She though& she would go for a stretch round the suburban lanes; it was better and more fitted for an unaccompanied lady than the Park. So turning in at Queen's Gate, she skirted the Row, and riding over the Serpentine bridge turned up towards Westbourne Terrace, at the end of which, leisurely riding along, she saw Mr. Beresford. He saw her too, and in an instant was at her side; sitting his horse to perfection, and bowing with perfect ease and grace. He asked her where she was riding, and begged to be allowed to accompany her. She had a refusal on the tip of her tongue; then recollected that she might never have another chance of speaking to him as frankly and decidedly as she had made up her mind to speak. So she consented. During the ride, she spoke earnestly and well; Beresford tried sophistry and special pleading; but they had little chance with her, so thoroughly in earnest was she. It was while in the height of his argument that they passed the lodge-gates of The Den, and were seen by Kate Mellon.
Mrs. Schröder rode home that evening in a happier frame of mind than she had been in for months. She felt that she had effectually settled all Mr. Beresford's pretentious, and that she might meet her husband without the smallest shadow on her brow. Her joy was a little dashed by the receipt of a letter from her husband, which was put into her hand as she alighted from her horse. It said that an Egyptian prince, with whom the house had large transactions, had arrived at Southampton, and that he, Gustav, as representing the house, was compelled to go down and do the honours to him; that he had telegraphed to his brother to relieve him as soon as possible; and that he hoped to be back the next day.
Mrs. Schröder's hopes were realised. In the course of the next afternoon a cab drove up to the door in Saxe-Coburg Square, and Mr. Schröder descended from it. His wife, who had rushed to the balcony at the sound of wheels, noticed that his step was slow, and that--a thing she had never seen him do before--he leant upon the cabman's arm. When he entered the room she rushed to him, and, embracing him, asked him how he was.
"I am well, my darling," he answered; "quite well, but that I have rheumatism, or something like it. A curious pain--dead, dull, stupid pain--in my left arm and shoulder. Rheumatism, of course! And you, Barbara, my dear; you are well? That's right; no news with you, of course? Ah! I have been thinking much about you in the train, and we will talk to-morrow of your affairs. Well, Alice, what news? Did you persuade Barbara to drive yesterday?"
"No, she refused again; so I went out on horseback."
"Ah, ah! that was right. Alone?"
"I went alone; but I met Mr. Beresford."
"Beresford! I hate that name; he is a bad man. Bad! bad!"
And Mr. Schröder shook his hand in the air, and was obviously very much excited.
"Gustav," said Mrs. Schröder, "I'm very sorry that--"