“’Ould up, ’Arriet!” she said, “you don’t want the ’ole ’ouse to
’ear what you’re thinking of, surely! Let me speak to Madame Lamont! What is all the row about, Madame?” she continued, turning to the
_proprietaire_. “There is no ‘row’ at all, Madame,” was the reply, “I was only telling
Mademoiselle Brandt of the sad event that has taken place here during
your absence--that that _chère_ Madame Pullen had the great misfortune
to lose her sweet _bébé_, the very day you left Heyst, and that the
whole party have quitted in consequence and crossed to England. I
thought since Mademoiselle seemed so intimate with Madame Pullen and
so fond of the dear child, that she would be _désolée_ to hear the sad
news, but she appears to have forgotten all about it, in her grief at
hearing that the _beau Capitaine_ accompanied his family to England
where they go to bury the _petite_.”

And with rather a contemptuous smile upon her face, Madame Lamont
re-entered the _salle à manger_. “Now, ’Arriet, don’t make a fool of yourself!” said the Baroness. “You
’eard what that woman said--she’s laughing at you and your Captain, and
the story will be all over the Hotel in half an hour. Don’t make any
more fuss about it! If ’e’s gone, crying won’t bring ’im back. It’s
much ’arder for Mrs. Pullen, losing her baby so suddenly! I’m sorry for
’er, poor woman, but as for the other, there’s as good fish in the sea
as ever came out of it!”

But Harriet Brandt only answered her appeal by rushing away down the
corridor and up the staircase to her bedroom like a whirlwind. The girl
had not the slightest control over her passions. She would listen to
no persuasion, and argument only drove her mad. She tumbled headlong
up the stairs, and dashing into her room, which had been reserved for
her, threw herself tumultuously upon the bed. How lonely and horrible
the corridor, on which her apartment opened, seemed. Olga Brimont, Mrs.
Pullen, Miss Leyton, and Ralph, all gone! No one to talk to--no one
to walk with--except the Baroness and her stupid husband! Of course
this interpreted simply, meant that Captain Pullen had left the place
without leaving a word behind him, to say the why or wherefore, or hold
out any prospect of their meeting again. Of course it was impossible
but that they must meet again--they _should_ meet again, Harriet
Brandt said to herself between her closed teeth--but meanwhile, what
a wilderness, what a barren, dreary place this detestable Heyst would
seem without him! The girl put her head down on the pillow, and taking the corner of
the linen case between her strong, white teeth, shook it and bit it,
as a terrier worries a rat! But that did not relieve her feelings
sufficiently, and she took to a violent fit of sobbing, hot, angry
tears coursing each other down her cheeks, until they were blurred and
stained, and she lay back upon the pillow utterly exhausted. The first dinner bell rang without her taking any notice of it, and
the second was just about to sound, when there came a low tap at her
bedroom door. At first she did not reply, but when it was repeated,
though rather timidly, she called out,

“Who is it? I am ill. I don’t want any dinner! I cannot come down!”

A low voice answered. “It is _I_, dear Miss Brandt, Bobby! May I come in? Mamma has sent me
to you with a message!”

“Very well! You can enter, but I have a terrible headache!” said
Harriet. The door opened softly, and the tall lanky form of Bobby Bates crept
silently into the room. He held a small bunch of pink roses in his
hand, and he advanced to the bedside and laid them without a word on
the pillow beside her hot, inflamed cheek. They felt deliciously cool
and refreshing. Harriet turned her face towards them, and in doing so,
met the anxious, perturbed eyes of Bobby. “Well!” she said smiling faintly, “and what is your Mamma’s message?”

“She wishes to know if you are coming down to dinner. It is nearly
ready!”

“No! no! I cannot! I am not hungry, and my eyes are painful,” replied
Harriet, turning her face slightly away. The lad rose and drew down the blind of her window, through which the
setting sun was casting a stream of light, and then captured a _flacon_
of eau de Cologne from her toilet-table, and brought it to her in his
hand. “May I sit beside you a little while in case you need anything?” he
asked. “No! no! Bobby! You will want your dinner, and your Mamma will want
you. You had better go down again at once, and tell her that if my head
is better, I will meet her on the Digue this evening!”

“I don’t want any dinner, I could not eat it whilst you lie here sick
and unhappy. I want to stay, to see if I can help you, or do you any
good. I wish--I _wish_ I could!” murmured the lad. “Your roses have done me good already,” replied Harriet, more brightly. “It was sweet of you to bring them to me, Bobby.”

“I wish I had ten thousand pounds a year,” said Bobby feverishly, “that
I might bring you roses, and everything that you like best!”

He laid his blonde head on the pillow by the side of hers and Harriet
turned her face to his and kissed him. The blood rushed into his face, and he trembled. It was the first time
that any woman had kissed him. And all the feelings of his manhood
rushed forth in a body to greet the creature who had awakened them. As for Harriet Brandt, the boy’s evident admiration flattered and
pleased her. The tigress deprived of blood, will sometimes condescend
to milder food. And the feelings with which she regarded Captain Pullen
were such as could be easily replaced by anyone who evinced the same
reciprocity. Bobby Bates was not a _beau sabreur_, but he was a male
creature whom she had vanquished by her charms, and it interested her
to watch his rising passion, and to know that he could never possibly
expect it to be requited. She kissed and fondled him as he sat beside
her with his head on the pillow--calling him every nice name she could
think of, and caressing him as if he had been what the Baroness chose
to consider him--a child of ten years old. His sympathy and entreaties that she would make an effort to join them
on the Digue, added to his lovelorn eyes, the clear childish blue of
which was already becoming blurred with the heat of passion, convinced
her that all was not lost, although Ralph Pullen _had_ been ungrateful
and impolite enough to leave Heyst without sending her notice, and
presently she persuaded the lad to go down to his dinner, and inform
the Baroness that she had ordered a cup of tea to be sent up to her
bedroom, and would try to rise after she had taken it, and join them
on the Digue. “But you will keep a look-out for me, Bobby, won’t you?” she said in
parting. “You will not let me miss your party, or I shall feel so
lonely that I shall come straight back to bed!”

“Miss you! as if I would!” exclaimed the boy fervently, “why, I shall
not stir from the balcony until you appear! O! Miss Brandt! I love you
so.