending you to our friends. Are you a Gout man? Prince Adalbert ’as the gout awfully! I’ve rubbed ’is feet with Elliman’s Embrocation, by the hour together, but nothing gives ’im relief! Now if you could cure ’im your fortune would be made! ’E says it’s all the English climate, but I say it’s over-eating, and ’e’d attend more to a medical man, if ’e told ’im to diet, than ’e will to me!”

“Doubtless, doubtless!” said the Doctor, in a dreamy manner. He seemed to be lost in a reverie, and Margaret had to touch his arm to remind him that the meal was concluded.

She wanted him to join the others in a promenade and see the beauties of Heyst, but he was strangely eager in declining it.

“No! no! let the youngsters go and enjoy themselves, but I want to speak to you, alone.”

“My dear doctor, you frighten me! Nothing about baby, I hope!”

“Not at all! Don’t be foolish! But I want to talk to you where we cannot be overheard.”

“I think we had better wait till the rest have dispersed then, and go down upon the sands. It is almost impossible to be private in a hotel like this!”

[Pg 113]

“All right! Get your hat and we will stroll off together.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, he commenced abruptly,

“It is about that Miss Brandt! You seem pretty intimate with her! You must stop it at once. You must have nothing more to do with her.”

Margaret’s eyes opened wide with distress.

“But, Doctor Phillips, for what reason? I don’t see how we could give her up now, unless we leave the place.”

“Then leave the place! You mustn’t know her, neither must Miss Leyton. She comes of a terrible parentage. No good can ever ensue of association with her.”

“You must tell me more than this, Doctor, if you wish me to follow your advice!”

“I will tell you all I know myself! Some twelve or thirteen years ago I was quartered in medical charge of the Thirteenth Lances, and stationed in Jamaica, where I knew of, rather than knew, the father of this girl, Henry Brandt. You called him a doctor—he was not worthy of the name. He was a scientist perhaps—a murderer certainly!”

“How horrible! Do you really mean it?”

“Listen to me! This man Brandt matriculated in the Swiss hospitals, whence he was expelled for having caused the death of more than one patient by trying his scientific experiments upon them. The Swiss laboratories are renowned for being the foremost in Vivisection and other branches of science that gratify the curiosity and harden the heart of man more than they confer any lasting benefit on humanity. Even there,[Pg 114] Henry Brandt’s barbarity was considered to render him unfit for association with civilised practitioners, and he was expelled with ignominy. Having a private fortune he settled in Jamaica, and set up his laboratory there, and I would not shock your ears by detailing one hundredth part of the atrocities that were said to take place under his supervision, and in company of this man Trawler, whom the girl calls her trustee, and who is one of the greatest brutes unhung.”

“Are you not a little prejudiced, dear Doctor?”

“Not at all! If when you have heard all, you still say so, you are not the woman I have taken you for. Brandt did not confine his scientific investigations to the poor dumb creation. He was known to have decoyed natives into his Pandemonium, who were never heard of again, which raised, at last, the public feeling so much against him, that I am glad to say that his negroes revolted, and after having murdered him with appropriate atrocity, set fire to his house and burned it and all his property to the ground. Don’t look so shocked! I repeat that I am glad to say it, for he richly deserved his fate, and no torture could be too severe for one who spent his worthless life in torturing God’s helpless animals!”

“And his wife—” commenced Margaret.

“He had no wife! He was never married!”

“Never married! But this girl Harriet Brandt—”

“Has no more right to the name than you have! Henry Brandt was not the man to regard the laws, either of God or man. There was no reason why he should not have married—for that very cause, I suppose, he preferred to live in concubinage.”

[Pg 115]

“Poor Harriet! Poor child! And her mother, did you know her?”

“Don’t speak to me of her mother. She was not a woman, she was a fiend, a fitting match for Henry Brandt! To my mind she was a revolting creature. A fat, flabby half-caste, who hardly ever moved out of her chair but sat eating all day long, until the power to move had almost left her! I can see her now, with her sensual mouth, her greedy eyes, her low forehead and half-formed brain, and her lust for blood. It was said that the only thing which made her laugh, was to watch the dying agonies of the poor creatures her brutal protector slaughtered. But she thirsted for blood, she loved the sight and smell of it, she would taste it on the tip of her finger when it came in her way. Her servants had some story amongst themselves to account for this lust. They declared that when her slave mother was pregnant with her, she was bitten by a Vampire bat, which are formidable creatures in the West Indies, and are said to fan their victims to sleep with their enormous wings, whilst they suck their blood. Anyway the slave woman did not survive her delivery, and her fellows prophecied that the child would grow up to be a murderess. Which doubtless she was in heart, if not in deed!”

“What an awful description! And what became of her?”

“She was killed at the same time as Brandt, indeed the natives would have killed her in preference to him, had they been obliged to choose, for they attributed all the atrocities that went on in the laboratory to her influence. They said she was ‘Obeah’ which means diabolical witchcraft in their language. And doubtless their[Pg 116] unfortunate child would have been slaughtered also, had not the overseer of the plantation carried her off to his cabin, and afterwards, when the disturbance was quelled, to the Convent, where, you say, she has been educated.”

“But terrible as all this is, dear Doctor, it is not the poor girl’s fault. Why should we give up her acquaintance for that?”

“My dear Margaret, are you so ignorant as not to see that a child born under such conditions cannot turn out well? The bastard of a man like Henry Brandt, cruel, dastardly, Godless, and a woman like her terrible mother, a sensual, self-loving, crafty and bloodthirsty half-caste—what do you expect their daughter to become? She may seem harmless enough at present, so does the tiger cub as it suckles its dam, but that which is bred in her will come out sooner or later, and curse those with whom she may be associated. I beg and pray of you, Margaret, not to let that girl come near you, or your child, any more. There is a curse upon her, and it will affect all within her influence!”

“You have made me feel very uncomfortable, Doctor,” replied Mrs. Pullen. “Of course if I had known all this previously, I would not have cultivated Miss Brandt’s acquaintance, and now I shall take your advice and drop her as soon as possible! There will be no difficulty with Miss Leyton, for she has had a strange dislike to the girl ever since we met, but she has certainly been very kind to my baby—”

“For Heaven’s sake don’t let her come near your baby any more!” cried Doctor Phillips, quickly.

“Certainly I will not, and perhaps it would be as well if we moved on to Ostende or Blankenburghe, as[Pg 117] we have sometimes talked of doing. It would sever the acquaintance in the most effectual way!”

“By all means do so, particularly if the young lady does not go to Brussels, as that stout party was proposing at dinner time. What an extraordinary person she appears to be! Quite a character!”

“That is just what she is! But, Doctor, there is another thing I should like to speak to you about, concerning Miss Brandt, and I am sure I may trust you to receive it in the strictest confidence. It is regarding my brother-in-law, Ralph Pullen. I am rather afraid, from one or two things I have observed, that he likes Miss Brandt—O! I don’t mean anything particular, for (as you know) he is engaged to be married to Elinor Leyton and I don’t suspect him of wronging her, only—young men are rather headstrong you know and fond of their own way, and perhaps if you were to speak to Ralph—”

“Tell me plainly, has he been carrying on with this girl?”

“Not in the sense you would take it, Doctor, but he affects her company and that of the Gobellis a good deal. Miss Brandt sings beautifully, and Ralph loves music, but his action annoys Elinor, I can see that, and since you think we should break off the intimacy——”

“I consider it most imperatively necessary, for many reasons, and especially in the case of a susceptible young man like Captain Pullen. She has money, you say—”

“Fifteen hundred a year, so I am told!”

“And Miss Leyton has nothing, and Ralph only his pay! O! yes! you are quite right, such an acquaintanceship is dangerous for him. The sense of honour is not[Pg 118] so strong now, as it was when I was a boy, and gold is a powerful bait with the rising generation. I will take an early opportunity of talking to Captain Pullen on the subject.”

“You will not wound his feelings, Doctor, nor betray me?”

