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 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 IX. Harriet Brandt set off for Brussels in the best of spirits. Captain
Pullen had pledged himself to follow her in a couple of days, and had
sketched with a free hand the pleasure they would mutually enjoy in
each other’s company, without the fear of Mrs. Pullen, or Miss Leyton,
popping on them round the corner. Madame Gobelli also much flattered
her vanity by speaking of Ralph as if he were her confessed lover, and
prospective _fiancé_, so that, what with the new scenes she was passing
through, and her anticipated good fortune, Harriet was half delirious
with delight, and looked as “handsome as paint” in consequence. Olga Brimont, on the contrary, although quietly happy in the prospect
of keeping house for her brother, did not share in the transports
of her Convent companion. Alfred Brimont, observed, more than once,
that she seemed to visibly shrink from Miss Brandt, and took an early
opportunity of asking her the reason why. But all her answer was
conveyed in a shrug of the shoulders, and a request that he would not
leave her at the Hotel de Saxe with the rest of the party, but take her
home at once to the rooms over which she was to preside for him. In
consequence, the two Brimonts said good-bye to the Gobellis and Harriet
Brandt at the Brussels station, and drove to their apartments in the
rue de Vienne, after which the others saw no more of them. The Baroness
declared they were “a good riddance of bad rubbish,” and that she had
never liked that pasty-faced Mademoiselle Brimont, and believed that
she was jealous of the brilliancy and beauty of her dear ’Arriet. The
Baroness had conceived one of her violent, and generally short-lived,
fancies for the girl, and nothing, for the time being, was too good
for her. She praised her looks and her talents in the most extravagant
manner, and told everyone at the Hotel that the Baron and she had known
her from infancy--that she was their ward--and that they regarded her
as the daughter of the house, with various other falsehoods that made
Harriet open her dark eyes with amazement, whilst she felt that she
could not afford to put a sudden end to her friendship with Madame
Gobelli, by denying them. Brussels is a very pretty town, full of
modern and ancient interest, and there was plenty for them to see and
hear during their first days there. But Harriet was resolved to defer
visiting the best sights until Captain Pullen had joined them. She went to the concerts at the Quinçonce and Wauxhall, and visited
the Zoological Gardens, but she would not go to the Musée nor the
Académie des Beaux Arts, nor the Cathedral of Sainte Gudule, whilst
Ralph remained in Heyst. Madame Gobelli laughed at her for her
reticence--called her a sly cat--said she supposed they must make up
their minds to see nothing of her when the handsome Captain came to
Brussels--finally sending her off in company of Bobby to walk in the
Parc, or visit the Wiertz Museum. The Baroness was not equal to much
walking at the best of times, and had been suffering from rheumatism
lately, so that she and the Baron did most of their sight-seeing in
a carriage, and left the young people to amuse themselves. Bobby was
very proud to be elected Miss Brandt’s cavalier, and get out of the way
of his formidable Mamma, who made his _table-d’hôte_ life a terror to
him. He was a well-grown lad and not bad-looking. In his blue eyes and
white teeth, he took after his mother, but his hair was fair, and his
complexion delicate. He was an anæmic young fellow and very delicate,
being never without a husky cough, which, however, the Baroness seemed
to consider of no consequence. He hardly ever opened his mouth in
the presence of his parents, unless it were to remonstrate against
the Baroness’s strictures on his appearance, or his conduct, but
Harriet Brandt found he could be communicative enough, when he was
alone with her. He gave her lengthy descriptions of the Red House,
and the treasures which it contained--of his Mamma’s barouche lined
with satin--of the large garden which they had at Holloway, with its
greenhouses and hot-houses, and the numbers of people who came to visit
them there. “O! yes!” rejoined Harriet, “the Baroness has told me about them,
Prince Adalbert and Prince Loris and others! She said they often came
to the Red House! I should like to know them very much!”

The youth looked at her in a mysterious manner. “Yes! they do come, very often, and plenty of other people with them;
the Earl of Watherhouse and Lord Drinkwater, and Lady Mountacue, and
more than I know the names of. But--but--did Mamma tell you _why_ they
come?”

“No! not exactly! To see her and the Baron, I suppose!”

“Well! yes! for that too perhaps,” stammered Bobby. “But there is
another reason. Mamma is very wonderful, you know! She can tell people
things they never knew before. And she has a room where--but I had
better not say any more. You might repeat it to her and then she would
be so angry.” The two were on their way to the Wiertz Museum at the
time, and Harriet’s curiosity was excited. “I will not, I promise you, Bobby,” she said, “what has the Baroness in
that room?”

Bobby drew near enough to whisper, as he replied,

“O! I don’t know, I daren’t say, but horrible things go on there! Mamma
has threatened sometimes to make me go in with her, but I wouldn’t for
all the world.