“And I not much.”
After this frank confession on either side, they walked along, each seemingly deep in his own thought, and said little till they reached the city. Leaving them, then, on their way to Lady Augusta's house, where Bramleigh desired to drop his card, we turn for a moment to the little villa at Albano, in front of which a smart groom was leading a lady's horse, while in the distance a solitary rider was slowly walking his horse, and frequently turning his looks towards the gate of the villa.
The explanation of all this was, that Lady Augusta had taken the opportunity of being near the L'Estranges to pay a visit to the Bramleighs, leaving Pracontal to wait for her till she came out.
“This visit is for you, Nelly,” said Julia, as she read the card; “and I 'll make my escape.”
She had but time to get out of the room when Lady Augusta entered.
“My dear child,” said she, rushing into Nelly's arms, and kissing her with rapturous affection. “My dear child, what a happiness to see you again, and how well you are looking; you 're handsomer, I declare, than Marion. Yes, darling—don't blush; it's perfectly true. Where's Augustus? has he come with you?”
“He has gone in to Rome to see you,” said Nelly, whose face was still crimson, and who felt flurried and agitated by the flighty impetuosity of the other.
“I hope it was to say that you are both coming to me? Yes, dearest, I 'll take no excuse. It would be a town-talk if you stopped anywhere else; and I have such a nice little villa—a mere baby-house; but quite large enough to hold you; and my brother-in-law will take Augustus about, and show him Rome, and I shall have you all to myself. We have much to talk of, haven't we?”
Nelly murmured an assent, and the other continued,—
“It's all so sudden, and so dreadful—one doesn't realize it; at least, I don't. And it usually takes me an hour or two of a morning to convince me that we are all ruined; and then I set to work thinking how I 'm to live on—I forget exactly what—how much is it, darling? Shall I be able to keep my dear horses? I 'd rather die than part with Ben Azir; one of the Sultan's own breeding; an Arab of blue blood, Nelly, think of that! I've refused fabulous sums for him; but he is such a love, and follows me everywhere, and rears up when I scold him—and all to be swept away as if it was a dream. What do you mean to do, dearest? Marry, of course. I know that—but in the mean while?”