The Count looked at him for a moment; perhaps a thought struck him just then that, after all, his brother might be sincere in his view of the matter, and might testify his sincerity by carrying off the prize for himself.

"Gad, he can't do that very well," said the Count to himself, with a merry laugh, when he came to reflect on the conversation, "or what would Jane say? The girl is useless to him, so what's the use of his talking nonsense? Her money is safe from him, if safe from anybody."

But the more the Count thought over the affair, the less did he like the tone that his brother had lately a.s.sumed in talking of Annie Brunel.

Further, he would have been as well pleased had he known that Miss Brunel was not _quite_ so comfortable in his brother's house.

These things were the subject of much conjecture and calculation on his part. They were also the theme of his after-dinner musings. Now, after-dinner dreams and resolves are very beautiful at times; but they should never be put down on paper. In an evil hour-it was one evening after he had dined, all by himself, in that great house down in Kent-he placed the following words in a letter to his brother:

"Balnacluith House, near St. Mary-Kirby, "Jan. 17, 18-.

"DEAR JOHN,

"Let me add a word to what I recently said about Miss Brunel. It is _your_ interest to forward _my_ interest, as you will discover. Now, I am afraid you are treating her with so much mistaken kindness that she will get to consider the position of governess pleasant. This is misleading her. She will only suffer for it afterwards. Nothing like wholesome severity at the time-nothing. Hubert Anerley came to me and asked me to lend him some money and let him off a bargain about my brougham and a pair of horses. Did I? I knew it would only delude him with absurd hopes, and I said no; and so he accepted his fate, and I suppose has set about repairing a fortune lost by his own carelessness.

That's _my_ way, Jack; and you're too kind to the girl. Get Jane to try some wholesome severity-to teach her what a governess is-frighten her-threaten to turn her out without a character, or something of the sort. Anything, so she is made to understand how insecure her position is. You understand? Then I step in, and our family becomes one of the richest in England. What do you say to that? Do it at once-and firmly.

It will be better to be done _decisively-very decisively-and soon_.

"Your affectionate brother, "FRED. v. SCHoNSTEIN."

Frederick von Schonstein should have seen his brother's face when that letter arrived. It was not an expressive face; but on this occasion there were several emotions clearly visible in it, and they were not of a mournful kind. Indeed, John Hubbard looked upon this letter as worth thousands of pounds to him. It was the key of the position. He showed it to his wife.

"What a brute!" she said, "to think of harming the poor girl. I have never liked your brother, my dear, since he began to try to entrap this girl, but now I am beginning to hate him."

And doubtless Mrs. Hubbard imagined, quite honestly, that it was merely compa.s.sion for her charming and unprotected governess which provoked her mild wrath and contempt.

"Fred's a fool, my dear, or he wouldn't have written that letter."

"Why?"

"Don't you see?" observed the husband, proud of his superior masculine perspicacity; "whenever he seeks to interfere with her, or with our relations towards her, we have only to show her this letter, and I think that will considerably cook his goose."

It was not often that the meek and proper brother of the Count was tempted into slang; but on this great occasion, when a lucky chance had delivered everything into his hands, he could not forbear.

Count Schonstein never waited for that course of severity which was to render Annie Brunel an easy capture. His solitary life at Balnacluith House was becoming more and more unbearable; and so, at length, he resolved to precipitate matters.

One forenoon, when he knew his brother would be out, he went up to Haverstock Hill. His sister-in-law was a little frightened by his appearance. She so far knew her own nature as to be aware that the Count had only to command and she would obey. _How_ she wished that her husband were at home!

The Count was gracious, but firm. He begged her to grant him an interview with Miss Brunel, in tones which expressed his resolution to obtain the interview, whether his gentle sister-in-law agreed or not.

For a moment a lie hovered on her lips; but probably she knew it would be of no avail; and so she only ventured on a remonstrance.

"If you do this now," said Mrs. John, "you will terrify her. She is not prepared. She does not know you are connected with us--"

"I can explain all these matters," said the Count, peremptorily.

"Very well," said his sister-in-law, meekly.

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 advertis.e.m.e.nt-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 a.s.sertions. 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 advertis.e.m.e.nt _was_ a trap?" she said, fixing her large honest eyes upon him.

"But, you see--"

"And they have been treating me kindly, and deceiving me at the same time, that you might come--?"

"Don't say that," said the Count, deprecatingly. "They deceived you with the best intentions towards yourself. And have I not the same intentions? Look at your position-a governess, dependent on other people for your bread, liable to be out of a situation and starving at any moment, bound down to certain duties every day, and living a solitary monotonous life. Then look at what you would be if you would only listen to me; you would have nothing to do but enjoy yourself from January to December-you would have everything at your command--"

"I think I have heard quite enough, Count Schonstein," she said, firmly.

"And you would have spared both of us some pain if you had taken the answer I gave you before."

"And that is your only answer?"

"It is."

"How can you be so cruel?-so unreasonable? What do you mean to do?"

"I mean to leave this house."

"Why?" he said, struck with astonishment.

"_You_ need not ask me why. You have been a good friend to me, and I do not wish to part from you in anger. You have been kind to me. I am sorry it is impossible for me to ask you to see me again. I do not wish to see you again, or Mr. or Mrs. Hubbard, after what you have just told me."

She left the room, and the Count sate staring blindly before him, remotely conscious that something terrible had befallen him. The next thing he saw was Annie Brunel entering the drawing-room, followed by Mrs. John. The younger lady was dressed in black, and had now her bonnet and shawl on.

"Dear me!" said Mrs. Hubbard. "You astonish me. Deceive you? Never such a thought entered my head. And as for that advertis.e.m.e.nt, it was no trap at all, but addressed to all governesses. Of course we knew that you _might_ see it, and we were very glad when you did see it; but that we intentionally deceived you, I appeal to Count Schonstein, Miss Brunel."

"What I know of these matters, Mrs. Hubbard, I have just learned from Count Schonstein," she said, coldly. "I don't accuse any one. Perhaps you did nothing unusual. I don't know anything about the customs among ladies. I have been brought up amongst another kind of people. Good morning."

There was no resentment on the calm and beautiful face, nor the least touch of sarcasm in the low soft voice. There was sadness, however-a resigned, patient sadness, that smote the heart of both her auditors, and kept them silent there, while she went outside-into London, alone.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.