“Trust me for doing neither! I shall speak from my own experience, as I have done to you. If he will not take my advice, you must get someone with more influence to caution him about it. I hardly know how to make my meaning clear to you, Margaret, but Miss Brandt is a dangerous acquaintance, for all of you. We medical men know the consequences of heredity, better than outsiders can do. A woman born in such circumstances—bred of sensuality, cruelty, and heartlessness—cannot in the order of things, be modest, kind, or sympathetic. And she probably carries unknown dangers in her train. Whatever her fascinations or her position may be, I beg of you to drop her at once and for ever!”

“Of course I will, but it seems hard upon her! She has seemed to crave so for affection and companionship.”

“As her mother craved for food and blood; as her father craved for inflicting needless agony on innocent creatures, and sneered meanwhile at their sufferings! I am afraid I should have little faith in Miss Brandt craving for anything, except the gratification of her own senses!”

They were seated on the lower step of the wooden flight that led from the Digue to the sands, so that whilst they could see what went on above them, they were concealed from view themselves.

[Pg 119]

Just then, Harriet Brandt’s beautiful voice, accompanied by the silvery strains of the mandoline, was heard to warble Gounod’s “Marguerite” from the open window of the Baroness’s sitting-room. Margaret glanced up. The apartment was brilliantly lighted—on the table were bottles of wine and spirits, with cakes and fruit, and Madame Gobelli’s bulky form might be seen leaning over the dishes. She had assembled quite a little party there that night. The two Brimonts were present, and Captain Pullen’s tall figure was distinctly visible under the lamplight. Harriet was seated on the sofa, and her full voice filled the atmosphere with melody.

“There’s something like a voice!” remarked the old doctor.

“That is the very girl we have been talking of!” replied Mrs. Pullen. “I told you she had a lovely voice, and was an accomplished musician.”

“Is that so?” said Doctor Phillips, “then she is still more dangerous than I imagined her to be! Those tones would be enough to drag any man down to perdition, especially if accompanied by such a nature as I cannot but believe she must have inherited from her progenitors!”

“And see, Doctor, there is Ralph,” continued Margaret, pointing out her brother-in-law! “I left him with Miss Leyton. He must have got rid of her by some means and crept up to the Gobellis. He cannot go for them. He is so refined, so fastidious with regard to people in general, that a woman like the Baroness must grate upon his feelings every time she opens her mouth, and the Baron never opens his at all. He can only frequent their company for the sake of Harriet Brandt![Pg 120] I have seen it for some time past and it has made me very uneasy.”

“He shall know everything about her to-morrow, and then if he will not hear reason—” Doctor Phillips shrugged his shoulders and said no more.

“But surely,” said his companion, “you do not think for a moment that Ralph could ever seriously contemplate breaking his engagement with Elinor Leyton for the sake of this girl! O! how angry Arthur would be if he suspected his brother could be guilty of such a thing—he, who considers that a man’s word should be his bond!”

“It is impossible to say, Margaret—I should not like to give an opinion on the subject. When young men are led away by their passions, they lose sight of everything else—and if this girl is anything like her mother, she must be an epitome of lust!”

“O! you will speak to Ralph as soon as ever you can,” cried Margaret, in a tone of distress. “You will put the matter as strongly before him as possible, will you not?”

“You may depend on my doing all I can, Margaret, but as there seems no likelihood of my being able to interview the young gentleman to-night, suppose you and I go to bed! I feel rather tired after my passage over, and you must want to go back to your baby!”

“Doctor,” said Margaret, in a timid voice, as they ascended the hotel staircase together, “you don’t think baby very ill, do you?”

“I think she requires a great deal of care, Margaret!”

“But she has always had that!”

[Pg 121]

“I don’t doubt it, but I can’t deny that there are symptoms about her case that I do not understand. She seems to have had all her strength drawn out of her. She is in the condition of a child who has been exercised and excited and hurried from place to place, far beyond what she is able to bear. But it may arise from internal causes. I shall be better able to judge to-morrow when my medicine has had its effect. Good-night, my dear, and don’t worry. Please God, we will have the little one all right again in a couple of days.”

But he only said the words out of compassion. In his own opinion, the infant was dying.

Meanwhile, Harriet having finished her songs, was leaning out of the window with Ralph Pullen by her side. She wore an open sleeve and as he placed his hand upon her bare arm, the girl thrilled from head to foot.

“And so you are determined not to go to Brussels,” he whispered in her ear.

“Why should I go? You will not be there! The Baroness wants to stay for a week! What would become of me all that time, moping after you?”

“Are you sure that you would mope? Monsieur Brimont is a nice young man, and seems quite ready to throw himself at your feet! Would he not do as well, pro tem?”

Harriet’s only answer was to cast her large eyes upwards to meet his own.

“Does that mean, ‘No’?” continued Captain Pullen. “Then how would it do, if I joined you there, after a couple of days? Would the Baroness be complaisant, do you think, and a little short-sighted, and let us go[Pg 122] about together, and show each other the sights of the town?”

“O! I’m sure she would!” cried Harriet, all the blood in her body flying into her face, “she is so very kind to me! Madame Gobelli!” she continued, turning from the window to the light, “Captain Pullen says that if you will allow him to show us the lions of Brussels, he will come and join us there in a couple of days—”

“If I find I can manage it!” interposed Ralph, cautiously.

“Manage it! Why, of course you can manage it,” said the Baroness. “What’s to ’inder a young man like you doing as ’e chooses? You’re not tied to your sister’s apron-string, are you? Now mind! we shall ’old you to it, for I believe it’s the only thing that will make ’Arriet come, and I think a week in Brussels will do us all good! You’re not looking well yourself, you know, Captain Pullen! You’re as white as ashes this evening, and if I didn’t know you were such a good boy, I should say you’d been dissipating a bit lately! He! he! he!”

“The only dissipating I have indulged in, is basking in the sunshine of your eyes, Madame!” replied Ralph gallantly.

“That’s a good ’un!” retorted the Baroness, “it is more likely you’ve been looking too much in the eyes of my little friend ’ere. You’re a couple of foxes, that’s what you are, and I expect it would take all my time to be looking after you both! And so I suppose it’s settled, Miss ’Arriet, and you’ll come with us to Brussels after all!”

“Yes, Madame, if you’ll take charge of me!” said Miss Brandt.

[Pg 123]

“We’ll do that for a couple of days, and then we’ll give over charge. Are we to engage a room for you, Captain, at the Hôtel de Saxe?”

“I had better see after that myself, Madame, as the date of my coming is uncertain,” replied Ralph.

“But you will come!” whispered Harriet.

“Need you ask? Would I not run over the whole world, only to find myself by your side? Haven’t you taken the taste out of everything else for me, Harriet?”

Chapter 8

Doctor Phillips was a man of sixty, and a bachelor. He had never made any home ties for himself, and was therefore more interested in Margaret Pullen (whose father had been one of his dearest friends) than he might otherwise have been. He feared that a heavy trial lay before her and he was unwilling to see it aggravated by any misconduct on the part of her brother-in-law. He could see that the young man was (to say the least of it) not behaving fairly towards his fiancée, Elinor Leyton, and he was determined to open his eyes to the true state of affairs with regard to Harriet Brandt. He spent a sleepless night, his last visit to Margaret’s suffering child having strengthened his opinion as to her hopeless condition, and he lay awake wondering how he should break the news to the poor young mother. He rose with the intention of speaking to Ralph without delay, but he found it more difficult to get a word with him than he had anticipated. The Gobelli party had decided to start with the Brimonts that afternoon, and[Pg 124] Captain Pullen stuck to them the entire morning, ostensibly to assist the Baroness in her preparations for departure, but in reality, as anyone could see, to linger by the side of Miss Brandt. Miss Leyton perceived her lover’s defalcation as plainly as the rest, but she was too proud to make a hint upon the subject, even to Margaret Pullen. She sat alone in the balcony, reading a book, and gave no sign of annoyance or discomfiture. But a close observer might have seen the trembling of her lip when she attempted to speak, and the fixed, white look upon her face, which betrayed her inward anxiety. It made Margaret’s kind heart ache to see her, and Dr. Phillips more indignant with Ralph Pullen than before.

