CHAPTER XIX
While the Baron was thus loyally doing his duty, his Baroness, beingignorant of the excellence of his purpose, and knowing only that he haddeceived her in one matter, and that the descent to Avernus is easy,passed a number of very miserable days. That heart-breaking "us both"kept her awake at nights and distraught throughout the day, and when fora little she managed to explain the phrase away, and tried to anchorher trust in Rudolph once more, the vision of the St. Petersburg windowoverlooking the crops would come to shatter her confidence. She wrotea number of passionate replies, but as the Baron in making hisarrangements with his Russian friend had forgotten to provide him withhis Scotch address, these letters only reached him after the eventsof this chronicle had passed into history. Strange to say, her onlyconsolation was that neither her mother nor Sir Justin was able tosupply any further evidence of any kind whatsoever. One would naturallysuppose that the assistance they had gratuitously given would havemade her feel eternally indebted to them; but, on the contrary, she wasactually inconsistent enough to resent their head-shakings nearly asmuch as her Rudolph's presumptive infidelity. So that her lot was indeedto be deplored.
At last a second letter came, and with trembling fingers, locked in herroom, the forsaken lady tore the curiously bulky envelope apart. Then,at the sight of the enclosure that had given it this shape, her heartlightened once more.
"A sprig of white heather!" she cried. "Ah, he loves me still!"
With eager eyes she next devoured the writing accompanying this token;and as the Baron's head happened to be clearer when he composed thissecond epistle, and his friend's hints peculiarly judicious, it conveyedso plausible an account of his proceedings, and contained so manyexpressions of his unaltered esteem, that his character was completelyreinstated in her regard.
Having read every affectionate sentence thrice over, and given hisexceedingly interesting statements of fact the attention they deserved,she once more took up the little bouquet and examined it more curiouslyand intently. She even untied the ribbon, when, lo and behold! therefell a tiny and tightly folded twist of paper upon the floor. Preparingherself for a delicious bit of sentiment, she tenderly unfolded andsmoothed it out.
"Verses!" she exclaimed rapturously; but the next instant her pleasuregave place to a look of the extremest mystification.
"What does this mean?" she gasped.
There was, in fact, some excuse for her perplexity, since the precisetext of the enclosure ran thus:
"TO LORD TULLIWUDDLE.
"O Chieftain, trample on this heath Which lies thy springing foot beneath! It can recover from thy tread, And once again uplift its head! But spare, O Chief, the tenderer plant, Because when trampled on, it can't! "EVA."
Too confounded for coherent speculation, the Baroness continued to stareat this baffling effusion. Who Lord Tulliwuddle and Eva were; whythis glimpse into their drama (for such it appeared to be) should beforwarded to her; and where the Baron von Blitzenberg came into thestory--these, among a dozen other questions, flickered chaoticallythrough her mind for some minutes. Again and again she studied thecryptogram, till at last a few definite conclusions began to crystallizeout of the confusion. That the "tenderer plant" symbolized the ladyherself, that she was a person to be regarded with extreme suspicion,and that emphatically the bouquet was never originally intended for theBaroness von Blitzenberg, all became settled convictions. The fact thatshe knew Tulliwuddle to be an existing peerage afforded her some relief;yet the longer she pondered on the problem of Rudolph's part in theepisode, the more uneasy grew her mind.
Composing her face before the mirror till it resumed its normalround-eyed placidity, she locked the letter and its contents in a safeplace, and sought out her mother.
"Did you get any letter, dear, by the last post?" inquired the Countessas soon as she had entered the room.
"Nothing of importance, mamma."
That so sweet and docile a daughter should stoop to deceit wasinconceivable. The Countess merely frowned her disappointment andresumed the novel which she was beguiling the hours between eating andeating again.
"Mamma," said the Baroness presently, "can you tell me whether heatheris found in many other European countries?"
The Countess raised her firmly penciled eyebrows.
"In some, I believe. What a remarkable question, Alicia."
"I was thinking about Russia," said Alicia with an innocent air. "Do yousuppose heather grows there?"
The Countess remembered the floral symptoms displayed by Ophelia, andgrew a trifle nervous.
"My child, what is the matter?"
"Oh, nothing," replied Alicia hastily.
A short silence followed, during which she was conscious of undergoing acurious scrutiny.
"By the way, mamma," she found courage to ask at length, "do you knowanything about Lord Tulliwuddle?"
