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diff --git a/17743.txt b/17743.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2b9ef63 --- /dev/null +++ b/17743.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2768 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Rosemary, by C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Rosemary + A Christmas story + +Author: C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson + +Illustrator: William Hatherell + +Release Date: February 10, 2006 [EBook #17743] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSEMARY *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + +ROSEMARY: A CHRISTMAS STORY + +[Illustration: Evelyn and Rosemary climbed hand in hand, while Hugh +carried the two huge baskets. + +_Frontispiece._ --_Rosemary._] + + + + + ROSEMARY + A Christmas Story + + + By + C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON + + [Illustration] + + With Eight Illustrations + By WILLIAM HATHERELL + + NEW YORK + A. L. BURT COMPANY + PUBLISHERS + + _Copyright, 1906, by McClure, Phillips & Co._ + + + + +_To Minda_ + + + + +CONTENTS + +[Illustration: Contents] + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I. THE WHITE GIRL ON THE TERRACE: THE ROSE GIRL AT THE CASINO 3 + + II. THE ROSE GIRL'S LITTLE STORY, AND GREAT EYES 21 + + III. WHEN THE CURTAIN WAS DOWN 40 + + IV. DOGS AND FATHERS 48 + + V. ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 62 + + VI. FAIRY FATHERS MUST VANISH 78 + + VII. THE WHITE FIGURE AT THE DOOR 94 + +VIII. WHEN A MAN GOES SHOPPING 108 + + IX. THE LAST WORD OF MADEMOISELLE 128 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +[Illustration: Illustrations] + + EVELYN AND ROSEMARY CLIMBED HAND IN HAND, WHILE HUGH CARRIED + TWO HUGE BASKETS _Frontispiece_ + + FACING + PAGE + + HE TOOK OFF HALF, AND WAS LEAVING THE REST TO RUN, WHEN A + VOICE CLOSE TO HIS SHOULDER, SAID, "OH, DO TAKE IT ALL OFF" 12 + + WITH A CRASH OF MACHINERY HE BROUGHT THE BIG BLUE CAR TO + A STOP 70 + + HE CRUSHED THEM IN HIS, THEN BENT HIS HEAD AND KISSED THEM 102 + + THEY CAME NEARER, NEAR ENOUGH FOR MADEMOISELLE TO RECOGNISE + THE MAN WITH THEM 124 + + THEIR FLUFFY LACES BURNT AND BLACKENED. CHIFFON FICHUS TORN + IN RIBBONS STREWED THE CARPET 138 + + + + +[Illustration: CHAPTER ONE] + +THE WHITE GIRL ON THE TERRACE: THE ROSE GIRL AT THE CASINO + + +[Illustration: T] + +There was a young man in Monte Carlo. He had come in a motor car, and he +had come a long way, but he hardly knew why he had come. He hardly knew +in these days why he did anything. But then, one must do something. + +It would be Christmas soon, and he thought that he would rather get it +over on the Riviera than anywhere else, because the blue and gold +weather would not remind him of other Christmases which were gone--pure, +white, cold Christmases, musical with joy-bells and sweet with aromatic +pine, the scent of trees born to be Christmas trees. + +There had been a time when he had fancied it would be a wonderful thing +to see the Riviera. He had thought what it would be like to be a rich +man, and bring a certain girl here for a moon of honey and roses. + +She was the most beautiful girl in the world, or he believed her so, +which is exactly the same thing; and he had imagined the joy of walking +with her on just such a terrace as this Casino terrace where he was +walking now, alone. She would be in white, with one of those long ermine +things that women call stoles; an ermine muff (the big, "granny" kind +that swallows girlish arms up to the dimples in their elbows) and a hat +which they would have bought together in Paris. + +They would have bought jewels, too, in the same street where they found +the hat; the Rue de la Paix, which she had told him she longed to see. +And she would be wearing some of the jewels with the white dress--just a +few, not many, of course. A string of pearls (she loved pearls) a +swallow brooch (he had heard her say she admired those swallow brooches, +and he never forgot anything she said); with perhaps a sapphire-studded +buckle on her white suede belt. Yes, that would be all, except the +rings, which would lie hidden under her gloves, on the dear little hands +whose nails were like enamelled rose leaves. + +When she moved, walking beside him on the terrace, there would be a +mysterious silky whisper and rustle, something like that you hear in the +woods, in the spring, when the leaves are crisp with their pale green +youth, and you shut your eyes, listening to the breeze telling them the +secrets of life. + +There would be a fragrance about the white dress and the laces, and +ermine, and the silk things that you could not see,--a fragrance as +mysterious as the rustling, for it would seem to belong to the girl, and +not to have come from any bottle, or bag of sachet powder. A sweet, +fresh, indefinable fragrance, like the smell of a tea rose after rain. + +They would have walked together, they two, and he would have been so +proud of her, that every time a passer-by cast a glance of admiration at +her face, he would feel that he could hardly keep in a laugh of joy, or +a shout, "She is mine--she is mine." + +But he had been poor in the old days, when from far away he had thought +of this terrace, and the moon of honey and roses, and love. It had all +been a dream, then, as it was now; too sweet ever to come true. + +He thought of the dream, and of the boy who had dreamed it, half +bitterly, half sadly, on this his first day in the place of the dream. + +He was rich--as rich as he had seen himself in the impossible picture, +and it would have been almost too easy to buy the white dress, and the +ermine, and the pearls. But there was no one for whom he would have been +happy to buy them. The most beautiful girl in the world was not in his +world now; and none other had had the password to open the door of his +heart since she had gone out, locking it behind her. + +"She would have liked the auto," he said to himself. And then, a moment +later, "I wonder why I came?" + +It was a perfect Riviera day. Everybody in Monte Carlo who was not in +the Casino was sauntering on the terrace in the sun; for it was that +hour before luncheon when people like to say, "How do you do?--How nice +to meet you here!" to their friends. + +The young man from far away had not, so far as he knew, either enemies +or friends at Monte Carlo. He was not conscious of the slightest desire +to say "How do you do?" to any of the pretty people he met, although +there is a superstition that every soul longs for kindred souls at +Christmas time. + +He had not been actively unhappy before he left the Hotel de Paris and +strolled out on the terrace, to have his first sight of Monte Carlo by +daylight. Always, there was the sore spot in his heart, and often it +ached almost unbearably at night, or when the world hurt him with its +beauty, which he must see without Her; but usually he kept the spot +well covered up; and being healthy as well as young, he had cultivated +that kind of contentment which Thoreau said was only desperate +resignation in disguise. He took an interest in books, in politics, and +sport and motor cars, and a good many other things; but on the terrace, +the blue of the sea; the opal lights on the mountains; the gold glint of +oranges among green, glittering leaves; the pearly glimmer of white +roses thrown up like a spray against the sky, struck at his heart, and +made the ache come back more sharply than it had for a long time. + +If he had been a girl, tears would have blinded his eyes; but being what +he was, he merely muttered in anger against himself, "Hang it all, what +a wretched ass I am," and turning his back on the sea, made his way as +fast as he could into the Casino. + +It was close upon twelve o'clock, and the "Rooms" had been open to the +public for two hours. The "early gamblers" thronging the Atrium to wait +till the doors opened, had run in and snatched seats for themselves at +the first tables, or marked places to begin at eleven o'clock, if +crowded away from the first. Later, less ardent enthusiasts had strolled +in; and now, though it was not by any means the "high season" yet, there +were rows of players or lookers on, three deep round each table. + +The young man was from the South--though a South very different from +this. He had the warm blood of Virginia in his veins, and just so much +of the gambler's spirit as cannot be divided from a certain recklessness +in a man with a temperament. He had seen plenty of life in his own +country, in the nine years since he was twenty, and he knew all about +roulette and _trente et quarante_, among other things desirable and +undesirable. + +Still, gambling seemed to be made particularly fascinating here, and he +wanted to be fascinated, wanted it badly. He was in the mood for the +heavy hush of the Rooms, for the closeness, and the rich perfumes, which +mingling together seem like the smell of money piled on the green +tables; he was in a mood for the dimmed light like dull gold, gold +sifted into dust by passing through many hands. + +He had got his ticket of admission to the Casino, after arriving +yesterday evening; but the Rooms had not pleased him then. He had not +played, and had merely walked through, looking at the people; but now he +went to a _trente et quarante_ table, and reaching over the shoulders of +the players--not so many as in the roulette rooms,--he put a five +hundred franc note on _couleur_. It won. He let the money lie, and it +won again. A third time and a fourth he left the notes on, and still +luck was with him. He was in for a good run. + +As it happened, nobody else had been playing higher than _plaques_, the +handsome hundred franc gold pieces coined for the Principality of +Monaco; and people began to watch the new comer, as they always do one +who plays high and is lucky. On the fifth deal he had won the maximum. +He took off half, and was leaving the rest to run, when a voice close to +his shoulder said, "Oh, do take it all off. I feel it's going to lose +now. To please _me_." + +[Illustration: He took off half, and was leaving the rest to run, when a +voice close to his shoulder said, "Oh, do take it all off." Page 12. + + --_Rosemary._] + +He glanced aside, and saw an exceedingly pretty, dark face, which looked +vaguely familiar. With a smile, he took up all the notes, and only just +in time. Couleur lost; inverse won. + +"Oh, I'm so glad," said the owner of the pretty face. She spoke English +with a slight, but bewitching foreign accent; and her eyes shone at him +like brown jewels under the tilted brim of a hat made all of pink and +crimson roses. She was rather like a rose, too, a rich, colourful, spicy +rose, of the kind which unfolds early. He knew that he had seen her +before, and wondered where. + +After all, it was rather nice to be spoken to by someone other than a +hotel manager or a waiter; someone who was good to look at, and +friendly. He lost interest in the game, and gained interest in the girl. + +"Thank you," said he. "You've brought me luck." + +"I hope you don't think I speak always to strangers, like that," said +the girl in the rose hat. "But you see, I recognized you at once. I +don't know if you remember me? No, I'm afraid you don't." + +"Of course I remember you, only I can't think where we--" + +"Why, it was in Paris. You saved my mother's little dog from being run +over one day. We were both so grateful. Afterwards we saw you once or +twice at tea at the Ritz, and you took off your hat, so you must have +remembered then. Ah me, it's a long time ago!" + +"Not so very," said the young man. "I remember well, now." (He wished +her mother had not been quite such an appalling person, fat and +painted.) "It was only last October. I'd just come to Paris. It was my +first day there, when I picked up the little dog. Now, on my first day +here, you pay me back for what I did then--as if it needed paying +back!--by making me pick up my money. That's quite a coincidence." + +They had moved away from the tables now, and were walking very slowly +down the room. The young man smiled at the girl, as he crushed up the +notes and stuffed them into his pocket. He saw that she was much +prettier than he had thought her in Paris, if he had thought of her at +all; and her dress of pale pink cloth was charming with the rose hat. +Somehow, he was glad that she was not in white--with an ermine stole. + +"So it is, quite a coincidence, and a pleasant one for me, since I meet +again one who was once so kind," she said. "Especially it is good to +meet a friend--if I may call you a friend?