"You 've done it now, you old————." The epithet was lost in a scream, Tom, for she went off in strong hysterics; so I just rang the bell for Mary Anne, and slipped quietly away to my own room. I trust it is a good conscience does it for me, but I find that I can almost always sleep soundly when I go to bed; and it is a great blessing, Tom,—for let me tell you, that after five or six and fifty, one's waking hours have more annoyances than pleasures about them; but the world is just like a man's mistress: he cares most for it when it is least fond of him!
I slept like a humming-top, and, indeed, there 's no saying when I should have awoke, if it had n't been for the knocking they kept up at my door.
It was Cary at last got admittance, and I had only to look in her face to see that a misfortune had befallen us.
"What is it, my dear?" said I.
"All kinds of worry and confusion, pappy," said she, taking my hand in both of hers. "The Countess is gone."
"Gone?—how?—where?"
"Gone. Started this morning,—indeed, before daybreak,—I believe for Genoa; but there 's no knowing, for the people have been evidently bribed to secrecy."
"What for?—with what object?"
"The short of the matter is this, pappy. She appears to have overheard some conversation—evidently intended to be of a private nature—that passed between you and mamma last night. How she understood it does not appear, for, of course, you did n't talk French."
"Let that pass. Proceed."