Count Bunker

by J. Storer Clouston

  CHAPTER XV

  In an ancient and delightful garden, where glimpses of the loch belowgleamed through a mass of summer foliage, and the gray castle wallslooked down on smooth, green glades, the Baron slowly paced the shaventurf. But he did not pace it quite alone, for by his side moveda graceful figure in a wide, sun-shading hat and a frock entirelyirresistible. Beneath the hat, by bending a little down, you could haveseen the dark liquid eyes and tender lips of Eva Gallosh. And the Baronfrequently bent down.

  "I am proud of everyzing zat I find in my home," said the Barongallantly.

  The lady's color rose, but not apparently in anger.

  "Ach, here is a pretty leetle seat!" he exclaimed in a tone of pleaseddiscovery, just as though he had not been leading her insidiouslytowards it ever since they, came into the garden.

  It was, indeed, a most shady and secluded bench, an ideal seat for anygallant young Baron who had left his Baroness sufficiently far away. Heglanced down complacently upon his brawny knees, displayed (he couldnot but think) to great advantage beneath his kilt and sporran, and thenwith a tenderer complacency, turned his gaze upon his fair companion.

  "You say you like me in ze tartan?" he murmured.

  "I adore everything Highland! Oh, Lord Tulliwuddle, how fortunate youare!"

  Nature had gifted Miss Gallosh with a generous share of romanticsentiment. It was she who had egged on her father to rent this Highlandcastle for the summer, instead of chartering a yacht as he had done forthe past few years; and ever since they had come here that sentimenthad grown, till she was ready to don the white cockade and plot a newJacobite uprising. Then, while her heart was in this inspired condition,a noble young chief had stepped in to complete the story. No wonder herdark eyes burned.

  "What attachment you must feel for each stone of the Castle!" shecontinued in a rapt voice. "How your heart must beat to remember thatyour great-grandfather--wasn't his name Fergus?"

  "Fergus: yes," said the Baron, blindly but promptly.

  "No, no; it was Ian, of course."

  "Ach, so! Ian he vas."

  "You were thinking of his father," she smiled.

  "Yes, his fazzer."

  She reflected sagely.

  "I am afraid I get my facts mixed up some times. Ian--ah, Reginald camebefore him--not Fergus!"

  "Reginald--oh yes, so he did!"

  She looked a trifle disappointed.

  "If I were you I should know them all by heart," said she.

  "I vill learn zem. Oh yes, I most not make soch mistakes."

  Indeed he registered a very sincere vow to study his family history thatafternoon.

  "What was I saying? Oh yes--about your brave great-grandfather. Do youknow, Lord Tulliwuddle, I want to ask you a strange favor? You won'tthink it very odd of me?"

  "Odd? Never! Already it is granted."

  "I want to hear from your own lips--from the lips of an actual LordTulliwuddle--the story of your ancestor Ian's exploit."

  With beseeching eyes and a face flushed with a sense of her presumption,she uttered this request in a voice that tore the Baron with conflictingemotions.

  "Vich exploit do you mean?" he asked in a kindly voice but with atroubled eye.

  "You must know! When he defended the pass, of course."

  "Ach, so!"

  The Baron looked at her, and though he boasted of no such inventivegifts as his friend Bunker, his ardent heart bade him rather commithimself to perdition than refuse.

  "You will tell it to me?"

  "I vill!"

  Making as much as possible of the raconteur's privileges of clearing histhroat, settling himself into good position, and gazing dreamily at thetree-tops for inspiration, he began in a slow, measured voice--

  "In ze pass he stood. Zen gomed his enemies. He fired his gon andshooted some dead. Zen did zey run avay. Zat vas vat happened."

  When he ventured to meet her candid gaze after thus lamely libelling hisforefather, he was horrified to observe that she had already recoiledsome feet away from him, and seemed still to be in the act of recoiling.

  "It would have been kinder to tell me at once that I had asked toomuch!" she exclaimed in a voice affected by several emotions. "I onlywanted to hear you repeat his death-cry as his foes slew him, so that itmight always seem more real to me. And you snub me like this!"

  The Baron threw himself upon one knee.

  "Forgive me! I did jost lose mine head mit your eyes looking so at me! Iget confused, you are so lovely! I did not mean to snob!"

  In the ardor of his penitence he discovered himself holding her hand;she no longer seemed to be recoiling; and Heaven knows what might havehappened next if an ostentatious sound of whistling had not come totheir rescue.

