In a minute afterwards, Annie Brunel entered the room. No sooner did she see who the visitor was, than a surprised pleased light came into her eyes, and the heart of the Count leapt for joy. How beautiful she was to him then! The big bright eyes, the delicately rounded chin, the pretty mouth, the fine southern languor, and grace, and softness of her face and figure—and the cold, cheerless, empty desolation of Balnacluith House!
She shook hands with him.
"How did you discover me here?"
"Don't you know?" he asked. "Don't you know that Mrs. Hubbard is my sister-in-law—that her husband is my brother—have they never spoken of me?"
In an instant the whole thing was laid bare to her. She understood now the extraordinary courtesy of her mistress; she understood now the references made by the children to the deer that their uncle Frederick kept; and the advertisement—she saw that that was a trap. The discovery shocked her a little, but it also nerved her. She knew she had been deceived; she was yet unaware of any purpose that the deception could serve; but she confronted the Count with an intrepid spirit, and looked him in the face.
That look terrified him. "Have I," he thought, "made another blunder?"
The next moment found him entering on a long series of explanations, entreaties, and superfluous assertions. It had all been done honestly. They were afraid she would be homeless. They had advertised out of friendly intention—in perfect good faith. He had refrained from visiting the house, lest she should consider herself persecuted. The Hubbards had not mentioned his name, fearing that even that might frighten her.
For a minute or two these rapid revelations and confessions somewhat confused her. But out of the blundering representations of the Count arose certain facts strong and clear as the daylight.
"That advertisement was a trap?" she said, fixing her large honest eyes upon him.
"But, you see——"