"As Miss Dalton's admirer, I hope rumor adds that," said she, hastily.

"What? are you really serious? Has the Dalton pretensions?"

"Perhaps not; but the Prince has," interrupted Lady Hester. "But you are forgetting these people all the while. Do pray do something anything with them; and don't forget us at eight o'clock." And with this Lady Hester hurried from the room, as if admonished by her watch of the lateness of the hour, but really anxious to escape further interrogatory from the Viscount.

When Norwood reached the court, he was surprised to find it empty; not one of the eager creditors remained, but all was still and silent.

"What has become of these good people?" asked he of the porter.

"The stranger who arrived in the caleche awhile ago spoke a few words to them, and they went."

This was all that he knew, and being a porter, one of that privileged caste whose prerogative it is never to reveal what takes place before their eyes, his present communication was remarkable.

"Would that the good genius had remembered me in his moment of generous abandonment!" muttered Norwood, as he took his road homeward to dress for dinner.

Little scrupulous about the means of getting out of a difficulty, provided it were only successful, Norwood scarcely bestowed another thought upon the whole matter, and lounged along the streets, as forgetful of the late scene as though it had pa.s.sed twenty years before.

As the Viscount strolled along towards his lodgings, Kate Dalton, with trembling limbs and palpitating heart, threaded her way through the thronged streets, now wet and slippery from a thin rain that was falling. So long as her road lay through the less-frequented thoroughfares, her appearance excited little or no attention in the pa.s.sers-by; but when she entered the Piazza Santa Trinita, all ablaze with gas-lamps and the reflected lights from brilliant shops, many stopped, turned, and gazed at the strange sight of a young and beautiful girl, attired in the very height of fashion, being alone and afoot at such an hour. Unaccountable even to mystery, as it seemed, there was something in her gait and carriage that at once repelled the possibility of a disparaging impression, and many touched or removed their hats respectfully as they made way for her to pa.s.s. To avoid the carriages, which whirled past in every direction and at tremendous speed, she pa.s.sed close along by the houses; and, in doing so, came within that brilliant glare of light that poured from the gla.s.s doors of the great Cafe of the Piazza. It was exactly the hour when the idle loungers of Florence society that listless cla.s.s who form the staple of our club life in England were swarming to talk of the plans of the evening, what resources of pleasure were available, and what receptions were open.

The drizzling rain, and the cold, raw feeling of the air prevented their being seated, as their custom was, before the doors, where in every att.i.tude of graceful languor they habitually smoked their cigars and discussed the pa.s.sersby, in all the plenitude of recreative indolence.

The group consisted of men of every age and country.

There were princes and blacklegs and adventurers; some with real rank and fortune, others as dest.i.tute of character as of means. Many owned names great and renowned in history; others bore designations only chronicled in the records of criminal jurisprudence. All were well dressed, and, so far as cursory notice could detect, possessed the ease and bearing of men familiar with the habits of good society. Although mixing in very distinct circles, here, at least, they met every day on terms of familiar equality, discussing the politics of the hour and the events of the world with seeming frankness and candor.

From a small chamber at the back of the cafe, a little tide of loungers seemed to ebb and flow; while the sharp rattling sound of a dice-box indicated the nature of the occupation that went forward there. The small apartment was thronged with spectators of the game; and even around the door several were standing, content to hear the tidings of a contest they could not witness.

"To sit upon the Ponte Carraja, and chuck rouleaux of gold into the Arno, would be to the full as amusing, and not a more costly pastime,"

said a sharp, ringing voice, which, once heard, there was no difficulty in recognizing as Haggerstone's.

"But Onslow plays well," said another.

"When he's in luck, sir," said the Colonel. "Let him always have the winning horse to ride, and I don't say he 'll lose the saddle; but Maraffi would win on a donkey."

"Is he a Russian?" asked one.

"No, sir, he 's worse; he 's a Greek. I know everything about him. His mother was a Finlander, and the father a Cephalonian. I don't think Satan himself would ask a better parentage."

