Now or never, Virginia said to herself, was the time to begin the campaign. She seized the tide of fortune at its flood, and spoke in English, making the most of the pretty, drawling Southern accent of the State after which she had been named, because American girls were privileged to be eccentric.
"Good morning," she said. "Oh, I do hope you understand my language, because I want to tell you something."
The green-gray eyes of the Countess shone keenly between their heavy black fringes during a silent moment of inspection, which must have shown her Virginia divinely young, and childishly innocent of guile. At the end of the moment she smiled.
"Yes, I understand English, and speak it a little," she responded, with a charming accent, and in a voice musical but unexpectedly deep. "You are American, is it not? What have you to tell me—that we have met before, somewhere?"
At this—or Virginia imagined it—there came again a steely flash from the black lashes. "Oh, no," said the girl hurriedly. "I never saw you until yesterday. What I want to tell you is, that I hope you will forgive me for staring at you as I did then. I was afraid you'd think me rude. But I just couldn't help it, you are so beautiful. I adore beauty. You can be sure now I'm American, can't you? for nobody but an American girl would say such things to a perfect stranger. I'm glad I am American, for if I didn't speak I don't see exactly how I should get to know you. And I want to know you very much. I made my cousin, Sir Roger Broom—he's English, though I'm American—ask who you were, so I heard your name. Mine is Virginia Beverly. Now we're introduced, aren't we?"
The Countess laughed and looked pleased. "I have seen your name in the journals," she said—"the journals of society all over the world, that one reads in hotels when one has nothing better to do, is it not? They told the truth in one thing, for they said that you were très belle. And you have bought the yacht of a Spanish gentleman, whom I have known a little. Yes, I remember it was a Miss Virginia Beverly, for it is not a name to forget; and I love yachting."
By this time, Virginia had ordered her breakfast and received it, but she was far too excited to make more than a pretense at eating. It was almost as if the Countess de Mattos were playing into her hands. It seemed too good to be true. She was afraid that something would happen to ruin all; that she would lose her head, and by her precipitancy put the other on her guard; yet the opportunity was too admirable to be entirely neglected.
"If you like yachting, it would be nice if you could come and have a day's run with us," said the girl. "The Bella Cuba is at Alexandria, and we should all love taking you. My cousin and my half-brother, George Trent, couldn't talk of anything but you last night. Perhaps, later, we might arrange it, if the railway journey both ways wouldn't bore you."
"On the contrary, I should be charmed," replied the Countess. She flushed, and her eyes brightened. Virginia looked at her admiringly, yet sharply, and said to herself: "If that rich, dark complexion of yours is make-up—as it must be to prove my theory right—then it's the cleverest make-up that any woman ever had as a disguise."
At this moment Sir Roger Broom and George Trent came out on to the verandah together, both looking very much surprised to see Virginia in conversation with the Countess de Mattos.