Comethup hastily declined, murmured something about how glad he was to see Brian again, and went back to his aunt's box. He hoped, and indeed believed, that it was all right; but a little curious feeling of doubt in regard to Brian came into his mind, and would not be dispelled. He watched his cousin and the lady who was with him during the evening; noticed that Brian sat very close to her and whispered; observed that she talked in loud tones and laughed somewhat immoderately, and made considerable play with a huge feather fan. He had, too, to begin a new calculation in regard to the money with which he had supplied Brian; found it necessary to deduct from it the price of two stalls and an approximate amount for cabs, and then to redivide the sum remaining by fifty-two; Brian's income for a year looked meagre indeed. Miss Charlotte Carlaw made inquiries concerning his friend, but Comethup put her off with an evasive reply.
On the following day the final arrangements were made, and they started for the Continent. Miss Charlotte Carlaw had carried the whole matter through with such energy, and in so short a space of time, that there had been no time to inform the captain, but Comethup wrote him a long letter from Paris, on the first day of their arrival there, breaking to him, as gently as possible, the intelligence that they would not be likely to meet for at least three years. The boy thought sometimes, in those early days, that he would have been glad to get back again to the old-fashioned town in which he had been born, and to narrow down his world--which had widened so much recently, and was widening every day--to the captain and 'Linda and the few others who had known and loved him as a child. But he blamed himself the next instant for his ingratitude.
They spent quite a long time in Paris--nearly two months--and at the end of the first month a surprising event occurred.
He was passing one day through the large hall of the hotel at which they were stopping, with his aunt's hand resting on his arm, when he observed a young man, whose back was toward him, making some inquiries of a servant. The attitude and gestures seemed familiar. As he passed with his aunt toward the staircase he glanced back over his shoulder and saw that the young man had turned and was looking hesitatingly at him. It was his cousin, Brian Carlaw.