--when one is very sad." + +"Of course you may call me a friend," said he, kindly. "I'm sorry to +hear you are sad." + +"That is why I told you the other meeting seemed a long time ago," +explained the girl. "I was happy then. Now, I am breaking my heart, and +I do not know what to do. Oh, I ought not to talk like this, for after +all, you are a stranger. But you are English, or you are American; and +men of those countries never misunderstand a woman, even if she is in +trouble. We can feel ourselves safe with them." + +"I'm American," he answered, "and I'm glad you feel like that. I wish I +could help you in some way." He spoke kindly, but not with absolute +warmth of sincerity. The girl saw this, and knew that he did not believe +in her as she wished him to believe, as she intended to make him +believe. + +She looked up at him with sad and eloquent eyes, which softened his +heart in spite of himself. "You can't help me, thank you," she said, +"except by kind words and kind thoughts. I think, though, that it would +do me good to tell you things, if you really take an interest?" + +"Of course I do." He was speaking the truth now. He was human, and she +was growing prettier, as she grew more pathetic, every moment. + +"And would you advise me a little? I have nobody else to ask. My mother +and I know no one at Monte Carlo. Perhaps you would walk with me on the +terrace and let me talk?" + +"Not on the terrace," he said, quickly, for he could not bear to meet +the sweet ghost of the past in the white dress and ermine stole, as he +gave advice to the flesh and blood reality of the present, in the pink +frock and roses. "What about Ciro's? Couldn't we find your mother +somewhere, and get her to chaperon us for lunch? I should think it must +be very jolly now, in the Galerie Charles Trois." + +"So it would be; but my poor mother is very ill in her bed," said the +girl. + +"Would she--er--do you think, as I'm an American, and we're almost old +friends, mind letting you have lunch just with me alone? Of course, if +she would mind, you must say no. But I must confess, I'm hungry as a +wolf; and it would be somewhere to sit and talk together, quietly, you +know." + +"You are hungry," echoed the girl. "Ah, I would wager something that you +don't really know what hunger is. But I know--now." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean it is well my mother is ill, and doesn't wish to eat, for there +would be nothing for her, if she did." + +"Good heavens! And you?" + +"I have had nothing to eat since yesterday morning, and then only a +biscuit with a glass of water." + +"My poor girl, we won't say anything more about chaperons. Come along +with me to Ciro's this instant, to lunch, and tell me everything." + +He was completely won over now, and looked very handsome, with a slight +flush on his brown face, and his dark eyes bright with excitement. + +The girl lowered her long lashes, perhaps to hide tears. + +When she did this, and drooped the corners of her mouth, she was very +engaging, and the young man tingled all over with pity. That poor, +pretty creature, starving, in her charming pink dress and hat of roses. +How strange life was! It was something to be thankful for that he had +met her. + +A little while ago, he had walked through the Galerie Charles Trois, +thinking how delightful the tables looked at Ciro's, and making up his +mind to return there for lunch. But afterwards, on the terrace, he had +been so miserable that he would probably have forgotten all about his +plan, if it had not been for the girl. + +Now, he chose a small table in a corner of the balcony, close to the +glass screen. A month later, he might have had to engage it long +beforehand; but to-day, though the place was well filled with pretty +women and their attendant men, there was not a crowd, and he could +listen to his companion's low-voiced confidences without fear of being +overheard. + + + + +[Illustration: CHAPTER TWO] + +THE ROSE GIRL'S LITTLE STORY, AND GREAT EYES + + +[Illustration: H] + +He ordered a lunch which he thought the girl would like, with wine to +revive the faculties that he knew must be failing. Then, when she had +eaten a little, daintily in spite of her hunger, he encouraged her to +talk. + +"Mother and I are all alone in the world," she said. "We are Belgian, +and live in Brussels, but we have drifted about a good deal, just +amusing ourselves. Somehow we never happened to come here until a month +ago. Then my mother said one day in Paris, 'Let us go to Monte Carlo. I +dreamed last night that I won twenty thousand francs there.' My mother +is rather superstitious. We came, and she did win, at first. She was +delighted, and believed in her dream, so much that when she began to +lose, she went up and up, doubling each time. They call the game she +made, 'playing the martingale!' + +"She lost all the money we had with us, and telegraphed home for more. +Soon, she had sold out every one of our securities. Then she won, and +went half mad with the joy and excitement, but the joy didn't last long. +She lost all, again--literally, our all. We were penniless. There was +nothing left to pay the hotel bill. I went out, and found a _Mont de +Piete_, just beyond the limits of the Principality; they aren't allowed +inside. I pawned all our jewellery, and as we had a great many valuable +things, I got several thousand francs. I thought the money would last +us until I could find something to do. But, without telling me what she +meant to do, mother took it all to the Casino--and--it followed the +rest. + +"She was so horrified at what she had done, when it was too late, that +she wished to kill herself. It was a terrible time for me, but I was so +sorry--so sorry for her." + +As the girl said this, she looked full into the young man's eyes, with +her great, appealing ones. He thought that she must have a wonderfully +sweet nature, to have forgiven that horrible, fat old woman, after being +subjected to so much undeserved suffering. It was a thousand pities, he +said to himself, that a really good sort of girl should be forced to +live her life beside a creature of that type, and under such an +influence. He had not quite believed in the poor child, at first, +perhaps, and because he did believe in her now, he felt poignant remorse +for his past injustice. + +"What did you do, then?" he asked, honestly absorbed in the story, for +he was a generous and warm hearted fellow, who found most of his +pleasure, in these latter days, in the help he could give others, to +make them happier than he was himself. + +"I comforted her as well as I could, but I didn't know what would become +of us. Then a lady, who had a room next to mine in the hotel, heard me +crying, and was very kind." + +"I should think she would have been," interrupted the young man. + +"She told me that, as my mother had lost everything, she had better go +to the Direction of the Casino, and get what they call a viatique--money +to go away with. So she did ask, though it was a great ordeal to make +up her mind to do it; and they gave my mother a thousand francs. Then, +you know, she had no right to play in the Rooms again; she was supposed +to pay her hotel bill, and leave Monte Carlo. But she gave half the +money to a woman she had met in the Rooms, and asked her to put it on +six numbers she had dreamed about; she was sure that this time she would +win." + +"And did she?" + +"No. The money was lost. We hadn't enough left to settle our account at +the hotel, or to get away from the place, even if there were anywhere to +go--when one has no pennies. So my mother begged me to slip into the +Rooms, with what was left, and try to get something back. I had been +trying when you saw me, with our last louis. Now you know why it seemed +so good to see a man I knew, a face I could trust. Now you know why I, +who had had such misfortunes, was glad at least to bring you luck." + +"It's my turn to bring you some, I think," began the man she could +trust; but she stopped him by putting up her plump little white hand. + +"If you mean with money, no," she said, with soft decision that was +pretty and sad to hear. "If you mean with advice, yes. If you could only +get me something to do! You see, they will be turning us out of our +hotel to-morrow. They've let us keep our rooms on, up to now, but for +two days they've not given us anything to eat. Of course, it can't go on +like this. If it hadn't been for you, I think when I went back to tell +my mother that the last louis of the viatique was gone, we would have +killed ourselves." + +"Great Heaven, you must promise me not to do that," the young man +implored. + +"I will promise, now, for you have saved me by--caring a little. You do +care, really, don't you?" + +"I wouldn't have blood in my veins, if I didn't. But--about something +for you to do--I must think." + +"Are you staying here for some time?" asked the girl. + +"I haven't made up my mind." + +"I asked because I--I suppose you don't need a secretary, do you? I can +write such a good English hand; and I know French and Italian as well as +I do German, and your own language. If I could be of use, I would work +so hard for you." + +"I dare say I shall be needing a secretary after Christmas, indeed, I'm +sure I shall," insisted the young man, more and more earnest in his +desire to do good. "I have dozens of letters to write every day, and all +sorts of odds and ends to keep straight. I could bring the things down +to your place and you could help me, if you would. But I'm afraid it +would be no end of bother to you." + +"I should love it," said the girl, gently. + +"Oh, it would be hard work. It would take a lot of your time, and be +worth a lot of money." + +"Would it really? But you mustn't overpay me. I should be so angry if +you did that." + +"There's no danger. I'm a good business man, I assure you. I should pay +a capable secretary like you--knowing several languages and all +that--say forty dollars a week. That's about two hundred francs." + +"Wouldn't that be too much?" + +"Hardly enough." + +"You are so good--so good! But I knew you would be. I wonder if you +would think me a very bold girl if I told you something? It's this; I've +never forgotten you since those days in Paris. You were different, +somehow, from other men I had seen. I thought about you. I had a +presentiment that we should meet again. My mother dreamed of numbers to +play at roulette. I dreamed of--but oh, I am saying things I ought not +to say! Please don't blame me. When you've starved for two days, and not +known what to do--unless to die, and then a man comes who is kind, and +saves you from terrible things, you can't be as wise and well behaved as +at other times." + +"Poor child," said the young man. + +"It does me good to be called that. But you don't know my name, the name +of your new secretary. It is Julie--Julie de Lavalette. My mother is +the Comtesse de Lavalette. And you?" + +"Oh, I'm plain Hugh Egerton," said the young man. + +The girl laughed. "I do not think you are plain Hugh Egerton at all. But +perhaps an American girl would not tell you that? Hugh! What a nice +name. I think it is going to be my favourite name." + +She glanced up at him softly, under long lashes,--a thrilling glance; +but he missed its radiance, for his own eyes were far away. Hugh had +been the favourite name of another girl. + +When she saw that look of his, she rose from her chair. "I'm taking too +much of your time," she exclaimed, remorsefully. "I must go." + +His eyes and thoughts came back to the wearer of pink and roses. +Perhaps there had been just a little too much softness and sweetness. It +had been wise of her to change the key, and speak of parting. + +He paid for the lunch, and tipped the waiters so liberally that they all +hoped he would come again often. Then he asked if he might walk with her +to the hotel where she and her mother were staying. + +"It's down in the Condamine," she hesitated. "We've moved there lately, +since the money began to go, and we've had to think of everything. It's +rather a long walk from here." + +"All the better for me," he answered, and her smile was an appreciation +of the compliment. + +They sauntered slowly, for there was no haste. Nobody else wanted Hugh +Egerton's society, and he began to believe that this girl sincerely did +want it. He also believed that he was going to do some real good in the +world, not just in the ordinary, obvious way, by throwing about his +money, but by being genuinely necessary to someone. + +When they had strolled down the hill, and had followed for a time the +straight road along the sea on that level plain which is the Condamine, +the girl turned up a side street. "We live here," she said, and stopped +before a structure of white stucco, rococco decoration, and flimsy +balconies. Large gold letters, one or two of which were missing, +advertised the house as the Hotel Pension Beau Soleil; and those who ran +might read that it would be charitable to describe its accommodation as +second rate. + +"It is not nice," she went on, with a shrug of her pretty shoulders. +"But--it is good to know all the same that we will not be turned out. I +have a new heart in my breast, since I left this house a few hours +ago--because there is a You in the world." + +As she said this, she held out her hand for goodbye, and when he had +shaken it warmly, the young man was bold enough to slip off her wrist +the little pink leather bag which hung there by its chain. + +"Now for that advance on your secretarial work," he said; and taking +from his pocket a wad of notes which he had won at the Casino, he +stuffed it hastily into the yawning mouth of the bag, while the girl's +soft eyes gazed at the sea. Then he closed the spring with a snap, and +she let him pass the chain over her hand once more. + +"Oh, but it looks very fat," she exclaimed. "Are you sure you counted +right?" + +"There's a little more there," he said, uncomfortably, "just a little to +save the bother of counting here in the street. Don't look angry. Only +the salary part's for you, of course, but the rest--couldn't you just +hand it over to your mother, and say, 'Winnings at the Casino'? That's +true, you know; it was, every bit. And you needn't say who won it. +Besides, if it