It was only when my mother asked, for the second time, what was to be done about John's ticket, that Julia seemed aware of the question—a slight, a very slight, curving of her lip showing the while the sense she entertained of such an inquiry after long years of separation; and at last, as if unable to repress the indignation of the moment, she said abruptly—
'But, of course, as we shall not think of going tonight——'
'We not go! Eh, pardieu! why not?' said the Count.
'The Colonel below-stairs begs to say that he will call somewhat later,' said the femme de chambre at this juncture.
'The Colonel! Whom does she mean?'
'Oh, my friend O'Grady. Poor fellow! I have been forgetting him all this while. So allow me to join him, and well wait for your appearance in the drawing-room.'
'I remember him perfectly,' said my mother—'an agreeable person, I think. So take Julia and the Count with you, and I'll follow as soon as I can.'
Julia blushed deeply, and as suddenly grew pale again as my mother spoke. I knew that she had always treated my friend with hauteur and reserve, without any assignable reason, and had long determined that when an opportunity arose I would endeavour to get rid of the unjust impression she had somehow conceived of my warmest, truest friend. This was not, however, the time for explanations; and I merely said, as I offered my arm—
'Poor O'Grady has been badly wounded; but I think he's now getting on favourably.'
She said something in reply, but the words were lost in the noise of descending the stairs. Just as we reached the landing I caught a glimpse of my friend issuing from the porte cochère, and only in time to call him by his name—