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diff --git a/old/55162.txt b/old/55162.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b801fce..0000000 --- a/old/55162.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4894 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Enchantment, by Harold MacGrath - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Enchantment - - -Author: Harold MacGrath - - - -Release Date: July 21, 2017 [eBook #55162] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENCHANTMENT*** - - -E-text prepared by Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading -Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made available by -Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this - file which includes the original illustration. - See 55162-h.htm or 55162-h.zip: - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/55162/55162-h/55162-h.htm) - or - (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/55162/55162-h.zip) - - - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/enchantment00macgiala - - - - - -ENCHANTMENT - - - * * * * * * - -The Pocket Books - - - A series designed to represent the three aspects of American - romance,--adventure, mystery and humor - - THE AMETHYST BOX By Anna Katharine Green - - A detective story of a Newport wedding - - THE HOUSE IN THE MIST By Anna Katharine Green - - A tale of unexpected fortunes. Including also The Ruby and the - Caldron - - ENCHANTMENT By Harold MacGrath - - Short stories of whimsical adventure - - THE PRINCESS ELOPES By Harold MacGrath - - An extravagant romance of a European Duchy - - THE MOTORMANIACS By Lloyd Osbourne - - Tales of the road and the automobile - - * * * * * * - - -[Illustration] - - -ENCHANTMENT - -by - -HAROLD MAC GRATH - -Author of -The Man on the Box, The Princess Elopes, -The Puppet Crown, etc., etc. - - - - - - -Indianapolis -The Bobbs-Merrill Company -Publishers - -Copyright 1905 -The Bobbs-Merrill Company - -April - -Press of -Braunworth & Co. -Bookbinders and Printers -Brooklyn, N. Y. - - - - -ENCHANTMENT - -INCLUDING - - -A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT - The Adventure of the Lady in the Closed Carriage - -THE BLIND MADONNA - The Adventure of the Golden Louis - -NO CINDERELLA - The Adventure of the Satin Slipper - -TWO CANDIDATES - An Adventure in Love and Politics - -THE ENCHANTED HAT - The Adventure of My Lady's Letter - - -TO -MRS. ANDREW J. COOPER - - - -CONTENTS - - PAGE - - A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT 3 - THE BLIND MADONNA 43 - NO CINDERELLA 81 - TWO CANDIDATES 117 - THE ENCHANTED HAT 161 - - - -A NIGHT'S ENCHANTMENT - -THE ADVENTURE OF THE LADY IN THE CLOSED CARRIAGE - - -I - -So much depended upon every one's utter lack of nervousness and -embarrassment that Shaw, the stage manager, decided that my presence at -the final rehearsal would only add to the tension, and was therefore -unnecessary. The "star" complained that her efforts to interpret my -lines to my satisfaction were wearing her thin, while the "leading man" -declared that he could not enter naturally into the spirit of the comedy -so long as he knew I was watching from across the front. - -To tell the truth, I was not unagreeable. There were many things I -wanted to change, and I knew that if I once got headway I should have to -write the play all over; and that was not in the contract. My room was -better than my company. So Shaw gave me a card to The Players and left -me there in the care of a distinguished fellow dramatist. - -We had a capital dinner, and our exchange of experiences would have made -a book equal in length to _Revelation_. What a time a fellow has to get -a manager to listen to a better play than he has yet produced! I'm -afraid that we said many uncomplimentary things about actors in general -and managers in particular. The actor always has his own idea, the -manager has his, and between them the man who wrote the play is pretty -well knocked about. But when the play is produced every one's idea -proves of some use, so I find. - -In spite of the good dinner and the interesting conversation, I found -myself glancing constantly at my watch or at the clock, thinking that at -such and such a time to-morrow night my puppets would be uttering such -and such a line, perhaps as I wanted them to utter it, perhaps as they -wanted to utter it. It did not matter that I had written two successful -novels and a popular comedy; I was still subject to spells of diffidence -and greenness. Much depended upon this second effort; it was, or it was -not, to establish me in New York as a playwright of the first order. - -I played a game of billiards indifferently well, peered into Booth's -room and evoked his kindly spirit to watch over my future, smoked -incessantly, and waited impatiently for Shaw's promised telephone call. -The call came at ten-thirty, and Shaw said that three acts had gone off -superbly and that everything pointed to a big success. My spirits rose -wonderfully. I had as yet never experienced the thrill of a curtain -call, my first play having been produced while I was abroad. If they -called me before the curtain my cup was full; there was nothing left in -the world but to make money, all other thrills having come and departed. -All at once I determined to run up town to the theater and steal in to -see the last act. So I called for my hat and coat, apologized to my -friend, and went forth into the night--and romance! - -Gramercy Park is always still at night, quiet even in the very heart of -turmoil. Only an indefinable murmur drifted over from the crowded life -of Broadway. I was conning over some lines I thought fine, epigrams and -fragmentary philosophy. - -"Hurry! We have only half an hour!" - -The voice, soft and musical, broke the silence ere my foot had left the -last step. Amazed, I looked in the direction whence came this symphony -of vocal allurement. A handsome coupe, with groom and footman, stood at -the curb. A woman in evening gown leaned out. I stopped and stared. The -footman at the door touched his hat. I gazed over my shoulder to see if -any one had come out of the club at the same time as myself. I was -alone. - -"Hurry! I have waited at least half an hour. We haven't a moment to -waste." - -Some one in the upper rooms of the club lifted a shade to open a window, -and the light illuminated her features. She was young and very handsome. -A French wit once said that the whisper of a beautiful woman can be -heard farther than the loudest call of duty. Now, I honestly confess -that if she had been homely, or even moderately good-looking, I should -have politely explained to her that she had made a peculiar mistake. I -was somebody else. As it was, with scarce any hesitation I stepped into -the carriage, and the footman closed the door. To this day I can not -analyze the impulse that led me into that carriage: Fate in the guise of -mischief, Destiny in the motley and out for a lark, I know not which, -nor care. - -"I am sorry to have kept you waiting," said I. - -"I thought you would never come." - -Thought I would never come? The coupe started off at a rate likely to -bring us under the vigilant eyes of the police. We pared the corner -neatly and swung into Broadway, going up town. The theaters were -emptying, and here and there the way was choked with struggling cabs; -but our driver knew his business, and we were never delayed more than a -moment. Not another word was spoken till we reached Thirty-fourth -Street. I was silent because I had nothing to say. - -"One after another they came out. I thought you would never, never come. -I had all I could do to keep from going into the club after you!" She -tore off her long, white gloves and flung them (savagely, I thought) -into her lap. - -Going into the club after me? Heavens! What a scandal I had escaped! -What the deuce was it all about, anyway? Who was I? What was expected of -me? My nerve lost a particle of its strength, but I could not back out -now. It was too late. I was in for some sort of excitement. I had always -been skeptical about mistaken identity. This was to be my conversion. - -"You will never forgive me, I know, for waiting outside a club for you." -She snuggled over to her side of the carriage. - -"Yes, I will!" I replied with alacrity. Who wouldn't forgive her? I -moved closer. - -The blue light of the arc-lamps flashed into the window at frequent -intervals. Each time I noted her face as best I could. It was as -beautifully cut as a Cellini