hadn't been for you, it would have been lost instead of +won. It would be a kind of Christmas present for your mother from the +Casino, which really owes her a lot more." + +The girl shook her head, gently. "I couldn't do that, even for my +mother's sake; but I don't misunderstand, now we are such friends. I +know how kindly you mean, and though neither mother nor I can accept +presents of money, even from dear friends (after all we are of the +noblesse!) I'm not going to hurt you by giving the money back, if you +will do what I ask of you." + +"What is that?" He felt ready to do anything within reason. + +"Let us sell you our dear little dog, for this extra money you have put +into my bag. He is very, very valuable, for he cost thousands of francs, +the sweet pet, so you would really have something not unworthy, in +return for your goodness. Ah, don't say no. You would love Papillon, and +we should love you to have him. We couldn't have parted with our little +darling to a stranger, though we were starving; but it would make us +happy to think he was yours. And then, if you won't, you must take all +this back." As she spoke, she touched the bag on her arm. + +"Oh, I'll have the dog!" Hugh Egerton said, quickly. Anything rather +than the girl should return the money, which she so much needed. "I +remember he was a dear little chap, Pomeranian or something of the sort. +I hope he likes motors." + +"He will like whatever you like. If you will come and fetch him this +evening, I will show you all his tricks. Do come. It would be good to +see you again so soon." + +"With pleasure," said the young man, flushing slightly. "If you think +your mother will be well enough to receive me?" + +"The news I have to give will almost cure her. If you would dine with +us? They will give us a dinner, now"--and she laughed childishly--"when +I have paid the bill. It will be very stupid for you at a place like +this, but you will have a welcome, and it is the best we can do." + +"It is the welcome I want," said Hugh. "But if you and your mother could +dine with me somewhere--" + +"Another time we will." + +There were to be other times, of course! + +"And this evening," she went on, "we can talk of my beginning work, as +your secretary. It shall be directly after Christmas?" + +"Whenever you are ready." + +"I suppose you have friends to whom you will go for Christmas?" + +"Not a friend." + +"Oh, perhaps we might be together--all three?" + +"I'll think of something pleasant for us to do, if you'll let me." + +"How good you are! Then, till this evening. It will seem long till +then." + +They shook hands once more. She had taken off her glove now, and her +palm left on his a reminiscence of Peau d'Espagne. He did not know what +the scent was, but it smelled rich and artificial, and he disliked to +associate it with his new friend. "But probably it's her mother's, and +she didn't choose it herself," he thought. "Well--I have a new interest +in life now. I expect this is the best thing that's happened to me for a +long time." + +As he walked back to his hotel, his head was full of plans for the +girl's transient pleasure and lasting benefit. "Poor lonely child," he +thought. "And what a mother! She ought not to be left with a person like +that. She ought to marry. It would be a good deed to take her away from +such an influence. So young, and so ingenuous as she is still, in spite +of the surroundings she must have known, she is capable of becoming a +noble woman. Perhaps, if she turns out to be really as sweet and gentle +as she seems--" + +The sentence broke off unfinished, in his mind, and ended with a great +sigh. + +There could be only second best, and third best things in life for him +now, since love was over, and it would be impossible for him to care for +an angel from heaven, who had not the face and the dear ways of the girl +he had lost. But second best things might be better than no good things +at all, if only one made up one's mind to accept them thankfully. And it +was a shame to waste so much money on himself, when there were +soft-eyed, innocent girls in the world who ought to be sheltered and +protected from harm. + + + + +[Illustration: CHAPTER THREE] + +WHEN THE CURTAIN WAS DOWN + + +[Illustration: T] + +The soft-eyed, innocent girl who had inspired the thought went into the +hotel, and was rather cross to the youthful concierge, because the +_ascenseur_ was not working. There were three flights of stairs to mount +before she reached her room, and she was so anxious to open her bag to +see what was inside, that she ran up very fast, so fast that she stepped +on her dress and ripped out a long line of gathers. Her eyes were not +nearly as soft as they had been, while she picked up the hanging folds +of pink cloth, and went on. + +The narrow corridor at the top of the staircase was somewhat dark, and, +her eyes accustomed to the brilliant light out of doors, the girl +stumbled against a child who was coming towards her. + +"_Petit bete!_" she snapped. "You have all but made me fall. Awkward +little thing, why don't you keep out of people's way?" + +The child flushed. She would have liked to answer that it was +Mademoiselle who had got in her way; but Mother wished her to be always +polite. "I am sorry," she replied instead, not saying a word about the +poor little toes which the pretty pink lady had crushed. + +"Well, then, if you are sorry, why don't you let me pass?" asked the +girl of the soft eyes. + +"If you please, I want to give you a note," said the child, anxiously +searching a small pocket. "It's from Mother, for Madame. She told me to +take it to your door; so I did, several times, but nobody answered. Here +'tis, please, Mademoiselle." + +Mademoiselle snatched it from the hand, which was very tiny, and pink, +with dimples where grown up folk have knuckles. She then pushed past the +child, and went on to a door at the end of the passage, which she threw +open, without knocking. + +"_Eh bien_, Julie! You have been gone long enough to break the bank +twice over. What luck have you had?" exclaimed the husky voice of a +woman who sat in an easy chair beside a wood fire, telling her own +fortune with an old pack of cards, spread upon a sewing board, on her +capacious lap. + +She was in a soiled dressing gown of purple flannel, with several of the +buttons off. In the clear light of a window at the woman's back, her +hair, with a groundwork of crimson, was overshot with iridescent lights. +On a small table at her side a tray had been left, with the remains of +_dejeuner_; a jug stained brown with streaks of coffee; a crumbled +crescent roll; some balls of silver paper which had contained cream +chocolates; ends of cigarettes, and a scattered grey film of ashes. At +her feet a toy black Pomeranian lay coiled on the torn bodice of a red +dress; and all the room was in disorder, with an indiscriminate litter +of hats, gloves, French novels, feather boas, slippers, and fallen +blouses or skirts. + +The lady of the roses went to the mirror over the untidy mantel piece, +and looked at herself, as she answered. "No luck at roulette or trente. +But the best of luck outside." + +"What, then?" + +The girl began to hum, as she powdered her nose with a white glove, +lying in a powder box. + +"You remember _le beau brun_?" + +"The young man in Paris you made so many enquiries about at Ritz's? Is +he here?" + +"He is. I've just had lunch with him. Oh, there are lots of things to +tell. He is a good boy." + +"How, good? You told him we had had losses?" + +"I painted a sad picture. He was most sympathetic." + +"To what extent?" + +"_Chere maman!_ One would think we were vulgar adventuresses. We are +not. He respects me, this dear young man, and it is right that he +should. I deserve to be respected. You know the fable about the dog who +dropped his meat in the water, trying to snap at its reflection? Well, +I don't ask strangers for loans. I make my impression. Monsieur Hugh +Egerton is my friend--at present. Later, he will be what I choose. And +most certainly I shall choose him for a husband. What luck, meeting him +again! It is time I settled down." + +"They said at Ritz's that he was one of the young millionaires, well +known already in America," the fat woman reflected aloud. "It is a good +thing that I have brought you up well, Julie, and that you are pretty." + +"Yes, it is a good thing that I am pretty," repeated the girl. "We have +had many hopes often before, but this seems to be the most promising. I +think it is very promising indeed, and I don't mean to let it slip." + +She turned her back to the easy chair, and opened the pink bag. As the +woman talked on, she secretly counted out the money. There were more +than ten thousand francs in mille notes and others of smaller +denominations. Quietly she put them away in the top of a travelling box, +which she locked. Then she noticed the letter which the child had given +her, still lying on the dressing table, with her gloves. + +"Here's something from _la belle Americaine_, upstairs," said she. "A +_billet doux_." + +"A dun," exclaimed the woman. + +"No doubt. It can be nothing else." + +"Well, we can't pay." + +"No, we can't pay," said the girl, looking at the locked box. + +"Let me see, how much was it she lent?" + +"Two hundred francs, I think. We told her we'd give it back in a week. +That's nearly a month ago." + +"Serve her right for trusting strangers. The saints alone know when +she'll see her money again. She shouldn't be so soft hearted. It +doesn't pay in these days." + +"Neither do we--when we can help it." + +They both laughed. + +"But when you are Madame--let me see, what was the name of the young +monsieur, they told you at the Ritz?" + +"Egerton." + +"Ah yes. When you are Madame Egerton--" + +"Everything will be very different then." + +And the girl slipped the key of the box into the little pink bag. + + + + +[Illustration: CHAPTER FOUR] + +DOGS AND FATHERS + + +[Illustration: A] + +After delivering her letter, the child went slowly on downstairs, to the +room she had been on the way to visit. It was on the second floor, just +under the room of the Comtesse de Lavalette. + +"Come in," said a Cockney voice shrill with youth, in answer to her tap; +and the child obeyed. + +Though this room was of the same size and shape, it was very different +from that of the Comtesse. The plain furniture was stiffly arranged, and +there was no litter of clothing or small feminine belongings. By the +window, which gave a glimpse of the sea, and of Monaco rock with the old +part of the Palace, a plump young girl sat, with a baby a year or two +old in her arms, and a nurse's cap on her smooth head. + +"You invited me to come down after I'd had my dejeuner, so I came," said +the child. + +"Right you are, Miss Rosemary," returned the plump girl. "You're such a +quaint little body, you're a regular treat. I declare I ain't 'alf sure +I wouldn't rather talk to you, than read the Princess Novelettes. +Besides, I do get that tired of 'earin' nothin' but French, I'm most +sorry I undertook the job; and the Biby don't pick up English much yet." + +"Don't you think he's a bright baby?" asked the child, sitting down on a +footstool, which was a favourite seat of hers. + +"For a French biby, 'e 's as bright as you could expect," replied her +hostess, judicially. + +"Are they different?" + +"Well, they ain't Hinglish." + +"_I'm_ half American," said the little girl. + +"You don't talk through your nose. Far as I can see, you've got as good +a haccent as me." + +"I suppose yours _is_ good?" asked Rosemary, as if she longed to have a +doubt set forever at rest. + +"Rather! Ain't I been brought out from London on purpose so as this biby +can learn to speak Hinglish, instead of French? It's pretty near the +sime thing as bein' nursery governess. Madame wouldn't trust her own wye +of pronouncing the languidge. She must 'ave a Hinglish girl." + +"And she sent for you on purpose?" the child enquired, with increasing +respect. + +"Well, I was the only one as would come at the price. 