Lady Grillyer continued uneasy. These irrelevant questions undoubtedlyindicated a mind unhinged.
"I was acquainted with the late Lord Tulliwuddle."
"Oh, he is dead, then?"
"Certainly."
Alicia's face clouded for a moment, and then a ray of hope lit it again.
"Is there a present Lord Tulliwuddle?"
"I believe so. Why do you ask?"
"I heard some one speak of him the other day."
She spoke so naturally that her mother began to feel relieved.
"Sir Justin Wallingford can tell you all about the family, if you arecurious," she remarked.
"Sir Justin!"
Alicia recoiled from the thought of him. But presently her curiosityprevailed, and she inquired--
"Does he know them well?"
"He inherited a place in Scotland a number of years ago, youremember. It is somewhere near Lord Tulliwuddle'splace--Hech--Hech--Hech-something-or-other Castle. He was very wellacquainted with the last Tulliwuddle."
"Oh," said Alicia indifferently, "I am not really interested. It wasmere idle curiosity."
For the greater part of twenty-four hours she kept this mystery lockedwithin her heart, till at last she could contain it no longer. Theresolution she came to was both desperate and abruptly taken. At fiveminutes to three she was resolved to die rather than mention that sprigof heather to a soul; at five minutes past she was on her way to SirJustin Wallingford's house.
"It may be going behind mamma's back," she said to herself; "but shewent behind mine when SHE consulted Sir Justin."
It was probably in consequence of her urgent voice and agitated mannerthat she came to be shown straight into Sir Justin's library, withoutwarning on either side, and thus surprised her counsellor in the actof softly singing a well-known hymn to the accompaniment of a smallharmonium. He seemed for a moment to be a trifle embarrassed, and theglance he threw at his footman appeared to indicate an early vacancyin his establishment; but as soon as he had recovered his customarysolemnity his explanation reflected nothing but credit upon hischaracter.
"The fact is," said he, "that I am shortly going to rejoin my daughterin Scotland. You are aware of her disposition, Baroness?"
"I have heard that she is inclined to be devotional."
"She is devotional," answered this excellent man. "I have takenconsiderable pains to see to it. As your mother and I have often agreed,there is no such safeguard for a young girl as a hobby or mania of thissort."
"A hobby or mania?" exclaimed the Baroness in a pained voice.
Sir Justin looked annoyed. He was evidently surprised to find that theprinciples inculcated by his old friend and himself appeared to outlivethe occasion for which they were intended--to wit, the protectionof virgin hearts from undesirable aspirations till calm reason and ahusband should render them unnecessary.
"I use the terms employed by the philosophical," he hastened to explain;"but my own opinion is inclined to coincide with yours, my dear Alicia."
This paternal use of her Christian name, coupled with the k
indly tone ofhis justification, encouraged the Baroness to open her business.
"Sir Justin," she began, "can I trust you--may I ask you not to tell mymother that I have visited you?"
"If you can show me an adequate reason, you may rely upon mydiscretion," said the ex-diplomatist cautiously, yet with an encouragingsmile.
"In some things one would sooner confide in a man than a woman, SirJustin."
"That is undoubtedly true," he agreed cordially. "You may confide in me,Baroness."
"I have heard from my husband again. I need not show you the letter;it is quite satisfactory--oh, quite, I assure you! Only I found thisenclosed with it."
In breathless silence she watched him examine critically first theheather and then the verses.
"Lord Tulliwuddle!" he exclaimed. "Is there anything in the Baron'sletter to throw any light upon this?"
"Not one word--not the slightest hint."
Again he studied the paper.
"Oh, what does it mean?" she cried. "I came to you because you know allabout the Tulliwuddles. Where is Lord Tulliwuddle now?"
"I am not acquainted with the present peer," he ansevered meditatively."In fact, I know singularly little about him. I did hear--yes, I heardfrom my daughter some rumor that he was shortly expected to visit hisplace in Scotland; but whether he went there or not I cannot say."
"You can find out for me?"
"I shall lose no time in ascertaining."
The Baroness thanked him effusively, and rose to depart with a mind alittle comforted.
"And you won't tell mamma?"
"I never tell a woman anything that is of any importance."
The Baroness was confirmed in her opinion that Sir Justin was not a verynice man, but she felt an increased confidence in his judgment.
Count Bunker Page 19