The party for Brussels had arranged to travel by the three o’clock train, and at the appointed time the doctor was ready in the balcony to accompany them to the entrepôt. There were no cabs in Heyst, the station being in the town. Luggage was conveyed backwards and forwards in hand carts drawn by the porters, and travellers invariably walked to their destination. The Baroness appeared dressed for her journey, in an amazing gown of blue velvet, trimmed with rare Maltese lace, with a heavy mantle over it, and a small hat on her head, which made her round, flat, unmeaning face, look coarser than before. She used the Herr Baron as a walking-stick as usual, whilst Harriet Brandt, in a white frock and large hat shading her glowing eyes under a scarlet parasol, looked like a tropical bird skimming by her side, with Captain Pullen in close attendance, carrying a flimsy wrap in case she should require it before she reached her journey’s end. The Brimonts, following[Pg 125] in the rear, were of no account beside their more brilliant and important friends.

Ralph Pullen did not look pleased when he saw Doctor Phillips join the party.

“Are you also going to the entrepôt?” he exclaimed, “what can you find to interest you there?—a dirty little smutty place! I am going just to help the ladies over the line, as there is no bridge for crossing.”

“Perhaps I am bent on the same errand,” replied the doctor, “do you give me credit for less gallantry than yourself, Pullen?”

“That’s right, Doctor,” said the Baroness, “and I’ve no doubt you’ll be very useful! My Bobby ain’t any manner of good, and the Baron ’as so many traps to carry that ’e ’asn’t got an arm to spare. I only wish you were coming with us! Why don’t you make up your mind to come over with Captain Pullen the day after to-morrow, and ’ave a little ’oliday?”

“I was not aware that Captain Pullen was going to Brussels, madame! I fancy he will have to get Miss Leyton’s consent first!”

At the mention of Miss Leyton’s name in connection with himself, Ralph Pullen flushed uneasily, and Harriet Brandt turned a look of startled enquiry upon the speaker.

“O! ’ang Miss Leyton!” retorted the Baroness, graphically, “she surely wouldn’t stop Captain Pullen’s fun, just because ’e’s staying with ’is sister-in-law! I should call that very ’ard. You can’t always tie a young man to ’is relations’ apron-strings, Doctor!”

“Not always, madame!” he replied, and dropped the subject.

[Pg 126]

“You wouldn’t let Miss Leyton or Mrs. Pullen keep you from me!” whispered Harriet, to her cavalier.

“Never!” he answered emphatically.

They had reached the little station by this time, and the porters were calling out vociferously that the train was about to start for Brussels, so that in the hurry of procuring their tickets, and conveying the ladies and the luggage across the cinder-besprinkled line, to where the train stood puffing to be off, there was no more time to exchange sentimentalities, or excite suspicion. The party being safely stowed away in their carriage, Ralph Pullen and Doctor Phillips stood on the wooden platform with their hats off, bowing their farewells.

“Mind you don’t put off your coming after Thursday!” screamed the Baroness to Ralph, as she filled up the entire window with her bulky person, “we shall expect you by dinner-time! And I shall bespeak a room for you, whether you will or no! ’Arriet ’ere will break ’er ’eart if you don’t turn up, and I don’t want the responsibility of ’er committing suicide on my ’ands!”

“All right! all right!” responded Ralph, pretending to turn it off as a joke, “None of you shall do that on my account, I promise you!”

“O! well! I ’ope you’re going to keep your word, or we shall come back to ’Eyst in double quick time. Good-bye! Good-bye!” and kissing her fat hand to the two gentlemen, the Baroness was whisked out of Heyst.

Ralph looked longingly after the departing line of carriages for a minute, and then crossed the line again to the road beyond.

Doctor Phillips did not say a word till they were well clear of the station, and then he commenced,

[Pg 127]

“Of course you’re not in earnest about following these people to Brussels.”

“Why should I not be? I knew Brussels well as a lad, and I should enjoy renewing my acquaintance with the old town.”

“In proper company perhaps, but you can hardly call that party a fit one for you to associate with!”

“You’re alluding to the Baron and Baroness being in trade. Well! as a rule I confess that I do not care to associate intimately with bootmakers and their friends, but one does things abroad that one would not dream of doing in England. And for all her vulgarity, Madame Gobelli is very good-natured and generous, and I really don’t see that I lower my dignity by being on friendly terms with her whilst here!”

“I was not alluding to Madame Gobelli, though I do not think that either she or the Brimonts are fit companions for a man who belongs to the Limerick Rangers, or is engaged to marry the daughter of Lord Walthamstowe. Neither do I admire the spirit which would induce you to hobnob with them in Heyst, when you would cut them in Bond Street. But as far as I know the Baron and his wife are harmless. It is Miss Harriet Brandt that I would caution you against!”

A quick resentment appeared on Ralph Pullen’s features. His eyes darkened, and an ominous wrinkle stood out on his brow.

“And what may you have to say of Miss Brandt?” he demanded, coldly.

“A great deal more than you know, or can possibly imagine! She is not a fit person for Elinor Leyton to[Pg 128] associate with, and consequently, one whom it is your duty to avoid, instead of cultivating.”

“I think you exceed your duty, Doctor, in speaking to me thus!”

“I am sorry you should think so, Pullen, but your anger will not deter me from telling you what is in my mind. You must not forget how old a friend I am of both sides of your family. Your brother Arthur is one of my greatest chums, and his wife’s father was, without exception, my dearest friend—added to this, I am on intimate terms with the Walthamstowes. Knowing what I do, therefore, I should hold myself criminal if I left you in ignorance of the truth concerning this young woman.”

“Are you alluding, may I ask, to Miss Brandt?”

“I am alluding to the girl who calls herself by that name, but who is in reality only the bastard daughter of Henry Brandt, one of the most infamous men whom God ever permitted to desecrate this earth, and his half-caste mistress.”

“Be careful what you say, Doctor Phillips!” said Ralph Pullen, with ill-suppressed wrath gleaming in his blue eyes.

“There is no need to be, my dear fellow, I can verify everything I say, and I fear no man’s resentment. I was stationed in Jamaica with my regiment, some fifteen years ago, when this girl was a child of six years old, running half naked about her father’s plantation, uncared for by either parent, and associating solely with the negro servants. Brandt was a brute—the perpetrator of such atrocities in vivisection and other scientific experiments, that he was finally slaughtered on his own[Pg 129] plantation by his servants, and everyone said it served him right. The mother was the most awful woman I have ever seen, and my experience of the sex in back slums and alleys has not been small. She was the daughter of a certain Judge Carey of Barbadoes by one of his slave girls, and Brandt took her as his mistress before she was fourteen. At thirty, when I saw her, she was a revolting spectacle. Gluttonous and obese—her large eyes rolling and her sensual lips protruding as if she were always licking them in anticipation of her prey. She was said to be ‘Obeah’ too by the natives and they ascribed all the deaths and diseases that took place on the plantation, to her malign influence. Consequently, when they got her in their clutches, I have heard that they did not spare her, but killed her in the most torturing fashion they could devise.”

“And did the British Government take no notice of the massacre?”

“There was an enquiry, of course, but the actual perpetrator of the murders could not be traced, and so the matter died out. The hatred and suspicion in which Brandt had been held for some time, had a great effect upon the verdict, for in addition to his terrible experiments upon animals—experiments which he performed simply for his own gratification and for no use that he made of them in treating his fellow creatures—he had been known to decoy diseased and old natives into his laboratory, after which they were never seen again, and it was the digging up of human bones on the plantation, which finally roused the negroes to such a pitch of indignation that they rose en masse, and after murdering both Brandt and his abominable mistress, they set fire[Pg 130] to the house and burned it to the ground. There is no doubt but that, if the overseer of the plantation, an African negro named Pete, had not carried off the little girl, she would have shared the fate of her parents. And who can say if it would not have been as well if she had!”

“I really cannot see what right you have to give vent to such a sentiment!” exclaimed Captain Pullen. “What has this terrible story got to do with Miss Brandt?”

