She was scarcely out of the room, when Rudolf, who had drained the bottle, began in his usual tone of banter—

“I don’t know whether I ought to congratulate you, Mr. Leopold, but I am firmly convinced our charming Major has found her colonel.”

I only shrugged my shoulders; for I felt a repugnance to making Francis a subject of conversation with such a fellow.

“Do you imagine I have no eyes? I know the women, I can assure you. I have come across all sorts, and all sizes and colours, in my vagabond life; and my niece, though she were a thousand times Major Frank, is still a woman—a woman with a man’s heart, as good Queen Bess used to say of herself. I don’t know what you intend to do, but it appears to me you have only to propose—

She is smitten by you, that’s certain! Why, she’s like a thoroughbred horse. With much patience, much attention, and a firm hand that knows when to be gentle, so one succeeds. As for myself, I was always too rash, too impatient. These gracious devils soon perceive it, and once they know it, you are thrown—there’s no help for you. After all, perhaps I am mistaken,” he said, seeing I remained silent; “otherwise I would add that I hope you are rich. Her grandfather is ruined——”

“And by whom?” I interposed; a little hard upon him, I confess, but his volubility had become insupportable.

“By whom? that’s the question. I have contributed my share, I acknowledge, yet not more than my own fortune which came to me from my mother, as the eldest and only son. John Mordaunt could tell us something if he were alive. He got his wife’s fortune when they were married, and Francis ought to have had something when she came of age; that is if anything were left, for they lived in style—yes, a style that would have run through any amount. I was sent off to the Werve with my tutor, for I had begun to understand and to make observations. After the death of my sister I was never invited to the house of John Mordaunt. But perhaps it will not interest you to listen to my old stories?”

“Certainly, I should much like to hear an account of your adventures.”

“Well, then, my father was the first cause of my misfortunes, for he opposed my wishes in everything. I wanted to be an officer; and my father would not let me go to the military college at Breda because he was prejudiced against it. He insisted upon my studying law at Leyden: this, he said, would lead to a fortune. Ah, I have found a fortune!” he repeated, with a bitter laugh. “Since I was sent to study for my father’s pleasure, I thought it only right to seek my own; and, as he made me a fair allowance, I was soon noted as the wildest and most extravagant of students. I kept my horses and a Tilbury, and ran up enormous bills. Still I attended those lectures which interested me, and I had just put on a ‘coach’ for the final examinations, when my father lost a lawsuit against my Aunt Roselaer. The supplies were stopped, and I left college without having passed my examination as Master in the Law. My father’s interests obtained for me a place in the financial world, but with the condition I should marry a rich heiress. The misfortune was, the heiress in question was of an over-ripe age, with a nose too red for my taste, and I neglected her. My father grew furious, and declared he would discard me. Moreover, I could not settle down to the regular routine of a counting-house for several hours a day, and sometimes extra work in the evening after dinner. I found in the office an old clerk, a regular old stager, who had sat on the same stool at the same desk for twenty years without a chance of promotion. This is my man, I thought, and I left the responsibility in his hands, whilst I amused myself with my friends at the club. But one fine day, when I was out picnicing with a party of friends, my worthy clerk started off with the cash-box. I was of course held responsible, and my father’s guarantee was forfeited.

