Lilith herself, with nothing at all to do, sat with Aunt Sophie at the front parlor window, saying those last, tender words that are always repeated over and over again for days and hours before parting, when there came a ring at the door bell, followed soon by the entrance of Monsieur Le Grange, private secretary to the Baroness Von Bruyin.
The little old gentleman came in, bowing as was his wont.
Mrs. Downie got up to leave the room—thinking that the secretary might have brought some private message from the baroness to her young companion; but he prevented her by a deprecatory bow and a polite disclaimer:
“Pardon, madame! I have come but to say a word, to make an explanation. I have come from Madame la Baronne to her beautiful and accomplished dame de compagnie here,” he said, turning with another bow to Lilith. “Madame desires me to say, to explain, that she goes not to Europe by the Kron Prinz to-morrow.”
“She does not sail by the Kron Prinz!” exclaimed Lilith, as if in her surprise she could not comprehend the fact.
“No, madame. La Baronne has changed her plan. She sails not to-morrow.”
“Has she changed her mind about going to Europe?” inquired Lilith, with new hope lighting her eyes at this reprieve.
“No, madame. She has not changed her mind, but only her ship. She will go by the Kaiser Wilhelm on Saturday.”
“Dear me, what a pity! Why, she will lose all her passage money!” exclaimed Mrs. Downie, whose economical soul was dismayed at such a useless sacrifice of the “needful.”
“She will lose the half of it, madame, for herself and all her suite, and that is considerable, as her suite is large. But she goes, after all, by a ship of the same line.”