'Tain't big wages; +but I'm seein' loife. Lor', I come down here with Madame and Mounseer a +fortnight ago, and Monte Carlo ain't got many secrets from me. I _was_ a +duffer, though, at first. When I 'eerd all them shots poppin' off every +few minutes, up by the Casino, I used to think 'twas the suicides a +shooting theirselves all over the place, for before I left 'ome, I 'ad a +warnin' from my young man that was the kind of goin's on they 'ad here. +But now I know it's only the pigeon shooters, tryin' for prizes, and I +wouldn't eat a pigeon pie in this 'otel, not if 'twas ever so!" + +"Do they ever have them?" asked the little girl, awed. + +"Not as I knows of, but they may for Christmas. I sye, are you lookin' +forward to your Christmas, kiddy?" + +"Angel--that's Mother, I mean--says I'm not going to have much of a +Christmas this year. I'm trying not to mind. I suppose it's because +Santa Claus can't get to the Riviera, with his sleigh and reindeer. How +could he, Miss Jane, when there's no snow, and not even a scrap of ice?" + +"Pshaw!" said Miss Jane. "It ain't Santa Claus brings you things, snow +or no snow. Only babies believe that. You're old enough to know better. +It's your father and mother does it all." + +"Are you sure?" asked Rosemary. + +"Dead sure. Don't be a silly and cry, now, just because there ain't any +Santa Claus, nor any fairies." + +"It isn't that," said the little girl. "It's because I can never have +any more Christmases, if it depends on a father. You know, I haven't a +father." + +"I supposed you 'adn't, as 'e ain't 'ere, with yer ma," replied the +young person. "She's mighty pretty." + +"I think she's the prettiest mother in the world," said Rosemary, +proudly. + +"She don't look much like a mother." + +The child opened her eyes very wide at this new point of view. "I +couldn't have a mother who looked any other way," she said. "What do you +think she does look like?" + +"Silly puss! I only mean she isn't much more'n a kid, 'erself." + +"She's twenty five, twenty whole years more than me. Isn't that old?" + +"Lawkes, no. I'm goin' on seventeen myself. I 'avent got any father, no +more'n you 'ave, so I can feel fur you. Your ma 'as to do typewritin'. +Mine does charrin'. It's much the sime thing." + +"Is it?" asked Rosemary. "Angel doesn't like typewriting so very well. +It makes her shoulder ache, but it isn't that she minds. It's not having +enough work to do." + +"Bless your hinnercent 'eart, charrin' mikes you ache all _over_! +Betcherlife my ma'd chinge with yours if she could." + +"Would she? But Angel doesn't get on at all well here. I've heard her +telling a lady she lent some money to, and wanted to have it back, after +awhile. You see, when we were left poor, people said that she could make +lots of money in Paris, because they pay a good deal there for the +things Angel does; but others seemed to have got all the work for +themselves, before we went over to Paris to live, so some friends she +had told her it would be better to try here where there was no--no +com--com--" + +"No compertishun," suggested the would-be nursery governess. + +"Yes, that's the right word, I think. But there was some, after all. +Poor Angel's so sad. She doesn't quite know what we'll do next, for we +haven't much money left." + +"She's got a job of char--I mean, typin' to-day anyhow," said Jane. + +"Yes, she's gone to a hotel, where a gentleman talks a story out loud, +and she puts it down on paper. She's been three times; but it's so sad; +the story is a beautiful one, only she doesn't think he'll live to +finish it. He came here to get well, because there's sunshine, and +flowers; but his wife cried on Angel's shoulder, in the next room to +his, and said he would never, never get well any more. Angel didn't +tell me, for I don't think she likes me to know sad things; but I heard +her saying it all to a lady she works for sometimes, a lady who knows +the poor man. I don't remember his name, but he's what they call a +Genius." + +"It's like that out here on the Riviera," said Jane, shaking her head so +gloomily that the ruffled cap wobbled. "Lots of ill people come, as well +as those who wants fun, and throwin' thur money about. In the midst of +loife we are in death. Drat the Biby, I believe 'e's swallowed 'is tin +soldier! No, 'ere it is, on the floor. But, as I was sayin', your ma and +mine might be sisters, in some wyes. Both of 'em lost their 'usbins, +young--" + +"How did your father get lost?" Rosemary broke in, deeply interested. + +"'E went to the dogs," replied Jane, mysteriously. + +"Oh!" breathed the child, thrilled with a vague horror. She longed +intensely to know what had happened to her friend's parent after joining +his lot with that of the dogs, but was too delicate-minded to continue +her questioning, after such a tragic beginning. She wondered if there +were a kind of dreadful dog which made a specialty of eating fathers. +"And did he never come back again?" she ventured to enquire, at last. + +"Not 'e. You never do, you know, if once you goes to the dogs. There +ain't no wye back. I was wonderin', since we've been acquainted, kiddy, +if your pa didn't go the sime road? It 'appens in all clarses." + +"Oh no, my father was lost at sea, not on the road; and there aren't any +dogs there, at least I don't think so," said Rosemary. + +"If it's only the sea 'as swallered 'im, 'e may be cast up again, any +day, alive an' bloomin'," replied Jane cheerfully. "My ma 'ad a grite +friend, sold winkles; 'er 'usbin was lost at sea for years and years, +till just wen she was comfortably settled with 'er second, along 'e +comes, as large as loife. Besides, I've read of such things in the +Princess Novelettes; only there it's most generally lovers, not 'usbins, +nor yet fathers. Would you know yours again, if you seen 'im?" + +Rosemary shook her head doubtfully, and her falling hair of pale, +shimmering gold waved like a wheat-field shaken by a breeze. "Angel lost +him when I was only two," the child explained. "She's never talked much +to me about him; but we used to live in a big house in London--because +my father was English, you know, though Angel's American--and I had a +nurse who held me in her lap and told me things. I heard her say to one +of the servants once that my father had been lost on a yacht, and that +he was oh, ever such a handsome man. But--but she said--" Rosemary +faltered, her grey-blue eyes suddenly large and troubled. + +"What was it she said?" prompted Jane, with so much sympathetic interest +that the little girl could not refuse to answer. Nevertheless, she felt +that it would not be right to finish her sentence. + +"If you please, I'd rather not tell you what Nurse said," she pleaded. +"But anyway, I'd give everything I've got if my father would get found +again. You see, it isn't only not having proper Christmases any more, +that makes me feel sad, it's because Angel has to work so hard for me; +and if I had a father, I s'pose he'd do that." + +"If 'e didn't he'd deserve to get What For," said Jane, decidedly. "If +you was a child in a story book, your pa'd come back and be lookin' for +you everywhere, on Christmas Eve; this Christmas Eve as ever was." + +"Oh, would he?" cried Rosemary, a bright colour flaming on her little +soft cheeks. + +"Yes; and what's more," went on her hostess, warming to the subject, +"you'd know 'im, the hinstant you clapped heyes on his fice, by +'eaven-sent hinstinct." + +"What's 'eaven-sent hinstinct?" demanded Rosemary. + +"The feelin' you 'ave in your 'eart for a father, wot's planted there by +Providence," explained Jane. "Now do you hunderstand? Because if you do, +I don't know but you'd better be trottin'. Biby's gorn to sleep, and +seems to be sleepin' light." + +"Yes, I think I understand," Rosemary whispered, jumping up from her +footstool. "Goodbye. And thank you very much for letting me come and see +you and the baby." + +She tiptoed across the room, her long hair waving and shimmering again, +softly opened, and shut the door behind her, and slowly mounted the +stairs to her own quarters, on the fourth floor. + + + + +[Illustration: CHAPTER FIVE] + +ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER + + +[Illustration: S] + +She had a doll and a picture book there, but she had looked at the +picture book hundreds of times; and though her doll was a faithful +friend, somehow they had nothing to say to each other now. Rosemary +flitted about like a will o' the wisp, and finally went to the window, +where she stood looking wistfully out. + +Supposing that Jane were right, and her father came back out of the +ocean like the fathers of little girls in story books, this might be a +very likely place for him to land, because there was such lots of sea, +beautiful, sparkling, blue sea. Of course, he couldn't know that Angel +and she were in this town, because it was only about a month since they +came. It must be difficult to hear things in ships; and he might go +away, to look for them somewhere else, without ever finding them here. + +Little thrills of excitement running from Rosemary's fingers to her toes +felt like vibrating wires. What could she do? Jane had said, if he came +at all, he was sure to come on Christmas Eve, according to the habit of +fathers, and it was Christmas Eve now. By and bye it would be too late, +anyhow for a whole year, which was just the same as forever and ever. +Oh, she must go out, this very minute! + +The child had put on her hat and coat, before she remembered that Angel +had told her she must never stir beyond the hotel garden alone. But +then, Angel probably did not know this important fact about fathers lost +at sea, returning on Christmas Eve, and not at any other time. + +If she waited until Angel came in, it might be after sunset, as it had +been yesterday; and then even if they hurried into the street to search, +they could not recognize him in the dark. + +"I do think Angel would surely want me to go, if she knew," thought +Rosemary. + +Her heart was beating fast, under the little dark blue coat. What a +glorious surprise for Angel, if she could bring a tall, handsome man +into this room, and say, "Dearest, now you won't have to work any more, +or cry in the night when you think I've gone to sleep. Here's father, +come back out of the sea." + +"Oh, oh!" she cried, and ran from the room, afraid of wasting another +instant. + +The sallow young concierge had often seen the child go out alone to +disappear round the path that circled the hotel, and play in the dusty +square of grass which, on the strength of two orange trees and a palm, +was called a garden. He thought nothing of it now, when she nodded in +her polite little way, and opened the door for herself. Five minutes +later, he was reading of a delicious jewel robbery, which had happened +in a tunnel near Nice, and had forgotten all about Rosemary's existence. + +The little girl had an idea that she ought to go to the place where +ships came in, and as she had more than once walked to the port with her +mother, she knew the way very well. + +Two white yachts were riding at anchor in the harbour, but no one had +come on shore who looked handsome enough for a father to be recognised +by 'eaven-sent-hinstinct, the moment you set eyes upon him. Rosemary +stood by the quay for a few minutes, uncertain what to do. Two or three +deep-eyed, long-lashed Monegasque men smiled at her kindly, as +Monegasque men and Italians smile at all children. She had learned to +lisp French with comparative fluency, during the months she and "Angel" +had spent in Paris; and now she asked where the people went who had come +in on those pretty white ships? + +"Those are yachts," said one of the deep-eyed men; "and the people who +come on them are rowed to shore in little boats. Then they go quickly up +the hill, to the Casino--that big white building there--so that they can +put their money on a table, or take somebody else's money off." + +"I have always seen dishes put on tables," said Rosemary, "never money. +If I went there, could I take some off? I should like to have a little, +very much." + +"So would we all," smiled the deep-eyed man, patting her head. "They +would not let you in, because you are too young." + +"I want to find my father, who has been on the sea," the child +explained. "Do you think he might be there?" + +"He is sure to be there," said the deep-eyed man; and he and the other +men laughed. "If you sit on a bench where the grass and flowers are, +outside the Casino door, and watch, perhaps you will see him come down +the steps. But you are small to be out all alone looking for him." + +"It's very important for me to find my father before it is dark," said +Rosemary. "So I thank you for telling me, and now goodbye." + +Daintily polite as usual, she bowed to them all, and started up the +hill. + +As she walked briskly on, she studied with large, starry eyes the face +of every man she met; but there was not a suitable father among them. +She was still fatherless when she reached the Place of the Casino, where +she had often come before, to walk in the gardens or on the terrace at +unfashionable hours with her mother, on Sundays, or other days +when--unfortunately--there was no work to do. + +She had sat down on a bench between a French "nou-nou," with a wonderful +head dress, and a hawk-visaged old lady with a golden wig, and had fixed +her eyes upon the Casino door, when the throb, throb of a motor caught +her attention. + +Now an automobile was a marvellous dragon for Rosemary, and she could +never see too many for her pleasure. Above all things, she would have +loved a spin on the back of such a dragon, and she liked choosing +favourites from among the dragon brood. + +A splendid dark blue one was panting and quivering before the door of +the Hotel de Paris, having just been started by a slim chauffeur in a +short fur coat. As Rosemary gazed, deciding that this was the noblest +dragon of them all, a young man ran down the steps of the hotel and got +into the car. He took his place in the driver's seat, laid his hand on +the steering wheel as if he were caressing a baby's head, the chauffeur +sprang up beside his master, and they were off. But with a cry, Rosemary +rushed across the road. + +The nou-nou shrieked and hugged her muffled charge; the old lady +screamed, and all the other old ladies and young ladies, and pretty +girls sitting on the benches, or walking about, screamed too. + +The man who drove was pale under his coat of brown tan as with a crash +of machinery he brought the big blue car to a stop so close to the child +that its glittering bonnet touched her coat. He did not say a word for +an instant, for his lips were pressed so tightly together, that they +were a white line. + +[Illustration: With a crash of machinery he brought the big blue car to +a stop. Page 