In the ardor of his penitence he discovered himself holding her hand; she no longer seemed to be recoiling; and Heaven knows what might have happened next if an ostentatious sound of whistling had not come to their rescue.
"Bot you vill forgive?" he whispered, as they sprang up from their shady seat.
"Ye-es," she answered, just as the serene glance of Count Bunker fell humorously upon them.
"You seem to have been plucking flowers, Tulliwuddle," he observed.
"Flowers? Oh, no."
The Count glanced pointedly at his soiled knee.
"Indeed!" said he. "Don't I see traces of a flower-bed?"
"I think I should go in," murmured Eva, and she was gone before the Count had time to frame a compensating speech.
His friend Tulliwuddle looked at him with marked displeasure, yet seemed to find some difficulty in adequately expressing it.
"I do not care for vat you said," he remarked stiffly. "Nor for ze look now on your face."
"Baron," said the Count imperturbably, "what did you tell me the Wraith said to you--something about 'Beware of the ladies,' wasn't it?"
"You do not onderstand. Ze ghost" (he found some difficulty in pronouncing the spirit's chosen name)
"did soppose naturally zat I vas ze real Lord Tollyvoddle, who is, as you have told me yourself, Bonker, somezing of a fast fish. Ze varning vas to him obviously, so you should not turn it upon me."
Bunker opened his eyes.
"A deuced ingenious argument," he commented.
"It wouldn't have occurred to me if you hadn't explained. Then you claim the privilege of wooing whom you wish?"
"Wooing! You forget zat I am married, Bonker."
"Oh no, I remember perfectly."
His tone disturbed the Baron. Taking the Count's arm, he said to him with moving earnestness--"Have I not told you how constant I am--like ze magnet and ze pole?"
"I have heard you employ the simile."
"Ach, bot it is true! I am inside my heart so constant as it is possible! But I now represent Tollyvoddle, and for his sake most try to do my best."
Again Count Bunker glanced at his knee.
"And that is your best, then?"
"Listen, Bonker, and try to onderstand--not jost to make jokes. It appears to me zat Miss Gallosh vill make a good vife to Tollyvoddle. She is so fair, so amiable, and so rich. Could he do better? Should I not lay ze foundations of a happy marriage mit her? Soppose ve do get her instead of Miss Maddison, eh?"
His artful eloquence seemed to impress his friend, for he smiled thoughtfully and did not reply at once.
More persuasively than ever the Baron continued--"I do believe mit patience and mit--er--mit kindness, Bonker, I might persuade Miss Gallosh to listen to ze proposal of Tollyvoddle. And vould it not be better far to get him a lady of his own people, and not a stranger from America? Ve vill not like Miss Maddison, I feel sure. Vy troble mit her--eh, Bonker?"
"But don't you think, Baron, that we ought to give Tulliwuddle his choice? He may prefer an American heiress to a Scottish."
"Not if he sees Eva Gallosh!"
Again the Count gently raised his eyebrows in a way that the Baron could not help considering unsuitable to the occasion.
"On the other hand, Baron, Miss Maddison will probably have five or ten times as much money as Miss Gallosh. In arranging a marriage for another man, one must attend to such trifles as a few million dollars more or less."
For the moment the Baron was silenced, but evidently not convinced.
"Supposing I were to call upon the Maddisons as your envoy?" suggested Bunker, who, to tell the truth, had already begun to tire of a life of luxurious inaction.
"Pairhaps in a few days we might gonsider it."
"We have been here for a week already."
"Ven vould you call?"
"To-morrow, for instance."
The Baron frowned; but argument was difficult.
"You only jost vill go to see?"
"And report to you."
"And suppose she is ogly--or not so nice--or so on----zen vill I not see her, eh?"
"But suppose she is tolerable?"
"Zen vill ve give him a choice, and I vill continue to be polite to Miss Gallosh. Ah, Bonker, she is so nice! He vill not like Miss Maddison so vell!
Himmel, I do admire her!"
The Baron's eyes shone with reminiscent affection.
"To how many poles is the magnet usually constant?" inquired the Count with a serious air.
The Baron smiled a little foolishly, and then, with a confidential air, replied--"Ach, Bonker, marriage is blessed and it is happy, and it is everyzing that my heart desires; only I jost sometimes vish it vas not qvite--qvite so uninterruptable!"