“Everything! ‘When the cat is black, the kitten is black too!’ It’s the law of Nature!”

“I don’t believe it! Miss Brandt bears no trace in feature or character of the parentage you ascribe to her!”

“Does she not? Your assertion only proves your ignorance of character, or characteristics. The girl is a quadroon, and she shews it distinctly in her long-shaped eyes with their blue whites and her wide mouth and blood-red lips! Also in her supple figure and apparently boneless hands and feet. Of her personal character, I have naturally had no opportunity of judging, but I can tell you by the way she eats her food, and the way in which she uses her eyes, that she has inherited her half-caste mother’s greedy and sensual disposition. And in ten years’ time she will in all probability have no figure at all! She will run to fat. I could tell that also at a glance!”

“And have you any more compliments to pay the young lady?” enquired Captain Pullen, sarcastically.

“I have this still to say, Pullen—that she is a woman whom you must never introduce to your wife, and that it is your bounden duty to separate her, as soon as possible, from your fiancée and your sister-in-law!”

[Pg 131]

“And what if I refuse to interfere in a matter which, as far as I can see, concerns no one but Miss Brandt herself?”

“In that case, I regret to say that I shall feel it my duty, to inform your brother Colonel Pullen and your future father-in-law, Lord Walthamstowe of what I have told you! Come, my dear boy, be reasonable! This girl has attracted you, I suppose! We are all subject to a woman’s influence at times, but you must not let it go further. You must break it off, and this is an excellent opportunity to do so! Your sister’s infant is, I fear, seriously ill. Take your party on to Ostende, and send the Baroness a polite note to say that you are prevented from going to Brussels, and all will be right! You will take my advice—will you not?”

“No! I’ll be hanged if I will,” exclaimed the young man, “I am not a boy to be ordered here and there, as if I were not fit to take care of myself. I’ve pledged my word to go to Brussels and to Brussels I shall go. If Miss Leyton doesn’t like it, she must do the other thing! She does not shew me such a superfluity of affection as to prevent the necessity of my seeking for sympathy and friendship elsewhere.”

“I am sorry to hear you speak like that, Pullen. It does not augur well for the happiness of your married life!”

“I have thought more than once lately, that I shall not be married at all—that is to Miss Leyton!”

“No! no! don’t say so. It is only a passing infidelity, engendered by the attraction of this other girl. Consider what your brother would say, and what Lord Walthamstowe would think, if you committed the great[Pg 132] mistake at this late hour, of breaking off your engagement!”

“I cannot see why my brother’s opinion, or Lord Walthamstowe’s thoughts, should interfere with the happiness of my whole life,” rejoined Ralph, sullenly. “However, let that pass! The question on the tapis is, my acquaintance with Miss Brandt, which you consider should be put a stop to. For what reason? If what you bring against her is true, it appears to me that she has all the more need of the protection and loyalty of her friends. It would be cowardly to desert a girl, just because her father and mother happened to be brutes. It is not her fault!”

“I quite allow that! Neither is it the fault of a madman that his progenitors had lunacy in their blood, nor of a consumptive, that his were strumous. All the same the facts affect their lives and the lives of those with whom they come in contact. It is the curse of heredity!”

“Well! and if so, how can it concern anyone but the poor child herself?”

“O! yes, it can and it will! And if I am not greatly mistaken, Harriet Brandt carries a worse curse with her even than that! She possesses the fatal attributes of the Vampire that affected her mother’s birth—that endued her with the thirst for blood, which characterised her life—that will make Harriet draw upon the health and strength of all with whom she may be intimately associated—that may render her love fatal to such as she may cling to! I must tell you, Pullen, that I fear we have already proofs of this in the illness of your little niece, whom, her mother tells me, was at one[Pg 133] time scarcely ever out of Miss Brandt’s arms. I have no other means of accounting for her sudden failure of strength and vitality. You need not stare at me, as if you thought I do not know what I am talking about! There are many cases like it in the world. Cases of persons who actually feed upon the lives of others, as the deadly upas tree sucks the life of its victim, by lulling him into a sleep from which he never wakens!”

“Phillips, you must be mad! Do you know that you are accusing Miss Brandt of murder—of killing the child to whom she never shewed anything but the greatest kindness. Why! I have known her carry little Ethel about the sands for a whole afternoon.”

“All the worse for poor little Ethel! I do not say she does harm intentionally or even consciously, but that the deadly attributes of her bloodthirsty parents have descended on her in this respect, I have not a shadow of doubt! If you watch that young woman’s career through life, you will see that those she apparently cares for most, and clings to most, will soonest fade out of existence, whilst she continues to live all the stronger that her victims die!”

“Rubbish! I don’t believe it!” replied Ralph sturdily. “You medical men generally have some crotchet in your brains, but this is the most wonderful bee that ever buzzed in a bonnet! And all I can say is, that I should be quite willing to try the experiment!”

“You have tried it, Pullen, in a mild form, and it has had its effect on you! You are not the same fellow who came over to Heyst, though by all rules, you should be looking better and stronger for the change. And Margaret has already complained to me of the strange[Pg 134] effect this girl has had upon her! But you must not breathe a suspicion to her concerning the child’s illness, or I verily believe she would murder Miss Brandt!”

“Putting all this nonsense aside,” said Ralph, “do you consider Margaret’s baby to be seriously ill?”

“Very seriously. My medicines have not had the slightest effect upon her condition, which is inexplicable. Her little life is being slowly sapped. She may cease to breathe at any moment. But I have not yet had the courage to tell your sister the truth!”

“How disappointed poor Arthur will be!”

“Yes! but his grief will be nothing to the mother’s. She is quite devoted to her child!”

By mutual consent, they had dropped the subject of Harriet Brandt, and now spoke only of family affairs. Ralph was a kind-hearted fellow under all his conceit, and felt very grave at the prospect held out in regard to his baby niece.

The fulfilment of the prophecy came sooner than even Doctor Phillips had anticipated. As they were all sitting at dinner that evening, Madame Lamont, her eyes over-brimming with tears, rushed unceremoniously into the salle à manger, calling to Margaret.

“Madame! Madame! please come up to your room at once! The dear baby is worse!”

Margaret threw one agonised glance at Doctor Phillips and rushed from the room, followed by himself and Elinor Leyton. The high staircase seemed interminable—more than once Margaret’s legs failed under her and she thought she should never reach the top. But she did so all too soon. On the bed was laid the infant[Pg 135] form, limp and lifeless, and Martin the nurse met them at the door, bathed in tears.

“Oh! Ma’am!” she cried, “it happened all of a minute! She was lying on my lap, pretty dear, just as usual, when she went off in a convulsion and died.”

“Died, died!” echoed Margaret in a bewildered voice, “Doctor Phillips! who is it that has died?”

“The baby, Ma’am, the dear baby! She went off like a lamb, without a struggle! O! dear mistress, do try to bear it!”

“Is my baby—dead?” said Margaret in the same dazed voice, turning to the doctor who had already satisfied himself that the tiny heart and pulse had ceased to beat.

“No! my dear child, she is not dead—she is living—with God! Try to think of her as quite happy and free from this world’s ill.”

“O! but I wanted her so—I wanted her,” exclaimed the bereaved mother, as she clasped the senseless form in her arms, “O! baby! baby! why did you go, before you had seen your father?”

And then she slid, rather than sank, from the bedside, in a tumbled heap upon the floor.

“It is better so—it will help her through it,” said Doctor Phillips, as he directed the nurse to carry the dead child into Elinor Leyton’s room, and placed Margaret on her own bed. “You will not object, Miss Leyton, I am sure, and you must not leave Mrs. Pullen to-night!”

“Of course I shall not,” replied Elinor; “I have been afraid for days past that this would happen, but poor Margaret would not take any hints.”

[Pg 136]

She spoke sympathetically, but there were no tears in her eyes, and she did not caress, nor attempt to console her friend. She did all that was required of her, but there was no spontaneous suggestion on her part, with regard either to the mother, or the dead child, and as Doctor Phillips noted her coolness, he did not wonder so much at Ralph’s being attracted by the fervour and warmth of Harriet Brandt.