70. + + --_Rosemary._] + +That beautiful, little golden-haired, smiling thing, so full of life! +But it was all right now. She was smiling still, as if she did not guess +the deadly peril she had just escaped. + +"Don't you know, little one," he asked gently, "that it's very dangerous +to run in front of automobiles?" + +"Oh, but I wanted so much to stop you," said Rosemary. + +"Why, do you know me?" And the young man smiled such a pleasant smile, +with a gleam of white teeth, that the child was more than ever sure she +had done right. + +"Yes, I know you by 'eavensenthinstinct." She got out the long word with +a gasp or two; but it was a great success. She had not mixed up a single +syllable. + +The young man burst out laughing. "Where's your nurse?" he asked. + +"In London," said Rosemary. "She isn't my nurse any more." + +"Well, your mother--" + +"She isn't--" + +"What? Are you going to tell me she isn't your mother any more? Are you +out 'on your own,' little lady?" + +"I don't know what that is; and my mother's my mother just as usual, +thank you," said Rosemary, with dignity. "She's quite well. But she +doesn't know I came out to look for you." + +"Oh, doesn't she?" echoed the young man in the car. "Then don't you +think the best thing you can do is to let me take you back to her?" + +"She won't be home yet, not till it's dark, I expect," said the child. + +"Oh, that's a long time yet. Well, since you know me, wouldn't you like +to climb in, and have a little run?" + +"May I, truly and really?" The little face grew pink with joy. + +"Truly and really--if you're not afraid." + +"What should I be afraid of?" Rosemary asked. + +"I was talking nonsense. Get down, Paul, and put her into the tonneau. +You'd better sit by her, perhaps." + +The chauffeur proceeded to obey, but when the child found herself being +tucked into a back seat of the car, she gave a little protesting cry. +"Oh, can't I sit in front with you?" + +"Of course you can, if you like. Paul, wrap her up well in the rug. Now, +little one, we're going to start. I won't take you too fast." + +He turned the car, and passing the Casino drove up the hill, taking the +direction of Mentone, when he had reached the top. He had not been over +this road before, as he had arrived by way of Nice yesterday; but he had +studied road maps, and knew both how and where he wished to go. + +"Now," said he, driving carefully, "how do you like it?" + +"Oh, it's wonderful!" answered Rosemary, with a rapt smile on her rosy +face. + +"Have you ever motored before?" + +She shook her head. "Never." + +"Brave Baby." + +"I don't usually care to be called a baby," she remarked. "But I don't +mind from you." + +"I'm especially favoured, it seems," said the young man. "Tell me how +you happen to know me? I can't think, I must confess, unless it was on +shipboard--" + +"There! I knew perfectly well it was you!" broke in Rosemary with a look +of rapture. "You _were_ on a ship, and you were lost at sea. But you're +found again now, because it's Christmas Eve." + +"I wasn't lost at sea, though, or I shouldn't be here with you," said +Hugh Egerton. He glanced rather wistfully in a puzzled way at the +lovely little face framed with blowing golden hair. There was something +in the child's eyes which stabbed his heart; yet there was sweetness in +the pain. "I'm afraid we're playing at cross purposes, aren't we?" he +went on. "Was it on a ship that you saw me?" + +"Oh, I didn't see you on the ship," said Rosemary. "I only knew you went +away on one. I haven't seen you for ever and ever so long, not since I +was a tiny baby." + +"By Jove! And you've remembered me all this time?" + +"Not exactly remembered. It was the feeling I had in my heart, just as +Jane said I would, the minute I saw you, that told me it was you. That +was why I ran to keep you from going on in your motor car, because if +you had, I might have lost you again, forever and ever." + +"So you might," said puzzled Hugh Egerton, pleased as well as puzzled. +"And that would never have done for either of us." + +"It would have been dreadful," replied Rosemary, "to have to wait for +another Christmas Eve." + +"Christmas Eve seems a day for adventures," said Hugh. "One finds new +friends;--and dear little girls; and--goodness knows what I shall find +next." + +"We must find Angel next," Rosemary assured him. "She'll be so glad to +see you." + +"Do you really think so? By the way, who is Angel?" + +"Mother. Didn't you know _that_?" + +"I expect I'd forgotten," Hugh answered. She looked so reproachful, that +not for the world would he have denied all knowledge of Angel. The child +evidently took him for someone she had known; perhaps she had seen a +photograph of some long lost friend of her family, who resembled him, +and she had sprung to a conclusion, as children do. But she was an +exquisitely pretty and engaging little thing, a grand little pal, and +worth cultivating. Hugh liked children, especially girls, though he had +always been rather shy with them, not knowing exactly how they liked +best to be entertained, and finding it difficult to think of things to +say, in keeping up a conversation. But there was no such difficulty with +this child. It was really interesting to draw the little creature out, +and see what she would say next. As for finding Angel, however, when the +time came to do that, he thought he would prefer to bid Angel's daughter +goodbye at the door. He had no fancy for scraping up an acquaintance +with strangers through their children. + + + + +[Illustration: CHAPTER SIX] + +FAIRY FATHERS MUST VANISH + + +[Illustration: R] + +Rosemary sat in silence for a few moments, taking in the full meaning of +her companion's answer to her last question. He had forgotten that Angel +was Angel! Though she was warmly wrapped in a soft rug of silvery fur, a +chill crept into her heart. Could it be that Nurse's words about father +had been true, after all; and if they were, was she doing harm, rather +than good, in bringing him home? + +Presently Hugh waked out of his own thoughts, and noticed the little +girl's silence. + +"You're not afraid?" he asked, blissfully unconscious of offence. "I'm +not driving too fast to please you?" + +"Oh no," said Rosemary. + +"You're not cold?" + +"No, thank you." + +"Nor tired?" + +"No, not tired." + +"But something is the matter?" + +"I'm worrying," confessed the child. + +"What about, little one?" + +"I'm not sure if I ought to have spoken to you, or have come with you, +after all." + +To save his life, Hugh could not have helped laughing, though it was +evidently a matter of serious importance. "What, do you think we ought +to have a chaperon?" he asked. "Paul's in the tonneau, you know; and +he's a most discreet chap." + +"I don't know what a chaperon is," said Rosemary. "But will you promise +not to be angry if I ask you something, and will you promise to answer, +honour bright?" + +"Yes, to both your questions." + +"Were you really unkind to Angel, before you were lost?" + +This was a hard nut to crack, if his past were not to be ruthlessly +severed from Angel's by a word. He thought for a moment, and then said, +"Honour bright, I can't remember anything unkind I ever did to her." + +"Oh, I'm so glad. I was afraid, when you said you'd forgotten--but maybe +her name wasn't Angel, then?" + +"That was it, I'm sure," replied Hugh, soothingly. "Maybe you named her +Angel, yourself?" + +"I don't know," said Rosemary. "She seems to have been it, always, ever +since I can remember. And she does look just like one, you know, she's +so beautiful." + +"I expect you remember a lot more about angels than I do, because it +isn't so long since you came from where they live. But here we are in +the woods at Cap Martin. Have you ever been here before?" + +"Angel and I had a picnic here once, all by ourselves; and there were +lots of sheep under the olive trees, and a funny old shepherd who made +music to them. Oh, I do love picnics, don't you? Angel said, if she were +rich, she'd take me on the loveliest kind of a picnic for Christmas; +but, you see, it would cost too much money to do it, for we've hardly +got any, especially since the Comtesse doesn't pay us back." + +"What kind of picnic would it have been?" asked Hugh, driving along the +beautiful shore road, where the wind-blown pines lean forward like +transformed wood nymphs, caught in a spell just as they spread out their +arms to spring into the sea. + +"Angel has told me lots of history-stories about the strange +rock-villages in the mountains. There's one called Eze, on top of a hill +shaped almost like a horn; she showed me a picture of it. Children live +up in the rock villages, and never come down to the towns. They've never +even seen any toys, like other children play with, Angel says. All the +strangers who come here give presents to the poor in Monte Carlo and +Mentone, and big places like that; but they never think of the ones up +in the mountains. Angel said how nice it would be, if we were rich, to +buy toys,--baskets and baskets full,--and give them away to the +children of Eze. Perhaps you are rich; are you?" + +"Richer than I thought, a few years ago, that I ever should be. I used +to be poor, until I dug, and found some gold lying about in the ground." + +"How splendid! I suppose the fairies showed you where to look. Jane says +there are no fairies, but I do hope she's mistaken. I wish you would +send up some presents to the little children at Eze." + +"I will, lots, if you'll take them." + +"Perhaps we could all go together." + +"I'm afraid your mother wouldn't care for that." + +"Yes, she would. Because, if you were never unkind to her, like Nurse +said you were, she'll be most awfully glad to see you again. I shouldn't +wonder if she'd cry for joy, to have you with us always, and take care +of us. Oh, do let's go back now, and I'll take you to her. She _will_ be +surprised!" + +"I should think she would," said Hugh. "But look here; you said she +wouldn't get back till dark. We've come to Mentone now. See how pretty +the shops are for Christmas. Can't you stop and have some nice hot +chocolate and cakes with me, and afterwards choose a doll for yourself, +as a Christmas present from your old friend?" + +As he put this temptation before her, he slowed down the car in front of +a shop with big glass windows full of sparkling cakes, and ribbon-tied +baskets of crystallized fruits. Through the windows Rosemary could see a +great many well-dressed people sitting at little marble tables, and it +would have been delightful to go in. But she shook her head. The sun +was setting over the sea. The sky was flooded with pink and gold, while +all the air was rosy with a wonderful glow which painted the mountains, +even the dappled-grey plane trees, and the fronts of the gaily decorated +shops. + +The donkey women were leading their patient little animals away from the +stand on the sea promenade, up to Sorbio for the night; and their dark +faces under the queer, mushroom hats were ruddy and beautiful in the +rose-light. + +"As soon as the sun goes down, it gets dark here," said Rosemary, +regretfully. "Thank you very much, but I'd rather go home now. You see, +I do _so_ want you to be there already, waiting to surprise Angel when +she comes in." + +"No time even to buy a doll?" + +"I'd rather go home, thank you. Besides, though I should like to have a +new doll, perhaps darling Evie would be sad if I played with another." + +Hugh was obediently turning the car's bonnet towards Monte Carlo, and +for the fraction of a second he was foolish enough almost to lose +control of it, on account of a start he gave. "Evie!" he echoed. + +It was years since he had spoken that name. + +"She's my doll," explained Rosemary. + +"Oh!" said Hugh. + +"But I don't think she'd mind or be sad if you gave me a doll's house," +went on the child, "if you _should_ have time to get it for me by and +bye; that is, if you really want to give me something for Christmas, you +know." + +"Of course I do. But tell me, why did you name your doll Evie?" + +He put the question in a low voice, as if he were half ashamed of asking +it; and as at that instant a tram boomed by, Rosemary heard only the +first words. + +"I 'sposed you would," she replied. "Fathers do like to give their +little girls Christmas presents, Jane says; maybe that's why they're +obliged to come back always on Christmas Eve, if they've been lost. Do +you know, even if there aren't any fairies, it's just like a fairy story +having my father come back, and take me to Angel in a motor car on +Christmas eve." + +"Good gracious!" exclaimed Hugh Egerton. "Did you say--father?" + +"Yes," replied Rosemary. "You're almost like a fairy father, I said." + +So, he was her father--her long lost father! Poor little lamb, he began +to guess at the story now. There was a scamp of a father who had "not +been very kind" to Angel, and had been lost, or had thoughtfully lost +himself. For some extraordinary reason the child imagined that he--well, +if it were not pathetic, it would be funny. But somehow he did not feel +much inclined to laugh. Poor little thing! His heart yearned over her; +but the situation was becoming strained. Unless he could think of some +good way out of it, he might have a scene when he was obliged to rob the +child of her father, on reaching the door of her house. + +"That's it," said he, calling all his tact to the rescue. "I am a fairy +father. Just as you