Ships That Pass In The Night | Page 4

out of fashion she dresses. And what a hat!"
"I should not take the trouble to speak to her," said one of the men. "She may fasten herself on to you. You know what a bore that is."
"Oh, I can easily snub any one if I wish," replied Mrs. Reffold, rather disdainfully.
So she hastened up to Bernardine, and held out her well-gloved hand.
"I had not a chance of speaking to you last night, Miss Holme," she said. "You retired so early. I hope you have rested after your journey. You seemed quite worn out."
"Thank you," said Bernardine, looking admiringly at the beautiful woman, and envying her, just as all plain women envy their handsome sisters.
"You are not alone, I suppose?" continued Mrs. Reffold.
"Yes, quite alone," answered Bernardine.
"But you are evidently acquainted with Mr. Allitsen, your neighbour at table," said Mrs. Reffold; "so you will not feel quite lonely here. It is a great advantage to have a friend at a place like this."
"I never saw him before last night," said Bernardine.
"Is it possible?" said Mrs. Reffold, in her pleasantest voice. "Then you have made a triumph of the Disagreeable Man. He very rarely deigns to talk with any of us. He does not even appear to see us. He sits quietly and reads. It would be interesting to hear what his conversation is like. I should be quite amused to know what you did talk about."
"I dare say you would," said Bernardine quietly.
Then Mrs. Behold, wishing to screen her inquisitiveness, plunged into a description of Petershof life, speaking enthusiastically about everything, except the scenery, which she did not mention. After a time she ventured to begin once more taking soundings. But some how or other, those bright eyes of Bernardine, which looked at her so searchingly, made her a little nervous, and, perhaps, a little indiscreet.
"Your father will miss you," she said tentatively.
"I should think probably not," answered Bernardine. "One is not easily missed, you know." There was a twinkle in Bernardine's eye as she added, "He is probably occupied with other things!"
"What is your father?" asked Mrs. Reffold, in her most coaxing tones.
"I don't know what he is now," answered Bernardine placidly. "But he was a genius. He is dead."
Mrs. Reffold gave a slight start, for she began to feel that this insignificant little person was making fun of her. This would never do, and before witnesses too. So she gathered together her best resources and said:
"Dear me, how very unfortunate: a genius too. Death is indeed cruel. And here one sees so much of it, that unless one learns to steel one's heart, one becomes melancholy. Ah, it is indeed sad to see all this suffering!" (Mrs Reffold herself had quite succeeded in steeling her heart against her own invalid husband.) She then gave an account of several bad cases of consumption, not forgetting to mention two instances of suicide which had lately taken place in Petershof.
"One gentleman was a Russian," she said. "Fancy coming all the way, from Russia to this little out-of-the-world place! But people come from the uttermost ends of the earth, though of course there are many Londoners here. I suppose you are from London?"
"I am not living in London now," said Bernardine cautiously.
"But you know it, without doubt," continued Mrs. Reffold. "There are several Kensington people here. You may meet some friends: indeed in our hotel there are two or three families from Lexham Gardens."
Bernardine smiled a little viciously; looked first at Mrs. Reffold's two companions with an amused sort of indulgence, and then at the lady herself She paused a moment, and then said:
"Have you asked all the questions you wish to ask? And, if so, may I ask one of you. Where does one get the best tea?"
Mrs. Reffold gave an inward gasp, but pointed gracefully to a small confectionery shop on the other side of the road. Mrs. Reffold did everything gracefully.
Bernardine thanked her, crossed the road, and passed into the shop.
"Now I have taught her a lesson not to interfere with me," said Bernardine to herself. "How beautiful she is."
Mrs. Reffold and her two companions went silently on their way. At last the silence was broken.
"Well, I'm blessed!" said the taller of the two, lighting a cigar.
"So am I," said the other, lighting his cigar too.
"Those are precisely my own feelings," remarked Mrs. Reffold.
But she had learnt her lesson.



CHAPTER IV.
CONCERNING W?RLI AND MARIE.
W?RLI, the little hunchback postman, a cheery soul, came whistling up the Kurhaus stairs, carrying with him that precious parcel of registered letters, which gave him the position of being the most important person in Petershof. He was a linguist, too, was W?rli, and could speak broken English in a most fascinating way, agreeable to every one, but intelligible only to himself. Well, he came whistling up the