As soon as poor Margaret had revived and had her cry out, he administered a sleeping draught to her, and leaving her in charge of Elinor Leyton, he went downstairs again to consult Captain Pullen as to what would be the best thing for them to do.

Ralph was very much shocked to hear of the baby’s sudden death, and eager to do all in his power for his brother’s wife. There was no Protestant cemetery in Heyst, and Doctor Phillips proposed that they should at once order a little shell, and convey the child’s body either to Ostende or England, as Margaret might desire, for burial. The sooner she left the place where she had lost her child, he said, the better, and his idea was that she would wish the body to be taken to Devonshire and buried in the quiet country churchyard, where her husband’s father and mother were laid to sleep. He left Ralph to telegraph to his brother in India and to anyone the news might concern in England—also to settle all hotel claims and give notice to the Lamonts that they would leave on the morrow.

“But supposing Margaret should object,” suggested Ralph.

“She will not object!” replied the Doctor, “she might if we were not taking the child’s body with us, but as it[Pg 137] is, she will be grateful to be thought, and acted, for. She is a true woman, God bless her! I only wish He had not seen fit to bring this heavy trial on her head!”

Not a word was exchanged between the two men about Harriet Brandt. Ralph, remembering the hint the doctor had thrown out respecting her being the ultimate cause of the baby’s illness, did not like to bring up her name again—felt rather guilty with respect to it, indeed—and Doctor Phillips was only too glad to see the young man bestirring himself to be useful, and losing sight of his own worry in the trouble of his sister-in-law. Of course he could not have refused, or even demurred, at accompanying his party to England on so mournful an errand—and to do him justice, he did not wish it to be otherwise. Brussels, and its anticipated pleasures, had been driven clean out of his head by the little tragedy that had occurred in Heyst, and his attitude towards Margaret when they met again, was so quietly affectionate and brotherly that he was of infinite comfort to her. She quite acquiesced in Doctor Phillips’ decision that her child should be buried with her father’s family, and the mournful group with the little coffin in their midst, set out without delay for Devonshire.

Chapter 9

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[Pg 138] 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[Pg 139] 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[Pg 140] 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,

[Pg 141]

“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[Pg 142] 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[Pg 143] 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.

[Pg 144]

“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[Pg 145] 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[Pg 146] 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[Pg 147] 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[Pg 148] 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[Pg 149]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.

[Pg 150]

“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[Pg 151] 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.

[Pg 152]

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.”

[Pg 153]

“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,[Pg 154] 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[Pg 155] 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!”

[Pg 156]

“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.

Chapter 10

The Red House at Holloway was, like its owner, a contradiction and an anomaly. It had lain for many years in Chancery, neglected and uncared-for, and the Baroness had purchased it for a song. She was very fond of driving bargains, and sometimes she was horribly taken in. She had been known to buy a house for two thousand pounds for a mere caprice, and exchange it, six months afterwards, for a dinner service. But as a rule she was too shrewd to be cheated, for her income was not a tenth part of what she represented. When she had concluded her bargain for the Red House, which she did after a single survey of the premises, and entered on possession, she found it would take double the sum she had paid to put it into proper repair. It was a very old house of the Georgian era standing in[Pg 157] its own grounds of about a couple of acres, and containing thirty rooms, full of dust, damp, rats, and decay. The Baroness, however, having sent for a couple of workmen from the firm, to put the tangled wilderness which called itself a garden, into something like order, sent in all her household gods, and settled down there, with William and two rough maid servants, as lady of the Manor. The inside of the Red House presented an incongruous appearance. This extraordinary woman, who could not sound her aspirates and could hardly write her own name, had a wonderful taste for old china and pictures, and knew a good thing from a bad one. Her drawing-room was heaped with valuables, many of them piled on rickety tables which threatened every minute to overturn them upon the ground. The entrance hall was dingy, bare, and ill-lighted, and the breakfast-room to the side was furnished with the merest necessities. Yet the dressing-table in the Baroness’s sleeping apartment was draped in ruby velvet, and trimmed with a flounce of the most costly Brussels lace, which a Princess might not have been ashamed to wear. The bed was covered with a duvet of the thickest satin, richly embroidered by her own hand, whilst the washing-stand held a set of the commonest and cheapest crockery. Everything about the house was on the same scale; it looked as though it belonged to people who had fallen from the utmost affluence to the depths of poverty. Harriet Brandt was terribly disappointed when she entered it, Bobby’s accounts of the magnificence of his home having led her to expect nothing short of a palace.

The Baroness had insisted on her accompanying them to England. She had taken one of her violent[Pg 158] fancies to the girl, and nothing would satisfy her but that Harriet should go back with her husband and herself to the Red House, and stay there as long as she chose.

“Now look ’ere,” she said in her rough way, “you must make the Red ’Ouse your ’ome. Liberty ’All, as I call it! Get up and go to bed; go out and come in, just when you see fit—do what you like, see what you like, and invite your friends, as if the ’ouse was your own. The Baron and I are often ’alf the day at the boot shop, but that need make no difference to you. I daresay you’ll find some way to amuse yourself. You’re the daughter of the ’ouse, remember, and free to do as you choose!”

Harriet gladly accepted the offer. She had no friends of her own to go to, and the prospect of living by herself, in an unknown city, was rather lonely. She was full of anticipation also that by means of the Red House and the Baroness’s influence, she would soon hear of, or see, Captain Pullen again—full of hope that Madame Gobelli would write to the young man and force him to fulfil the promises he had made to her. She did not want to know Prince Adalbert or Prince Loris—at the present moment, it was Ralph and Ralph only, and none other would fill the void she felt at losing him. She was sure there must be some great mistake at the bottom of his strange silence, and that they had but to meet, to see it rectified. She was only too glad then, when the day for their departure from Heyst arrived. Most of the English party had left the Lion d’Or by that time. The death of Mrs. Pullen’s child seemed to have frightened them away. Some became nervous lest little Ethel[Pg 159] had inhaled poisonous vapours from the drainage—others thought that the atmosphere was unhealthy, or that it was getting too late in the year for the seaside, and so the visitors dwindled, until the Baroness Gobelli found they were left alone with foreigners, and elected to return to England in consequence.

Harriet had wished to write to Captain Pullen and ask for an explanation of his conduct, but the Baroness conjured her not to do so, even threatened to withdraw her friendship, if the girl went against her advice. The probabilities were, she said, that the young man was staying with his sister-in-law wherever she might be, and that the letter would be forwarded to him from the Camp, and fall into the hands of Mrs. Pullen, or Miss Leyton. She assured Harriet that it would be safer to wait until she had ascertained his address, and was sure that any communication would reach him at first hand.

“A man’s never the worse for being let alone, ’Arriet,” she said. “Don’t let ’im think ’e’s of too much consequence and ’e’ll value you all the more! Our fellows don’t care for the bird that walks up to the gun. A little ’olesome indifference will do my gentleman all the good in the world!”

“O! but how can I be indifferent, when I am burning to see him again, and to hear why he never wrote to say that he could not come to Brussels,” exclaimed Harriet, excitedly. “Do you think it was all falsehoods, Madame Gobelli? Do you think that he does not want to see me any more?”

Her eyes were flashing like diamonds—her cheeks and hands were burning hot. The Baroness chuckled over her ardour and anxiety.

[Pg 160]

“He! he! he! you little fool, no, I don’t! Anyone could see with ’alf an eye, that he took a fancy for you! You’re the sort of stuff to stir up a man and make ’im forget everything but yourself. Now don’t you worry. ’E’ll be at the Red ’Ouse like a shot, as soon as ’e ’ears we’re back in London. Mark my words! it won’t be long before we ’ave the ’ole lot of ’em down on us, like bees ’umming round a flower pot.”

After this flattering tale, it was disheartening to arrive in town on a chilly September day, under a pouring rain, and to see the desolate appearance presented by the Red House.

It was seven in the evening before they reached Holloway, and drove up the dark carriage drive, clumped by laurels, to the hall door.