thought, it's a mistake of Jane's about there being +no fairies; only the trouble is, fairies aren't so powerful as they used +to be in the old days. Now, I should love to be able to stay with you +for a long, long time, but because I'm only a poor fairy father, I +can't. We've been very happy together, and I'm tremendously glad you +found me. I shall think of you and of this day, often. But the cruel +part is, that when I bring you to your door, I'm afraid I shall have +to--vanish." + +"Oh, how dreadful!" cried Rosemary, her voice quivering. "Must I lose +you again?" + +"Perhaps I can write to you," Hugh tried to console her, feeling +horribly guilty and helpless. + +"That won't be the same. I do love you so much. _Please_ don't vanish." + +"I shall send you things. A doll's house for Evie. By the way, you +didn't tell me why you named her that." + +"After Angel, of course," returned the child absent-mindedly. "But when +you've vanished, I--" + +"Is your mother's name Evie?" + +"Evelyn. But that's too long for a doll." + +"Evelyn--what? You--you haven't told me your name yet." + +"Rosemary Evelyn Clifford." + +"Great Heavens!" + +"How strange your voice sounds," said Rosemary. "Are you ill?" + +"No--no! I--feel a little odd, that's all." + +"Oh, it isn't the vanishing coming on already? We're a long way from our +hotel yet." + +Hugh drove mechanically, though sky and sea and mountains seemed to be +seething together, as if in the convulsions of an earthquake. + +Her child! And her husband--what of him? The little one said he was +lost; that he had not been kind. Hugh gritted his teeth together, and +heard only the singing of his blood in his ears. Was the man dead, or +had he but disappeared? In any case, _she_ was here, alone in Monte +Carlo, with her child; poor, unhappy, working by day, crying by night. +He must see her, at once--at once. + +Yet--what if it were not she, after all? If the name were a coincidence? +There might be other Evelyn Cliffords in the world. It must be that this +was another. His Evelyn had married a rich and titled Englishman. She +was Lady Clifford. The things that had happened to Rosemary's Angel +could not have happened to her. Still, he must know, and know quickly. + +"Where do you live, little Rosemary?" he asked, grimly schooling his +voice, when he felt that he could trust himself to speak. + +"The Hotel Pensior Beau Soleil, Rue Girasole, in the Condamine, Monte +Carlo," answered the child, as if she were repeating a lesson she had +been taught to rattle off by heart. + +Lost as he was to most external things, Hugh roused himself to some +surprise at the name of the hotel. + +"Why, that is where Mademoiselle de Lavalette and her mother live!" he +exclaimed. + +"They're the ladies Angel lent the money to, because she was so sorry +for them," said Rosemary. "I've heard them talking about it with her, +and saying they can't pay it back. They're angry with her for asking, +but she had to, you see. When they go past us in the dining-room they +turn their backs." + +Hugh's attention was arrested now. + +"Do they dine?" he asked. "Every night?" + +"Oh yes, always. Mademoiselle has lovely dresses. She is pretty, but the +Comtesse is such an ugly old lady; like Red Riding Hood's grandmother, I +think. I'm afraid of her. Jane says _her_ Madame and Monsieur don't +believe she's really a Comtesse. I had to knock at her door with a +letter from Angel to-day, for Angel doesn't know I'm afraid. I couldn't +help being glad Madame wouldn't let me in, for it seemed as if she might +eat me up. I knocked and knocked, and when I was going away, I saw +Mademoiselle coming in, in a pink dress with a rosy hat." + +"I think she'll pay your mother back to-morrow," said Hugh, remembering +the fatness of the pink bag. + +"She didn't say she would. She was so cross with me that she called me a +_petit bete_, and snatched the letter out of my hand." + +At this, Hugh's face grew suddenly hot and red, and he muttered +something under his breath. But it was not a word which Rosemary would +have understood, even if she had heard. + + + + +[Illustration: CHAPTER SEVEN] + +THE WHITE FIGURE AT THE DOOR + + +[Illustration: R] + +Rosemary had tears in her eyes and voice, when the fairy father stopped +his car at the door of the hotel. He had driven so very quickly since +he'd broken it to her that they must part! + +"Now, have you to vanish this very minute?" she asked, choking back a +sob, as he lifted her to the ground. + +Vanish? He had forgotten all about vanishing. To vanish now was the last +thing he wished to do. + +"Something tells me that I shan't have to,--quite yet, anyhow," he said +hastily. "I--want to see your mother. Has she a sitting-room where I +could call upon her, or wait till she comes in?" + +"We haven't one of our own," said Rosemary. "But there's a nice old lady +who lives next door to us, on the top floor, and is very good to Angel +and me. She writes stories, and things for the papers, and Angel types +them, sometimes. When she's away she lets us use the sitting-room where +she writes; and she's away now. Angel and I are going to be there this +evening till it's my bed-time; and you can come up with me if you will. +Oh, I'm so thankful you don't need to vanish for a little while." + +His heart pounding as it had not pounded for six years and more--(not +since the days when he had gone up other stairs, in another land, to +see an Evelyn)--Hugh followed the flitting figure of the child. + +The stairs and corridors were not lighted yet. One economises with +electric light and many other little things at a hotel pension, where +the prices are "from five francs a day, _vin compris_." + +Rosemary opened a door on the fourth floor, and for a moment the +twilight on the other side was shot for Hugh with red and purple spots. +But the colours faded when the childish voice said, "Angel isn't here. +If you'll come in, I'll go and see if she's in our room." + +"Don't tell her--don't say--anything about a fairy father," he +stammered. + +"Oh no, that's to be the surprise," Rosemary reassured him, as she +pattered away. + +It was deep twilight in the room, and rather cold, for the eucalyptus +and olive logs in the fireplace still awaited the match. Hugh could see +the blurred outlines of a few pieces of cheap furniture; a sofa, three +or four chairs, a table, and a clumsy writing desk. But the window was +still a square of pale bluish light, cut out of the violet dusk, and as +the young man's eyes accustomed themselves to the dimness, the room did +not seem dark. + +He was not left alone for long. In two or three minutes Rosemary +appeared once more, without her hat and coat, to say that "Angel" had +not yet come back. "But she'll soon be here now," went on the child. +"Do you mind waiting in the twilight, fairy father? The electric light +doesn't come on till after five, and I've just heard the clock +downstairs strike five." + +"I shall like it," answered Hugh, glad that his face should be hidden by +the dusk, in these moments of waiting. + +"Angel tells me stories in the twilight," said Rosemary, as he sat down +on the sofa by the cold fireplace, and she let him lift her light little +body to his knee. "Would you tell me one, about when you were lost?" + +"I'll try," Hugh said. "Let me think, what story shall I tell?" + +"I won't speak while you're remembering," Rosemary promised, leaning her +head confidingly against his shoulder. "I always keep quiet, while Angel +puts on her thinking cap." + +Hugh laughed, and was silent. But his head was too hot to wear a +thinking cap, and no story would come at his half-hearted call. + +Rosemary waited in patience for him to begin. "One, two, three," she +counted under her breath; for she had learned to count up to fifty, and +it was good practice when one wished to make the time pass. She had +just come to forty-nine, and was wondering if she might remind the fairy +father of his duty, when the door opened. + +It was Angel, of course; but Angel did not come in. She stopped on the +threshold, talking to somebody, or rather somebody was talking to her. +Rosemary could not see the person, but she recognised the voice. It was +that of Mademoiselle de Lavalette. + +"You are not to write my mother letters, and trouble us about that +money, madame," said the voice, as shrill now as it could be sweet. +"Once for all, I will not have it. I have followed you to tell you this. +You will be paid soon; that is enough. I am engaged to be married to a +rich man, an American. He will be glad to pay all our debts by and by; +but meantime, madame, you are to let us alone." + +"I have done nothing, except to write and say that I needed the +money,--which you promised to return weeks ago, or I couldn't possibly +have spared it," protested a voice which Hugh had heard in dreams three +nights out of every six, in as many years. + +"Well, if you write any more letters, we shall burn them unread, so it +is no use to trouble us; and we will pay when we choose." + +With the last words, the other voice died into distance. Mademoiselle +had said what she came to say, and was retreating with dignity down the +corridor. + +Now the figure of a slender woman was silhouetted in the doorway. Hugh +heard a sigh, and saw a hand that glimmered white in the dusk against +the dark paper on the wall, as it groped for the button of the electric +light. Then, suddenly the room was filled with a white radiance, and +she stood in the midst of it, young and beautiful, the woman he had +loved for seven years. + +Putting Rosemary away he sprang up, and her eyes, dazzled at first by +the sudden flood of light, opened wide in startled recognition. +"Hugh--Hugh Egerton!" she stammered, whispering as one whispers in a +dream. + +She was pale as a lily, but the whiteness of her face was like light, +shining from within; and there was a light in her great eyes, too, such +as had never shone for Hugh on sea or land. Once, a long time ago, he +had hoped that she cared, or would come to care. But she had chosen +another man, and Hugh had gone away; that had been the end. Yet +now--what stars her eyes were! One might almost think that she had not +forgotten; that sometimes she had wished for him, that she was glad to +see him now. + +"Lady Clifford," he stammered. "I--will you forgive my being here--my +frightening you like this?" + +The brightness died out of her face. "Lady Clifford!" she echoed. "Don't +call me that, unless--I'm to call you Mr. Egerton? And besides, I'm only +Madame Clifford here. It is better; the other would seem like +ostentation in a woman who works." + +"Evelyn," he said. "Thank you for letting it be Evelyn." Then, his voice +breaking a little, "Oh, say you're a tiny bit glad to see me, just a +tiny bit glad." + +She did not answer in words; but her eyes spoke, as she held out both +hands. + + +[Illustration: He crushed them in his, then bent his head and kissed +them. Page 102. + + --_Rosemary._] + +He crushed them in his, then bent his head and kissed them; first the +girlish right hand, then the left. But she saw his face contract as +he caught the gleam of her wedding ring. As he looked up, their eyes met +again, and each knew what was in the other's mind. + +"Angel, dearest," said Rosemary, "do tell the fairy father you're glad +to see him." + +Evelyn started. "Why do you call him that?" + +"Because he said he was a fairy, and would have to vanish soon. But +you'll beg him not to, won't you?" + +"I--I should be sorry to lose him again. We haven't many friends, in +these days." The bright head was bowed over the child's, as Rosemary +clung to her mother's dress. + +"You never lost me," said Hugh Egerton. "It was I who lost you. Evie, +you don't know what black years these have been. I loved you so." + +"But that--was--long ago." + +"It was always." + +"Hugh! I thought you must have learned to hate me." + +"Hate you, because I couldn't make you care for me as--I hoped you +would, and because you cared for someone else? No, I--" + +"But--I did care for you. It was for my father's sake that--that--ah, I +can't talk of it, Hugh. You know, we were so poor after father lost his +money, I tried with all my heart to forget, and to do my best for--my +husband. Perhaps it was my punishment that he--oh, Hugh, I was so +miserable. And then--then he went away. He was tired of me. He was on a +yacht, and there was a great storm. But you must have read in the +papers--" + +"Never. I never knew till this day." + +"It was more than three years ago." + +Hugh was very pale. Three years ago--three long years in which he had +worked, and tried not to think of her! And if he had known--"You see, +I've had a queer life, knocking about in strange places," he said, +trying to speak calmly. "Often I didn't see any newspapers for weeks +together. I thought of you always as rich and happy, living in England, +the wife of Sir Edward Clifford--" + +"Rich and happy," she repeated, bitterly. "How little one knows of +another's life. After his death, there was nothing--there had been some +wild speculations; and the estates went with the title, of course, to +his cousin. But, yes,--in a way you were right. I was rich and happy +because I had Rosemary." + +"And Rosemary had you, Angel," cried the child, who had been listening, +puzzled and bewildered, not knowing that they had forgotten her +presence until this moment. "Rosemary had you. And now we've all got +each other--till the fairy