cameo, and as pale as ivory under friction. -You will laugh. "They are always beautiful," you will say. Well, who -ever heard of a homely woman going a-venturing? Besides, as I remarked, -it wouldn't have been an adventure if she had been homely, for I -shouldn't have entered the carriage. To be sure, I was proving myself a -cad for not enlightening her as to her error in the matter of -identification; but I was human and young, and rather fond of my -Stevenson, and this had all the charm and quality of the New Arabian -Nights. - -"It is all so terrible!" Her voice was tense; there was a note of agony -in it that was real. She was balling her handkerchief, and I could see -that her fingers were long and white and without jewels, though I caught -the intermittent glimmer of a fine necklace circling an adorable throat. -What a fine chance for a rascal! - -I wondered if she would have me arrested when she found out? Was I -married, single, a brother, a near friend? What the deuce was her -trouble? Ought I to kiss her? My double was a fortunate duffer. How I -envied him! - -"Women are so silly sometimes. I do not know why I was dragged into -this," she said. - -Dragged into what? Had a crime been committed, or had some one run away -with another man's wife? Heavens! we might be eloping and I not know -anything about it! I shivered, not with fear, but with a strange -elation. - -"How could I have done it? How could I? Terrible!" - -"It must be," I admitted readily. No, a woman does not elope in her -ball-gown. Perhaps we were going after the trunks. - -"To think that he would force me into a thing like this!"--vehemently. - -"I see that there is nothing left for me to do but to punch his head." I -thought I was getting on famously. - -She gave me a swift, curious glance. - -"Oh, I am brave enough," said I. I wondered if she had noticed that I -was a passably good-looking man, as men go. - -"What is done is done,"--wearily. "Retrospection will do us no good." - -"What do you wish me to do?" I asked presently. - -It was like writing a composite novel, no one knowing what the other -chapters were about. I had already forgotten that I had written a play -which was to be produced the following night; I forgot everything but -the potent charm of the mystery which sat beside me and which I was -determined to unravel, as they say in detective stories. - -"What do you wish me to do?" I repeated. - -"I will tell you when the time comes. For your own sake, be advised by -me and do nothing rash. You are so impulsive." - -For my own sake do nothing rash: I was so impulsive! My hand wandered -toward the door-latch, and fell. No! I would stick it out, whatever -happened. - -"You are not afraid, are you?" she asked. - -"Afraid of what?"--adroitly. - -"I was right in waiting for you,"--simply. - -Maybe; that remained to be seen. - -We crossed under the Sixth Avenue "L," and the roar of a passing train -silenced us for a time. Who was I, anyway? Where were we going? Why -didn't she call me by some first name? So far she hadn't given me a clue -to anything. An idea came to me. - -"Are you wise in taking me there to-night?" I asked. This was very -cunning of me. - -She coughed slightly and peered from the window. "Ten blocks more! Oh, -if only we dared go faster, faster, and have it all over with!" - -"A policeman would delay us no inconsiderable time," I cautioned. "And -think of its being reported in the papers! That wouldn't help matters. -They are bad enough as they are." Doubtless they were! - -She said nothing. - -"Courage, courage!" I said; "all will end well." At least I sincerely -hoped it would end well. I reached over and touched her hand. She -withdrew that member of an exquisite anatomy as suddenly as if my touch -had stung her. Once more I found myself in a maze. Evidently, whoever I -was, I did not stand on such terms with her as to be allowed the -happiness of holding her hand. And I had almost kissed her! - -Then a horrible thought scorched me. I had more than a thousand dollars -in my wallet. I snuggled over to my side of the carriage. The newspapers -were teeming with stories of new bunko-games, and this might be one of -the classics of getting-rich-quick on other people's money. I slyly -buttoned up my coat. Anyhow, it was chilly. - -On, on we rolled; light after light flashed into the window, gloom -followed gloom. - -More than a thousand dollars was a large sum for an author to be -carrying about; and if the exploit turned out to be a police affair I -might be seriously questioned as to how an author came by so large a -sum. Yet, as I thought of her necklace, I felt my cheeks grow red with -shame. It's so hard to doubt a beautiful young woman! Still, the jewels -might not be real. There were many false gems in New York, animate and -inanimate. If her jewels were genuine, two years' royalties would not -have purchased the pear-shaped pearl pendant that gleamed at her throat. -If she was really an adventuress she was of a new type, and worth -studying from the dramatist's point of view. Had she really mistaken me? -Quite accidentally I touched her cloak. It was of Persian lamb. Hang it, -adventuresses don't go around in Persian lamb: not in New York. Ha! I -had it. I would find out what she was. - -I leaned over quickly and kissed her cheek. There was not a sound, only -I felt her shudder. She wiped with her handkerchief the spot my lips had -touched. I was a cad and a wretch. When she did speak her tones were -even and low. - -"I did not quite believe that of you." - -"I could not help it!" I declared, ready to confess that I was an -impostor; and as I look back I know that I told the truth when I said I -could not help it. I didn't care where the carriage went, nor what the -end would be. - -"And I trusted you!" The reproach was genuine. - -I had nothing to say. My edifice of suspicions had suddenly tumbled -about my ears. - -"I am sorry; I have acted like a cad. I am one," I said finally. - -"I was helpless. One after another the men we trust fail us." - -"Madam, I am a wretch. I am not the gentleman you have taken me for. I -have had the misfortune to resemble another gentleman." - -"I never saw you before in all my life, nor any person that resembles -you." - -I gasped. This was what the old dramatists called a thunderbolt from -heaven. I felt for my wallet; it was still in my pocket. Inconsistently, -I grew angry. - -"Then, what the devil--!" - -"Do not add profanity to ill-manners," she interposed. "Perhaps I have -no right to complain. There is the door, sir; you have but to press the -button, stop the driver, and get out. I am in a terribly embarrassing -position to-night, one which my own folly has brought me to. It was -absolutely necessary that a gentleman should accompany me in this -carriage to my destination. When you came forth from your club--the only -club the exact location of which I am familiar with--you appeared to be -a gentleman, one I could trust to accompany me. To attract your -attention, and at the same time arouse your curiosity, I had to resort -to equivocal methods. It is an adventure, sir. Will you see it to the -end, or shall I press the button?" - -"Permit me to ask a question or two!" I was mightily confused at the -turn of things. - -"Perfect confidence in me, or I shall open the door." - -"In any other city but New York--" - -"Yes or no!"--imperiously. - -"Hang it, madam!" - -Her hand went toward the electric button. - -"To the end of the world, and no questions asked." - -Her hand dropped. "Thank you,"--gently. - -"Curiosity is something we can't help; otherwise I should not be here, -ass that I am! Chivalry isn't all dead. If you are in trouble depend -upon me; only I must be back in New York by to-morrow night." - -"You will not leave the city. You have no fear?" - -"I should not be here else." - -"Oh, but you must be imagining all sorts of terrible things." - -"I am doing some thinking, I'll admit. How easily a woman can make a -fool of a man!" - -"Sometimes." - -"I am a shining example. How you must have laughed at me! A pretty woman -has more power over a man's destiny than all the signs of the Zodiac put -together. And it's natural that he should want to kiss her. Isn't it?" - -"I am not a man." - -"A saint would have tripped. Put yourself in my place--" - -"Thank you; I am perfectly satisfied." - -"A beautiful woman asks me to enter her carriage--" - -"And, thinking that I had mistaken you for some one I knew, you kissed -me!"