Part 18 (1/2)

”Oh, that isn't it at all,” Barbara a.s.sured her. ”It is just that I have never known such hot weather before, and it makes me disinclined for things.”

”You are looking whitish, but that is because you have been staying in the house too much lately. Dol would do you good and cheer you up.”

”Another time,” the girl pleaded. ”I think I won't go to-day,” and the lady left her with a shrug, and the remark that she would not go either. She was evidently annoyed, and Barbara wondered what she should do to atone for it; but later in the day she had a visit that drove the thoughts of Dol from both her mind and mademoiselle's.

She was sitting in her room trying to read, and wondering why she could not understand the paragraph, though she had read it three or four times, when Mademoiselle Therese came running in excitedly to say there were two American gentlemen downstairs in the _salon_ to see her--one old, one young. ”Mr. Morton,” was the name on the card.

”Why, it must be the American pretender!” cried Barbara; who, seeing her companion's look of surprise, added hastily, ”the elder one used to know my Aunt Anne, and they have both been in Paris; it was the younger one who helped Alice Meynell there.”

”Then, indeed, I must descend and inquire after her,” said mademoiselle joyfully. ”I will just run and make my toilet again. In the meanwhile, do you go down and entertain them till I come.”

But Barbara was already out of the room, for she thought she would like to have a few minutes conversation before Mademoiselle Therese came in, as there might not be much opportunity afterwards.

”How nice of you to call on me,” she said, as she entered the _salon_.

”I was just longing for one of the English-speaking race.”

The elder Mr. Morton was tall and thin, with something in his carriage that suggested a military upbringing; his hair and eyes gray, the latter very like his nephew's grown sad.

”The place does not suit you?” the elder man inquired, looking at her face.

”Oh, yes, I think so; it is just very hot at present.”

”Like the day you tried to ride to Dol,” the nephew remarked, wondering if it were only the ride that had given her so much more colour the first time he had seen her, and the sea breeze that had reddened her cheeks the last time.

But there were so many things the girl was anxious to hear about, that she did not allow the conversation to lapse to herself or the weather again before Mademoiselle Therese, arrayed in her best, made her appearance. She at once seized upon the younger man, and began to pour out questions about Alice.

”You need not fear any bad results,” Mr. Morton said to Barbara. ”My nephew is very discreet;” and Barbara, hearing sc.r.a.ps of the conversation, thought he was not only discreet but lawyer-like in his replies.

The visit was not a very long one, Mr. Morton declining an invitation to supper that evening, with promises to come some other time. But before they went, he seized a moment when Barbara's attention was engaged by his nephew to say something that his hostess rather resented.

”The young lady does not look so well as I had imagined she would. I suppose her health is quite good at present?”

”She has complained of nothing,” Mademoiselle Therese returned, bridling. ”Why should she be ill? The food is excellent and abundant, and we do everything imaginable for the comfort of our inmates.”

”I am sure you do, madame,” he replied, bowing. ”I shall have the pleasure of calling upon you again, I hope, before long. As I knew Miss Britton it is natural for me to take an interest in her niece when in a foreign land. Your aunt, I suppose, is now in England?” he added casually to Barbara.

”Yes--staying with us for a day or two; but I hope she will come here before I go, and we could make an excursion on our way home.”

”That would be pleasant for both, I am sure,” Mr. Morton replied, taking a ceremonious leave of Mademoiselle Therese, and a simple, though warmer one of Barbara. The young man said little in parting, but as soon as they were in the street he laid his hand hurriedly on his uncle's arm.

”The girl is ill, uncle, I am sure of it; she is not like the same person I met before; and that Mademoiselle Therese would drive me crazy if I weren't feeling up to the mark.”

”No doubt; what a tongue the woman has! But what do you want to do, Denys, for, of course, you have made up your mind to do something?”

Denys frowned. ”Of course I don't want to seem interfering, but I won't say anything at home in case of frightening her mother. But----”