“That’s my Countess, as sure as fate!” exclaimed Harry. “She said her name was Bertha”—and he then related to D’Almayne the circumstances with which the reader has already been made acquainted. “And,” he continued in conclusion, as a female figure, leaning on the arms of the soubrette and Don Whiskerandos, emerged from the ladies’ cabin—“and here she comes, looking rather poorly still—nothing of the water-witch about her, at all events. Have you met before, or shall I introduce you?”
“Do, by all means, mon cher; we are total strangers to each other,” was the reply. And with an injunction to Alice to remain where she was till he should return, Harry seized D’Almayne’s arm, and hurried him away. Before two minutes had elapsed, Coverdale returned alone.
“It’s all right,” he said: “but come along; D’Almayne’s order will clear our luggage also, and we can all get away together.”
Then ensued a grand scena of bustle and confusion, during which, supported by her husband’s stalwart arm, Alice caught glimpses of D’Almayne smiling to show his white teeth, and striving vigorously to enact the part of guardian angel to the rich young heiress.
“That puppy is in his glory now,” observed Coverdale, snappishly; “I dare say that silly woman will take him at his own price, and believe in him to any extent to which he may like to lead her—perhaps marry him after all, and make him Count von Rosenthal: that would suit his complaint exactly, the fortune-hunting young humbug!”
“My dear Harry, what words!” exclaimed Alice. “You are really quite savage to-day; I shall be obliged to take Mr. D’Almayne under my protection, if you go on so.”
“No need to do that, my dear,” returned Harry, his face resuming its usual bright, kind expression, as his glance fell upon his wife; “your protégé is quite certain to take the best possible care of himself—now come along;” and in another five minutes they had left the vessel and entered a railroad-carriage, in which the Countess and D’Almayne had already established themselves.
The journey to London was a very agreeable one;—the Countess, having recovered with marvellous celerity the moment she placed her pretty little foot on terra firma, exerted herself to make up for lost time, and succeeded so well that D’Almayne, who became more and more empressé and devoted every moment, determined, if he should be able to ascertain beyond a doubt that her fortune was as large as it had been represented, to give up every other speculation, and devote all his energies to secure the hand and purse of this fascinating foreigner. As they approached the London Bridge terminus the Countess, turning to her new guardian, inquired whether it was very far to Park Lane:
“About half an hour’s drive. The carriage will, I trust, be there to meet this train; though, owing to our having avoided all delay at the Custom-house, we shall be in town some two hours sooner than the other steam-boat passengers. However, if we arrive earlier than is expected, it will only be an agreeable surprise to our kind friend, Mrs. Botherby.”
“Mais oui!” returned the Countess with a look of innocent perplexity; “and who may be cette chere Madame Bodairebie?”