"Confound him!" he thought, and, his hands tight clasped behind him, he strode up and down the room with compressed lips and lowering brow.
He had no doubt now of the relationship in which he stood to Fanshawe; he was both his rival and friend. He tried to face the situation calmly. Fanshawe was a good fellow, an officer in the English army, and heir to a baronetcy and a fine estate. He could sell out at any moment, and doubtless enjoy by the liberality of his father an income sufficient to maintain a wife in something more than comfort. It gave Harry a pang to contrast his own position. He had no property, no family influence, nothing beyond his pay and the income so generously allowed by Mynheer Grootz. True, he was now in the service of Prince Eugene, and the circumstances in which he had joined the Austrian service gave him a good prospect of ultimate advancement; but it might be many years before he could venture to ask a lady to share his fortunes. Besides, if Mademoiselle de Vaudrey was indeed heiress to an estate, as Simmons had reported, a poor man could not seek her hand without incurring the suspicion of being a fortune-hunter: the mere suggestion brought a hot flush to Harry's cheeks. No; he could but stand aside. Fanshawe had failed once; he might yet succeed; and if it should so turn out, Harry could but wish his friend joy and go his way.
"Heigh ho! Some fellows are lucky!" he thought, and, heaving a tremendous sigh, he went to bed.
A good night's rest, and the knowledge that Polignac could never disturb her again, cured Madame de Vaudrey's hysteria, and she came down next morning somewhat pale, but in her usual health. After breakfast Harry took the first opportunity of finding his hostess alone, to deliver Fanshawe's letter. She smiled as she took it and noticed the handwriting.
"From that dear Monsieur Fanshawe, is it not?" she said.
"Yes, Madame."
"What can he have to write about, I wonder? Do you know, Harry?"
"Fanshawe told me, and—well, he asked me—that is, I promised to put in a word for him."
"Vraiment! Then I think I guess the subject of his letter. Come, mon ami, what have you to say for him, then?"
The comtesse watched Harry with a twinkle of enjoyment. Her mother's eye had penetrated the state of the case.