--derisively. - -"I wished to learn where I stood in your affections." - -"A very interesting method of procedure!" - -"And when I touched your hand you acted as if mine had stung you." - -"It did." - -"There's no getting around that,"--resignedly. "Shall I tell you frankly -what I at one time took you to be?" - -"If it will relieve your mind." - -"Well, I believed you to be some classic adventuress." - -"And you are sure I am not?" - -"Positive now. You see, I have considerable money on my person." - -"Wouldn't it be wise for you to hand it over to some policeman to keep -for you till to-morrow? Do not take any unnecessary risks. You do not -dream into what I am leading you." - -The carriage suddenly stopped. - -"The journey is at an end," she said. - -"So soon?" - -A moment later the door opened, and I stepped out to assist her to -alight. She waved me aside. We stood in front of some millionaire's -palace. It was golden with illumination. Was it a wedding and was I to -be a witness? Or was some one making his will? Perhaps it was only a -ball or a reception. I stopped my cogitations. What was the use asking -myself questions? I should soon know all. - -"Follow me," she said, as she lightly mounted the steps. - -I followed.... Here, in New York, the most unromantic city in all the -wide world! I was suddenly seized with nervousness and a partial failure -of the cardiac organs to perform their usual functions. - -She turned to me. "There is yet time." - -"Time for what?" - -"Time to run." - -"There was a moment.... Lead on,"--quietly. I thought of the young man -with the cream tarts. - -She touched a bell, and the door opened, admitting us into the hall. A -servant took our belongings. - -"Dinner is served, miss," said the servant, eying me curiously, even -suspiciously. - -It appeared that I was to dine! What the deuce did it all mean? A dinner -at suppertime! A very distressing thought flashed through my mind. -Supposing she had known me all along, and had lured me here to witness -some amateur performance. I shuddered. I flattered myself. There was no -amateur performance, as presently you shall see. I followed her into the -dining-room. Fortunately, I was in evening dress. I should at least be -presentable, and as cool as any man in the room. Comedy or tragedy, or -whatever it was going to be, I determined to show that I had good blood -in me, even though I had been played for a fool. - -Around a table covered with exquisite linen, silver and glass sat a -party of elegantly dressed men and women. At the sight of us the guests -rose confusedly and made toward us with shouts of laughter, inquiry and -admiration. They gathered round my companion and plied her with a -hundred questions, occasionally stealing a glance at me. I saw at once -that I stood among a party of ultra-smart people. Somehow I felt that I -represented a part in their mad pastimes. - -"Where did you find him?" cried one. - -"Was it difficult?" asked another. - -"I'll wager he didn't need much urging!" roared a gentleman with a -rubicund nose. - -"He is positively good-looking!" said one woman, eying me boldly. - -I bowed ironically, and she looked at her neighbor as if to say: "Why, -the animal understands what I say!" - -"My friends," said the girl, waving her hand toward me, "I have paid my -detestable forfeit." Her tones did not bespeak any particular -enjoyment. - -A wager! I stood alone, my face burning with chagrin. I could feel my -ears growing, like the very ass that I was. A wager! - -"To table!" cried the gentleman with the rubicund nose. Evidently he was -host. "We must have the story in full. It certainly must be worth -telling. The girl has brought home a gentleman, I'm hanged!" - -The guests resumed their chairs noisily. - -The girl faced me, and for a space it was a battle of the eyes. - -"Will you do me the honor?" she said half-mockingly, nodding toward the -only vacant chairs at the table. - -"Would it not be wise for me to go at once?" I asked quietly. - -"If you do not sit at the table with me I lose. But please -yourself,"--wearily. "It has all been very distasteful to me." - -"I will stay to the bitter end. My conceit and assurance need a -drubbing." I offered her my arm. All eyes were centered upon us. She -hesitated. "We might as well go through this ordeal in a proper spirit -and manner," I said. I rather believe I puzzled her. - -She flushed slightly, but laid her hand on my arm, and together we -walked over to the vacant chairs and sat down. The laughter and hum of -voices ceased instantly. - -In faith, I was becoming amused. They were going to have their fun with -me; well, two could play at that game. - - -II - -The host rose, and, leaning on his fingertips, he addressed me: "Sir, -all this doubtless strikes you as rather extraordinary." - -"Very extraordinary," I replied. - -"To dine under such circumstances is not accorded to every man." - -"To which do you refer: the honor or the _modus operandi_?" - -"Both. Now, an explanation is due you." - -"So I observe,"--gravely. - -"The pleasure is mine. To begin with, permit me to introduce you to my -guests." One by one he named them, the ladies and gentlemen. I had heard -of them all. Money had made them famous. "As for myself, I am Daniel -Ainsworth; this is my home. I dare say you have heard of me." - -"I have won money on your horses, sir,"--with all the gravity of -expression I found possible to assume. - -My remark was greeted with laughter. - -My host, composing his lips, resumed. "And now, sir, whom have I the -honor to address?" - -"I am the author of many a famous poem,"--tranquilly. - -"Ah!" - -"Yes; anonymous. Sir, my name would mean nothing to you or your guests: -I am poor." - -There was a trace of admiration in the girl's eyes as she turned her -head. "Besides," I went on, "I want a little revenge." - -"Good!" bawled my host; "good! You're a man of kidney, sir. A gentleman -is always a gentleman; and I do not need to look at you twice, sir, to -note that my niece's choice has been a happy one." - -"You have not introduced me to your niece," said I, "who is, next to -myself, the most important guest at the table." - -"Hang me! The young lady at your side is Miss Helen Berkeley, the best -horsewoman in the state, if I do say so myself." - -Great applause, as they say in the press gallery. I looked squarely at -the girl, but she was busy turning round her empty wine-glass. - -"I appreciate the honor, sir," I said; "but now will you favor me with -the _modus operandi_, or, to be particular, the reason of all this -mystery?" - -"I approach that at once. This is leap year, as you will recollect. On -January first I gave a leap-year party, and in the spirit of fun each -lady present declared her intention of bringing to a series of late -dinners a gentleman whom none of us knew, either by sight or by -reputation. He was to be lured into a carriage by some story or other, -and was not to know the true state of things till he sat at the table. -My niece was the last on the list. Those who backed down were to give a -house-party of a week's length. Women detest house-parties, and that is -the one reason why this comedy has gone down the line without a failure. -This is the eighth dinner. Each lady present has fulfilled her -obligation to the year. We have had some curious specimens of humanity: -a barber, a mild lunatic, a detective who thought he was on the trail of -some terrible crime, an actor, a political reformer, and an English -groom who palmed himself off as a lord. The actor and yourself, sir, are -the only men who seemed to possess any knowledge of the various uses of -dinner forks." - -"You haven't seen me eat yet," I interpolated. All this was highly -amusing to me. I was less a victim than a spectator. - -"You will do us the honor of permitting us to criticize your knowledge -of the forks," laughed Ainsworth. "Now, Nell, tell us how you lured Mr. -Anonymous into your carriage." - -Very quietly she recounted the tale. She omitted but one incident. - -"In front of a club!" cried the ladies in unison. "Why in the world -didn't we think of that?" - -"Miss Berkeley has omitted one thing," said I maliciously. - -"And, pray, what?" asked Miss Berkeley's uncle. - -"Remember," she whispered, "you are supposed to be a gentleman." - -I took umbrage at the word "supposed." - -"Miss Berkeley must tell you what she has omitted in the course of her -narrative." - -"And I refuse to tell." - -"Hang it, Nell, I'll wager Mr. Anonymous kissed you!" cried her uncle. - -"Caught!" cried one of