After the grand description given by Bobby of his Mamma’s barouche lined with olive green satin, Harriet was rather astonished that they should have to charter cabs from the Victoria Station to Holloway, instead of being met by the Baroness’s private carriage. But she discovered afterwards that though there was a barouche standing in the coach-house, which had been purchased in a moment of reckless extravagance by Madame Gobelli, there were no horses to draw it, and the only vehicle kept by the Baroness was a very much patched, not to say disreputable looking Victoria, with a spavined cob attached to it, in which William drove the mistress when she visited the boot premises.

The chain having been taken down, the hall door was opened to them by a slight, timid looking person, whom Harriet mistook for an upper housemaid.

[Pg 161]

“Well, Miss Wynward,” exclaimed the Baroness, as she stumped into the hall, “’ere we are, you see!”

“Yes! my lady,” said the person she addressed, “but I thought, from not hearing again, that you would travel by the night boat! Your rooms are ready,” she hastened to add, “only—dinner, you see! I had no orders about it!”

“That doesn’t signify,” interrupted the Baroness, “send out for a steak and give us some supper instead! ’Ere William, where are you? Take my bag and Miss Brandt’s up to our rooms, and, Gustave, you can carry the wraps! Where’s that devil Bobby? Come ’ere at once and make yourself useful! What are you standing there, staring at ’Arriet for? Don’t you see Miss Wynward? Go and say ‘’ow d’ye do’ to ’er?”

Bobby started, and crossing to where Miss Wynward stood, held out his hand. She shook it warmly.

“How are you, Bobby?” she said. “You don’t look much stronger for your trip. I expected to see you come back with a colour!”

“Nonsense!” commenced the Baroness testily, “what rubbish you old maids do talk! What should you know about boys? ’Ow many ’ave you got? ’Ere, why don’t you kiss ’im? You’ve smacked ’im often enough, I know!”

Miss Wynward tried to pass the coarse rejoinder off as a joke, but it was with a very plaintive smile that she replied,

“I think Bobby is growing rather too tall to be kissed, and he thinks so too, don’t you, Bobby?”

Bobby was about to make some silly reply, when his Mamma interrupted him,

“Oh! does he? ’E’ll be wanting to kiss the gals soon,[Pg 162] so ’e may as well practise on you first! Come! Bobby, do you ’ear what I say? Kiss ’er!”

But Miss Wynward drew up her spare figure with dignity.

“No! my lady!” she said quietly, “I do not wish it!”

“He! he! he!” giggled the Baroness, as she commenced to mount the stairs, “’e ain’t old enough for you, that’s what’s the matter! Come along, ’Arriet, my dear! I’m dog-tired and I daresay you’re much the same! Let us ’ave some ’ot water to our rooms, Miss Wynward!”

Harriet Brandt was now ushered by her hostess into a bedroom on the same floor as her own, and left to unpack her bundles and boxes as she best might. It was not a badly furnished room, but there was too much pomp and too little comfort in it. The mantelshelf was ornamented with some rare old Chelsea figures, and a Venetian glass hung above them, but the carpet was threadbare, and the dressing-table was inconveniently small and of painted deal. But as though to atone for these discrepancies, the hangings to the bed were of satin, and the blind that shaded the window was edged with Neapolitan lace. Harriet had not been used to luxuries in the Convent, but her rooms in the Lion d’Or had been amply provided with all she could need, and she was a creature of sensual and indolent temperament, who felt any rebuff, in the way of her comfort, terribly.

There was an un-homelike feeling in the Red House and its furniture, and a coldness in their reception, which made the passionate, excited creature feel inclined to sit down and burst into tears. She was on the very brink of doing so, when a tap sounded on the door, and Miss Wynward entered with a zinc can of hot[Pg 163] water, which she placed on the washing-stand. Then she stood for a moment regarding the girl as though she guessed what was in her mind, before she said,

“Miss Brandt, I believe! I am so sorry that the Baroness never wrote me with any certainty regarding her arrival, or things would have been more comfortable. I hope you had a good dinner on board!”

“No!” said Harriet, shaking her head, “I felt too ill to eat. But it does not signify, thank you!”

“But you are looking quite upset! Supper cannot be ready for another hour. I will go and make you a cup of tea!”

She hurried from the room again, and presently returned with a small tray on which was set a Sèvres cup and saucer and Apostle teaspoon, with an earthenware teapot that may possibly have cost sixpence. But Harriet was too grateful for the tea to cavil whence it came, and drinking it refreshed her more than anything else could have done.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” she said to Miss Wynward, “I think the long journey and the boat had been too much for me. I feel much better now!”

“It is such a melancholy house to come to when one is out of sorts,” observed her companion, “I have felt that myself! It will not give you a good impression of your first visit to London. Her ladyship wrote me you had just come from the West Indies,” she added, timidly.

“Yes! I have not long arrived in Europe,” replied Harriet. “But I thought—I fancied—the Baroness gave me the idea that the Red House was particularly gay and cheerful, and that so many people visited her here!”

“That is true! A great many people visit here! But—not[Pg 164] such people, perhaps, as a young lady would care for!”

“O! I care for every sort,” said Harriet, more gaily, “and you,—don’t you care for company, Miss Wynward?”

“I have nothing to do with it, Miss Brandt, beyond seeing that the proper preparations are made for receiving it. I am Bobby’s governess, and housekeeper to the Baroness!”

“Bobby is getting rather tall for a governess!” laughed Harriet.

“He is, poor boy, but his education is very deficient. He ought to have been sent to school long ago, but her ladyship would not hear of it. But I never teach him now. He is supposed to be finished!”

“Why don’t you find another situation then?” demanded Harriet, who was becoming interested in the ex-governess.

She was a fragile, melancholy looking woman of perhaps five-and-thirty, who had evidently been good-looking in her day and would have been so then but for her attenuation, and shabby dress. But she was evidently a gentlewoman, and far above the menial offices she appeared to fill in the Red House. She gazed at Harriet for a minute in silence after she had put the last question to her, and then answered slowly:

“There are reasons which render it unadvisable. But you, Miss Brandt, have you known the Baroness before?”

“I never saw her till we met at Heyst and she invited me here,” replied the girl.

“O! why did you come? Why did you come?” exclaimed Miss Wynward, as she left the room.

[Pg 165]

Harriet stood gazing at the door as it closed behind her. Why had she come? What an extraordinary question to ask her! For the same reason that other people accepted invitations to them by their friends—because she expected to enjoy herself, and have the protection of the Baroness on first entering English society! But why should this governess—her dependant, almost her servant—put so strange a question to her? Why had she come? She could not get it out of her mind. She was roused from her train of speculation by hearing the Baroness thumping on the outside panels of her door with her stick.

“Come along,” she cried, “never mind dressing! The supper’s ready at last and I’m as ’ungry as an ’unter.”

Hastily completing her toilet, Harriet joined her hostess, who conducted her down to a large dining-room, wrapt in gloom. The two dozen morocco chairs ranged against the wall, looked sepulchral by the light of a single lamp, placed in the centre of a long mahogany table, which was graced by a fried steak, a huge piece of cheese, bread and butter, and lettuces from the garden. Harriet regarded the preparations for supper with secret dismay. She was greedy by nature, but it was the love of good feeding, rather than a superfluity of food, that induced her to be so. However, when the Baron produced a couple of bottles of the very best Champagne to add to the meal, she felt her appetite somewhat revive, and played almost as good a knife and fork as the Baroness. Bobby and Miss Wynward, who as it appeared, took her meals with the family, were the only ones who did not do justice to the supper.

The lad looked worn-out and very pale, but when[Pg 166] Miss Wynward suggested that a glass of champagne might do him good, and dispel the exhaustion under which he was evidently labouring, his mother vehemently opposed the idea.

“Champagne for a child like ’im,” she cried, “I never ’eard of such a thing. Do you want to make ’im a drunkard, Miss Wynward? No! thank you, there ’ave been no ’ard drinkers in our family, and ’e shan’t begin it! ’Is father was one of the soberest men alive! ’E never took anything stronger than toast and water all the time I knew ’im.”

