“Ralph and Elinor! They had just come from some exhibition of pictures in New Bond Street, and I never saw them so pleased with each other before. Ralph was looking actually ‘spooney’, and Elinor was positively radiant.”
“Souvent femme varie,” quoted Doctor Phillips, shrugging his shoulders.
“Oh! but, Doctor, it made Arthur and me so glad to see them. Elinor is very fond of Ralph, you know, although she has shewn it so little. And so I have no doubt is he of her, and there would never have been any unpleasantness between them, if it had not been for that horrid girl, Harriet Brandt.”
“It is not like you, my dear Margaret, to condemn anyone without a hearing. Perhaps you have not heard the true case of Miss Harriet Brandt. Although I am glad that Ralph has disentangled himself from her, I still believe that he behaved very badly to both the young ladies, and whilst I am glad to hear that Miss Leyton smiles upon him again, I think it is more than he deserves!”
“And I agree with you, Doctor,” interposed Colonel Pullen, “I have never seen this Miss Brandt, but I know what a fool my brother is with women, and can quite understand that he may have raised her hopes just to gratify his own vanity. I have no patience with him.”
“Well! for Miss Leyton’s sake let us hope that this will be his last experience of dallying with forbidden pleasures. But what will you say when I tell you that one of my visitors this morning has been the young lady in question—Miss Brandt!”
“Harriet Brandt!” exclaimed Margaret, “but why—is she ill?”
“Oh! no! Her trouble is mental—not physical.”
“She is not still hankering after Ralph, I hope.”
“You are afraid he might not be able to resist the bait! So should I be. But she did not mention Captain Pullen. Her distress was all about herself!”