the ladies. - -"Allow me a word," I interposed. I was already sorry. "There was a -method in my action which must not be misconstrued. I believed, for a -moment, that Miss Berkeley might be a new species of bunko-steerer. If -she objected noisily to my salute I should find my case proved; if she -cried, I was wrong." - -"And?" - -"She did neither. She rubbed her cheek." - -"I'll warrant!" my host bawled. "Oh, this is rich! A bunko-steerer!" - -"Miss Berkeley," I whispered, "we are quits." - -"Not yet,"--ominously. - -It was almost time for me to go! - -"I was going to ask your pardon," said the uncle in his hunter-voice; -"but I think you have been paid for your trouble. Is there anything you -would like?" - -"Three things, sir." - -"And these?" he asked, while every one looked curiously at me. I was -still an unknown quantity. - -"My hat, my coat, and the way to the door, for I presume you have no -further use for me." - -My reply appealed to the guests as monstrous funny. It was some time ere -the laughter subsided. My host seemed threatened with an attack of -apoplexy. - -"My dear sir," said he, "I beg of you to remain, not as a source for our -merriment, but as the chief guest of honor. I believe you have won that -place." - -I turned to Miss Berkeley. "Do you bid me remain?" - -Silence. - -I placed my hand on the back of my chair, preparatory to sliding it from -under me. She stayed me. - -"Do not go,"--softly. "I haven't had my revenge." - -I sat down. I was curious to learn what color this revenge was going to -take. "Mr. Ainsworth, my compliments!"--raising my glass, being very -careful not to touch the contents. - -"Bully!" cried my host, thumping the table with his fist. "James, a -dozen bottles of '96. There's a gentleman,"--nodding to those nearest -him; "you can tell 'em a mile off. A little shy of strangers," -humorously falling into horse-talk, "but he's money coming down the -home-stretch." - -Then everybody began to talk at once, and I knew that the dinner proper -was on the way. - -"Aren't you just a little above such escapades as this?" I asked of the -girl. - -"Do not make me any more uncomfortable than I am," she begged. "But -having gone into it I had too much courage to back down." - -"The true courage would have been to give the house-party." - -"But men always insist upon your marrying them at house-parties." - -"I see I have much to learn,"--meekly. "And the men are right." - -"What an escape I have had!" - -"Meaning house-parties, or that I am a gentleman?" - -"If you had not been a gentleman! For, of course, you are, since my -uncle has so dubbed you. If you had not been a gentleman!" - -"If you had not been a lady! If you had been a bunko-steerer! And I do -not know that you are not one still. Do you believe me? I kept my hand -on my wallet pocket nearly all the time." - -"I understood you to say that you were poor." - -"Oh, I mean that I am too poor to hunt for excitement in bizarre -things." - -"Confess that you look upon me with a frank contempt!"--imperiously. - -"Never!" - -"That in your secret mind you write me down a silly fool." - -"Allow me to quote Dogberry--'Masters, remember that I am an ass; though -it be not written down, yet forget not that I am an ass!' Thus, I may -not call you a fool. Besides, it would be very impolite." - -"You neither eat nor drink. Why?" - -"I demand to retain some of my self-respect." - -She leaned on her elbows, her chin in her palms. She had wonderful eyes, -and for as long a time as a minute these eyes impaled me on barbs of -light. "You must think us a pack of fools." - -"Oh, indeed, no; only rich." - -"That is almost an epigram,"--warningly. "You will lead me to believe -that you belong to smart society in some provincial town." - -"Heaven forfend!"--earnestly. - -"But speak all the thought. Nothing prevents truth from either of us -to-night." - -"All of what thought?" - -"We are not fools, only rich." - -"Well, I lower the bucket, then; and if I can bring truth to the top of -the well you will promise not to blush on beholding her?" - -"I promise." - -"It is maddening and unhealthy to be rich and idle. The rich and idle do -such impossible things in the wild effort to pass away the dragging -hours. Society is not made up of fools: rather knaves and madmen. Money -and idleness result in a mild attack of insanity." - -"Thanks." - -"You are welcome. Shall I lower truth along with the butter of -flattery?" - -"You may lower the butter of flattery. So that is how the great public -looks upon us?" - -"Yes, in a way; while it envies you." - -"I have always been rich. What is poverty like?" - -"It is comparative." - -"It must be horrid." - -"Poverty is ugly only when man himself is the cause of it." - -"Another epigram. I have always been under my uncle's care,"--with the -slightest droop of the lips. - -"Ah! His knowledge ends at the stable and begins at the table: horses -and vintages. If a woman had crossed his path he would have been a great -man." - -"Poor Uncle Dan! To him I am his favorite filly, and he has put huge -sums on me to win the ducal race. Everybody says that I'm to marry the -Duke of Roxclift." - -"And you?" I do not know why my heart sank a little as I put this -question. - -"I? Oh, I'm going to balk at the quarter and throw the race. To-night, -what would you have done in my place?" - -"Hailed a gentleman exactly like myself." - -She dallied with a rose, brushing it across her lips. "I do not know -why I desire your good opinion. Perhaps it's the novelty of sitting -beside a man who does not believe in flattery." - -"Flattery is a truth that is not true. I think you are charming, -beautiful, engaging, enchanting, mystifying. I can think of no other -adjectives." - -"If flattery is a truth that is not true, then all your pretty -adjectives mean nothing." - -"Oh, but I do not flatter you. Men flatter homely women--homely women -who are rich and easily hoodwinked. What I have offered you in the line -of decorative adjectives your mirror has already told you time and time -again. If I said that you were witty, scholarly, scientific, vastly and -highly intellectual, not knowing you any better than I do, that would be -flattery. Do you grasp the point?" - -"Nebulously. You are trying to say something nice." - -"We are getting on capitally. When I left the club to-night the wildest -stretch of my fancy would not have placed me here beside you." - -"Yes,"--irrelevantly, "most of us are mad. Everything is so monotonous." - -"To-night?" - -"Well, not to-night." - -"You have not yet asked me who I am." - -"Then you are somebody?"--drolly. She contemplated me, speculatively as -it were. - -I laughed. This was the most amusing and enchanting adventure I had ever -had the luck to fall into. "The world thinks so," I replied to her -question. - -"The world? What world?" - -"My world ... and a part of yours." - -"Are you one of those men who accomplish something besides novel -dinners?" - -"So I am led to believe." - -"In what way?" - -"Ah, but that is a secret." - -She shrugged. Evidently she was incredulous. "Are you an actor?" -suddenly recollecting where she had picked me up. - -"Only in 'All the world's a stage.'" - -"I will ask you: Will you do me the honor of telling me who you are?" - -"My self-respect denies me that pleasure." - -"Fiddlesticks!" This was very human. - -"Is it possible that I am interesting you?"--surprised. - -"You are a clever man, whoever and whatever you are. Where did you learn -to read a woman so readily? Who told you that when you confront a woman -with a mystery you trap her interest along with her curiosity? Yes, you -are clever. If you told me your name and your occupation I dare say I -should straightway become bored." - -"Truth still shivers on the well's edge." - -She nibbled the rose-leaves. - -"Does your interest in episodes like to-night always die so -suddenly?"