“I dare say the whole of Francis’ remaining fortune was swallowed up by this affair and a lawsuit arising out of it. What could I do now? I had a good voice, and I proposed to go to some music academy abroad, and return as an opera singer. My father would not consent to this, and told me the best thing I could do was to enlist in the ranks as a common soldier. I caught at this idea in the hope of being promoted to the position of an officer at no distant date; but I had never been habituated to discipline. I was sent to a small fortress on the frontiers; Rolf was my lieutenant, and he did not spare me either hard work or picket duty. To cut it short, I had enlisted for five years, and I did not stay five months. One fine morning I walked off altogether. I was caught, and I wounded an under-officer in self-defence; the charge against me was as clear as the light of day. But I succeeded in breaking out of prison. I own I was not very strictly guarded, and Francis, as I afterwards learnt, had done her utmost to facilitate my escape. Again I was free as the air; but I must live. I tried everything. I gave lessons in French and in Latin to little German boys, and I taught the little FrÄuleins music and singing; I was even appointed private singer to an Austrian princess, who was deaf, and imagined that my voice resembled Roger’s. I wandered about with a travelling opera company, and sang myself hoarse in the open air. I have been coachman to a baron, and travelled for a house in the wine trade, but when they wanted to send me to Holland I had to give up the post. Afterwards I was waiter at an inn, billiard-marker, valet to the secretary of a Polish count, who, appreciating my ability at the noble game of billiards, took me to Warsaw, and hastened to initiate me into his plans for the ‘Independence of Poland.’ As a matter of course, his enterprise was unsuccessful; but he got sent to Siberia, and I myself was kept in prison for some weeks because I refused to give evidence against him. Again I found myself thrown on the wide world without a penny in my pocket. But I will not weary you with a recital of all I have done and suffered. Perhaps the best thing, and the simplest, for me to have done, would have been to plunge into the Rhine and stay at the bottom; but I have always had a repugnance to suicide, and, besides, I have always been blest with a fund of good spirits and health. I now made a tour of the German watering-places from north to south, getting along as best I could, and changing my name very often. Once I was imprisoned with a Moldavian prince accused of murder, but I was let go, as I could prove my connection with the prince was posterior to the crime. A report then got abroad in Holland that I was dead, and I skilfully manoeuvred to obtain credence for it. At last, weary of my adventurous life, I heard how a member of our family had succeeded in America, and I decided to try my luck there; but I must have money. I flattered myself that after ten years my father would consent to do something for me. I wrote to Francis. The answer was not encouraging. My father threatened, if I dared to cross the frontier, he would hand me over to a court-martial. I thought Francis said this only to frighten me. I came to Zutphen, well disguised, and there I was convinced she had told me the truth. Francis, poor soul, was the only person who took pity on me, and you know already what it cost her. And when I think she could believe me to be guilty of forgery! Oh, the fact is I would not make her more unhappy by telling her what I suspect——”

“What then?”

“Listen; I have my weaknesses, but I have never been ruled by passions. I am not ‘passion’s slave.’ Wine, play, and pleasant company have run away with my money, and in some respects I am no more than a great baby; but a real passion, a tyrannical passion, capable of making me a great man or a great malefactor, such a passion I have never known. Some one in our family, on the contrary, has been ruled by such a passion; and many things I observed in my boyhood without thinking much about them. But you are a discreet man, otherwise Francis would not confide in you as she has done; and, besides, you are a relation of the family—it is better you should be warned.”

After a pause—

“Know then that amongst all the trades I tried in Germany, I have had the honour to be croupier in a gaming-house. There, unrecognized by my unfortunate father, I have seen him play with a violence of passion of which you can form no idea; and, believe me, in spite of all my faults, it is in that way both his own and Francis’s fortune have been lost. I would have thrown myself at his feet, and besought him not to precipitate himself deeper into this abyss; but my position prevented me. Still, I watched him without his knowing it, and I soon found out for a certainty that he borrowed money of a Dutch banker, to whom he gave bills on Francis’s property;—and, you see, rather than confess this to her, he has accused me——”

“But such conduct is abominable!”

“Ah! passions do not reason. I was far away, and my name was already sullied. I only desire to clear myself in Francis’s opinion. But to conclude my history: I was not more lucky in the New World than I had been in Europe; I was shipwrecked and lost my all before I could land at New York. I then went to the far West without meeting with anything which promised me a future; in short, I felt quite happy when I made the acquaintance of Mr. Stonehouse, who engaged me to accompany his circus to Europe. And so it has come about that I once more tread my native earth under the protection of the American flag. Once so near the Werve, I was seized with an irresistible desire to see the old place again. My satisfaction and reception have not been very flattering, as you have witnessed; but I will keep my promise to Francis, cost me what it may. And now good night.”

Without awaiting my answer he threw himself at full length on the sofa, and soon gave me auricular evidence that he was enjoying the profoundest slumber. I had nothing better to do than follow his example. When I opened my eyes in the morning he had disappeared, but he had left his pocket-book and the notes on the table.

After mature reflection I came to the conclusion that his surmises were right, and that the father had defamed his own son to escape the remonstrances of a granddaughter.