“Thank you, Bobby,” she replied. “It was kind of you!”
She felt cheered by the simple attention. For her hostess to have left her on the very first morning, without a word of explanation, had struck her as looking very much (notwithstanding all the effusive flattery and protestations of attachment with which she had been laden) as if she were not wanted at the Red House.
But when her morning meal was over, and she had been introduced to every part of the establishment under the chaperonage of Bobby—to the tangled, overgrown garden, the empty stables, Papa’s library, which was filled with French and German books, and Mamma’s drawing-room, which was so full of valuable china that one scarcely dared move freely about it—the burning thirst to see, or hear something of Ralph Pullen returned with full force upon Harriet, and she enquired eagerly of Miss Wynward when her hostess might be expected to return.
Miss Wynward looked rather blank as she replied,
“Not till dinner time, I am afraid! I fancy she will find too much to enquire about and to do, after so long an absence from home. I am so sorry, Miss Brandt,” she continued, noting the look of disappointment on the girl’s face, “that her ladyship did not make this plain to you last night. Her injunctions to me were to see that you had everything you required, and to spare no trouble or expense on your account. But that is not like having her here, of course! Have you been into the library? There are some nice English works there, and there is a piano in the drawing-room which you might like to use. I am afraid it is not in tune, on account of the rain we have had, and that I have not opened it myself during the Baroness’s absence, and indeed it is never used, except to teach Bobby his music lessons on, but it may amuse you in default of anything else.”
“O! I daresay I shall find something to amuse myself with,” replied Harriet rather sullenly, “I have my own instrument with me, and my books, thank you! But is no one likely to call this afternoon, do you think?”
“This afternoon,” echoed Miss Wynward, “are you expecting any of your own friends to see you?”
“O! no! I have no friends in England,—none at least that know I have returned from Heyst. But the Baroness told me—she said the Red House was always full of guests—Prince Adalbert and Prince Loris, and a lot of others—do you think they may come to-day to see her?”
“O! not in September,” replied her companion, “it is not the season now, Miss Brandt, and all the fashionable people are out of town, at the foreign watering-places, or shooting in the country. Her ladyship could never have intended you to understand that the people you have mentioned would come here at any time except between May and July! They do come here then—sometimes—but not I expect, as you think—not as friends, I mean!”
“Not as friends! What as, then?” demanded Harriet.