--nodding toward the others, who had long since ceased to pay -me any particular attention. - -"Nearly always." - -"Very well; since they have forgotten us let us forget them." I leaned -toward her, and my voice was not so steady as it should have been. "In -what manner would it benefit me to tell you my name and what my -occupation in the great world is? Would it put me on the list of your -acquaintance?" - -She eyed me thoughtfully. "That depends." - -"Upon what?" - -"Whether you were worth knowing. I addressed other gentlemen in front of -your club. They politely said I had made a mistake." - -"They were old or married." - -"That wasn't it." - -"Then they didn't see you in the light, as I did." - -"What difference would that have made?" - -"All the difference in the world. But you have tabooed flattery. I see -that I should have been a barber, a mild lunatic, or a detective." - -"You would have been easier to dispose of." - -I directed my gaze toward the door, and she surrendered a smile. - -"You might be worth knowing,"--musingly. - -"I promise to be." - -"I shall give it thought. I should never forgive myself if I were the -indirect cause of your joining this carnival of fools." - -"I see that I shall last longer in your thoughts as the Unknown." - -"Eat," she commanded. - -"I am not hungry; I have dined." - -"Drink, then." - -"I am not thirsty." - -She took my glass and poured the contents into hers, then handed it to -me. "Now!" she said. - -"Why?" - -"You make me think of Monte Cristo: what terrible revenge are you going -to take?" - -"It will be upon myself: that of never forgetting you." - -"One single sip!" - -I accepted the glass and took one sip. "Now I have lost what I desired -to retain--my respect. So long as I touched nothing at this table I held -the advantage. My name is--" - -She put her hands over her ears. "Don't!" - -"Very well: the woman tempted me." - -"Haven't you a better epigram?" - -"Perhaps I am saving them." - -"For what?" - -"Who knows that I am not writing a play?" - -"I live here; a card will find me on Thursdays after four." - -"I will come Wednesdays, thereby saving you the trouble." - -"That is not wit; it is rudeness. Do not come either Thursdays or -Wednesdays." - -"How shall you know who it is?" - -"Trust a woman." - -"Ah, here comes the butler with the liqueurs. I am glad. Presently I -should be making love to you; now I am about to be free." - -"Are you quite sure?"--with a penetrating glance. I believe she knew the -power of her beauty. - -"Well, I shall be free to go home where I belong,"--compromising. - -And I rose. Perhaps the drollest episode of the dinner took place as I -started for the door. - -"Ever heard of Starlight?" cried Uncle Daniel down the room. "No? Well, -she's down on the winter books at fifty to one. Stack your money on her -now; it's a hunch." - -"Thank you," said I. I did not have the courage to ask him what a -"hunch" was. - -"Good night," said I to the girl, bowing. - -"Good night," smiling. - -I wonder if she knew that I had stolen the rose? On the way home my mind -returned to my play. Had the fourth act gone off as smoothly as the -others? - -What a girl for a man! - - -The curtain fell on the first act, and the thrilling sound of beating -hands came to me dimly. - -"They are calling for you," said Shaw excitedly. - -"What am I to do?"--nervously. - -"What? Haven't you thought out something to say?"--disgustedly. - -"Nary a word!" - -"Well, just lead out Miss Blank and bow. You're not an old hand, so they -will let you off without a speech." - -So I led the young woman who had helped to make me famous to the -footlights, and bowed. I do not know what caused me to glance up toward -the left upper proscenium, but I did so ... and felt my heart stop and -then throb violently. It was Miss Berkeley. Heaven only knows how long I -should have stared at her but for the warning pressure of the actress' -hand over mine. We disappeared behind the curtain. I was confused by -many emotions. - -While the hands were shifting about the next "set" a boy handed me the -crumpled margin of a program. I unfolded it and read: "Will 'Mr. -Anonymous' do Miss Berkeley the honor of visiting her box?" - -"Mr. Anonymous" presented himself forthwith. Miss Berkeley was with an -elderly woman, who proved to be her grandaunt. I was introduced. - -"Aunty, this is the gentleman I told you about. Isn't it terrible?" - -"Terrible? I should call it wholly enchanting. Sir, you will pardon the -child for her wildness. My nephew doesn't know as much as his celebrated -horses. Now, go ahead and talk while I look over the audience." - -If only all elderly ladies were as thoughtful! - -"And I have read your books; I have witnessed your play!" Miss Berkeley -said. - - -"Thursday, after four?" - -"No. Everybody calls then. Come Wednesday." - -"I have a confession to make," said I. "You dropped a rose on the floor -last night. I stole it. Must I return it to you?" - -"I never do anything without a purpose," was all she said. - -So I kept the rose. - - - - -THE BLIND MADONNA - -THE ADVENTURE OF THE GOLDEN LOUIS - - -It had rained all day, a miserable drizzling rain, cold and foggy. - -The horses had remained in the stables, the dogs in the kennels, and the -fox in the chicken-coop. I stole out during luncheon to take a look at -Master Reynard. He looked shamefaced and bedraggled enough, shut up in -that coop. I felt sorry for him, and told Mrs. Chadwick so. - -"At least you might have given him a chicken for company," I said. "He -looked disgusted with life." - -Mrs. Chadwick smiled and remarked that she would see that Master Reynard -had his chicken. - -"Do you think he would prefer it broiled or baked?" - -From then on I had played ping-pong, bridge and billiards, and made -violent love to three or four married women because it was safe, and -easy, and politic--and exciting. I had an idea for a story, but needed a -married woman's opinion as to how it should properly end. - -The end was still hidden in a nebulous uncertainty as the colonel (our -host) led us men into the armory, with its huge fireplace, its long -basswood table upon which we had at various times carved our initials, -its gunracks and trophies of the chase. A servant passed around fine -Scotch and brandy and soda, with which we proceeded to tonic our -appetites; for dinner was to be announced within an hour. I took out my -penknife and went on with my uncompleted carving. - -Renwood, who owned a fine racing-stable, brought up the subject which -had interested us during the mail hour that morning: the losses which -Cranford had suffered in an exclusive gambling house in New York City. - -"Thirty thousand is a fat lump to lose this side of the Atlantic," -Renwood observed. - -"Not beyond the Rockies," added Collingwood, who had done some fancy -mining in Nevada. "I saw Judge Blank lose seventy-five thousand at faro -one night in Carson City." - -"What did Cranford play,--roulette or faro?" I asked. - -"The papers say roulette," replied Renwood. "It's a bad game. There is -some chance at faro, if the game is square. But roulette; bah! It is -plain robbery." - -"The blind Madonna of the Pagan, as Stevenson called chance," mused the -colonel, lighting a cigar. "I often wonder if gambling is not as much a -particle of our blood as salt. Perhaps you have all wondered why I never -have kept a racing-stable, why I play bridge and poker for fun. I -remember--" - -Chairs moving noisily in the colonel's direction interrupted him. I -doubled up my knife and carried my Scotch to his end of the table. - -"If it's a story, Colonel," said Old Fletcher, navy, retired, "let's -have it." - -The colonel took out his watch and eyed it critically. - -"We have just three-quarters of an hour. Did you ever hear of how I -broke one of the roulette banks at Monte Carlo?" - -"Why, you old reprobate!" exclaimed Fletcher; "you've just told us that -you never gambled." - -"I merely said that I do not," replied the colonel. - -"Broke the bank?" cried Renwood. "You never told me about that." - -"I have never told any one. I ought not to tell you--" - -"You can't back out of it now," said I. - -"Not in a thousand years," echoed Fletcher. "If you took any gold away -from Monte Carlo, I want to hear all about it." - -"Very well," acquiesced the colonel; "but the tale must not go beyond -this armory;" and he looked at me as he said it. - -"Oh, I shouldn't mention any names," I declared; "and I should twist it -around some." - -There was an interval of silence, broken only by the rattling of the -ice in Collingwood's glass. - -Our host was a man of about forty-eight. His hair was white, but his -face was youthful and amazingly handsome; and I knew many a woman who -envied Mrs. Chadwick, even as many a man envied the colonel. I never saw -a handsomer pair, or a pair so wrapt up in each other. I shall let the -colonel tell his own story, which needs no embellishments from me. - - -In the spring of 1887 I packed up and took passage for England. The -slump in Wall Street the preceding winter had left me with only seven -thousand in cash, and this estate heavily mortgaged. The only way