"Some one way and some another," I replied. "Fox and Burke and their followers think, or pretend to think, that the rebels will yet win, and the loyal servants of the king, who are in the great majority, God bless him! think that if the insurrection is not dead it soon will be. But why speak of politics to-night, Lieutenant Belfort, when we are here for pleasure?"
I was afraid that he would lead me into treacherous fields. He listened, and then turned back to the subject of Harding.
"He is unusually late," he said, "but I suppose that Captain Montague can stand it."
"Undoubtedly," I replied. "Cousins are usually superfluous, any way."
I had made up my mind that we would maintain the illusion until the actual exposure and my nerves had become steady.
The door opened once more, and another young man entered. His features were unmistakably English. He looked around with the air of a stranger, and Marcel and I again were silent, just waiting.
"Harding!" exclaimed Catron. "You have found us at last. I was afraid that you had lost your way."
"So I did," said Harding, "but some one was kind enough to set me on the right road."
His eyes went from one to another of us, lingered for a moment on Marcel, and passed on without the slightest sign of recognition. Then I noticed that the card I held was wet with the sweat of my hand. Catron began to introduce us, beginning with Vivian. I believed that Belfort was watching Marcel and me, but I did not dare to look at him and see.
"I have a cousin here, have I not?" broke in Harding,--"Charlie Montague of Yorkshire? At least I was told that I would find him here, and as we have never seen each other, I am curious to meet him. Strange, isn't it, that one should have to come to America to meet one's English kin who live in the next county."
He laughed a hearty resonant laugh, and a painful weight rolled off my brain. He had never seen his cousin Montague before! Then he might look upon his cousin Marcel with safety,--safety to us. My own face remained impassive, but I saw Belfort's fall a little, and as for Marcel, the volatile and daring Marcel, he was already metaphorically falling into his cousin's arms and weeping with joy at the sight of him. Moreover I knew Marcel well enough to be sure that he could take care of the conversation and guide it into far-away channels, if Cousin Rupert wished to lead it upon the subject of their mutual interests and ties in England.