Part 4 (1/2)
At this moment her father put in an appearance and caused a diversion by enquiring after the safety of her jewel-case, which, it appeared, stood in continual danger of being lost. A few seconds later the boat was under weigh and we had said good-bye to French soil. As we left the place of embarkation it seemed to me that my companion gave a little sigh, and noticing that it was followed by a slight s.h.i.+ver, I enquired whether she felt cold. She replied in the negative, though at the same time she drew her furs a little closer round her.
”I wonder whether certain places affect you as they do me,” she said, when the French port lay well astern and we were heading for the white cliffs of England. ”It is strange that I never leave Calais without undergoing a decided feeling of depression. I don't know why it should be so; it is a fact, nevertheless.”
”I hope it is not the thought of visiting England that causes it?” I replied with an attempt at jocularity. ”You have visited our country before, of course?”
”Very often,” she answered; ”we have many friends in England.”
”In the list of whom I hope you will permit me some day to number myself?” I continued with an eagerness that was not at all usual with me.
”I shall be very pleased,” she returned quietly, and then looked away across the still water to where a French pilot cutter lay becalmed half a mile or so away.
An hour later we reached Dover.
Just as we were entering the harbour, the Countess's father approached me and thanked me effusively for my kindness in permitting them to share my carriage from Paris.
”But you must not let my generosity, such as it is, cease there!” I replied. ”I hope you will also share my carriage to London, that is to say if the Countess is not already too tired of my society.”
”It would be ungenerous to say so if I were,” she answered with a smile.
”But if you, on your side, do not feel that we have trespa.s.sed too far already, I am sure we shall be only too glad to accept your kind offer.”
The Custom authorities having been satisfied as to the innocence of our baggage, we took our seats in the carriage which had been reserved for me. My indispensable Williams made his appearance with an armful of papers, and then we started upon the last stage of our journey. When I had handed the Countess a copy of the _Globe_, I selected a _Pall Mall_ for myself, and turned to the page containing the latest war news. From what I found there, there could be no doubt that the situation was hourly increasing in danger. There were complications on every side, and the position was not rendered easier by the fact that a certain number of prominent politicians were endeavouring to make capital out of the difficulties of the Government.
”I suppose there can now be no doubt as to the probability of war?”
said Count Reiffenburg, looking up from his paper as he spoke.
”None whatever, I should say,” I answered. ”If the papers are to be believed the clouds are blacker and heavier than they have yet been. I fear the storm must burst ere long.”
The Countess did not take any part in our conversation, but I fancied that she was listening. Not feeling any desire to continue the discussion with the younger man, I returned to my paper, leaving him to follow my example. A few minutes later the Countess put down her _Globe_, and sat looking out upon the country through which we were pa.s.sing.
”I see they have captured another notorious anarchist in Naples,” I said, after we had been sitting in silence for some minutes. ”So far as can be gathered from the report given here, the arrest is likely to prove important in more respects than one.”
”Indeed,” said the Countess, looking steadily at me as she spoke. ”The police are certainly becoming more expeditious in the matter of arrests.
The only difficulty they experience is the finding of any substantial crime against their victims when they have brought about their capture.
Pray, who is this particular man?”
”An individual rejoicing in the romantic name of Luigi Ferreira,” I answered. ”It appears that they have been endeavouring to lay their hands upon him for some time past. Until now, however, he has managed to slip through their fingers.”
”Poor fellow!” said the Countess, still in the same even voice. ”I hope it will not prejudice you against me, but I cannot help feeling a little sympathy for people--however misguided they may be--who imperil their own safety for the sake of bringing about what they consider the ultimate happiness of others.”
Then, as though the matter no longer interested her, she returned to the perusal of her paper. Her cousin had all this time been drumming with his fingers in an impatient manner, so I thought, upon the gla.s.s of the window beside which he sat. For my own part, I scarcely knew what to make of this young man. Though he did not show it openly, I could not help thinking that he was jealous of the attention I was paying his fair cousin. As the idea crossed my mind I remembered the previous afternoon, when I had sat in the portico of the hotel, speculating as to the nationality and lives of the people about me. How little I had thought then that twenty-four hours later would find me seated with them in an English railway carriage, discussing the fortune of another man with whom neither I, nor they, for the matter of that--at least, so I then supposed--had even the remotest connection.
It was not until we were approaching the end of our journey that I spoke to my _vis-a-vis_ concerning her stay in London.
”We shall in all probability remain in London for some three or four months,” she said. ”I hope, if you can spare the time, that you will call upon me. I have taken Wilts.h.i.+re House, by the way, and shall be most pleased to see you.”
I must confess that her announcement caused me a considerable amount of surprise. All things considered, it was rather a strange coincidence, for, only that morning, I had received a letter from my sister Ethelwyn, who, as you are doubtless aware, is the Countess of Brewarden, in which occurred the following significant pa.s.sage (Ethelwyn, I might here remark, is somewhat given to the florid style):--
”Existence is now altogether a blank! the dream of my life--Wilts.h.i.+re House--has vanished. Some rich foreigner has taken it, and in consequence George (my brother-in-law) and I have quarrelled desperately. He declares it is a good thing it is let, as he couldn't think of it. He moreover avers that it would cost a king's ransom to keep up. Nevertheless, I shall detest the foreigner whoever she or he may be.”