Now as to the Baron, in the course of his animated conversation with Mrs. Willoughby, and in his excited entreaties to her to carry a message up to the invalid, he had turned round with his back to the door.  It was about the time that Lady Dalrymple had begun to beat a retreat.  As she advanced the Baron saw her, and, with his usual politeness, moved ever so far to one side, bowing low as he did so.  Lady Dalrymple passed, the Baron raised himself, and as Mrs. Willoughby was yet speaking, and had just reached the exclamation which concluded her last remark, he was astounded by the sudden appearance of Minnie herself at the door.

The effect of this sudden appearance was overwhelming.  Mrs. Willoughby stood thunder-struck, and the Baron utterly bewildered.  The latter recovered his faculties first.  It was just as Lady Dalrymple was passing out.  With a bound he sprang toward Minnie, and caught her in his arms, uttering a series of inarticulate cries.

“Oh, Min! and you did come down, did you?  And you couldn’t stay up there, could you?  I wanted to send a message to you.  Poor little Min! you’re so weak.  Is it any thing serious?  Oh, my darling little Min!  But sit down on this here seat.  Don’t stand; you’re too weak.  Why didn’t you send, and I’d have carried you down?  But tell me now, honest, wasn’t it me that brought this on?  Never mind, I’ll never leave you again.”

This is the style which the gallant Baron adopted to express his sentiments concerning Minnie; and the result was that he succeeded in giving utterance to words that were quite as incoherent as any that Minnie herself, in her most rambling moods, had ever uttered.

The Baron now gave himself up to joy.  He took no notice of any body.  He sat by Minnie’s side on a sofa, and openly held her hand.  The Reverend Saul Tozer looked on with an approving smile, and surveyed the scene like a father.  Mrs. Willoughby’s soul was on fire with indignation at Minnie’s folly and the Baron’s impudence.  She was also indignant that her little conventional falsehoods had been suddenly disproved by the act of Minnie herself.  Yet she did not know what to say, and so she went to a chair, and flung herself into it in fierce anger.

As for Minnie herself, she had come down to the Baron, and appeared rather to enjoy the situation.  She talked about Rome and Naples, and asked him all about himself, and the Baron explained his whole situation down to the minutest detail.  She was utterly indifferent to her sister.  Once or twice the Baron made a move to go, but did not succeed.  He finally settled himself down apparently for the rest of the day; but Mrs. Willoughby at last interposed.  She walked forward.  She took Minnie’s hand, and spoke to her in a tone which she but seldom used.

“You shall not stay here any longer!” she cried.  “Come.”

And Minnie obeyed at once.

The Baron insisted on a tender adieu.  Mrs. Willoughby stood by, with flashing eyes and heaving breast.