  "Bot you vill forgive?" he whispered, as they sprang up from their shadyseat.

  "Ye-es," she answered, just as the serene glance of Count Bunker fellhumorously upon them.

  "You seem to have been plucking flowers, Tulliwuddle," he observed.

  "Flowers? Oh, no."

  The Count glanced pointedly at his soiled knee.

  "Indeed!" said he. "Don't I see traces of a flower-bed?"

  "I think I should go in," murmured Eva, and she was gone before theCount had time to frame a compensating speech.

  His friend Tulliwuddle looked at him with marked displeasure, yet seemedto find some difficulty in adequately expressing it.

  "I do not care for vat you said," he remarked stiffly. "Nor for ze looknow on your face."

  "Baron," said the Count imperturbably, "what did you tell me the Wraithsaid to you--something about 'Beware of the ladies,' wasn't it?"

  "You do not onderstand. Ze ghost" (he found some difficulty inpronouncing the spirit's chosen name) "did soppose naturally zat I vasze real Lord Tollyvoddle, who is, as you have told me yourself, Bonker,somezing of a fast fish. Ze varning vas to him obviously, so you shouldnot turn it upon me."

  Bunker opened his eyes.

  "A deuced ingenious argument," he commented. "It wouldn't have occurredto me if you hadn't explained. Then you claim the privilege of wooingwhom you wish?"

  "Wooing! You forget zat I am married, Bonker."

  "Oh no, I remember perfectly."

  His tone disturbed the Baron. Taking the Count's arm, he said to himwith moving earnestness--

  "Have I not told you how constant I am--like ze magnet and ze pole?"

  "I have heard you employ the simile."

  "Ach, bot it is true! I am inside my heart so constant as it ispossible! But I now represent Tollyvoddle, and for his sake most try todo my best."

  Again Count Bunker glanced at his knee.

  "And that is your best, then?"

  "Listen, Bonker, and try to onderstand--not jost to make jokes. Itappears to me zat Miss Gallosh vill make a good vife to Tollyvoddle. Sheis so fair, so amiable, and so rich. Could he do better? Should I notlay ze foundations of a happy marriage mit her? Soppose ve do get herinstead of Miss Maddison, eh?"

  His artful eloquence seemed to impress his friend, for he smiledthoughtfully and did not reply at once. More persuasively than ever theBaron continued--

  "I do believe mit patience and mit--er--mit kindness, Bonker, I mightpersuade Miss Gallosh to listen to ze proposal of Tollyvoddle. And vouldit not be better far to get him a lady of his own people, and not astranger from America? Ve vill not like Miss Maddison, I feel sure. Vytroble mit her--eh, Bonker?"

  "But don't you think, Baron, that we ought to give Tulliwuddle hischoice? He may prefer an American heiress to a Scottish."

  "Not if he sees Eva Gallosh!"

  Again the Count gently raised his eyebrows in a way that the Baron couldnot help considering unsuitable to the occasion.

  "On the other hand, Baron, Miss Maddison will probably have five or tentimes as much money as Miss Gallosh. In arranging a marriage for anotherman, one must attend to such trifles as a few million dollars more orless."

  For the moment the Baron was silenced, but evidently not convinced. />
  "Supposing I were to call upon the Maddisons as your envoy?" suggestedBunker, who, to tell the truth, had already begun to tire of a life ofluxurious inaction.

  "Pairhaps in a few days we might gonsider it."

  "We have been here for a week already."

  "Ven vould you call?"

  "To-morrow, for instance."

  The Baron frowned; but argument was difficult.

  "You only jost vill go to see?"

  "And report to you."

  "And suppose she is ogly--or not so nice--or so on----zen vill I not seeher, eh?"

  "But suppose she is tolerable?"

  "Zen vill ve give him a choice, and I vill continue to be polite to MissGallosh. Ah, Bonker, she is so nice! He vill not like Miss Maddison sovell! Himmel, I do admire her!"

  The Baron's eyes shone with reminiscent affection.

  "To how many poles is the magnet usually constant?" inquired the Countwith a serious air.

  The Baron smiled a little foolishly, and then, with a confidential air,replied--

  "Ach, Bonker, marriage is blessed and it is happy, and it iseveryzing that my heart desires; only I jost sometimes vish it vas notqvite--qvite so uninterruptable!"