"It was kind of you to stay in this tiresome old hole just to see us. I call it very kind," she assured him, and Erika added, meekly, "So do I."
A pause ensued, broken finally by Goswyn: "Let me offer you my best wishes on the occasion of your betrothal, Countess Erika." He uttered the words very bravely, but Erika could not respond: she suddenly felt that she had cause to be ashamed of herself, although what that cause was she did not know.
"Are you acquainted with Lord Langley, Goswyn?" the old Countess asked, in the icy tone which she always assumed when any allusion was made to her grand-daughter's engagement.
"No. You can imagine how eager I am to hear about him."
"He is one of the most entertaining Englishmen I have ever met,--a very clever man," the Countess declared, as if discussing some one in whom she took no personal interest.
"It was not to be supposed that the Countess Erika would sacrifice her freedom to any ordinary individual," said Goswyn, with admirable self-control.
For all reply the Countess raised the clumsy teacup before her to her lips.
With every word thus spoken Erika's sense of shame deepened, and she was seized with an intense desire to be frank with Goswyn, and to dispel any illusion he might entertain as to her betrothal. "Lord Langley is no longer young," she said, hurriedly. "I will show you his photograph."
She went into the adjoining room and brought thence the photograph in its case, which she opened herself before handing it to Goswyn. He looked at the picture, then at her, and then again at the picture. His broad shoulders twitched; without a word he closed the case, and put it upon a table, beside which Erika had taken her seat.
An embarrassing silence ensued. The sound of rolling vehicles was heard distinctly from below, and one stopped before the dark door-way. Soon afterwards the staircase creaked beneath a heavy tread. Lüdecke opened the low door of the old-fashioned apartment, and announced, "Frau Countess Brock."