He searched the menu from top to
bottom, and then from bottom to top
nothing excite^ his palate. Whenever
persons entered, he would glance up
eagerly, only to feel his heart sink
lower and lower. I don't know how
many times he was disappointed. The
waiter ahemmed politely. Warburton,
in. order to have an excuse to remain,
at length hit upon a partridge and a
pint of Chablis.
Nine o'clock. Wag it possible that
the colonel and his daughter were din
ing in their rooms? Perish the possi
bility! And he looked in yain for the
count. A quarter-past nine. Mr. Rob
ert's anxiety livas becoming almost un
endurable. Nine-thirty. He was about
to surrender in despair. His partridge
lay smoking on his plate, and he was
on the point of demolishing it, when,
I behold! they came. The colonel en
trr:d
first, then his daughter,
hajd—
Ued awayf How her
»be laughed, and
laufetied frequently! What a deli
ctoufc culrte rata frank her llpe to her
•young bosom! But never once did she
look in his direction.'
She was gone.
her
on—the—arm —of—the—count!
Warburton never fully described to
me his feelings at that moment, but,
knowing him as I do, I can put to
gether a very respectable picture of the
chagrin and consternation that sat on
his countenance. .e.
"To think of being nearly six days
aboard," Mr. Robert once bawled at
me, wrathfully, "and not to know that
that Russian chap knew her!" It was
almost incredible that such a thing
Should happen.