I -could save the seven thousand and what remained of the property was to -get away from the Street. - -I made my sister a short visit. I had been one of the ushers at her -wedding, and her husband, Lord Rexford, thought I was a jolly good lad -because I was the only sober man at the bachelor dinner at the -Richmond. This was due to a little invention of my own which I acquired -at Harvard in my college days: putting plenty of olive oil on my salad. -I played golf over his lordship's course, fished and hunted over his -really fine preserves; and in return told him not to invest in Southern -Pacific till the following year. - -It was my misfortune to run into Jack Smeed in London. He was a -classmate of mine, and one of the best fellows that ever lived. But he -was the most splendid spendthrift I ever came across. He showed me Paris -as few foreigners have seen it. - -At that time he was a famous war correspondent, art critic and poet. He -inveigled me and my seven thousand to Dieppe. It was still summer. One -night we visited a gambling casino. I had gambled in stocks, but had -never played straight gambling, thinking it too tame a sport for a -speculator. Tame! I smile these days when I think of my adventure; but -heaven knows I did not smile then. - -Very well. Smeed aroused the latent gambler's blood in my veins, and I -began to play. - -"Never play a system," said Smeed one night, after having won something -like ten thousand francs. "Systems make gambling a vice. Take your -chance on any old number, if it's roulette. If you are lucky you will -win, no matter where you play. Systems and suicides were born of the -same mother." - -A week later he received one of those historic telegrams, calling him to -some African outbreak, or Indian, I can't recall which. At any rate, it -left me alone in Dieppe. I had been passably fortunate at roulette; that -is to say, I invariably won back what I lost. I believe I had about five -thousand of the original seven. Dieppe is very enticing in the summer: -the bands, the hotels, the handsome women, the military and the sea. - -The night after Smeed had gone I sauntered over to the tables and played -a modest stake, won and lost, won and lost again. The blind Madonna was -merely flirting with me, luring me on. - -I suddenly threw restraint to the winds, and plunged. I won heavily, -and then began to lose. Unconsciously I had discovered a system, and -like a stubborn fool I stuck to it--29 and 26. Neither of these numbers -came up till more than four thousand of my capital had taken its place -at the croupier's elbow. I had been sensible enough to leave some of my -money at the hotel. - -I went away from the tables, perspiring and burning with fever. I cursed -the blind Madonna, and counted over the money I had remaining. It was -exactly seven hundred. This would pay my passage home. - -But the spirit of gambling ran riot in my veins. Besides, I thirsted for -revenge. What! give up? Bah! all or nothing! - -I returned, and placed the seven hundred on black. I won. I stuffed the -original stake in my pocket and put the winnings on the odd. I won -again. I had twenty-one hundred; so I stopped and watched the game. I -observed a handsome young boy plunging madly; he was losing, but in a -lordly fashion. - -When I got back to my room I flipped up a coin to see whether I should -stay in Dieppe or leave in the morning for Paris, where my sister was a -guest of the wife of one of the British _attaches_. - -When a man gambles he wants to do it thoroughly. Heads, I was to go; -tails, I was to remain and buck the tiger. Heads it fell; and I packed -my trunk. No more of the blind Madonna for me, I vowed. I had had -enough, perhaps more than enough. But one does not lose the habit -overnight. - -On the way from Dieppe to Paris a veiled woman entered my carriage, -which was third, nothing else being obtainable. Rather, she entered -immediately after I did. She was accompanied by a young man of -twenty-one or two. His face was good to look at, but at present it was -marred by sullen chagrin and despair. Occasionally I saw the girl's -hands close convulsively. These hands were so beautifully small and -white that I was anxious to see their owner's face; but this pleasure -was denied me. - -Presently she addressed me in German, inquiring the time we should -reach Paris. - -I don't know what possessed me, but I replied in French that I did not -understand German. She repeated the question in French, and I answered. -The young man took out his fob, and I could see that his watch was gone. - -Half an hour passed. I tried to read the magazines, but invariably found -myself gazing in the direction of the girl. After a space I heard her -address the young man in German. - -"What have you done? What have you done?" It was a very pathetic voice, -verging on tears. - -"Curse it, what's the use of taking on so? The money's gone; sniveling -won't bring it back." He thrust his hands into his pockets and scowled -at his boots. Suddenly he raised his eyes and stared suspiciously at me. -Evidently an idea struck him. "Betty, perhaps this fellow opposite can -understand German." - -I never turned a hair. Somehow I was positive that he was the girl's -brother. And just then it occurred to me that I had seen his face -before, but where, I could not tell. - -"But what shall we do? You dare not write home, and I have given you all -but passage money, and I will not let you have that." - -She was not German, but she spoke that language with a sweetness and -fluency impossible to describe. - -"But the pater will stand another call from you," the youth declared. - -"And immediately suspect the cause. Oh, that you should do such a thing! -And I trusted you! Something told me not to let you carry the money." - -"Oh, bother!" This was said in good English; and I looked over the top -of my magazine. - -"What made you do it?" wailed the girl. "Six thousand pounds, and father -gave five of it to you to buy consols with. It will break his heart, and -mother's too. It was all the ready money he had." - -"Curse it, I'd have broke the bank in another moment. But 17, 20 and 32 -never came up till all my cash was gone. Why, I had the maximum on -black, even, the second dozen, and 20, one play. If it had come up I'd -have broke the bank." - -"But it didn't come up; it never does. What will you do? What excuse -will you have?" - -"I can tell the pater that I was robbed,"--lamely. - -"You wouldn't lie, Dick!" - -"Oh, of course not. I'll get it of old Uncle Lewis. My chance at the -estate is worth twenty times six thousand. Damn the luck!" The youth -swore softly in his native tongue, and I could see the sparkle of a tear -behind the girl's veil. - -Ah! I recollected. It was the young fellow whom I had seen at the -Casino, plunging heavily. These roulette wheels were pretty gruesome -things. I congratulated myself on being out of it. But I passed the -congratulations a little too early, as will be seen. Your Uncle Lewis, I -thought, would never get his pawnbroker's claws on any of my property. - -When I arrived in Paris I never expected to see them again. But the -blind Madonna of the Pagan is not always concerning herself with -roulette banks. - -I remained in Paris till February. My sister helped me out of her -private purse. Probably she would not have done so had she known how -deeply I had pledged the old homestead. I began to feel like myself -again. I cabled my brokers to buy July wheat, and mailed a thousand for -margin. - -From Paris I went to Nice. I met some Americans there. The gambling -fever seemed to possess them all. I was dragged into the maelstrom. I -became mad and unreasoning. - -I arrived at Monaco with exactly one hundred louis. By this time I had -mortgaged the estate to the last penny. I was nearing that precipice -over which all gamblers finally tumble: ruin. Ruin makes a man reckless, -defiant, devil-may-care. Heavens! what luck I had had! The gold had -melted away "like snow upon the desert's dusty face." - -Right in the middle of this fever came a call from Wall Street for more -margin. I cabled back to my brokers to go, one and all, to the hottest -place they could think of. I dared not ask my sister for any assistance, -for she abhorred gambling of all kinds. Besides, I had some pride left. -You wouldn't have believed all this of me, would you? But it is all true -enough. - -I had very serious thoughts of cashing in all my checks, and making the -prince pay for my funeral. I shook my fist