“Ah me! It was not Saviola that I was troubled about. It was my father. At length it occurred to me to write to my father’s London bankers to inquire for him. And I wondered that I had never thought of doing so before.
“On this occasion I received a prompt answer, which was at once encouraging and depressing, as you will see, contradictory as the statement seems. Messrs. Rhodes told me that the earl had taken the countess to the Canaries for her ladyship’s health, and that they had wintered there, but that in May they had sailed for an extensive yachting cruise, from which they were expected to return to England some time in February.
“So my father could never have received any of my letters, and was therefore not the unbending, unforgiving, pitiless father I had thought him. He had probably written me many letters whose final destination was the dead-letter office. I might still hope for his ready forgiveness. So far the news was encouraging.
“But, then, on the other hand, he would not return until February. This was the depressing feature in the letter. Yet the encouraging circumstances outweighed the depressing item, so that, on the whole, I was more hopeful and more cheerful.
“As the days of October grew shorter and cooler I began to be impatient to leave the place, and for this reason eager for the return of Saviola. At length I grew really despondent. It was about this time—the middle of October—that I saw in the little Geneva paper an item that startled and delighted me. It was under the head of ‘Arrivals.’ It was but a line:
“‘The Hon. Angus Anglesea, England—Hotel des Bergues.’
“Without an instant’s delay I sat down and wrote a note, asking him to call on me at the Beau Rivage.
“The thought of meeting one home face—and that the face of my brother’s dear friend, Saviola’s good friend, my own true friend, who had traveled with us to Scotland to see that I should be regularly married before he left me under the protection of Saviola—filled my soul with delightful anticipations.
“He came promptly in response to my summons. It was only noon when the waiter opened the door of the little drawing room where I sat, and announced:
“‘The Hon. Mr. Anglesea.’