Part 10 (1/2)
”Stop a bit,” said the Duke suddenly. ”It just strikes me. I have got a sister somewhere. I'll look her up. She is never ill at sea, and they have sent her husband off to Kamtchatka, or some such place.”
”That's the very thing,” said Barker. ”I will talk to Claudius. Can you manage the Countess, do you think? Have you known her long?”
”Rather. Ever since she married poor Alexis.”
”All right, then. You ask her.” And they reached their hotel.
So these two gentlemen settled things between them. They both wanted to go to America, and they were not in a hurry, so that the prospect of a pleasant party, with all the liberty and home feeling there is on board of a yacht, was an immense attraction. Barker, of course, was amused and interested by his scheme for making Claudius and the Countess fall in love with each other, and he depended on the dark lady for his show.
Claudius would not have been easily induced to leave Europe by argument or persuasion, but there was little doubt that he would follow the Countess, if she could be induced to lead. The Duke, on the other hand, thought only of making up a well-arranged party of people who wanted to make the journey in any case, and would not be on his hands after he landed. So two or three days later he called on the Countess to open the campaign. It was not altogether new ground, as they had crossed together once before. The Duke was not very good at leading the conversation up to his points, so he immediately began talking about America, in order to be sure of hitting somewhere near the mark.
”I have not been over since the autumn,” he said, ”and I really ought to go.”
”When will you start?” asked Margaret.
”I meant to go next month. I think I will take the yacht.”
”I wonder you do not always do that. It is so much pleasanter, and you feel as if you never had gone out of your own house.”
”The fact is,” said he, plunging, ”I am going to take my sister, and I would like to have a little party. Will you not join us yourself, Countess, and Miss Skeat?”
”Really, Duke, you are very kind. But I was not thinking of going home just yet.”
”It is a long time since you have been there. Not since--”
”Yes, I know,” said Margaret gravely. ”And perhaps that is why I hesitate to go now.”
”But would it not be different if we all went together? Do you not think it would be much nicer?”
”Did you say your sister was going?”
”Oh yes, she will certainly go.”
”Well,” said the Countess after a moment's thought, ”I will not say just yet. I need not make up my mind yet; need I? Then I will take a few days to think of it.”
”I am sure you will decide to join us,” said the Duke pressingly.
”Perhaps I ought to go, and it is so kind of you, really, to give me such a delightful chance.” She had a presentiment that before long she would he on her way to join the yacht, though at first sight it seemed rather improbable, for, as Claudius had guessed, she had a great many engagements for visits. If any one had suggested to her that morning that she might make a trip to America, she would have said it was quite impossible. The idea of the disagreeable journey, the horror of being cast among an immense crowd of unknown travellers; or, still worse, of being thrown into the society of some chance acquaintance who would make the most of knowing her--it was all sufficient, even in the absence of other reasons, to deter her from undertaking the journey. But in the party proposed by the Duke it was all very different. He was a gentleman, besides being a peer, and he was an old friend. His sister was a kind-hearted gentlewoman of narrow views but broad humanity; and not least, the yacht was sure to be perfection, and she would be the honoured guest. She would be sorry to leave Baden for some reasons; she liked Claudius very much, and he made her feel that she was leading an intellectual life. But she had not entirely realised him yet. He was to her always the quiet student whom she had met in Heidelberg, and during the month past the feeling she entertained for him had developed more in the direction of intellectual sympathy than of personal friends.h.i.+p. She would not mind parting with him any more than she would mind laying down an interesting book before she had half read it. Still that was something, and the feeling had weight.
”Miss Skeat,” she said, when they were alone, ”you have never been in America?”
”No, dear Countess, I have never been there, and until lately I have never thought I would care to go.”
”Would you like to go now?”
”Oh!” exclaimed the ancient one, ”I would like it of all things!”
”I am thinking of going over next month,” said Margaret, ”and of course I would like you to go with me. Do you mind the sea very much?”