was there with the red-haired gaunt girl of the mountains; and it was
frankly stated by Henrietta, that she had accompanied the girl a certain
distance along the Strasburg road, for her to see the last of her brother
Chillon on his way to England. Livia was not the woman to push inquiries.
On that subject, she merely said, as soon as they were alone together:

'You seem to have had the lion's share of the parting.'

'Yes, we passed Mr. Chumley Potts,' was Henrietta's immediate answer; and
her reference to him disarmed Livia.

They smiled at his name transiently, but in agreement: the tattler-spout
of their set was, a fatal person to encounter, and each deemed the sudden
apparition of him in the very early morning along the Carlsruhe road
rather magical.

'You place particular confidence in Russett's fidelity to his word,
Riette--as you have been hearing yourself called. You should be serious
by this time. Russett won't bear much more. I counted on the night of the
Ball for the grand effect. You will extinguish every woman there--and if
he is absent?'

'I shall excuse him.'

'You are not in a position to be so charitable. You ought to know your
position, and yourself too, a little better than you do. How could you
endure poverty? Chillon Kirby stands in his uniform, and all's told. He
can manoeuvre, we know. He got the admiral away to take him to those
reviews cleverly. But is he thinking of your interests when he does it?
He requires twenty years of active service to give you a roof to your
head. I hate such allusions. But look for a moment at your character: you
must have ordinary luxuries and pleasures, and if you were to find
yourself grinding against common necessities--imagine it! Russett is
quite manageable. He is, trust me! He is a gentleman; he has more ability
than most young men: he can do anything he sets his mind to do. He has
his great estates and fortune all in his own hands. We call him
eccentric. He is only young, with a lot of power. Add, he's in love, and
some one distracts him. Not love, do you say?--you look it. He worships.
He has no chance given him to show himself at his best. Perhaps he is off
again now. Will you bet me he is not?'

'I should incline to make the bet, if I betted,' said Henrietta. 'His
pride is in his word, and supposing he's in love, it's with his pride,
which never quits him.'

'There's firmness in a man who has pride of that kind. You must let me
take you back to Bad