Our servants will never stay with us long. One girl told
me before she left that Mamma was a witch, and could raise up the dead. Do you think it can be true--that it is possible?”

“I don’t know,” said Harriet, “and I don’t want to know! There are
no dead that _I_ want to see back again, unless indeed it were dear
old Pete, our overseer. He was the best friend I ever had. One night
our house was burned to the ground and lots of the things in it, and
old Pete wrapped me up in a blanket and carried me to his cabin in
the jungle, and kept me safe until my friends were able to send me to
the Convent. I shall never forget that. I should like to see old Pete
again, but I don’t believe the Baroness could bring him back. It wants
‘Obeah’ to do that!”

“What is ‘Obeah,’ Miss Brandt?”

“Witchcraft, Bobby!”

“Is it wicked?”

“I don’t know. I know nothing about it! But let us talk of something
else. I don’t believe your Mamma can do anything more than other
people, and she only says it to frighten you. But you mustn’t tell her
I said so. Is this the Wiertz Museum? I thought it would be a much
grander place!”

“I heard father say that it is the house Wiertz lived in, and he left
it with all his pictures to the Belgian Government on condition they
kept it just as it was.”

They entered the gallery, and Harriet Brandt, although not a great
lover of painting in general, stood enwrapt before most of the
pictures. She passed over the “Bouton de Rose” and the sacred paintings
with a cursory glance, but the representation of Napoleon in Hell,
being fed with the blood and bones of his victims--of the mother in
a time of famine devouring her child--and of the Suicide between his
good and evil angels, appeared to absorb all her senses. Her eyes
fixed themselves upon the canvasses, she stood before them, entranced,
enraptured, and when Bobby touched her arm as a hint to come and look
at something else, she drew a long breath as though she had been
suddenly aroused from sleep. Again and again she returned to the same
spot, the pictures holding her with a strange fascination, which she
could not shake off, and when she returned to the Hotel, she declared
the first thing she should do on the following morning, would be to
go back to the Wiertz Museum and gaze once more upon those inimitable
figures. “But such ’orrid subjects, my dear,” said the Baroness, “Bobby says
they were all blood and bones!”

“But I like them--I _like_ them!” replied Harriet, moving her tongue
slowly over her lips, “they interest me! They are so life-like!”

“Well! to-morrow will be Thursday, you know, so I expect you will have
somebody’s else’s wishes to consult! You will ’ave a letter by the
early post, you may depend upon it, to say that the Captain will be
with us by dinner-time!”

Harriet Brandt flushed a deep rose. It was when the colour came into
her usually pale cheeks, and her eyes awakened from their slumbers and
sparkled, that she looked beautiful. On the present occasion as she
glanced up to see Bobby Bates regarding her with steadfast surprise and
curiosity, she blushed still more. “You’ll be ’aving a fine time of it together, you two, I expect,”
continued the Baroness facetiously, “and Bobby, ’ere, will ’ave to
content ’imself with me and his Papa! But we’ll all go to the theatre
together to-morrow night. I’ve taken five seats for the Alcazar, which
the Captain said was the house he liked best in Brussels.”

“How good you are to me!” exclaimed Harriet, as she wound her slight
arms about the uncouth form of the Baroness. “Good! Nonsense! Why! Gustave and I look upon you as our daughter, and
you’re welcome to share everything that is ours. You can come and live
altogether at the Red ’Ouse, if you like! But I don’t expect we shall
keep you long, though I must say I should be vexed to see you throw
yourself away upon an army Captain before you have seen the world a
bit!”

“O! don’t talk of such a thing, pray don’t!” said the girl, hiding
her face in the Baroness’s ample bosom, “you know there is nothing as
yet--only a pleasant friendship.”

“He! he! he!” chuckled Madame Gobelli, “so that’s what you call a
pleasant friendship, eh? I wonder what Captain Pullen calls it! I
expect we shall ’ear in a few days. But what ’e thinks is of no
consequence, so long as _you_ don’t commit yourself, till you’ve looked
about you a little. I do want you to meet Prince Adalbert! ’Is ’air’s
like flax--such a nice contrast to yours. And you speaking French so
well! You would get on first-rate together!”

Bobby did not appear to like this conversation at all. “I call Prince Adalbert hideous,” he interposed. “Why! his face is as
red as a tomato, and he drinks too much. I’ve heard Papa say so! I am
sure Miss Brandt wouldn’t like him.”

“’Old your tongue,” exclaimed the Baroness, angrily, “’Ow dare you
interrupt when I’m speaking to Miss Brandt? A child like you! What
next, I wonder! Just mind your own business, Bobby, or I’ll send you
out of the room. Go away now, do, and amuse yourself! We don’t want any
boys ’ere!”

“Miss Brandt is going into the Parc with me,” said Bobby sturdily. “Ah! well, if she is going to be so good, I ’ope you won’t worry ’er,
that’s all! But if you would prefer to come out in the carriage with
the Baron and me, my dear, we’ll take a drive to the Bois de Cambres.”

“All right, if Bobby can come too,” acquiesced Harriet. “Lor! whatever do you want that boy to come with us for? ’E’ll only
take up all the room with ’is long legs.”

“But we mustn’t leave him alone,” said the girl, kindly, “I shouldn’t
enjoy my drive if we were to do so!”

The lad gave her a grateful glance through eyes that were already moist
with the prospect of disappointment. “Very well then,” said Madame Gobelli, “if you will ’ave your own way,
’e may come, but you must take all the trouble of ’im, ’Arriet, mind
that!”

Bobby was only too happy to accompany the party, even in these
humiliating circumstances, and they all set out together for the Bois
de Cambres. The next day was looked forward to by Harriet Brandt as
one of certain happiness, but the morning post arrived without bringing
the anticipated notice from Ralph Pullen that he should join them as
arranged in the afternoon. The piteous eyes that she lifted to the
Baroness’s face as she discovered the defalcation, were enough to
excite the compassion of anyone. “It’s all right!” said her friend, across the breakfast table, “’E said
’e would come, so there’s no need of writing. Besides, it was much
safer not! ’E couldn’t stir, I daresay, without one of those two cats,
Mrs. Pullen or Miss Leyton, at ’is elbow, so ’e thought they might find
out what ’e was after, and prevent ’is starting. Say they wanted to
leave ’Eyst or something, just to keep ’im at their side!