Agnes
gladly accepted the
suggestion. They directed their steps
towards the square of St. Mark, so as to enjoy the
breeze blowing
over the
lagoon. It was the first visit of Agnes to Venice.
The
fascination of the wonderful city of the waters exerted its
full influence over her
sensitive nature. The proposed half-hour
of the walk had passed away, and was fast expanding to half
an hour more, before Lord Montbarry could
persuade his
companionto remember that dinner was
waiting for them. As they returned,
passing under the colonnade, neither of them noticed a lady
in deep
mourning, loitering in the open space of the square.
She started as she recognised Agnes walking with the new Lord Montbarry--
hesitated for a moment--and then followed them, at a
discreet distance,
back to the hotel.
Lady Montbarry received Agnes in high spirits--with news of an event
which had happened in her absence.
She had not left the hotel more than ten minutes, before a little
note in pencil was brought to Lady Montbarry by the
housekeeper.
The
writer proved to be no less a person than the widow lady
who occupied the room on the other side of the drawing-room,
which her ladyship had
vainly hoped to secure for Agnes.
Writing under the name of Mrs. James, the
polite widow explained
that she had heard from the
housekeeper of the disappointment
experienced by Lady Montbarry in the matter of the rooms.
Mrs. James was quite alone; and as long as her bed-chamber was airy
and comfortable, it mattered nothing to her whether she slept on
the first or the second floor of the house. She had accordingly
much pleasure in proposing to change rooms with Miss Lockwood.
Her
luggage had already been removed, and Miss Lockwood had only to
take possession of the room (Number 13 A), which was now entirely at
her disposal.
'I immediately proposed to see Mrs. James,' Lady Montbarry continued,
'and to thank her
personally for her
extreme kindness.
But I was informed that she had gone out, without leaving word
at what hour she might be expected to return. I have written
a little note of thanks,
saying that we hope to have the pleasure
of
personally expressing our sense of Mrs. James's courtesy
to-morrow. In the mean time, Agnes, I have ordered your boxes
to be removed
downstairs. Go!--and judge for yourself, my dear,
if that good lady has not given up to you the prettiest room
in the house!'
With those words, Lady Montbarry left Miss Lockwood to make a hasty
toilet for dinner.
The new room at once produced a favourable
impression on Agnes.
The large window,
opening into a
balcony, commanded an admirable
view of the canal. The decorations on the walls and ceiling were
skilfully copied from the
exquisitelygraceful designs of Raphael
in the Vatican. The
massivewardrobe possessed
compartments
of
unusual size, in which double the number of dresses that Agnes
possessed might have been
conveniently hung at full length.
In the inner corner of the room, near the head of the bedstead,
there was a
recess which had been turned into a little dressing-room,
and which opened by a second door on the
inferiorstaircase of
the hotel,
commonly used by the servants. Noticing these aspects
of the room at a glance, Agnes made the necessary change in her dress,
as quickly as possible. On her way back to the drawing-room she was
addressed by a chambermaid in the
corridor who asked for her key.
'I will put your room tidy for the night, Miss,' the woman said,
'and I will then bring the key back to you in the drawing-room.'
While the chambermaid was at her work, a
solitary lady, loitering about
the
corridor of the second storey, was watching her over the bannisters.
After a while, the maid appeared, with her pail in her hand,
leaving the room by way of the dressing-room and the back stairs.
As she passed out of sight, the lady on the second floor (no other,
it is
needless to add, than the Countess herself) ran swiftly
down the stairs, entered the bed-chamber by the
principal door,
and hid herself in the empty side
compartment of the
wardrobe.
The chambermaid returned, completed her work, locked the door
of the dressing-room on the inner side, locked the
principalentrance-door on leaving the room, and returned the key to Agnes in the
drawing-room.
The travellers were just sitting down to their late dinner,
when one of the children noticed that Agnes was not wearing her watch.
Had she left it in her bed-chamber in the hurry of changing her dress?
She rose from the table at once in search of her watch; Lady Montbarry
advising her, as she went out, to see to the
security of her bed-chamber,
in the event of there being
thieves in the house. Agnes found
her watch, forgotten on the
toilet table, as she had anticipated.
Before leaving the room again she acted on Lady Montbarry's advice,
and tried the key in the lock of the dressing-room door. It was
properly secured. She left the bed-chamber, locking the main door
behind her.
Immediately on her
departure, the Countess, oppressed by the confined
air in the
wardrobe, ventured on stepping out of her hiding place
into the empty room.
Entering the dressing-room, she listened at the door, until the silence
outside informed her that the
corridor was empty. Upon this,
she unlocked the door, and, passing out, closed it again softly;
leaving it to all appearance (when viewed on the inner side)
as carefully secured as Agnes had seen it when she tried the key in
the lock with her own hand.
While the Montbarrys were still at dinner, Henry Westwick joined them,
arriving from Milan.
When he entered the room, and again when he
advanced to shake hands
with her, Agnes was
conscious of a
latent feeling which secretly
reciprocated Henry's unconcealed pleasure on meeting her again.
For a moment only, she returned his look; and in that moment her own
observation told her that she had
silently encouraged him to hope.
She saw it in the sudden glow of happiness which overspread his face;
and she confusedly took
refuge in the usual
conventional inquiries relating
to the relatives whom he had left at Milan.
Taking his place at the table, Henry gave a most
amusing account
of the position of his brother Francis between the mercenary
opera-dancer on one side, and the unscrupulous
manager of the French
theatre on the other. Matters had proceeded to such extremities,
that the law had been called on to
interfere, and had
decided the dispute
in favour of Francis. On
winning the
victory the English
manager had
at once left Milan, recalled to London by the affairs of his theatre.
He was accompanied on the journey back, as he had been accompanied
on the journey out, by his sister. Resolved, after passing two
nights of
terror in the Venetian hotel, never to enter it again,
Mrs. Norbury asked to be excused from appearing at the family festival,
on the ground of ill-health. At her age, travelling fatigued her,
and she was glad to take
advantage of her brother's
escort to return
to England.
While the talk at the dinner-table flowed easily onward,
the evening-time
advanced to night--and it became necessary
to think of sending the children to bed.
As Agnes rose to leave the room, accompanied by the
eldest girl,
she observed with surprise that Henry's manner suddenly changed.
He looked serious and pre-occupied; and when his niece wished him
good night, he
abruptly said to her, 'Marian, I want to know what
part of the hotel you sleep in?' Marian, puzzled by the question,
answered that she was going to sleep, as usual, with 'Aunt Agnes.'
Not satisfied with that reply, Henry next inquired whether the bedroom
was near the rooms occupied by the other members of the travelling party.
Answering for the child, and wondering what Henry's object could
possibly be, Agnes mentioned the
polite sacrifice made to her
convenience by Mrs. James. 'Thanks to that lady's kindness,'
she said, 'Marian and I are only on the other side of the drawing-room.'
Henry made no remark; he looked incomprehensibly discontented
as he opened the door for Agnes and her
companion to pass out.
After wishing them good night, he waited in the
corridoruntil he saw them enter the fatal corner-room--and then