"He"s awful--perfectly awful!" said Mrs. Willoughby. "And the way he treated you! It was _so_ shocking."
"I know; and that"s just the horrid way he _always_ does," said Minnie, in a plaintive tone. "I"m sure _I_ don"t know what to do with him. And then he"s Lord Hawbury"s friend. So what _are_ we to do?"
[Ill.u.s.tration: "LOOK AT THE MAN!"]
"I don"t know, unless we leave Rome at once."
"But I don"t _want_ to leave Rome," said Minnie. "I hate being chased away from places by people--and they"d be sure to follow me, you know--and I don"t know what to do. And oh, Kitty darling, I"ve just thought of something. It would be so nice. What do you think of it?"
"What is it?"
"Why, this. You know the Pope?"
"No, I don"t."
"Oh, well, you"ve seen him, you know."
"Yes; but what has he got to do with it?"
"Why, I"ll get you to take me, and I"ll go to him, and tell him all about it, and about all these horrid men; and I"ll ask him if he can"t do something or other to help me. They have dispensations and things, you know, that the Pope gives; and I want him to let me dispense with these awful people."
"Nonsense!" said Mrs. Willoughby.
"I don"t see any nonsense in it at all. I"m in earnest," said Minnie; "and I think it"s a great shame."
"Nonsense!" said her sister again; "the only thing is for you to stay in your room."
"But I don"t want to stay in my room, and I can"t."
"Oh dear! what can I do with this child?" exclaimed Mrs. Willoughby, whose patience was giving way.
Upon this Minnie went over and kissed her, and begged to be forgiven; and offered to do any thing that darling Kitty wanted her to do.
After this they talked a good deal over their difficulty, but without being able to see their way out of it more clearly.
That evening they were walking up and down the balcony of the house.
It was a quadrangular edifice, and they had a suite of rooms on the second and third stories. They were on the balcony of the third story, which looked down into the court-yard below. A fountain was in the middle of this, and the moon was shining brightly.
The ladies were standing looking down, when Minnie gently touched her sister"s arm, and whispered,
"Look at the man!"
"Where?"
"By the fountain."
Mrs. Willoughby looked, and saw the face of a man who was standing on the other side of the fountain. His head rose above it, and his face was turned toward them. He evidently did not know that he was seen, but was watching the ladies, thinking that he himself was un.o.bserved.
The moment that Mrs. Willoughby looked at the face she recognized it.
"Come in," said she to Minnie. And drawing her sister after her, she went into the house.
"I knew the face; didn"t you, Kitty dear?" said Minnie. "It"s so easy to tell it. It was Scone Dacres. But what in the world does he want?
Oh dear! I hope _he_ won"t bother me."
CHAPTER XVI.
THE INTRUDER.
Judging from the Baron"s own words, it will be perceived that his comprehension of the situation was a little different from the actual fact. His idea was that his last letter had been received by Minnie in England, whereupon she had been seized with such an ungovernable longing to see him that she at once set out for Rome. She had not sent him any message, for she wished to surprise him. She had done so effectually. He was not merely surprised; he was overwhelmed, overjoyed, intoxicated with joy. This was indeed kind, he thought--the true part of a fond girl, who thus cast aside all silly scruples, and followed the dictates of her own n.o.ble and loving heart.
Now the fact that he had made a partial failure of his first visit to his charmer did not in the slightest degree disconcert him. He was naturally joyous, hilarious, and sanguine. His courage never faltered, nor could the brightness of his soul be easily dimmed. A disappointment on one day gave him but little trouble. It was quickly thrown off, and then his buoyant spirit looked forward for better fortune on the next day. The little disappointment which he had did not, therefore, prevent him from letting his reason feast and his soul flow with Lord Hawbury; nor, when that festive season was over, did it prevent him from indulging in the brightest antic.i.p.ations for the following day.
On the afternoon of that day, then, the Baron directed his steps toward the hotel where his charmer resided, his heart beating high, and the generous blood mantling his cheek, and all that sort of thing.
But the Baron was not alone. He had a companion, and this companion was an acquaintance whom he had made that morning. This companion was very tall, very thin, very sallow, with long, straggling locks of rusty black hair, white neck-tie, and a suit of rather seedy black clothes. In fact, it was the very stranger who had been arrested almost under his eyes as a Garibaldian. His case had come under the notice of the Baron, who had visited him, and found him not to be a Garibaldian at all, but a fellow-countryman in distress--in short, no less a person than the Reverend Saul Tozer, an esteemed clergyman, who had been traveling through Europe for the benefit of his health and the enlargement of his knowledge. This fellow-countryman in distress had at once been released by the Baron"s influence; and, not content with giving him his liberty, he determined to take him under his protection, and offered to introduce him to society; all of which generous offices were fully appreciated by the grateful clergyman.
The Baron"s steps were first directed toward the place above mentioned, and the Reverend Saul accompanied him. On reaching it he knocked, and asked for Miss Fay.
"Not at home," was the reply.
"Oh, well," said he, "I"ll go in and wait till she comes home. Come along, parson, and make yourself quite at home. Oh, never mind, young man," he continued to the servant; "I know the way. Come along, parson." And with these words he led the way into the reception-room, in which he had been before.
An elderly lady was seated there whom the Baron recognized as having seen before. It was Lady Dalrymple, whose name was, of course, unknown to him, since he had only exchanged a few words on his former visit.
But as he was naturally chivalrous, and as he was bent on making friends with all in the house, and as he was also in a glorious state of good-will to the entire human race, he at once advanced to the lady and made a low bow.
"How do you do, ma"am?"
Lady Dalrymple bowed good-naturedly, for she was good-natured to a fault.
"I suppose you remember me, ma"am," said the Baron, in rather a loud voice; for, as the lady was elderly, he had a vague idea that she was deaf--which impression, I may mention, was altogether unfounded--"I suppose you remember me, ma"am? But I haven"t had the pleasure of a regular introduction to you; so we"ll waive ceremony, if you choose, and I"ll introduce myself. I"m the Baron Atramonte, and this is my very particular friend, the Reverend Saul Tozer."
"I"m happy to make your acquaintance," said Lady Dalrymple, with a smile, and not taking the Baron"s offered hand--not, however, from pride, but simply from laziness--for she hated the bother, and didn"t consider it good taste.
"I called here, ma"am," said the Baron, without noticing that Lady Dalrymple had not introduced _herself_--"I called here, ma"am, to see my young friend, Miss Minnie Fay. I"m very sorry that she ain"t at home; but since I _am_ here, I rather think I"ll just set down and wait for her. I s"pose you couldn"t tell me, ma"am, about how long it"ll be before she comes in?"
Lady Dalrymple hadn"t any idea.
"All right," said the Baron; "the longer she keeps me waiting, the more welcome she"ll be when she does come. That"s all I"ve got to say."
So the Baron handed a chair to the Reverend Saul, and then selecting another for himself in a convenient position, he ensconced himself in it as snugly as possible, and sat in silence for a few minutes. Lady Dalrymple took no notice of him whatever, but appeared to be engrossed with some trifle of needle-work.
After about five minutes the Baron resumed the task of making himself agreeable.
He cleared his throat.
"Long in these parts, ma"am?" he asked.