“In recognition of Otto’s prompt and spirited action,” said the Freule; “it was very dreadful, Gerard, but unavoidable, and he rose to the occasion. That is what I admire. And though I am not in the habit of giving expensive presents, and haven’t the means to do so—”
“I won’t have another horse,” burst out Gerard. “I mean to say, that’s not what I care about. He—he—oh, you don’t know what he’s done to me. And now he’s killed Beauty as well! I hate him! I won’t, I daren’t meet him at dinner!”
“There’s the hall-bell,” cried the Baroness. “Shut the door, Theodore. Gerard, you had better go out by the anteroom. Otto is bringing home his betrothed for us to welcome as such!”
“His betrothed!” stammered Gerard, looking from one to the other. “What? Helena? Already?”
“Helena? No, indeed. The young lady is Ursula Rovers.”
Otto and Ursula, pausing outside the door, heard Gerard’s laugh of malevolent contempt, as well as the words that immediately followed it.
“Ursula Rovers!” he cried. “The future Baroness van Helmont! My Lady Nobody!”