“Really!” John cried, with faint derision, feeling as if this innocent exclamation were an oath. “And the lady?” he added, with a still more fierce laugh.
Millefleurs gave his arm a little squeeze. “Not settled yet,” he said—“not settled yet. I have seen a great many. There are so many pretty persons in society. If anyone of them would ask me, I have no doubt I should be perfectly happy; but choice is always disagreeable. In America also,” he added, with some pathos, “there are many very pretty persons: and they like a title. The field is very wide. Let us take an easier subject. Is Beaufort coming to you?”
“His answer is very enigmatical,” said John. “I do not know whether he means to come or not.”
“He is enigmatical,” said Millefleurs. “He is the queerest fellow. What is the connection between him and the family here?”
This question took John entirely by surprise. It was so sudden, both in form and meaning. He had expected his companion, before he paused, to go on for at least five minutes more. He hesitated in spite of himself.
“There is no connection that I know of between him and the family here.”
“Oh yes, yes, there is,” said Millefleurs, with gentle pertinacity; “think a minute. Erskine, my dear fellow, forgive me, but you must have Beaufort here. If he is not near me, he will lose the confidence of my papa—who will think Beaufort is neglecting his precious son. I speak to you with perfect freedom. Beaufort and I understand each other. I am in no need of a governor, but he is in want of a protégé. Don’t you see? By this arrangement everything is made comfortable. Beaufort understands me. He knows that control is a mistake in my case. He found me and brought me home, because I was already on my way: he keeps me from harm—for what you call harm has no attraction for me, don’t you know. It is only my curiosity that has to be kept in check, and at present I have plenty to occupy that; but my father does not understand all this. Minds of that generation are a little limited, don’t you know. They don’t see so clearly as one would wish them to see. If Beaufort is long away from me, he will think I am in danger—that I may bolt again. Also, it will interfere with Beaufort’s prospects, which the Duke is to take charge of—”
“But this seems to me rather—not quite straightforward on Beaufort’s part,” said John.
At this little Millefleurs shrugged his plump shoulders. “It is permitted to humour our elders,” he said. “It pleases them and it does no one any harm. Beaufort, don’t you know, is not a fellow to walk alone. He is clever and all that; but he will never do anything by himself. Between him and me it suits very well. So, to save the Duke’s feelings and to help Beaufort on, you must stretch a point and have him here. It will be thought he is watching over me at a little distance like the sweet little cherub, don’t you know, in the song. What objection have they got to seeing him here?”
“None that I know of,” said John steadily, turning his face to the other side to escape the scrutiny of those small black bead-like eyes.
“Oh come, come, come!” said little Millefleurs, remonstrating yet coaxing, patting him lightly on the arm, “one sees it must have been one of the daughters. It will do no harm to tell me. Am I such an ignorant? These things are happening every day. Is it this one here?—”
“What are you thinking of?” cried John, angrily. “Lady Edith was only a child.”
“Ah! then it was the other one,” Millefleurs said, seriously; “that suits me better. It would have been a trifle ridiculous—Beaufort might keep in the background if there is any reason for it: but we must really think of the Duke. He will be in a state of mind, don’t you know, and so will my mother. They will think I have bolted again.”
“And when is it,” said John satirically, for he was sick at heart and irritable in the discovery which he had made, “that Beaufort’s mission is to be accomplished, and the Duke to fulfil his hopes?”
Millefleurs laughed a soft rich laugh, not loud. “My dear fellow,” he said, “that is when I marry, don’t you know. That is my occupation now in the world. When I have a wife, the other will be off duty. I am much interested in my occupation at present. It brings so many specimens of humanity under one’s eyes. So different—for women are just as different as men, though you don’t think so perhaps. It might make a man vain,” he said, turning out his pink-tinged palm, “to see how many fair creatures will take notice of him; but then one remembers that it was not always so, and that takes one down again. In California I was liked, I am proud to say, but not admired. It was, perhaps, more amusing. But I must not be ungrateful: for life everywhere is very entertaining. And here are fresh fields and pastures new,” said the little man. “When you have a pursuit, every new place is doubly interesting. It does not matter whether you are hunting or botanising or—, a pursuit gives interest to all things. Now is the time