at his yacht which lay in the -harbor below. - -I made an inventory, and found that I possessed one hundred louis, and -some twenty-odd pieces of miscellaneous coin. I wandered about till -night, when I ate a remarkably good dinner, topping it off with a pint -of chambertin and champagne mixed. This gave me a splendid courage. - -At ten I took a promenade through the gardens and listened to the band, -which is one of the finest in the world. They were playing Strauss -waltzes. It was warm. To the north lay the mountain, to the south the -Mediterranean trembled in the moonlight; the lights of the many private -yachts twinkled. It was a mighty fair world--to those of cool blood and -unruffled conscience. I jingled the louis, smoked three or four cigars, -then directed my steps toward the Casino. - -I immediately sought out that table which is close to the famous -painting of the girl and the horse. I forget what you call the picture. -The croupier was wizened and bald. Somehow I fancied that I saw 29 in -the construction of his eyes and nose. So I placed a louis on that -number. I won. Immediately I put fifty louis on the odd and fifty on the -black, leaving my winnings on the lucky number. The ball rolled into -zero. Very coolly I searched through my pockets. I put what silver I -found on black. The ball tumbled into number 1, which is red. - -I was, in the parlance of the day, absolutely strapped. My dinner had -not been paid for, even. I lit a cigar. I even recalled seeing an actor -play this piece of bravado. I arose from my chair, and flecked the ashes -from my shirt bosom. I stared at the girl and the horse for a brief -space and felt of my watch! Hello! I still had that, and with its jewels -it was worth about four hundred dollars. I hurried back to the hotel and -saw the proprietor. After an hour's dickering he consented to loan me -five hundred francs on it. I wisely paid my bill for three days in -advance. - -I returned to the Casino. - -"Monsieur," said a handsome woman, whose eyes had proved pitfalls for -many an unwary one, "only one louis, and look! I know a way to make -Monsieur le Croupier push the rake toward me. Eh?" - -"Here," said I, giving her the louis. She flew away, and I laughed. -Gambling never had any dignity or disinterestedness. - -Of all those I had left at the table only three remained. The other -faces were new. And how that pile of gold and bank-notes at the side of -the croupier had grown! - -A crabbed old lady arose, crumpling her system card in her hand, and I -popped into her vacant chair. I cast about a casual glance. Seated next -to me was a very beautiful young girl. She was alone, and appeared most -emphatically out of place in this gilded Hades. Her eyes were blue and -moist and starlike, but there was fever in her cheeks and lips. There -was very little gold before her, and this dwindled as I watched. She was -playing 17, 20 and 32, persistently and doggedly; and each time the rake -drew in her money I could see her delicate nostrils quiver and her lips -draw to a thin line. From time to time she cast a hasty glance over her -shoulder, a shamed and hunted look. In watching her I came very near -forgetting why I was seated at the table. - -"Make your game, gentlemen; make your game,--the game is made." - -Whirr-rr-rr! went the evil sphere. It dropped into 20. The girl at my -side gasped, but too soon. The ball bounded out, and zig-zagged till it -rolled complacently into the zero. The young girl had played her last -louis and lost. A chivalric impulse came to me to thrust half of my -money toward her. I had done as much for a woman of the half-world. But -the gambler's selfishness checked the generous deed. The blind Madonna -was biding her time, as you shall presently see. - -The girl arose, brushing her eyes. She turned, and in a moment had -disappeared in the moving throng of sightseers. - -"Make your game, gentlemen!" - -I came back to the sordidness of things. 17, 20, 32; where had I seen -this combination before?--Good heavens, that was not possible! - -Where was her brother? If this should be the girl of the railway coach! -I half arose, as if to follow. Chance whispered in my ear: "Of what -use?" I laid a stake on 29. In less than forty minutes I had nothing -left but three days' board at the hotel. I fingered my gold -cuff-buttons. The rubies were at least worth two hundred francs--No; I -would not part with them. They were heirlooms. They should be buried -with me. - -I forgot all about the beautiful girl and her despair. I, Robert -Chadwick, of an old and respected family, once wealthy, had reached the -end of my rope. It would make interesting reading in the papers. Not a -penny to my name, not a roof over my head, unless I swallowed my pride -and begged of my sister. I could send home for nothing, because I had -nothing. - -"Make your game, gentlemen," said the bald-headed croupier. - -I sat there, stupidly watching the ball. It rolled into zero, and the -fat English brewer added three hundred and fifty louis to his ill-gotten -gains. I experienced the wild desire to spring upon him and cram his -wealth down his fat throat. What right had he to win when he had -millions backing him? I felt through my clothes again, and the croupier -eyed me coldly. - -"Never mind, monsieur," I said to him, with a snarling laugh; "I have -paid for my chair to-night." - -"Twenty-nine wins, black and odd!" - -My number! It repeated. The brewer laughed as he heard my oath. - -"Here is your louis, monsieur," cried a voice over my shoulder. A louis -dropped in front of me. I looked up. It was the irregular lady to whom I -had given the gold upon entering. - -I threw a kiss at her as she danced away. She had won three thousand -francs at red-and-black. I spun the coin in the air and let it rest -where it fell. From where I sat it looked as if it had split upon 17 and -20. Twenty came up, and I expected to receive at least half the stake. -But the croupier warned me back with the rake. He and an attendant -peered searchingly at the coin, then beckoned to me to observe. The -breadth of a hair separated the rim of the coin from the line. I had -lost. - -"Damnation!" I arose and made my way through the crowd. I gained the -outer air, biting my mustache. Till that moment I had never measured the -extent of my vituperative vocabulary. I swore till I was out of breath. -I cursed Smeed for having aroused the gambling devil in my veins; I -cursed my lack of will power; I cursed the luck which had followed me -these ten months; I cursed Wall Street, which had been the primal means -of bringing me to this destitution. Oh, I tell you, gentlemen, that fury -burned up at least five years of my life. I must have gesticulated -extravagantly, for a guardian of the peace approached me. - -"Monsieur has lost?" he inquired mildly. - -"What the devil is that to you?" - -"Oh, I could find monsieur a ticket back to Paris, if he so desires." - -"Cheaper than burying me here, eh? Well, you go along with you; I am not -going to cut my throat this evening; nor to-morrow evening." And I made -off toward the terrace. - -I sat down on one of the seats, lit my last cigar, and tried to -contemplate the mysterious beauty of a Mediterranean night. At this -moment Monte Carlo seemed to me both a heaven and a hell. Unluckily, as -I turned my head, I saw the glittering Temple of Fortune. I spat, -cursing with renewed vigor. It was surprising how well I kept up this -particular kind of monologue. - -Where should I begin life anew? In the wheat country, in the cattle -country, or in the mines? I had a good knowledge of minerals and the -commercial value of each. It wasn't as if I had been brought up with a -golden spoon. I knew how to work, though I had never done a stroke -outside of Wall Street. If only I had not mortgaged the estate! Useless -recrimination! Bah! I had three days at the hotel. I could eat, and -sleep, and bathe. - -The band stopped; and it was then that I became conscious of a sound -like that of sobbing. Across the path I discovered the figure of a -woman. She was weeping on her arms which were thrown over the back of -the seat. The spot was secluded. Just then some yacht below sent up a -rocket which burst above us in a warm glow--It was the young woman I had -seen at the table. I arose to approach her, when I saw something -glittering at her feet. It proved to be a solitary louis. I stooped and -picked it up, joyful at the chance of having an excuse to speak to the -girl. - -"Mademoiselle, you have dropped a louis." - -"I, monsieur? Oh!" Evidently she had recognized me. "I have dropped no -gold here,"--striving to check the hiccoughs into which her sobs had -turned. - -"But I found it close to your feet," I explained. - -"It is not mine, monsieur; it is not mine! Leave me." - -"You are in trouble?" I addressed this question in English. - -"You are English?"