“Of course not, your ladyship,” stammered Miss Wynward, who seemed in abject fear of her employer, “I only thought as Bobby seems so very tired, that a little stimulant——”

“Then let ’im go to bed,” replied Madame Gobelli. “Bed is the proper place for boys when they’re tired! Come, Sir, off to bed with you, at once, and don’t let me ’ear anything more of you till to-morrow morning!”

“But mayn’t I have some supper?” pleaded Bobby.

“Not a bit of it!” reiterated the Baroness, “if you’re so done up that you require champagne, your stomach can’t be in a fit state to digest beef and bread! Be off at once, I say, or you’ll get a taste of my stick.”

“But, my lady—” said Miss Wynward, entreatingly.

“It’s not a bit of good, Miss Wynward, I know more about boys’ insides than you do. Sleep’s the thing for Bobby. Now, no more nonsense, I say—”

But Bobby, after one long look at Harriet Brandt, had already quitted the room. This episode had the effect of destroying Miss Wynward’s appetite. She sat gazing at her plate for a few minutes, and then with[Pg 167] some murmured excuse of its being late, she rose and disappeared. The Baroness was some time over her meal, and Harriet had an opportunity to examine the apartment they sat in, as well as the dim light allowed her to do. The walls were covered with oil paintings and good ones, as she could see at a glance, whilst at the further end, where narrow shelves were fixed from the floor to the ceiling, was displayed the famous dinner service of Sèvres, for which the Baroness was said to have bartered the two thousand lease of her house.

Harriet glanced from the pictures and the china upon the walls to the steak and bread and cheese upon the table, and marvelled at the incongruity of the whole establishment. Madame Gobelli who, whilst at the Lion d’Or, had appeared to think nothing good enough for her, was now devouring fried steak and onions, as if they had been the daintiest of fare. But the champagne made amends, on that night at least, for the solids which accompanied it, and the girl was quite ready to believe that the poverty of the table was only due to the fact that they had arrived at the Red House unexpectedly. As they reached the upper corridor, her host and hostess parted with her, with much effusion, and passing into their own room, shut the door and locked it noisily. As Harriet gained hers, she saw the door opposite partly unclose to display poor Bobby standing there to see her once again.

He was clothed only in his long night-shirt, and looked like a lanky ghost, but he was too childish in mind to think for one moment that his garb was not a suitable one for a lover to accost his mistress in. She[Pg 168] heard him whisper her name as she turned the handle of her own door.

“Why, Bobby,” she exclaimed, “not in bed yet?”

“Hush! hush!” he said in a low voice, “or Mamma will hear you! I couldn’t sleep till I had seen you again and wished you good-night!”

“Poor dear boy! Are you not very hungry?”

“No, thanks. Miss Wynward is very kind to me. She has seen after that. But to leave without a word to you. That was the hard part of it!”

“Poor Bobby!” ejaculated Harriet again, drawing nearer to him. “But you must not stay out of bed. You will catch your death of cold!”

“Kiss me then and I will go!”

He advanced his face to the opening of the door, and she put her lips to his, and drew his breath away with her own.

“Good-night! good-night!” murmured Bobby with a long sigh. “God bless you! good-night!” and then he disappeared, and Harriet entered her own room, and her eyes gleamed, as she recognised the fact that Bobby also was going to make a fool of himself for her sake.

The next morning she was surprised on going downstairs at about nine o’clock, to find a cloth laid over only part of the dining table, and breakfast evidently prepared for one person. She was still gazing at it in astonishment, and wondering what it meant, when Miss Wynward entered the room, to express a hope that Miss Brandt had slept well and had everything that she required.

“O! certainly yes! but where are we going to have breakfast?”

[Pg 169]

“Here, Miss Brandt, if it pleases you. I was just about to ask what you would like for your breakfast.”

“But the Baron and Baroness—”

“O! they started for the manufactory two hours ago. Her ladyship is a very early riser when at home, and they have some four miles to drive.”

“The manufactory!” echoed Harriet, “do you mean where they make the boots and shoes?”

“Yes! There is a manufactory in Germany, and another in England, where the boots and shoes are finished off. And then there is the shop in Oxford Street, where they are sold. The Baron’s business is a very extensive one!”

“So I have understood, but what good can Madame Gobelli do there? What can a woman know about such things?”

Miss Wynward shrugged her shoulders.

“She looks after the young women who are employed, I believe, and keeps them up to their work. The Baroness is a very clever woman. She knows something about most things—and a good deal that were better left unknown,” she added, with a sigh.

“And does she go there every morning?”

“Not always, but as a rule she does. She likes to have a finger in the pie, and fancies that nothing can go on properly without her. And she is right so far that she has a much better head for business than the Baron, who would like to be out of it all if he could!”

“But why can’t he give it up then, since they are so very rich?” demanded Harriet.

Miss Wynward regarded her for a moment, as if she[Pg 170] wondered who had given her the information, and then said quietly,

“But all this time we are forgetting your breakfast, Miss Brandt! What will you take? An egg, or a piece of bacon?”

“O! I don’t care,” replied Harriet, yawning, “I never can eat when I am alone! Where is Bobby? Won’t he take his breakfast with me?”

“O! he had his long ago with his Mamma, but I daresay he would not mind a second edition, poor boy!”

She walked to the French windows which opened from a rustic porch to the lawn, and called “Bobby! Bobby!”

“Yes, Miss Wynward,” replied the lad in a more cheerful tone than Harriet remembered to have ever heard him use before, “what is it?”

“Come in, my dear, and keep Miss Brandt company, whilst she takes her breakfast!”

“Won’t I!” cried Bobby, as he came running from the further end of the disorderly garden, with a bunch of flowers.

“They are for you!” he exclaimed, as he put them into Harriet’s hand, “I gathered them on purpose!”

“Thank you, Bobby,” she replied. “It was kind of you!”

She felt cheered by the simple attention. For her hostess to have left her on the very first morning, without a word of explanation, had struck her as looking very much (notwithstanding all the effusive flattery and protestations of attachment with which she had been laden) as if she were not wanted at the Red House.

[Pg 171]

But when her morning meal was over, and she had been introduced to every part of the establishment under the chaperonage of Bobby—to the tangled, overgrown garden, the empty stables, Papa’s library, which was filled with French and German books, and Mamma’s drawing-room, which was so full of valuable china that one scarcely dared move freely about it—the burning thirst to see, or hear something of Ralph Pullen returned with full force upon Harriet, and she enquired eagerly of Miss Wynward when her hostess might be expected to return.

Miss Wynward looked rather blank as she replied,

“Not till dinner time, I am afraid! I fancy she will find too much to enquire about and to do, after so long an absence from home. I am so sorry, Miss Brandt,” she continued, noting the look of disappointment on the girl’s face, “that her ladyship did not make this plain to you last night. Her injunctions to me were to see that you had everything you required, and to spare no trouble or expense on your account. But that is not like having her here, of course! Have you been into the library? There are some nice English works there, and there is a piano in the drawing-room which you might like to use. I am afraid it is not in tune, on account of the rain we have had, and that I have not opened it myself during the Baroness’s absence, and indeed it is never used, except to teach Bobby his music lessons on, but it may amuse you in default of anything else.”

“O! I daresay I shall find something to amuse myself with,” replied Harriet rather sullenly, “I have my own instrument with me, and my books, thank you! But is no one likely to call this afternoon, do you think?”

[Pg 172]

“This afternoon,” echoed Miss Wynward, “are you expecting any of your own friends to see you?”

“O! no! I have no friends in England,—none at least that know I have returned from Heyst. But the Baroness told me—she said the Red House was always full of guests—Prince Adalbert and Prince Loris, and a lot of others—do you think they may come to-day to see her?”

“O! not in September,” replied her companion, “it is not the season now, Miss Brandt, and all the fashionable people are out of town, at the foreign watering-places, or shooting in the country. Her ladyship could never have intended you to understand that the people you have mentioned would come here at any time except between May and July! They do come here then—sometimes—but not I expect, as you think—not as friends, I mean!”

