CHAPTER XVIII.

A month has passed since Margaret went to see Othello, and New York is beginning to wake to its winter round of amusements.  There are dinners and dances and much leaving of little pasteboard chips with names and addresses.

Mr. Barker had made progress, in his own opinion, since the day when he so unfortunately roused Margaret’s anger by his story.  He bethought him one day that Claudius’s influence had begun with the reading of books, and he determined to try something of the kind himself.  He was no scholar as Claudius was, but he knew men who were.  He cultivated the acquaintance of Mr. Horace Bellingham, and spent studious hours in ascertaining the names of quaint and curious volumes, which he spared no expense in procuring.  He read books he had never heard of before, and then talked about them to Margaret; and when he hit upon anything she did not know he was swift to bring it to her, and sometimes she would even listen while he read a few pages aloud.

Margaret encouraged Barker in this new fancy unconsciously enough, for she thought it an admirable thing that a man whose whole life was devoted to business pursuits should develop a taste for letters; and when he had broken the ice on the sea of literature she talked more freely with him than she had ever done before.  It was not Barker who interested her, but the books he brought, which were indeed rare and beautiful.  He, on the other hand, quick to assimilate any knowledge that might be of use to him, and cautious of exposing the weaker points of his ignorance, succeeded in producing an impression of considerable learning, so that by and by he began to think he was taking Claudius’s place in her daily pursuits, as he hoped to take it in her heart.

Meanwhile no one had heard from the Doctor, for his correspondence with Margaret was unknown to Barker, and the latter began to cherish a hope that, after all, there might be overwhelming difficulties in the way of proving Claudius’s right to the estate.  He had more than once talked over the matter with Mr. Screw, and they came to the conclusion that this silence was prognostic of the Doctor’s defeat.  Screw thought it probable that, had Claudius immediately obtained from Heidelberg the necessary papers, he would have sent a triumphant telegram over the cable, announcing his return at the shortest possible interval.  But the time was long.  It was now the first week in November and nearly two months had passed since he had sailed.  Mr. Barker had avoided speaking of him to the Countess, at first because he did not wish to recall him to her memory, and later because he observed that she never mentioned the Doctor’s name.  Barker had inquired of Mr. Bellingham whether he knew anything of his friend’s movements, to which Uncle Horace had replied, with a grim laugh, that he had quite enough to do with taking care of distinguished foreigners when they were in New York, without looking after them when they had gone elsewhere.