The End of Her Honeymoon | Page 8

looking down at her kindly.
"My name is Burton, Senator Burton, at your service! What can I do for
you?".
The simple little question brought back all Nancy's usual happy
confidence. How silly she had been just now to feel so distressed.
"I'm Mrs. Dampier, and I can't make the hotel people understand what I
say," she explained. "I mean Monsieur and Madame Poulain--and the
nephew--I think his name is Jules--though he is supposed to speak
English, is so very stupid."

"Yes, indeed he is!" chimed in the girl whom her brother had called
"Daisy." "I've long ago given up trying to make that boy understand
anything, even in French. But they do work him most awfully hard, you
know; they have women in each day to help with the cleaning, but that
poor lad does everything else--everything, that is, that the Poulains
don't do themselves."
"What is it that you can't make them understand?" asked Senator
Burton indulgently. "Tell us what it is you want to ask them?"
"I only wish to know at what time my husband went out, and whether
he left any message for me," answered Nancy rather shamefacedly.
"You see the hotel is so full that they put us on different floors, and I
haven't seen him this morning."
"I'll find that out for you at once. I expect Madame Poulain is in her
kitchen just now."
The Senator turned and went back into the courtyard, leaving his
daughter and the young Englishwoman alone together.
"The Poulains seem such odd, queer people," said Nancy hesitatingly.
"D'you think so? We've always found them all right," said the girl,
smiling. "Of course they're dreadfully busy just now because of the
Exhibition. The hotel is full of French people, and they give Madame
Poulain a great deal of trouble. But she doesn't grudge it, for she and
her husband are simply coining money! They're determined that their
daughter shall have a splendid dowry!" She waited a moment, and then
repeated, "Oh, yes, the Poulains are very good sort of people. They're
very kindly and good-natured."
To this remark Nancy made no answer. She thought the Poulains both
rude and disagreeable, but she had no wish to speak ill of them to this
nice girl. How lucky it was that these kind Americans had come to her
rescue! Though still feeling indignant and uncomfortable with regard to
the way in which she had been treated by the hotel-keeper and his wife,
she felt quite happy again now.

Senator Burton was away for what seemed, not only to Mrs. Dampier,
but also to his daughter, a considerable time. But at last they saw him
coming slowly towards them. His eyes were bent on the ground; he
seemed to be thinking, deeply.
Nancy Dampier took a step forward. "Well?" she said eagerly, and then
a little shyly she uttered his name, "Well, Mr. Burton? What do they
say? Did my husband leave any message?"
"No, he doesn't seem to have done that." And then the Senator looked
down searchingly into the young Englishwoman's face. It was a very
lovely face, and just now the look of appeal, of surprise, in the blue
eyes added a touch of pathetic charm. He thought of the old expression,
"Beauty in distress."
His daughter broke in: "Why, Mrs. Dampier, do come upstairs and wait
in our sitting-room," she said cordially. "I'll come with you, for we
were only going out for a little stroll, weren't we, father?"
Nancy Dampier hesitated. She did not notice that the American Senator
omitted to endorse his daughter's invitation; she hesitated for a very
different reason: "You're very kind; but if I do that I shall have to tell
Madame Poulain, for it would give my husband a dreadful fright if he
came in and found I had left my room and disappeared"--she blushed
and smiled very prettily.
And again Senator Burton looked searchingly down into the lovely,
flushed little face; but the deep-blue, guileless-looking eyes met his
questioning gaze very frankly. He said slowly, "Very well, I will go
and tell Madame Poulain that you will be waiting up in our
sitting-room, Mrs.--ah--Dampier."
He went out across the courtyard again, and once more he seemed, at
any rate to his daughter, to stay away longer than was needed for the
delivery of so simple a message.
Growing impatient, Miss Burton took Nancy Dampier across the sunlit
courtyard to the wide old oak staircase, the escalier d'honneur, as it was

still called in the hotel, down which the Marquis de Saint Ange had
clattered when starting for Fontenoy.
When they were half-way up the Senator joined them, and a few
moments later when they had reached the second landing, he put a key
in the lock of a finely carved door, then he