“Not as friends! What as, then?” demanded Harriet.

“Well!” returned Miss Wynward, dubiously, “many of them have business with her ladyship, and they come to see her upon it! I generally conduct them to her presence, and leave them alone with her, but that is all I see of them! They have never come here to a party, or dinner, to my knowledge!”

“How very extraordinary!” cried Harriet. “What do they come for then?”

“The Baroness must tell you that!” replied the other, gravely, “I am not in her confidence, and if I were, I should not feel justified in revealing it.”

This conversation drove Harriet to her room to indite a letter to Captain Pullen. If she were to be deprived of the society of dukes and princes, she would[Pg 173] at least secure the company of one person who could make the time pass pleasantly to her. As she wrote to him, rapidly, unadvisedly, passionately, her head burned and her heart was fluttering. She felt as if she had been deceived—cheated—decoyed to the Red House under false pretences, and she was in as much of a rage as her indolent nature would permit her to be. The revelations of Miss Wynward had sunk down into her very soul. No parties, no dinners, with princes handing her into the dining-room and whispering soft nothings into her ears all the time! Why had Madame Gobelli so often promised to console her for the loss of Captain Pullen by this very means, and it was a dream, a chimera, they only came to the Red House on business—business, horrid unromantic word—and were shut up with the Baroness. What business, she wondered! Could it be about boots and shoes, and if so, why did they not go to the shop, which surely was the proper place from which to procure them! The idea that she had been deceived in this particular, made her write far more warmly and pleadingly perhaps, than she would otherwise have done. A bird in the hand was worth two in the bush—Harriet was not conversant with the proverb, but she fully endorsed the sentiment. When her letter was written and addressed to the Camp at Aldershot, and she had walked out with Bobby to post it in the pillar box, she felt happier and less resentful. At all events she was her own mistress and could leave the Red House when she chose, and take up her abode elsewhere. A hot sun had dried the garden paths and grass, and she spent the rest of the afternoon wandering about the unshaven lawn with Bobby, and lingering[Pg 174] on the rotten wooden benches under the trees, with the boy’s arm round her waist, and his head drooping on her shoulder.

Bobby was blissfully happy, and she was content. If we cannot get caviare, it is wise to content ourselves with cod’s roe. They spent hours together that afternoon, until the dusk had fallen and the hour of dining had drawn nigh. They talked of Heyst and the pleasures they had left behind them, and Harriet was astonished to hear how manly were some of Bobby’s ideas and sentiments, when out of sight of his Mamma.

At last, the strident tones of the Baroness’s voice were heard echoing through the grounds. Harriet and Bobby leaped to their feet in a moment.

“’Ere, ’Arriet! Bobby! where are you? You’re a nice son and daughter to ’ide away from me, when I’ve been toiling for your benefit all the day.”

She came towards them as she spoke, and when Harriet saw how fatigued she looked, she almost forgave her for leaving her in the lurch as she had done.

“I suppose you thought we were both dead, didn’t you?” she continued. “Well, we are, almost. Never ’ad such a day’s work in my life! Found everything wrong, of course! You can’t turn your back for five minutes but these confounded workmen play old ’Arry with your business! I sent off ten fellows before I’d been in the factory ten minutes, and fined as many girls, and ’ave been running all over London since to replace ’em. It’s ’ard work, I can tell you!”

She plumped down upon the rotten seat, nearly bringing it to the ground, as she spoke, and burst out laughing.

[Pg 175]

“You should ’ave seen one man, you would ’ave died of laughing! ‘Get out,’ I said to ’im, ‘not another day’s work do you do ’ere!’ ‘Get out of the factory where I’ve worked for twenty years?’ ’e said, ‘Well, then, I shan’t, not for you! If the governor ’ad said so, it might be a different thing, but a woman ’as no right to come interfering in business as she knows nothing about!’ ‘That’s the way the wind lies,’ I replied, ‘and you want a man to turn you out! We’ll soon see if a woman can’t do it!’ and I took my stick and laid it on his back till he holload again. He was out of the place before you could say Jack Robinson! ‘’Ow will that do?’ I said to the others, ‘who else wants a taste of my stick before ’e’ll go!’ But they all cleared out before I ’ad done speaking! I laughed till I was ill! But come along, children! It’s time for dinner!” As they returned to the house, she accosted Harriet,

“I ’ope you’ve amused yourself to-day! You’ll ’ave to look after yourself whenever I’m at the factory! But a ’andsome gal like you won’t want long for amusement. We’ll ’ave plenty of company ’ere, soon! Miss Wynward,” she continued, as they entered the dining-room, “Mr. Milliken is coming to-morrow! See that ’is room is ready for ’im!”

“Very good, my lady!” replied Miss Wynward, but Harriet fancied she did not like the idea of Mr. Milliken staying with them.

The dinner proceeded merrily. It was more sumptuous than the day before, consisting of several courses, and the champagne flowed freely. Harriet, sitting at her ease and thoroughly enjoying the repast, thought that it atoned for all the previous inconvenience. But[Pg 176] a strange incident occurred before the meal was over. The Baron, who was carver, asked Bobby twice if he would take some roast beef, and received no answer, which immediately aroused the indignation of the Baroness.

“Do you ’ear what your father is saying to you, Bobby?” she cried, shrilly. “Answer ’im at once or I’ll send you out of the room! Will you ’ave some beef?”

But still there was no reply.

“My lady! I think that he is ill,” said Miss Wynward in alarm.

“Ill! Rubbish!” exclaimed the Baroness. Being so coarse-fibred and robust a woman herself, she never had any sympathy with delicacy or illness, and generally declared all invalids to be humbugs, shamming in order to attract the more attention. She now jumped up from her seat, and going round to her son’s chair, shook him violently by the shoulder.

“’Ere, wake up! what are you about?” she exclaimed, “if you don’t sit up at once and answer your father’s question, I’ll lay my stick about your back!”

She was going to put her argument into effect, when Harriet prevented her.

“Stop! stop! Madame Gobelli!” she exclaimed; “can’t you see, he has fainted!”

It was really true! Bobby had fainted dead away in his chair, where he lay white as a sheet, with closed eyes, and limp body. Miss Wynward flew to her pupil’s assistance.

“Poor dear boy! I was sure he was not well directly he entered the house,” she said.

“Not well!” replied the Baroness, “nonsense! what should ail ’im? ’Is father was one of the strongest men[Pg 177] on God’s earth! He never ’ad a day’s illness in ’is life. ’Ow should the boy, a great ’ulking fellow like ’im, ’ave got ill?”

She spoke roughly, but there was a tremor in her voice as she uttered the words, and she looked at Bobby as though she were afraid of him.

But as he gradually revived under Miss Wynward’s treatment, she approached nearer, and said with some tenderness in her tones,

“Well! Bobby, lad, and ’ow do you feel now?”

“Better, Mamma, thank you! only my head keeps going round!”

“Had I not better help him up to his bed, my lady?” asked Miss Wynward.

“O! yes! but I ’ope ’e isn’t going to make a fool of ’imself like this again, for I don’t ’old with boys fainting like hysterical gals!”

“I couldn’t help it, Mamma!” said Bobby faintly.

“O! yes! you could, if you ’ad any pluck! You never saw me faint. Nor Gustave either! It’s all ’abit! Trundle ’im off to bed, Miss Wynward. The sooner ’e’s there, the better!”

“And I may give him a little stimulant,” suggested Miss Wynward timidly, recalling the scene of the evening before, “a little champagne or brandy and water—I think he requires it, my lady!”

“O! yes! Coddle ’im to your ’eart’s content, only don’t let me ’ear of it! I ’ate a fuss! Good-night, Bobby! Mind you’re well by to-morrow morning!”

And she brushed the lad’s cheek with her bristly chin.

“Good-night!” replied Bobby, “good-night to all!”[Pg 178] as he was supported from the room on the arm of Miss Wynward.

The Baroness did not make any further remarks concerning her son, but Harriet noticed that her appetite disappeared with him, and declaring that she had tired herself too much to eat, she sat unoccupied and almost silent for the remainder of the meal.