“You will find me there waiting for you,” said Vandemar Della Coscia.
“And what am I to do?” asked Jack, turning to Bertha.
“You have neglected your duties as heir of the Earl of Noxton,” broke in the Admiral, with mock severity, “and you have added to your responsibilities by that neglect.”
Jack looked disturbed.
“I know, my dear Admiral, I have been very remiss, but you must own there have been extenuating circumstances.”
“Oh, yes,” said Admiral Enright, “I see her,”—and he looked at Bertha, who blushed prettily.
“No doubt we all wish to leave these scenes,” said the Countess. “I shall return eventually, but for the present I shall open my Paris residence, where, with Bertha, we shall be pleased to welcome you as our guests so long as you can find it convenient to stay.”
On the afternoon preceding the day of departure, a solemn conclave was held in the library of the Mont d’Oro castle.
“Mademoiselle Batistelli,” said the Admiral, turning to Vivienne, “is it your intention to return to the Batistelli castle eventually, or——”
“Never!” broke in Vivienne. “I shall never step within its doors again. I couldn’t. Nothing but distressing memories are connected with its walls, and I never wish to set foot in Corsica again.”