“And if you and Miss Brandt would so far honour me, Madame Gobelli, as
to come and have a little lunch at my chambers in Piccadilly, I shall
feel myself only too much indebted to you. Perhaps we might arrange a
_matinée_ or a concert for the same afternoon, if it would please you? Will you let me know? And pray fix as early a date as possible. And I
may really avail myself of your kind permission to come and see you
again. You may be sure that I shall not forget to do so. Good-night! Good-night, Baron! Good-night, Miss Brandt!” and with a nod to Mr.
Milliken he was gone. “Ain’t ’e a nice fellow? Worth two of that conceited jackanapes, ’is
cousin,” remarked the Baroness as he disappeared, “what do you think of
’im, ’Arriet?”

“Oh! he is well enough,” replied Miss Brandt with a yawn, as she
prepared also to take her departure, “he is taller and broader and
stronger looking than Captain Pullen--and he must be very clever into
the bargain.”

“And ’e never said a word about ’is books,” exclaimed Madame Gobelli,
“only fancy!”

“No! he never said a word about his books,” echoed Harriet. CHAPTER XIV. Anthony Pennell had promised to let Margaret Pullen hear the result
of his visit to the Red House, and as he entered her presence on the
following evening, she saluted him with the queries,

“Well! have you been there? Have you seen her?”

To which he answered soberly,

“Yes! I have been there and I have seen her!”

“And what do you think of her? What did she say? I hope she was not
rude to you!”

“My dear Mrs. Pullen,” said Pennell, as he seated himself, and prepared
for a long talk, “you must let me say in the first place, that I should
never have recognised Miss Brandt from your description of her! You led
me to expect a _gauche_ schoolgirl, a half-tamed savage, or a juvenile
virago. And I am bound to say that she struck me as belonging to none
of the species. I sent your note of introduction to Madame Gobelli,
and received a very polite invitation in return, in accordance with
which I dined at the Red House yesterday.”

“You _dined_ there!” exclaimed Margaret with renewed interest. “Oh! do
tell me all about it, from the very beginning. What do you think of
that dreadful woman, the Baroness, and her little humpty Baron, and did
you tell Miss Brandt of Ralph’s impending marriage?”

“My dear lady, one question at a time, if you please. In the first
place I arrived there rather sooner than I was expected, and Madame
Gobelli had not returned from her afternoon drive, but Miss Harriet
Brandt did the honours of the tea-table in a very efficient manner, and
with as much composure and dignity as if she had been a duchess. We had
a very pleasant time together until the Baroness burst in upon us!”

“Are you chaffing me?” asked Margaret, incredulously. “What do you
really think of her?”

“I think she is, without exception, the most perfectly beautiful woman
I have ever seen!”

“_What!_” exclaimed his companion. She had thrown herself back in her armchair, and was regarding him
as if he were perpetrating some mysterious joke, which she did not
understand. “How extraordinary; how very extraordinary!” she exclaimed at length,
“that is the very thing that Ralph said of her when they first met.”

“But why extraordinary? There are few men who would not endorse the
opinion. Miss Brandt possesses the kind of beauty that appeals to the
senses of animal creatures like ourselves. She has a far more dangerous
quality than that of mere regularity of feature. She attracts without
knowing it. She is a mass of magnetism.”

“O! do go on, Mr. Pennell! Tell me how she received the news you went
to break to her!”

“I never broke it at all. There was no need to do so. Miss Brandt
alluded to the magnificent Captain Pullen’s marriage with the greatest
nonchalance. She evidently estimates him at his true value, and does
not consider him worth troubling her head about!”

“You astonish me! But how are we to account then for the attitude
she assumed towards Miss Leyton, and the boast she made of Ralph’s
attentions to her?”

“Bravado, most likely! Miss Leyton goes to the Red House all aflame,
like an angry turkey cock, and accuses Miss Brandt of having robbed her
of her lover, and what would you have the girl do? Not cry Peccavi,
surely, and lower her womanhood? She had but one course--to brave it
out. Besides, you have heard only one side of the question, remember! I
can imagine Miss Leyton being very ‘nasty’ if she liked!”

“You forget the letters which Miss Brandt wrote to Ralph and which were
found in his empty grate at Richmond!”

“I do not! I remember them as only another proof of how unworthy he is
of the confidence of any woman.”

“Really, Mr. Pennell, you seem to be all on Miss Brandt’s side!”

“I am, and for this reason. If your ideas concerning her are
correct, she displayed a large amount of fortitude whilst speaking
of your brother-in-law yesterday. But my own belief is, that you are
mistaken--that Miss Brandt is too clever for Ralph, or any of you--and
that she cares no more for him in that way than you do. She considers
doubtless that he has behaved in a most ungentlemanly manner towards
them all, and so do I. I did not know what excuse to make for Ralph! I
was ashamed to own him as a relation.”

“Harriet Brandt _did_ then confide her supposed wrongs to you!”

“Not at all! When she mentioned Ralph’s name, it was like that of any
other acquaintance. But when she was out of the room, the Baroness
told me that he had behaved like a scoundrel to the girl--that he had
never confided the fact of his engagement to her, but run after her
on every occasion, and then after having promised to join their party
in Brussels, and asked Madame Gobelli to engage his room for him, he
left for England without even sending her a line of apology, nor has he
taken the least notice of them since!”

“Ah! but you know the reason of his sudden departure!” cried Margaret,
her soft eyes welling over with tears. “My dear Mrs. Pullen,” said Anthony Pennell, sympathetically, “even
at that sad moment, Ralph might have sent a telegram, or scratched a
line of apology. We have to attend to such little courtesies, you know,
even if our hearts are breaking! And how can you excuse his not having
called on them, or written since? No wonder the Baroness is angry. She
did not restrain her tongue in speaking of him yesterday. She said she
never wished to see his face again.”

“Does she know that Elinor went to the Red House?”

“I think not! There was no mention of her name!”

“Then I suppose we may at all events consider the affair _une chose
finie_?”

“I hope so, sincerely! I should not advise Master Ralph to show his
face at the Red House again. The Baroness said she longed to lay her
stick across his back, and I believe she is quite capable of doing so!”

“Oh! indeed she is,” replied Margaret, smiling, “we heard a great many
stories of her valour in that respect from Madame Lamont, the landlady
of the Lion d’Or.