“Pooh, my dear Baron!” he cried, when the situation was explained to him; “you couldn't have done more damage to their hearts if you had hurled your hammer at them! A touch of jealousy was all that was needed to complete your conquests. But for me you have spoiled the most promising affair imaginable. There goes their carriage trotting down the drive! And I shall probably never know whether my name was already in her heart or in her prayers. Those are the two chief receptacles for gentlemen's names, I believe—aren't they, Baron?”
On his advice the rival families were left to the soothing influences of a good dinner and a night's sleep, and he found himself free to ponder over his interrupted adventure.
“Undoubtedly one feels all the better for a little appreciation,” he reflected complacently. “I wonder if it was my trews that bowled her over?”
CHAPTER XXV
The Count next morning consumed a solitary breakfast, his noble friend having risen some hours previously and gone for an early walk upon the hill. But he was far from feeling any trace of boredom, since an open letter beside his plate appeared to provide him with an ample fund of pleasant and entertaining reflections.
“I have not withered yet,” he said to himself. “Here is proof positive that some blossom, some aroma remains!”
The precise terms of this encouraging epistle were these:
“THE LASH, near NETHERBRIG.
“Tuesday night.