The Countess of Trockenau was not in the violent hurry which might have been expected from Lemde’s representations. She had time again to greet Jerome Wellfield, and to say:
‘By-the-bye, Mr. Wellfield, I have a party to-morrow. Will you come?’
‘A very large party?’
‘Oh, so ziemlich—quite without ceremony. The ladies come to coffee and remain; the gentlemen later, to the Abendbrod and music. And a little dancing for the young people, I daresay, and wandering in the garden for those who like it. I shall expect you.’
‘If my father is better, or rather if he should be no worse, gnädige Frau, I shall have the utmost pleasure,’ he said, bowing, while Sara stood a little apart and carefully fastened her glove. The countess turned to speak to some one else, and Wellfield, with a half-smile, politely suggested to Sara that perhaps he could button her glove.
‘There is your carriage, gnädige Frau, going slowly down the road,’ exclaimed young Lemde, as if eager to end the scene.
‘Call it, then,’ said Frau von Trockenau, in much the same tone as that lately used by Miss Ford. It was a tone very generally adopted towards ‘poor Lemde.’
Obediently he hurried forward and hailed the coachman of the lady, who was still in lively conversation with a friend.
‘The carriage is here, most gracious, by the roadside, waiting!’ announced Hans, in a voice growing gradually louder and more portentous; and he repeated the information impressively.
‘Aber, dieser Mensch!’ murmured the ‘gracious lady,’ as Wellfield advanced, gave her his arm, and led her across the avenue to the roadside, where her carriage was waiting.