“You say she is cleverer than you. It ‘s impossible to be cleverer than you.”
“Oh, come, Longueville!” said Gordon, angrily.
“I am speaking very seriously. You have done a remarkably clever thing. You have impressed me with the reality, and with--what shall I term it?--the estimable character of what you call your dilemma. Now this fresh impression of mine--what do you propose to do with it when you get it?”
“Such things are always useful. It will be a good thing to have.”
“I am much obliged to you; but do you propose to let anything depend upon it? Do you propose to take or to leave Miss Vivian--that is, to return to the charge or to give up trying--in consequence of my fresh impression?”
Gordon seemed perfectly unembarrassed by this question, in spite of the ironical light which it projected upon his sentimental perplexity.
“I propose to do what I choose!” he said.
“That ‘s a relief to me,” Bernard rejoined. “This idea of yours is, after all, only the play of the scientific mind.”
“I shall contradict you flat if I choose,” Gordon went on.
“Ah, it ‘s well to warn me of that,” said Bernard, laughing. “Even the most sincere judgment in the world likes to be notified a little of the danger of being contradicted.”
“Is yours the most sincere judgment in the world?” Gordon demanded.
“That ‘s a very pertinent question. Does n’t it occur to you that you may have reason to be jealous--leaving me alone, with an open field, with the woman of your choice?”
“I wish to heaven I could be jealous!” Gordon exclaimed. “That would simplify the thing--that would give me a lift.”
And the next day, after some more talk, it seemed really with a hope of this contingency--though, indeed, he laughed about it--that he started for England.
For the three or four days that followed Gordon Wright’s departure, Bernard saw nothing of the ladies who had been committed to his charge. They chose to remain in seclusion, and he was at liberty to interpret this fact as an expression of regret at the loss of Gordon’s good offices. He knew other people at Baden, and he went to see them and endeavored, by cultivating their society, to await in patience the re-appearance of Mrs. Vivian and her companions. But on the fourth day he became conscious that other people were much less interesting than the trio of American ladies who had lodgings above the confectioner’s, and he made bold to go and knock at their door. He had been asked to take care of them, and this function presupposed contact. He had met Captain Lovelock the day before, wandering about with a rather crest-fallen aspect, and the young Englishman had questioned him eagerly as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Vivian.
