CHAPTER II.
The Baron was in high hopes of seeing the fair unknown at breakfast, butit seemed she must be either breakfasting in her own room or lying longabed.
"I think I shall go out for a little constitutional," said Mr Bunker, whenhe had finished. "I suppose the hotel has a stronger attraction for you."
"Ach, yes, I shall remain," his friend replied. "Pairhaps I may see zem."
"Take care then, Baron!"
"I shall not propose till you return, Bonker!"
"No," said Mr Bunker to himself, "I don't think you will."
Just outside St Egbert's there is a high breezy sweep of downs, fallingsuddenly to a chalky seaward cliff. It overlooks the town and theundulating inland country and a great spread of shining sea; and evenwithout a spy-glass you can see sail after sail and smoke-wreath aftersmoke-wreath go by all day long.
But Mr Bunker had apparently walked there for other reasons than to seethe view. He did stop once or twice, but it was only to scan the downsahead, and at the sight of a fluttering skirt he showed no interest inanything else, but made a straight line for its owner. For her part, thelady seemed to await his coming. She gathered her countenance into anexpression of as perfect unconcern as a little heightening of her colourwould allow her, and returned his salute with rather a distant bow. But MrBunker was not to be damped by this hint of barbed wire. He held out hishand and exclaimed cordially, "My dear Lady Alicia! this is charming ofyou!"
"Of course you understand, Mr Beveridge, it's only----"
"Perfectly," he interrupted, gaily; "I understand everything I should andnothing I shouldn't. In fact, I have altered little, except in thetrifling matter of a beard, a moustache or two, and, by the way, a name."
"A name?"
"I am now Francis Bunker, but as much at your service as ever."
"But why--I mean, have you really changed your name?"
"Circumstances have changed it, just as circumstances shaved me."
Lady Alicia made a great endeavour to look haughty. "I do not quiteunderstand, Mr----"
"Bunker--a temporary title, but suggestive, and simple for the tradesmen."
"I do not understand your conduct. Why have you changed your name?"
"Why not?"
This retort was so evidently unanswerable that Lady Alicia changed herinquiry.
"Where have you been?"
"Till yesterday, in London."
"Then you didn't go to your own parish?" she demanded, reproachfully.
"There were difficulties," he replied; "in fact, a certified lunatic isnot in great demand as a parish priest. They seem to prefer themuncertified."
"But didn't you try?"
"Hard, but it was no use. The bishop was out of town, and I had to waittill his return; besides, my position was somewhat insecure. I have had atleast two remarkable escapes since I saw you last."
"Are you safe here?" she asked, hurriedly.
"With your consent, yes."
She looked a little troubled. "I don't know that I am doing right, MrBev--Bunker, but----"
"Thank you, my friend," he interrupted, tenderly.
"Don't," she began, hastily. "You mustn't talk like----"
"Francis Beveridge?" he interrupted. "The trouble is, this rascal Bunkerbears an unconscionably awkward resemblance to our old friend."
"You must see that it is quite--ridiculous."
"Absurd," he agreed,--"perfectly preposterous. I laugh whenever I think ofit!"
Poor Lady Alicia felt like a man at a telephone who has been connectedwith the wrong person. Again she made a desperate shift to fall back on abecoming pride.
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
"If I mean anything at all, which is always rather doubtful," he replied,candidly, "I mean that Beveridge and his humbug were creatures of anoccasion, just as Bunker and his are of another. The one occasion ispassed, and with it the first entertaining gentleman has vanished intospace. The second gentleman will doubtless follow when his time is up. Infact, I may be said to be a series of dissolving views."
"Then isn't what you said true?"
"I'm afraid you must be more specific; you see I've talked so much."
"What you said about yourself--and your work."
He shook his head humorously. "I have no means of checking my statements."
She looked at him in a troubled way, and then her eyes fell.
"At least," she said, "you won't--you mustn't treat me as--as you did."
"As Beveridge did? Certainly not; Bunker is the soul of circumspection.Besides, he doesn't require to get out of an asylum."
"Then it was only to get away?" she cried, turning scarlet.
"Let us call it so," he replied, looking pensively out to sea.
It seemed wiser to Lady Alicia to change the subject.
"Who is the friend you are staying with?" she asked, suddenly.
"My old friend the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg, and your own most recentadmirer," he replied. "I am at present living with, in fact I may sayupon, him."
"Does he know?"
"If you meet him, you had perhaps better not inquire into my pasthistory."
"I meant, does he know about--about your knowing me?"
"Bless them!" thought Mr Bunker; "one forgets they're not _always_thinking about us!"
"My noble friend has no idea that I have been so fortunate," he replied.
Lady Alicia looked relieved. "Who is he?" she asked.
"A German nobleman of great wealth, long descent, and the mostaccommodating disposition. He is at present exploring England under myguidance, and I flatter myself that he has already seen and done a numberof things that are not on most programmes."
Lady Alicia was silent for a minute. Then she said with a littlehesitation, "Didn't you get a letter from me?"
"A letter? No," he replied, in some surprise.
"I wrote twice--because you asked me to, and I thought--I wondered if youwere safe."
