They’ve
got no money. ’Er people live down in the country, quite in a beggarly
manner. A gal with a fortune of ’er own, would rank ’eads and ’eads
above ’er in Society. There’s not much thought of beside money,
nowadays, I can tell you!”

“Why does she stay with Mrs. Pullen then? Are they any relation to each
other?” demanded Harriet. “Relation, no! I expect she’s just brought ’er ’ere out of charity, and
because she couldn’t afford to go to the seaside by ’erself!”

She had been about to announce the projected relationship between
the two ladies, when a sudden thought struck her. Captain Ralph
Pullen was expected to arrive in Heyst in a few days--thus much she
had ascertained through the landlady of the Lion d’Or. She knew by
repute that he was considered to be one of the handsomest and most
conceited men in the Limerick Rangers, a corps which was noted for its
good-looking officers. It might be better for the furtherance of her
plans against the peace of Miss Leyton’s mind, she thought, to keep her
engagement to Captain Pullen a secret--at all events, no one could say
it was her business to make it public. She looked in Harriet Brandt’s
yearning, passionate eyes, and decided that it would be strange if
any impressionable young man could be thrown within their influence,
without having his fidelity a little shaken, especially if affianced to
such a cold, uninteresting “bit of goods” as Elinor Leyton. Like the
parrot in the story, though she said nothing, she “thought a deal” and
inwardly rumbled with half-suppressed laughter, as she pictured the
discomfiture of the latter young lady, if by any chance she should find
her _fiancé’s_ attentions transferred from herself to the little West
Indian. “You seem amused, Madame!” said Harriet presently. “I was thinking of you, and all the young men who are doomed to be
slaughtered by those eyes of yours,” said the Baroness. “You’d make
mischief enough amongst _my_ friends, I bet, if I ’ad you at the Red
’Ouse!”

Harriet felt flattered and consciously pleased. She had never received
a compliment in the Convent--no one had ever hinted that she was
pretty, and she had had no opportunity of hearing it since. “Do you think I am handsome then?” she enquired with a heightened
colour. “I think you’re a deal worse! I think you’re dangerous!” replied her
new friend, “and I wouldn’t trust you with the Baron any further than I
could see you!”

“O! how can you say so?” exclaimed the girl, though she was pleased all
the same to hear it said. “I wouldn’t, and that’s the truth! Gustave’s an awful fellow after the
gals. I ’ave to keep a tight ’old on ’im, I can tell you, and the more
you keep out of ’is way, the better I shall be pleased! You’ll make a
grand match some day, if you’re only sharp and keep your eyes open.”

“What do you call a grand match?” asked Harriet, as she let the nurse
take the sleeping child from her arms without remonstrance. “Why! a Lord or an Honourable at the very least! since you ’ave
money of your own. It’s money they’re all after in these times, you
know--why! we ’ave dooks and markisses marrying all sorts of gals from
Amurrica--gals whose fathers made their money in oil, or medicine,
or electricity, or any other dodge, so long as they made it! And why
shouldn’t you do the same as the Amurrican gals? You have money, I
know--and a goodish lot, I fancy--” added the Baroness, with her
cunning eyes fixed upon the girl as if to read her thoughts. “O! yes!” replied Harriet, “Mr. Trawler, my trustee, said it was too
much for a young woman to have under her own control, but I don’t know
anything about the value of money, never having had it to spend before. I am to have fifteen hundred pounds every year. Is that a good deal?”

“Quite enough to settle you in life, my dear!” exclaimed the Baroness,
who immediately thought what a good thing it would be if Miss Brandt
could be persuaded to sink her capital in the boot trade, “and all
under your own control too! You are a lucky young woman! I know
’alf-a-dozen lords,--not to say Princes--who would jump at you!”

“Princes!” cried Harriet, unable to believe her ears. “Certainly! Not English ones of course, but German, which are quite
as good after all, for a Prince is a Prince any day! There’s Prince
Adalbert of Waxsquiemer, and Prince Harold of Muddlesheim, and Prince
Loris of Taxelmein, and ever so many more, and they’re in and out of
the Red ’Ouse, twenty times a day! But don’t you be in an ’urry! Don’t
take the first that offers, Miss Brandt! Pick and choose! Flirt with
whom you like and ’ave your fun, but wait and look about you a bit
before you decide!”

The prospect was too dazzling! Harriet Brandt’s magnificent eyes
were opened to their widest extent--her cheeks flushed with
expectation--both life and light had flashed into her countenance. Her
soul was expanding, her nature was awakening--it shone through every
feature--the Baroness had had no idea she was so beautiful! And the
hungry, yearning look was more accentuated than before--it seemed as if
she were on the alert, watching for something, like a panther awaiting
the advent of its prey. It was a look that women would have shrunk
from, and men welcomed and eagerly responded to. “I should like to go and see you when I go to England--very much!” she
articulated slowly. “And so you shall, my dear! The Baron and me will be very glad to ’ave
you on a visit. And you mustn’t let that capital of yours lie idle,
you know! If it’s in your own ’ands, you must make it yield double to
what it does now! You consult Gustave! ’E’s a regular business man and
knows ’ow many beans make five! ’E’ll tell you what’s best to be done
with it--’e’ll be a good friend to you, and you can trust ’im with
everything!”

“Thank you!” replied the girl, but she still seemed to be lost in
a kind of reverie. Her gaze was fixed--her full crimson lips were
slightly parted--her slender hands kept nervously clasping and
unclasping each other. “Well, you are ’andsome and no mistake!” exclaimed the Baroness. “You
remind me a little of the Duchess of Bewlay before she was married! The first wife, I mean--the second is a poor, pale-faced, sandy-’aired
creature. (’Ow the Dook can stomach ’er after the other, I can’t make
out!) The first Duchess’s mother was a great flame of my grandfather,
the Dook of--however, I mustn’t tell you that! It’s a State secret, and
I might get into trouble at Court! You’d better not say I mentioned it.”

But Harriet Brandt was not in a condition to remember or repeat
anything. She was lost in a dream of the possibilities of the Future. The bell for _déjeuner_ roused them at last, and brought them to their
feet. They resembled each other in one particular ... they were equally
fond of the pleasures of the table. The little Baron appeared dutifully to afford his clumsy spouse the
benefit of his support in climbing the hillocks of shifting sand, which
lay between them and the hotel, and Miss Brandt sped swiftly on her way
alone.