father vanishes." + +"But I shan't have to vanish after all," said Hugh. + + * * * * * + +After that, it seemed they had been together but for a moment, when a +wild wail went moaning through the house; the first gong for the +_pensionnaires'_ dinner. + +So loud it was that it hushed their voices for a long minute. And when +cool silence came again, Hugh begged that the two would have their +Christmas Eve dinner with him, at his hotel. "There's so much to plan +for to-morrow, and all the days," he pleaded. "And just for once +Rosemary shall have a late dinner like the grown-ups. Do say yes." + +So Evelyn said yes. And it was not until they were all three seated in +the restaurant of the Hotel de Paris, that he remembered he had been +engaged to dine at the Beau Soleil with Mademoiselle and the Comtesse, +her mother. + +But he did not even blush because he had forgotten. + + + + +[Illustration: CHAPTER EIGHT] + +WHEN A MAN GOES SHOPPING + + +[Illustration: W] + +Many of Hugh Egerton's best moments during the last six years had been +spent in dreams. In those dreams the past had lived again; for he had +seen the future as once he had hoped it might be for him. + +But all through this night of Christmas Eve he lay awake; and no dreams +had ever been as half as sweet as the thoughts that came to him then. It +would have been a hideous waste of time to sleep, when he could lie +there and live over again each moment of his evening, beginning at the +beginning, when She had come into the room, and going on to the end +when he had brought her and Rosemary to the door of the Hotel Pension +Beau Soleil, to say "goodbye until to-morrow." When he came to the end, +he went back to the beginning again with renewed zest, trying to call up +some word, some look of hers which he might have neglected to count +among his treasured jewels. + +Then, when he was sure that he had each pearl and ruby and diamond duly +polished and strung on the fine gold chain of loving memory, he would +let his mind run ahead of time, to the next day. + +What a Christmas it was going to be! There never had been one like it +before, in the history of the world; but--the best of it was--there was +reason to hope that there would be many others to come just as +exquisite, if not more perfect. + +Evelyn Clifford had loved him, even when she had let him go. She loved +him now; and she had promised to make up for the long grey years of the +past by marrying him almost at once. + +There was nothing to wait for. He was lonely and rich. She was lonely +and poor. Both were young, and starving for happiness. In a week they +would be married, for she had promised to begin the New Year as his +wife. Meanwhile, there would be a great deal to do (so she said, though +he could not see why) in getting ready. But Christmas was to be a +holiday. They were going on that picnic to Eze, all three. That was +already planned; but Hugh had mentally made an addition to the plan, of +which he had said not a word. + +He was as excited over the thought of this plan as Rosemary would have +been had she known. And lest there should be a hitch, or he should not +have time to accomplish all, he was out of bed by half past six--that +mysterious hour of dawn when across the glimmering sea Corsica can be +seen, floating like a heaped basket of violets in waves of transparent +gold. + +Last night he had anxiously enquired of the concierge whether the Monte +Carlo shops would be open on Christmas morning, and had been informed +that they would. Otherwise, Hugh Egerton would have been capable of +battering down the doors, helping himself to the things he wanted, and +leaving enough money to pay for damages as well as purchases. + +After all, he was ready long before the shutters of those attractive +plate glass windows were taken away; but he was not sorry for that. He +had the joy of walking down to the Condamine and gazing up at other +windows far more attractive, and saying to the closed green blinds, +"Merry Christmas, merry Christmas, my darling--mine for always, now!" + +Then he darted back to rolls and coffee; beamed on the waiters, gave +them fat five franc pieces merely for beaming in return; and arrived in +the Galerie Charles Trois just as the shop windows were opening radiant +Christmas eyes. + +The first visit he paid was to the florist's; and to save time in +choosing he simply said, "I'll take all those things you have in the +window, please." + +There were about two hundred francs worth of roses, the same of white +lilacs, and enough lilies of the valley, nestling in baby leaves of +yellow green, to clean out any save a well-filled pocket book; but that +was all the better. The more he could spend to-day, the more was Hugh +Egerton pleased. He gave "Madame Clifford's" address, and wrote +something in English on his visiting card. The flowers were to go at +once; at once, mind; not in fifteen minutes, but now, this very now. + +"How much in love is that handsome young Monsieur!" thought the +Mademoiselle of the shop, with a little sigh for some of the wonders of +the world which she had missed, and must always miss. Her heels were +appallingly high, and her waist was incredibly small; but she had a +heart; and there was no heart which would not have softened to Hugh, and +wished him the best of good luck, this day. + +The next window which attracted the young man's eye, was one which +displayed just such a dress as he had vaguely pictured yesterday, for a +dear companion on the terrace. It was white, of course; and he was not +sure, but he thought it was made of cloth. Anyway there was a lot of +embroidery on it, full of little holes, which somehow contrived to be +extraordinarily fetching. It had a mantle which hung in soft folds, +marvellously intricate, yet simple in effect; and he could have fallen +upon the neck of the stout, powdered lady in black silk who assured him +that the costume could be worn without alteration by any "_dame de jolie +taille_." + +He bought it instantly, and then seized upon precisely such a "long +white thing" of ermine as he had seen in his mind's eye. A "granny" muff +went with it. (Really the people of the shop must have had prophetic +souls!) And there was a white hat, with a gold buckle and a long white +ostrich feather which looked as if it had been born to shade the face of +Evelyn Clifford. + +When these "confections" had been secured, Madame of the black satin and +powdered nose assured Monsieur that his Christmas purchases would be +incomplete without a certain blouse which, to an untutored eye, appeared +to be a combination of sea-foam and rose-leaves. There was a belt, too, +crusted with seed pearls; and a hanging bag to match. Oh, certainly +Monsieur would take these, and anything else which Madame could +conscientiously recommend. She could, and did, recommend several other +things; and no doubt it was a mere coincidence that they happened to be +among the most expensive in the shop. She also won Hugh's gratitude by +being able to produce a coat and a frock in which a little girl of five, +already beautiful, would be more akin to fairyhood than ordinary +childhood, and might become the "exception that would prove the rule" to +an unbelieving Jane. + +The cloak was pale blue; and another shop had to be searched for a hat +to be worn with it, but Madame was most kind in directing Monsieur where +to find one. Her sister would serve him, therefore he would be well +served. + +On the way, he passed a jeweller's; and exactly the right string of +pearls, and the right "swallow brooch" stared him in the face, in the +window. It was odd, how all the prettiest things in the world, of +whatever description, looked as if they ought to belong to Evelyn and +Rosemary Clifford. There was a gold bag, too; but that was a detail, for +really the principal thing he had called for was a ring with a single +diamond in it--and perhaps--well, yes--that little sapphire band to keep +it on a slender finger. + +The rings, in their delicate cases, he put into his pocket when he had +paid; but the other purchases were to go in that very same now which had +been impressed upon the florist; the sort of now to which Riviera +shopkeepers are accustomed only when they deal with Americans. + +Then Madame's sister was found, and a blue hat; and there was just time +left for a frantic rush to a toyshop, round a corner and up a hill. +Perhaps Doll Evie might be jealous of one rival, but there's safety in +numbers; and Hugh thought that a dozen assorted sizes, from life-size +down, would keep a doll's house from echoing with loneliness. As for the +presents for the Eze children, Rosemary was to choose them herself by +and by; but all these special things were to be served up, so to speak, +at the Hotel Pension Beau Soleil with early breakfast. + +When he had finished,--which means, when he had bought everything he +could think of--Hugh looked at his watch. It was half an hour to the +minute since he had left his hotel. + +"I don't see why it should take women a long time to shop," said he to +himself. "It seems to me the simplest thing in the world. You just see +what you want, and then you buy it." + +It was not until all the boxes and parcels must have arrived in the +Condamine, that an agonizing thought struck Hugh. What if Evie should be +offended with him for buying her things to wear? What if she should +imagine him capable of thinking that the things she already had were not +good enough when she was coming out with him? + +He suddenly felt a hundred years old. "Ass--worm--menagerie!" he +anathematized himself. + +It was now nine thirty. At ten forty-five he was to call at the Hotel +Pension Beau Soleil, to take Evelyn and Rosemary to the English church. +How could he bear the suspense till then,--how endure it not to know +whether he had ruined the Christmas which was to have been so perfect? + +He dashed into his own hotel, wrote five notes one after the other, +tearing up each one before it was finished. It was no good explaining. +If she didn't understand nothing would make her. But _would_ she +understand? He knew now why some women said that all men were fools. +They were quite right. + +If he had dared, he would have gone to her at once, to be put out of +his misery, one way or the other. But he did not dare; so he waited, +until he had persuaded himself that not only his watch, but the hotel +clock and the Casino clock must be slow. + +Then he started, and suffered five suffocating minutes in the public +sitting-room of the Beau Soleil. It was a hideous room, with abominable +flowers sprawling over the wall paper and carpet, and all the windows +were shut, but he did not notice these things; nor did he recognise the +heavy scent that hung in the air as that which Mademoiselle de Lavalette +affected. The lady of the roses had ceased to exist for him; but, if he +had thought of her at all, he would have been glad that he had opened +her pink leather bag when it was thin, and shut it up when it was very +fat. + +At the end of the five minutes, the door opened, and gave to his eyes a +vision; Evelyn and Rosemary in their new dresses and new hats. + +It was all he could do to keep from crying "Thank Heaven," and to say a +mere "Merry Christmas" instead. + +"Wicked, extravagant Boy," exclaimed Evelyn. "Do you know, we are most +unsuitably dressed? But we _had_ to put the things on, hadn't we? It was +wrong of you to buy them, but--don't look so terrified--it was sweet, +too; and I know just the feeling that prompted you to do it. What a +dream-Christmas this is going to be." + +And then she and Rosemary thanked him separately, for each individual +thing he had given. It took some time, and they were nearly late for +Church, but not quite. + +If Mademoiselle de Lavalette had been looking out of her window at a +certain moment she would have been exceedingly surprised, not only by +the transformation of Madame Clifford and _la petite bete_ from church +mice into visions, but still more by the sight of their companion. + +But hot rage and cold disappointment had given her a bad night. + +She had expected a guest for dinner. She had put on her prettiest frock, +and had forbidden her mother the Comtesse to paint. She had ordered +champagne, an extra entree, and a bunch of flowers for the table. Yet +the guest had neither come nor sent an excuse. She had stopped in the +house all the evening, thinking that he might have been detained by an +accident to his automobile; but the hours had dragged on emptily. +Nothing happened except a bad headache, and a quarrel with her mother, +who was ungratefully inclined to be sarcastic at her expense. + +Half the night Mademoiselle had lain awake, wondering why the bird had +not come hopping into the trap; and through the other half she had +wondered anxiously if the bird would come to-morrow, with excuses which +she might graciously accept. At last she had fallen asleep and dreamed +ecstatic dreams about diamond necklaces and thousand franc notes. When +the procession of three left the Beau Soliel on its way to the English +Church, strings of diamonds were still being drawn through +Mademoiselle's head, charming though wreathed with patent curling pins. + +It was half past eleven when she was waked by the Comtesse ringing for +_petits pains_ and chocolate. A toilette was hastily made, without too +much time being wasted on water; and Mademoiselle,--all in black and +white this morning, like a _jeune fille_ in second mourning,--hurried +out to walk on the terrace at the fashionable hour. If she did not find +the truant there, she said to herself, she would go into the Casino; for +he was sure to be in one place or the other at this time of day, even +though it was Christmas. + +She walked a little, but not much; for her high-heeled shoes were tight, +and made her feel even more annoyed with the world and everyone in +it--except herself--than she had been before she started. Presently she +sat down on one of the green benches, and arranged a "peace on earth, +goodwill to men" expression which pinched her lips almost as painfully +as her shoes pinched her toes. She wore it unremittingly, nevertheless, +even though many of the women who passed her, walking on the terrace, +were prettier and younger and better dressed than she, and--more +grievous still--were accompanied by agreeable looking men, while she sat +alone scarcely glanced at by the promenaders. + +She had just begun to think that she had better try the Casino, when +down the steps from the upper terrace came three figures. There was +something familiar about them all, but to see them together made them +more than strange. Besides, the two she knew best were strange in +another way. Their habit was to be shabby, though neat; now, there was +no one on the terrace as beautifully dressed as this tall young woman +and the slim little girl. No, it couldn't be Madame Clifford and her +_petit choux_; and yet--and yet--as they came nearer, near enough for +Mademoiselle to recognise the man with them, she felt a horrid sensation +as if something which she called her heart were dropping out of her +bosom from sheer heaviness, leaving a vacuum. + +[Illustration: They came nearer, near enough for Mademoiselle to +recognize the man with them. Page 124. + + --_Rosemary._] + +Hardly knowing what she did, she sprang up from her bench while they +were still far off, and began walking towards them. There was a queer, +singing noise in her head, and a feeling as if the skin were too tightly +stretched across her forehead. Still, she smiled, and winked her long +lashes to keep her eyes moist and soft. + +The sun was on Evelyn Clifford's hair, burnishing it to a halo of gold +under the white hat. She looked radiantly beautiful, and as happy as if +her soul were singing a Christmas Carol. On the face of Hugh Egerton was +a look which no woman could mistake, least of all such a woman as Julie +de Lavalette; and it was not for her, never would be for her. + +Now she knew why her expected guest had not come last night, or +remembered to send an excuse. Sick with jealousy and spite, she bowed as +she passed, trying to look eighteen, and tenderly reproachful. + +Her bow was returned, indifferently by Evelyn, but by Hugh with eyes of +steel, and a mouth of bronze. If he had cut her, he would have shown +less contempt than in that stiff raising of the hat. + +Julie turned and walked straight down to the Condamine, forgetting that +her shoes were tight. + + + + +[Illustration: CHAPTER NINE] + +THE LAST WORD OF MADEMOISELLE + + +[Illustration: R] + +Rosemary chose the toys for the children of the rock village, and then +the "picnic" began. + +The car whizzed them up the zigzag road to La Turbie, while the noon +sunshine still gilded Caesar's Trophy. They lunched in the Moorish +restaurant, and then sped on along the Upper Corniche, with a white sea +of snow mountains billowing away to the right, and a sea of sapphire +spreading to the horizon, on their left. + +Out from orange groves and olives they saw the hill of Eze rising like a +horn; while on its almost pointed apex, the old town hung like some +carved fetish, to keep away the witches. + +The car swooped down, and up again; but half way up the rocky horn the +wide white road turned into a stone paved mule path, old as the Romans. +Evelyn and Rosemary climbed hand in hand, singing a Christmas carol, +while Hugh carried the two huge baskets filled with toys, and sweets in +little packets. + +Some small sentinel perched on high (perhaps hidden among the ruins of +that fortress-castle where once the temple of Isis stood) must have +spied the odd procession; for as the tall white girl and the little blue +one, with the brown young man, reached the last step of the steep mule +path, a tidal wave of children swept down upon them, out from the +mystery of dark tunnelled streets. + +Such eyes were never seen as those that gleamed at the new comers, great +with surprise and wonder; eyes of brown velvet with diamonds shining +through; eyes like black wells, with mirrored stars in their unfathomed +depths; eyes of wild deer; eyes of fierce Saracens; eyes of baby saints, +all set in small bronze faces clear-cut as the profiles on ancient Roman +coins. + +"Bella Madonna, bella Madonna!" piped a tiny voice, and forty other +voices caught up the adoring cry. + +The brown children of the old rock village had poured down from their +high eyrie to bombard the strangers from the world below; to stare, to +beg, to laugh, to lisp out strange epithets in their crude _patois_; but +at sight of the wonderful white lady and her gold-haired child they +crowded back upon each other, hushed after their first cry into awed +admiration for visitants from another world. + +Few tourists climbed to their dark fastness, and of those who came none +had ever shone with such blinding radiance of white and gold. + +It was certain that the lovely lady was none other than the Madonna +herself, and the child she had brought was some baby angel. The man +alone was mortal. He had perhaps been bidden to show la bella Madonna +the way to Eze. + +Rosemary, shy but happy, began giving out the toys, diving with both +hands at once into the baskets which the fairy father held. Trumpets, +bags of marbles, tops and furry animals for the boys, according to their +age; (oh, Rosemary was a good judge, and never hesitated once!) Dolls +for the girls, dolls by the dozen, dolls by the legion; and sweets for +all. + +As the amazed children received their gifts, they fell respectfully +back, as if they had received an order to give place to their +companions, and others came forward, open mouthed, large eyed, ready to +fall upon their knees if but one of their number should set an example. + +Still there were toys left, toys in abundance; the wondrous benefactors +passed slowly on, always going up, up into the huddled village +streets--tunnelled in rock or arched with stone, where eager, astonished +faces peered from the mystery of shadowed doorways, and the hum of joy +and admiration swelled to a sound like the murmur of the sea. + +Of grown folk there were not many. A few mothers with brown babies in +their arms; a few mumbling crones, and bent old men with faces like +strange masks; but the flow of children never ceased. + +As the children of Hamlin followed the Pied Piper to the sea, so the +black browed children of Eze followed the Christmas visitors from +crooked street to crooked street, up to the castle ruins and back again. +They did not shout as they took their gifts; but still the murmur ran +from mouth to mouth: "Bella Madonna, bella Madonna." + +At the end of an enchanted hour, when there was not a child in Eze who +had not both hands full, the benefactors turned to go, with empty +baskets. Massed on the plateau above the mule-path, the whole population +of the village stood to watch them down the steep descent. As they went, +the church bells of Eze boomed out, calling all pious souls, young and +old, to vespers; and as if the loosened tongues of the bells loosened +also the tongues of the children, at last there arose a cry. + +"Come again, Bella Madonna and little angel, come again. We shall pray +to see you next Christmas Day, Bella Madonna and little angel. Don't +forget, next Christmas Day." + + * * * * * + +"I'm perfectly happy, dearest," said Rosemary, when once more they sat +in the car, spinning back from the shaded eyrie to the fair world where +the sunshine lay. + +The others did not speak, but the same thought was in their hearts. + +When you are positively bursting with happiness the best outlet for the +surplus quantity is to benefit somebody else; and there is no time like +Christmas for a successful experiment. + +"What else can we do for somebody?" asked Hugh. + +"There's Jane," suggested Rosemary. "I told her this morning how I went +out and found a father, and she said Pooh, he was all in my eye; and +besides she'd never heard of fathers growing on blackberry bushes. But +if we bought her a present, and you gave it to her yourself, she'd have +to believe in you." + +"I shan't feel I have a sure hold on existence until she does," said +Hugh. "Let's buy her something without the loss of a moment." + +So they bought Jane a ring, which Rosemary chose herself after mature +deliberation, and with due regard to the recipient's somewhat pronounced +taste in colours. + +"She admires red and green together more than anything," said the child, +"and I want her to have what she really likes, because if it hadn't been +for her I shouldn't have known Christmas Eve was the time to search for +fathers. Just supposing somebody else had gone out and snapped him up +instead of me!" + +As a matter of fact somebody else had gone out, and had come very near +indeed to snapping him up; but there are things which do not bear +thinking of. It was Hugh's firm conviction that Destiny and not Jane, +had flung Rosemary in front of his motor; but Destiny could not be +rewarded and Jane could. + +Rosemary would be satisfied with nothing less than a formal +presentation; and that the ceremony might be gone through without delay, +the car was directed towards the Condamine. As they neared the street of +the Hotel Pension Beau Soleil, a cab came jingling round the corner. + +It was occupied by two ladies who sat half buried in travelling bags, +rugs, baskets, and shawl straps, such as women who are not of the Anglo +Saxon races love. A tiny motorphobe in the shape of a black Pomeranian +yapped viciously at the automobile as the vehicles passed each other; +and though the ladies--one stout, the other slim--were thickly veiled, +Rosemary cried out, "Oh, it's the Comtesse and Mademoiselle. They must +be going away." + +Hugh said nothing, but his silence was eloquent to Evelyn, who knew now +the whole story of the girl with the soft eyes. Both were pleased that +this was the last of her; but neither quite knew Mademoiselle de +Lavalette. She had been busy with other matters besides her packing, +while la bella Madonna and her suite were collecting adorers on the +heights of Eze. + +Evelyn and Rosemary disappeared to take off their hats before the grand +presentation ceremony should begin, and Hugh had begun to occupy the +time of their absence by lighting the fire with pine cones, when a cry +from the beloved voice called him to the room adjoining. + +The door was open, and the woman and the child stood dumbfounded and +overwhelmed in a scene of incredible desolation. + +The air was acrid with the smell of burning. Blouses, pink and green, +and cream, and blue, were stirred into a seething mass in the fireplace, +as in a witch's cauldron, their fluffy laces burnt and blackened. +Chiffon fichus torn in ribbons strewed the carpet. An ivory fan had been +trampled into fragments on the hearth-rug, and a snow-storm of feathers +from a white boa had drifted over the furniture. On the wash-stand a +spangled white tulle hat lay drowning in a basin half full of water. + +[Illustration: Their fluffy laces burnt and blackened. Chiffon fichus +torn in ribbons strewed the carpet. Page 138. + + --_Rosemary._] + +It was a sight to turn the brain of Madame in the magasin of smart +"confections," nor would the presiding genius of the toy shop have gone +scathless, for Rosemary's possessions had not been spared by the +cyclone. + +Dolls had lost their wigs, their arms, their legs; and beautiful blue +eyes had been poked into far recesses of porcelain heads, with ruthless +scissors. Little dresses of silk and satin had been flung to feed the +flames which devoured ill-starred blouses; picture books had made fine +kindlings; and that proud and stately mansion which might have afforded +shelter to many dolls had collapsed as if shattered by a cyclone. + +"Oh, Angel, is it some dreadful dream?" wailed Rosemary; and Evelyn +found no answer. But Hugh had pounced upon a card pinned on the window +curtain; and as he held it out, in eloquent silence, she read aloud over +his shoulder; "Compliments of Mademoiselle de Lavalette." + +At the end of the first shocked instant, they both laughed wildly, +desperately. It was the only thing to do. + +"After all," gasped Evelyn, "she has paid me back--what she owed +me,--and Rosemary." + +"She's given me the pleasure of making Christmas come all over again, +to-morrow, that's all," said Hugh. "Women are strange. Thank heaven, +_she_ has vanished." + +"But nothing matters--at least not much," said Rosemary, smiling through +her tears, "since you're not going to vanish, fairy father." + + +THE END + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Punctuation normalized. + +Page 117, Eze changed to Eze to match rest of text (Eze children). + +Page 122, bet changed to bete (la petite bete). + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Rosemary, by C. N. Williamson and A. M. 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