Part 41 (2/2)

Here they drove up to the hotel, and the ladies got out and went up to their apartments. They had three rooms up stairs, two of which looked out into the street, while the third was in the rear. At the front windows was a balcony.

The ladies now disrobed themselves, and their maids a.s.sisted them to perform the duties of a very simple toilet. Mrs. Willoughby's was first finished. So she walked over to the window, and looked out into the street.

It was not a very interesting place, nor was there much to be seen; but she took a lazy, languid interest in the sight which met her eyes.

There were the two carriages. The horses were being led to water.

Around the carriages was a motley crowd, composed of the poor, the maimed, the halt, the blind, forming that realm of beggars which from immemorial ages has flourished in Italy. With these was intermingled a crowd of ducks, geese, goats, pigs, and ill-looking, mangy, snarling curs.

Upon these Mrs. Willoughby looked for some time, when at length her ears were arrested by the roll of wheels down the street. A carriage was approaching, in which there were two travelers. One hasty glance sufficed, and she turned her attention once more to the ducks, geese, goats, dogs, and beggars. In a few minutes the crowd was scattered by the newly-arrived carriage. It stopped. A man jumped out. For a moment he looked up, staring hard at the windows. That moment was enough.

Mrs. Willoughby had recognized him.

She rushed away from the windows. Lady Dalrymple and Ethel were in this room, and Minnie in the one beyond. All were startled by Mrs.

Willoughby's exclamation, and still more by her looks.

”Oh!” she cried.

”What?” cried they. ”What is it?”

”_He's_ there! _He's_ there!”

”Who? who?” they cried, in alarm.

”That horrid man!”

Lady Dalrymple and Ethel looked at one another in utter horror.

As for Minnie, she burst into the room, peeped out of the windows, saw ”that horrid man,” then ran back, then sat down, then jumped up, and then burst into a peal of the merriest laughter that ever was heard from her.

”Oh, I'm _so_ glad! I'm _so_ glad!” she exclaimed. ”Oh, it's so _aw_fully funny. Oh, I'm _so_ glad! Oh, Kitty darling, don't, please don't, look so cross. Oh, ple-e-e-e-e-e-e-ase don't, Kitty darling.

You make me laugh worse. It's so _aw_fully funny!”

But while Minnie laughed thus, the others looked at each other in still greater consternation, and for some time there was not one of them who knew what to say.

But Lady Dalrymple again threw herself in the gap.

”You need not feel at all nervous, my dears,” said she, gravely. ”I do not think that this person can give us any trouble. He certainly can not intrude upon us in these apartments, and on the highway, you know, it will be quite as difficult for him to hold any communication with us. So I really don't see any cause for alarm on your part, nor do I see why dear Minnie should exhibit such delight.”

These words brought comfort to Ethel and Mrs. Willoughby. They at once perceived their truth. To force himself into their presence in a public hotel was, of course, impossible, even for one so reckless as he seemed to be; and on the road he could not trouble them in any way, since he would have to drive before them or behind them.

At Lady Dalrymple's reference to herself, Minnie looked up with a bright smile.

”You're awfully cross with me, aunty darling,” she said; ”but I forgive you. Only I can't help laughing, you know, to see how frightened you all are at poor Rufus K. Gunn. And, Kitty dearest, oh how you _did_ run away from the window! It was awfully funny, you know.”

Not long after the arrival of the Baron and his friends another carriage drove up. None of the ladies were at the window, and so they did not see the easy nonchalance of Hawbury as he lounged into the house, or the stern face of Scone Dacres as he strode before him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”AS FOR DANGAIRE--POUF! DERE IS NONE.”]

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