"To what address did you write?"
"The address you gave me."
"And what was that?" he asked, still evidently puzzled.
"You said care of the Archbishop of York would find you."
Mr Bunker abruptly looked the other way.
"By Jove!" he said, as if lost in speculation, "I must find out what thematter was. I can't imagine why they haven't been forwarded."
Lady Alicia appeared a little dissatisfied.
"Was that a _real_ address?" she asked, suddenly.
"Perfectly," he replied; "as real as Pentonville Jail or the House ofCommons." ("And as likely to find me," he added to himself.)
Lady Alicia seemed to hesitate whether to pursue the subject further, butin the middle of her debate Mr Bunker asked, "By the way, has LadyGrillyer any recollection of having seen me before?"
"No, she doesn't remember you at all."
"Then we shall meet as strangers?"
"Yes, I think it would be better; don't you?"
"It will save our imaginations certainly."
Lady Alicia looked at him as though she expected something more; but asnothing came, she said, "I think it's time I went back."
"For the present then _au revoir_, my dear Alicia. I beg your pardon, LadyAlicia; it was that rascal Beveridge who made the slip. It now remains tomake your formal acquaintance."
"You--you mustn't try!"
"The deuce is in these people beginning with B!" he laughed. "They seem todo things without trying."
He pressed her hand, raised his hat, and started back to the town. She, onher part, lingered to let him get a clear start of her, and her blue eyeslooked as though a breeze had blown across and ruffled them.
Mr Bunker had reached the esplanade, and was sauntering easily backtowards the hotel, looking at the people and smiling now and then tohimself, when he observed with considerable astonishment two familiarfigures strolling towards him. They were none other than the Baron and theCountess, engaged in anim
ated conversation, and apparently on the verybest terms with each other. At the sight of him the Baron beamed joyfully.
"Aha, Bonker, so you haf returned!" he cried. "In ze meanvile I haf hadvun great good fortune. Let me present my friend Mr Bonker, ze LadyGrillyer."
The Countess bowed most graciously, and raising a pair oftortoise-shell-rimmed eye-glasses mounted on a stem of the same material,looked at Mr Bunker through these with a by no means disapproving glance.
At first sight it was evident that Lady Alicia must "take after" her noblefather. The Countess was aquiline of nose, large of person, and emphaticin her voice and manner.
"You are the 'showman,' Mr Bunker, are you not?" she said, with a smilefor which many of her acquaintances would have given a tolerablepercentage of their incomes.
"It seems," replied Mr Bunker, smiling back agreeably, "that the Baron isnow the showman, and I must congratulate him on his first venture."
For an instant the Countess seemed a trifle taken aback. It was aconsiderable number of years since she had been addressed in preciselythis strain, and in fact at no time had her admirers ventured quite sodashingly to the attack. But there was something entirely irresistible inMr Bunker's manner, partly perhaps because he never made the mistake ofheeding a first rebuff. The Countess coughed, then smiled a little again,and said to the Baron, "You didn't tell me that your showman supplied thelittle speeches as well."
"I could not know it; zere has not before been ze reason for a prettyspeech," responded the Baron, gallantly.
If Lady Grillyer had been anybody else, one would have said that sheactually giggled. Certainly a little wave of scandalised satisfactionrippled all over her.
"Oh, really!" she cried, "I don't know which of you is the worstoffender."
All this time, as may be imagined, Mr Bunker had been in a state of highmystification at his friend's unusual adroitness.
"How the deuce did he get hold of her?" he said to himself.
In the next pause the Baron solved the riddle.
"You vil vunder, Bonker," he said, "how I did gom to know ze LadyGrillyer."
"I envied, certainly," replied his friend, with a side glance at the nowpurring Countess.
"She vas of my introdogtions, bot till after you vent out zis morning Idid not lairn her name. Zen I said to myself, 'Ze sun shines, Himmel iskind! Here now is ze fair Lady Grillyer--my introdogtion!' and zo zat ishow, you see."
"To think of the Baron being here and our only finding each other out bychance!" said the Countess.
"By a fortunate providence for me!" exclaimed the Baron, fervently.
"Baron," said the Countess, trying hard to look severe, "you must reallykeep some of these nice speeches for my daughter. Which reminds me, Iwonder where she can be?"
"Ach, here she goms!" cried the Baron.
"Why, how did you know her?" asked the Countess.
"I--I did see her last night at dinnair," explained the Baron, turning red.
"Ah, of course, I remember," replied the Countess, in a matter-of-facttone; but her motherly eye was sharp, and already it began to look on thehighly eligible Rudolph with more approval than ever.
"My daughter Alicia, the Baron Rudolph von Blitzenberg, Mr Bunker," shesaid the next moment.
The Baron went nearly double as he bowed, and the flourish of his hatstirred the dust on the esplanade. Mr Bunker's salutation was lessprofound, but his face expressed an almost equal degree of interestedrespect. Her mother thought that when one of the gentlemen was a noblemanwith an indefinite number of thousands a-year and the other a person of somuch discrimination, Lady Alicia's own bow might have been a trifle lessreserved. But then even the most astute mother cannot know the reasons foreverything.
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