"What luck! By Jove! I never saw such luck!" said a voice from within the door. "Onslow has no chance with him."

"Nor will you, sir, if you persist in expressing your opinion in English," said Haggerstone. "Maraffi speaks every language, plays every game, and knows the use of every weapon, from a jereed to a Joe Manton."

"I 'll not test his abilities at any of them," said the other, laughing.

"_Per Baccho!_ there goes something new," said a young Italian, from the window that looked into the street. "Who's she?"

"_Diantre!_" said the old Duc de Parivaux. "That is something very exquisite, indeed. She was splashed by that carriage that pa.s.sed, and I just saw her foot."

"She's the prima donna from Milan."

"She 's the Cipriani. I know her figure perfectly."

"She 's very like the Princesse de Raoule."

"Taller, and younger."

"And fifty times handsomer. What eyes! By Jove! I wish the drosky would never move on! She is regularly imprisoned there."

"You are very ungallant, gentlemen, I must say," said the young Count de Guilmard, the French secretary of legation, who, having finished his coffee and liquor, coolly arranged his curls beneath his hat before the gla.s.s, "very ungallant, indeed, not to offer an arm to an unprotected princess. We Frenchmen understand our devoirs differently." And, so saying, he pa.s.sed out into the street, while the rest pressed up closer to the window to observe his proceedings.

"Cleverly done, Guilmard!" cried one. "See how he affects to have protected her from the pole of that carriage."

"She 'll not notice him." "She will." "She has." "She has n't." "She is moving his way!" "Not at all."

"She 's speaking!" "There, I told you he 'd succeed."

"But he hasn't, though." Amid all these phrases, which rattled on more rapidly than we can write them, Onslow joined the party, one heavy venture on a single card having involved him in a tremendous loss.

"Is that a countrywoman of yours, Onslow?" asked a young Russian n.o.ble.

"If so, the entente cordiale with France seems scarcely so secure as statesmen tell us."

Onslow gave one glance through the window, and dashed into the street with a bound like the spring of a wild animal. He threw himself between Guilmard and Kate. The Frenchman lifted his cane, and the same instant he fell backwards upon the pavement, rather hurled than struck down by the strong arm of the young Guardsman. Before the lookers-on could hasten out, George had hailed a carriage, and, a.s.sisting Kate in, took his seat beside her, and drove off.

So sudden was the whole incident, and so engrossing the terror of poor Kate's mind, that she saw nothing of what pa.s.sed, and was merely conscious that by George's opportune coming she was rescued from the insolent attentions of the stranger.

"Did he speak to you? Did he dare to address you?" asked Onslow, in a voice which boiling pa.s.sion rendered almost unintelligible.

"If he did, I know not," said she, as she covered her face with shame, and struggled against the emotion that almost choked her.

"He took your arm; he certainly laid hold of your hand!"

"It was all so rapid that I can tell nothing," said she, sobbing; "and although my courage never failed me till you came, then I thought I should have fainted."

"But how came you alone, and on foot, and at such an hour, too? Where had you been?"

These questions he put with a sort of stern resolution that showed no evasive answer would rescue her.

"Did you leave home without a carriage, or even a servant?" asked he again, as no answer was returned to his former question.

"I did take a carriage in the morning; and and--"

"Sent it away again," continued George, impetuously. "And where did you drive to, where pa.s.s the day?"

Kate hung her head in silence, while her heart felt as if it would burst from very agony.

"This is no idle curiosity of mine, Miss Dalton," said he, speaking with a slow and measured utterance. "The society you have mixed with here is not above any reproach nor beneath any suspicion. I insist upon knowing where you have been, and with whom? So, then, you refuse to speak, you will not tell. If it be Lady Hester's secret--"

"No, no! The secret is mine, and mine only. I swear to you, by all we both believe in, that it has no concern with any one save myself."

[Ill.u.s.tration: 470]