Count Bunker Part 28

He cautiously examined the painting.

"It is vary pretty."

"Do you know Romney's work?"

The Baron shrank back.

"Not again to-day, please!"

Miss Maddison opened her handsome eyes to their widest.

"My word!" she cried. "If these are Highland manners, Lord Tulliwuddle!"

In extreme confusion the Baron stammered--

"I beg your pardon! Forgif me--but--ach, not zose questions, please!"

Relenting a little, she inquired

"What may I ask you, then? Do tell me! You see I want just to know all about you."

With an affrighted gesture the Baron turned to his friend.

"Bonker," said he, "she does vant to know yet more about me! Vill you please to tell her."

The Count looked up from the curios with an expression so bland that the air began to clear even before he spoke.

"Miss Maddison, I must explain that my friend's proud Highland spirit has been a little disturbed by some inquiries, made in all good faith by your father. No offence, I am certain, was intended; erroneous information--a little hastiness in jumping to conclusions--a sensitive nature wounded by the least insinuation--such were the unfortunate causes of Tulliwuddle's excusable reticence. Believe me, if you knew all, your opinion of him would alter very, very considerably!"

The perfectly accurate peroration to this statement produced an immediate effect.

"What a shame!" cried Eleanor, her eyes sparkling brightly. "Lord Tulliwuddle, I am so sorry!"

The Baron looked into these eyes, and his own mien altered perceptibly.

For an instant he gazed, and then in a low voice remarked--

"By ze Gad!"

"Once!" counted the conscientious Bunker.

"Lord Tulliwuddle," she continued, "I declare I feel so ashamed of those stupid men, I could just wring their necks! Now, just to make us quits, you ask me anything in the world you like!"

Over his shoulder the Baron threw a stealthy glance at his friend, but this time he did not invoke his a.s.sistance. Instead, he again murmured very distinctly--

"By ze Gad!"

"Twice!" counted Bunker.

"Miss Maddison," said the Baron to the flushed and eager girl, "am I to onderstand zat you now are satisfied zat I am not too vicked, too suspeecious, too unvorthy of your charming society? I do not say I am yet vorthy--bot jost not too bad!"

Had the Baroness at that moment heard merely the intonation of his voice, she would undoubtedly have preferred a Chinese prison.

"Indeed, Lord Tulliwuddle, you may."

"By ze Gad!" announced the Baron, in a voice braced with resolution.

"May I take the liberty of inspecting the aviary?" said the Count.

"With the very greatest pleasure," replied the heiress kindly.

His last distinct impression as he withdrew was of the Baron giving his mustache a more formidable twirl.

"A very pretty little scene," he reflected, as he strolled out in search of others. "Though, hang me, I'm not sure if it ended in the right man leaving the stage!"

This "second-fiddle feeling," as he styled it humorously to himself, was further increased by the demeanor of Miss Gallosh, to whom he now endeavored to make himself agreeable. Though sharing the universal respect felt for the character and talents of the Count, she was evidently too perturbed at seeing him appear alone to appreciate his society as it deserved. Ever since luncheon poor Eva's heart had been sinking. The beauty, the a.s.surance, the cleverness, and the charm of the fabulously wealthy American heiress had filled her with vague misgivings even while the gentlemen were safely absent; but when Miss Maddison was summoned away, and her father and brother took her place, her uneasiness vastly increased. Now here was the last buffer removed between the chieftain and her audacious rival (so she already counted her). What drama could these mysterious movements have been leading to?

In vain did Count Bunker exercise his unique powers of conversation.

In vain did he discourse on the beauties of nature as displayed in the wooded valley and the towering hills, and the beauties of art as exhibited in the aviary and the new fir forest. Eva's thoughts were too much engrossed with the beauties of woman, and their dreadful consequences if improperly used.

"Is--is Miss Maddison still in the house?" she inquired, with an effort to put the question carelessly.

"I believe so," said the Count in his kindest voice.

"And--and--that isn't Lord Tulliwuddle with my father, is it?"

"I believe not," said the Count, still more sympathetically.

She could no longer withhold a sigh, and the Count tactfully turned the conversation to the symbolical eagle arrived that morning from Mr.

Maddison's native State.

They had pa.s.sed from the aviary to the flower garden, when at last they saw the Baron and Eleanor appear. She joined the rest of the party, while he, walking thoughtfully in search of his friend, advanced in their direction. He raised his eyes, and then, to complete Eva's concern, he started in evident embarra.s.sment at discovering her there also. To do him justice, he quickly recovered his usual politeness. Yet she noticed that he detained the Count beside him and showed a curious tendency to discourse solely on the fine quality of the gravel and the advantages of having a brick facing to a garden wall.

"My lord," said Mr. Gallosh, approaching them, "would you be thinking of going soon? I've noticed Mr. Maddison's been taking out his watch verra frequently."

"Certainly, certainly!" cried my lord. "Oh, ve have finished all ve have come for."

Eva started, and even Mr. Gallosh looked a trifle perturbed.

"Yes," added the Count quickly, "we have a very good idea of the heating system employed. I quite agree with you: we can leave the rest to your engineer."

But even his readiness failed to efface the effects of his friend's unfortunate admission.

Farewells were said, the procession reformed, the pipers struck up, and amidst the heartiest expressions of pleasure from all, the chieftain and his friends marched off to the spot where (out of sight of Lincoln Lodge) the forethought of their manager had arranged that the carriages should be waiting.

"Well," said Bunker, when they found themselves in their room again, "what do you think of Miss Maddison?"

The Baron lit a cigar, gazed thoughtfully and with evident satisfaction at the daily deepening shade of tan upon his knees, and then answered slowly--