They drew up at Colonel Redacre’s door, and the two girls, thanking Mme. Léopold for her kindness, wished her and Blanche good-night.
At a preternaturally early hour next morning Mme. Léopold presented herself at Mrs. Monteagle’s.
“I make no apologies,” she said on being admitted into that lady’s dressing-room. “The case is so urgent that I could not delay an hour. Did you speak yesterday to the Redacres about that absurd idea of mine?”
“You mean did I offer your son’s hand to Pearl?”
“Oh! you have done it. We are compromised!” exclaimed Mme. Léopold in despair.
“Console yourself, madame; I had not an opportunity of doing your commission—”
“You have said nothing! I thank Heaven! Then indeed we have had a narrow escape. My son is so chivalrous there is no saying what folly he might have committed had he known it.”
“Known what?”
“That I had asked Pearl in marriage for him. Happily, he has not the faintest suspicion of anything. But I am heartily sorry for the poor child,” continued Mme. Léopold, finding room in her heart to pity Pearl the moment her terrors for Léon were allayed. “I feel deeply for her. The disappointment will be a terrible blow, she is so much in love with my son. That is the dreadful part of your English way of doing things; but it is no fault of mine.”