They had just come from some exhibition of pictures
in New Bond Street, and I never saw them so pleased with each other
before. Ralph was looking actually ‘spooney’, and Elinor was positively
radiant.”

“_Souvent femme varie_,” quoted Doctor Phillips, shrugging his
shoulders. “Oh! but, Doctor, it made Arthur and me so glad to see them. Elinor is
very fond of Ralph, you know, although she has shewn it so little. And
so I have no doubt is he of her, and there would never have been any
unpleasantness between them, if it had not been for that horrid girl,
Harriet Brandt.”

“It is not like you, my dear Margaret, to condemn anyone without a
hearing. Perhaps you have not heard the true case of Miss Harriet
Brandt. Although I am glad that Ralph has disentangled himself from
her, I still believe that he behaved very badly to both the young
ladies, and whilst I am glad to hear that Miss Leyton smiles upon him
again, I think it is more than he deserves!”

“And I agree with you, Doctor,” interposed Colonel Pullen, “I have
never seen this Miss Brandt, but I know what a fool my brother is with
women, and can quite understand that he may have raised her hopes just
to gratify his own vanity. I have no patience with him.”

“Well! for Miss Leyton’s sake let us hope that this will be his last
experience of dallying with forbidden pleasures. But what will you say
when I tell you that one of my visitors this morning has been the young
lady in question--Miss Brandt!”

“Harriet Brandt!” exclaimed Margaret, “but why--is she ill?”

“Oh! no! Her trouble is mental--not physical.”

“She is not still hankering after Ralph, I hope.”

“You are afraid he might not be able to resist the bait! So should I
be. But she did not mention Captain Pullen. Her distress was all about
herself!”

“Oh! do tell me about it, Doctor, if it is not a secret! You know I
have a kind of interest in Harriet Brandt!”

“When she does not interfere with the prospects of your family,”
observed the doctor, drily, “exactly so! Well, then, the poor girl is
in great trouble, and I had very little consolation to give her! She
has left Madame Gobelli’s house. It seems that the old woman insulted
her terribly and almost turned her out.”

“Oh! that awful Baroness!” cried Margaret; “it is only what might have
been expected! We heard dreadful stories about her at Heyst. She has an
uncontrollable temper and, when offended, a most vituperative tongue. Her ill-breeding is apparent at all times, but it must be overwhelming
when she is angry. But how did she insult Miss Brandt?”

“You remember what I told you of the girl’s antecedents! It appears
that the Baroness must have got hold of the same story, for she cast it
in her teeth, accusing her moreover of having caused the death of her
son.”

“Madame Gobelli’s son? What! Bobby--Oh! you do not mean to say that
Bobby--is _dead_?”

“Yes! There was but one son, I think! He died yesterday, as I
understood Miss Brandt. And the mother in her rage and grief turned
upon the poor girl and told her such bitter truths, that she rushed
from the house at once. Her visit to me this morning was paid in
order to ascertain if such things were true, as the Baroness, very
unjustifiably I think, had referred her to me for confirmation.”

“And what did you tell her?”

“What could I tell her? At first I declined to give an opinion, but she
put such pertinent questions to me, that unless I had lied, I saw no
way of getting out of it. I glossed over matters as well as I could,
but even so, they were bad enough. But I impressed it upon her that she
must not think of marrying. I thought it the best way to put all idea
of catching Captain Pullen out of her mind. Let him once get safely
married, and she can decide for herself with regard to the next. But
at all hazards, we must keep Ralph out of her way, for between you
and me and the post, she is a young woman whom most men would find it
difficult to resist.”

“Oh! yes! she and Ralph must not meet again,” said Margaret,
dreamingly. Her thoughts had wandered back to Bobby and Heyst, and all
the trouble she had encountered whilst there. What despair had attacked
her when she lost her only child, and now Madame Gobelli--the woman she
so much disliked--had lost her only child also. “Poor Madame Gobelli!” she ejaculated, “I cannot help thinking of her! Fancy Bobby being--_dead_! And she used to make him so unhappy, and
humiliate him before strangers! How she must be suffering for it now! How it must all come back upon her! Poor Bobby! Elinor will be sorry to
hear that he is gone! She used to pity him so, and often gave him fruit
and cakes. Fancy his being dead! I cannot believe it.”

“It is true, nevertheless! But it is the common lot, Margaret! Perhaps,
as his mother used to treat him so roughly, the poor lad is better off
where he is.”

“Oh! of course, I have no doubt of that! But he was all she had--like
me!” said Margaret, with her eyes over-brimming. Her husband put his
arms round her, and let her have her cry out on his shoulder. Then, as he wiped her tears away she whispered,

“Arthur, I should like to go and see her--the Baroness, I mean! I can
sympathise so truly with her, I might be able to say a few words of
comfort!”

“Do as you like, my darling,” replied Colonel Pullen, “that is, if you
are sure that the woman won’t insult you, as she did Miss Brandt!”

“Oh! no! no! I am not in the least afraid! Why should she? I shall only
tell her how much I feel for her own our common loss----”

She could not proceed, and the doctor whispered to the Colonel. “Let her do as she wishes! The best salve for our own wounds is to try
and heal those of others.”

Margaret rose and prepared to leave the room. “I shall go at once,” she said, “I suppose there is no chance of my
meeting Harriet Brandt there!”

“I think not! She told me she had left the Red House for good and all,
but she did not say where she was staying! Though, after all, I think
she is in most want of comfort of the two.”

“Oh! no!” replied Margaret, faintly, “there is no grief like that
of--of--” She did not finish her sentence, but left the room hastily in
order to assume her walking things. “Will she ever get over the loss of her child?” demanded Colonel
Pullen, gloomily. The doctor regarded him with a half-amused surprise. “My dear fellow, though it is useless to preach the doctrine to a
bereaved mother, the loss of an innocent baby is perhaps the least
trying in the category of human ills. To rear the child, as thousands
do, to be unloving, or unsympathetic, or ungrateful, is a thousand
times worse. But it is too soon for your dear wife to acknowledge it. Let her go to this other mother and let them cry together. It will do
her all the good in the world!”

And the doctor, having finished his luncheon, put on his top-coat and
prepared to make a round of professional calls. Margaret came back ready for her visit.