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"I know all about that; but, old boy, it's only for a few weeks I ask it, and for my sake, as a particular favor. I put it in that light." "Oh, well, really, dear boy, if you put it in that light, you know, of course, that I'll do any thing, even if it comes to letting myself be bored to death." "Just a visit a day or so." "A visit a day!" Hawbury looked aghast.
He relapsed into a sullen sort of gloom, and remained so for some time. At last he spoke: "Hawbury!" "Well?" "Have you found out who that fellow is?" "What fellow?" "Why that yellow Italian that goes prowling around after my wife." "Oh yes; I heard something or other today." "What was it?" "Well, it seems that he saved her life, or something of that sort." "Saved her life!" Dacres started.
As Dacres said this his face assumed so dark and gloomy an expression that Hawbury began to think that there was something serious in all this menace. "'Pon my life," said he, "my dear boy, I really don't think you're in a fit state to be allowed to go by yourself. You look quite desperate. I wish I could make you give up this infernal Roman notion."
She was prepared for it: I was not: and so she was as cool as when I saw her last, and, what is more, just as young and beautiful." "The devil!" cried Hawbury. Dacres poured out another glass of ale and drank it. His hand trembled slightly as he put down the glass, and he sat for some time in thought before he went on. "Well, Lady Dalrymple introduced us. It was Mrs. Willoughby!"
And now Hawbury kept his watch, and looked and listened and waited, ever mindful of his own immediate neighborhood, and guarding carefully against any approach. But his own place was in gloom, and no one would have thought of looking there, so that he was unobserved. But all his watching gave him no assistance toward finding out any way of rescuing Ethel.
Willoughby wished that he had come a little before, so that he could have taken the place beside the carriage where the Baron now was. But the place was now appropriated, and there was no chance for the Count. Girasole threw a dark look over them, which rested more particularly on Hawbury. Hawbury nodded lightly at the Count, and didn't appear to take any further notice of him.
None of the ladies were at the window, and so they did not see the easy nonchalance of Hawbury as he lounged into the house, or the stern face of Scone Dacres as he strode before him. During dinner the ladies conversed freely about "that horrid man," wondering what plan he would adopt to try to effect an entrance among them.
"'Yes, said I, gently, for I thought it was best to humor her delirious fancy. "Then she spoke again: "'Is that you, papa dear? "'Yes, darling, said I, in a low voice; and I kissed her in a kind of paternal way, so as to reassure her, and comfort her, and soothe her, and all that sort of thing, you know." At this Hawbury burst into a shout of laughter.
He stopped, and puffed away desperately at his cigar. "Don't keep a fellow in suspense this way," said Hawbury at last. "What's up? Out with it, man." "Well, you know, yesterday I called there." Hawbury nodded. "She was not at home." "So you said." "You know she really wasn't, for I told you that I met their carriage.
Well, I waited for about two months, and then " "Well?" asked Hawbury, as Dacres hesitated. "Dacres Grange was burned down," said the other, in a low voice. "Burned down!" "Yes." "Good Lord!" "It caught fire in the daytime. There were but few servants. No fire-engines were near, for the Grange was in a remote place, and so the fire soon gained headway and swept over all. My wife was frantic.
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