‘That is not very early, as a rule,’ said her companion; ‘let us say midnight. Ilfracombe will be safe in the card or billiard-room at that time, and not likely to notice what you are about.’
‘And how will you manage to leave the party without observation?’
‘Oh, I shall trust to chance; but you may be sure I shall be there. And—and—if you fail me, Nora, why, I shall understand that you value your reputation more than you do—me, or your husband’s good opinion, because in that case—’
‘I understand. You need not recapitulate. But I shall not fail you. It will seem quite like old times having an assignation with you, Jack. Do you remember the night I met you down by the landing-place at Valetta, and that horrid man Pietro followed me all the way, and only showed his ugly face just as I had reached your side? I always believed that it was Pietro who betrayed us to papa, for he was sometimes very impertinent in his manner to me afterwards. Oh, and have you forgotten the time when you took me out in a boat and we got caught in a squall, and had to put in to shore, and remained nearly the whole day away in a little estaminet? What a fearful row papa made about it, and I had to pretend I had been alone, though I don’t think he believed me. Papa certainly did hate you, Jack, though I never could understand why. I suppose it was all the money, or, rather, the lack of it.’
And here Nora heaved a most deceitful sigh.
‘Do you ever regret that there was any obstacle between us?’ asked Mr Portland persuasively. ‘Do you think you could have been happy as Mrs Jack Portland, if Ilfracombe had not come between us?’
‘Why, of course, I told you at the time I should,’ said Nora.
‘Ah, well, perhaps things are better as they are,’ replied her companion; ‘for I don’t think you were ever cut out for a poor man’s wife; you are too pretty and dainty and refined, my lady, for that. And if you had been miserable, I should have been so also. And so you really like me well enough still to meet me at the farm this evening, and fetch your dear little letters. I shall be so glad to have you for a few moments to myself. It will seem quite like the dear old times. Here, I can never say half a dozen words to you without as many old cats prying into our faces. Well, au revoir, my dear, be punctual, as our time will be limited—twelve o’clock to-night. I had better not stand talking to you any longer now.’
‘I will be there,’ answered the countess mechanically, as she turned round and walked another way.