--as one who grasps at a straw. - -"Almost; I am an American. I observed you at the Casino to-night. You -have suffered some losses," I suggested gently. - -"That is my affair, sir!"--with sudden dignity. - -"May I not offer you some aid?" I asked, forgetting that, if anything, I -was worse off than she could possibly be. I turned the louis over and -over. What a terrible thing gambling was! "My proposal is perfectly -honorable. I am a gentleman. You have committed a folly to-night, a -folly which you have never before committed and which doubtless you -will never commit again. Where is your brother? Are you here alone, -without masculine protection?" - -"My brother?" - -The rockets soared again; and the agony written on the girl's face -excited something stronger than pity. I fumbled in a pocket and drew -forth a card. - -"My name is Chadwick; permit me--" Then I laughed insanely, even -hysterically. "I beg your pardon! I was about to offer you material -assistance. I haven't a penny in the world, and nothing of value save a -pair of cuff-buttons. In fact, I don't see how I am to leave this -wretched place." - -This odd confession aroused her interest. - -"You have lost all your money, too?" - -Too! So I had read shrewdly. She was in the same predicament as myself. - -"Yes. Won't you accept this louis?" - -"A single louis?" She laughed wildly. "A single louis? What good would -that do me?" - -"But where is your brother?" - -"He is ill at the hotel. Oh, I am the most unhappy woman in the world!" -And her sobbing broke forth afresh. - -"Pardon my former deception, but I understand German perfectly well." - -"You?" - -"Yes. I was a passenger in the same coach which brought you from Dieppe -to Paris last fall. Perhaps you do not remember me; but I recollect the -conversation between you and your brother. He has gambled away money -which did not belong to him--even as I have gambled away my patrimony -and the family roof." - -"And I--and I have done the same thing! Thinking that perhaps I, having -never gambled, might be lucky enough to win back what my brother lost, I -have risked and lost the money realized on my jewels for passage home!" - -"Use this louis to send home for money," I urged. - -"I dare not, I dare not! My father would disown my brother; and I love -my brother!" - -Sisters, sometimes, are very fond beings. - -Suddenly she raised her despairing face to mine. - -"You,--you take the louis and play it; you!" - -"I?" - -"Yes, yes! Certainly it must be lucky. Play it, sir; play it!" - -I caught her enthusiasm and excitement. - -"I will play it only on one condition." - -"What is that?" she asked, rising. There was a bit of distrust in her -tones. - -"That you shall--" - -"Sir, you said you were honorable!" - -"Let me complete the sentence," said I. "The condition is that you shall -stand beside me and tell me what to play." - -She was silent. - -"And share good fortune or bad." - -"Good fortune or bad," she repeated. She hesitated for a moment; then -made a gesture. "What matters it now? I will go with you, and do as you -desire. I shall trust you. I believe you to be a gentleman. Come." - -So together we returned to that fatal room and sought out the very -table where we had suffered our losses. - -"How old are you?" she asked quietly. - -"Twenty-nine." - -"Play it, play it!" She flushed, and then grew as pale as the ivory ball -itself. - -"Make your game, gentlemen!" cried the croupier. A phantom grin spread -over his face as he saw me. I laid the louis on 29. "The game is made!" -The ball whirred toward fortune or ruin. - -I shut my eyes, and became conscious of a grip like iron on my arm. It -was the girl. Her lips were parted. You could see the whole iris, so -widely were her eyes opened. So I stared down at her, at the ringless -hand clinging to my arm. I simply would not look at the ball. - -"Twenty-nine wins, black and odd!" sang out the croupier. He nodded at -me, smiling. The croupier is always gracious to those who win, strange -as this may seem. - -I made as though to sweep in the winnings, but the pressure on my arm -stayed the movement. - -"Leave it there, Mr. Chadwick; do not touch it!" - -Ah, that blind Madonna! The number repeated, and the gold and bank notes -which were pushed in my direction seemed like a fortune to me. I turned -to her, expecting her to faint at the sight of this unprecedented luck. -No! her face was as calm as that of one of the marble Venuses. But her -hand was still tense upon my arm. As a matter of fact, my arm began to -ache, but I dared not call her attention to it. - -"Wait!" she said. "Skip one." - -I did so. - -"I am twenty-three; play a hundred louis on that number." - -I placed the stake. My hands trembled so violently that the gold tumbled -and rolled about the table. I gathered it quickly, and replaced it as -the croupier bawled out that the game was made. - -What a terrible moment that was! I have seen action on the -battle-field, I have been in runaways, fires, railroad accidents, but I -shall never again know the terror of that moment. How she ever stood it -I don't know. - -If you have played roulette you will have observed that sometimes the -ball will sink to the lower rim, but will not drop into the little -compartments intended for it; that is to say, it will hang as if in mid -air, all the while making the circle. Well, the ball began to play us -the agonizing trick. Twice it hung above 23; twice it threatened zero. -Heavens! how I watched the ball, how the girl watched it, how all save -the croupier watched it! Then it fell--23! - -"Put it all on black," she whispered. It was all like clairvoyance. - -Black won; again, and again! - -"Gentlemen, the bank is closed," said the croupier, smiling. He put the -ball in the silver socket. - -I had actually and incontestably (even inconceivably!) broken the bank! -I was, for the moment, dumfounded. How they crowded around us, the -aristocrats, the half-world, the confirmed gamblers, the sightseers and -the hangers-on! From afar I could hear the music of the band. They were -playing a _polonaise_ of Chopin's. I was like one in a dream. - -"They are asking you where to send the gold," she said. - -"The gold? Oh, yes! to the hotel, to the hotel!"--finding my senses. - -An attendant put our winnings into a basket, and, in company with two -guardians of the peace, or gendarmes, if you will call them so, preceded -us to the hotel. - -"To your brother's room?" I asked. - -"At once! I feel as if I were about to faint. Mr. Chadwick, my name is -Carruthers. Will you go to my brother's room with me and explain all -this to him?" - -I nodded, and was about to follow her with the attendant who still -carried our gold, when a voice struck my ear,--a voice which filled me -with surprise, chagrin and terror. - -"So, I have found you!" - -A handsome woman of thirty-five stood at my side. Anger and wrath lay -visibly written on her face and in her eyes. My sister! She did not -appear to notice the young girl beside me, who instinctively shrank from -me at the sound of my sister's voice. - -"So, I have found you! I had a good mind to leave you here, you wretched -boy! You have wasted your patrimony, you have lost over these abominable -gaming-tables the house in which we both were born. I have heard all; -not a word of excuse! And yet I am here to give you money enough to -reach home with. I heard all about you at Nice." - -In spite of my keen chagrin, I found my voice. - -"My dear sister, I thank you for your assistance, but I do not need it. -I have just this moment broken one of the banks at the Casino." I -beckoned the attendant to approach. I lifted back the cover. My sister -gasped. - -"Merciful heavens! how much is in there?" she asked, overcome at the -sight of so much money. The sudden transition from wrath to amazement -made me laugh. - -"Something like seventy thousand, my dear Nan." - -"Pounds?" she cried. - -"Dollars!" - -"And who is this young woman?"--suddenly, and with not unjust suspicion. - -Miss Carruthers flushed. My sister had a way of being extraordinarily -insolent upon occasion. But evidently Miss Carruthers came of equally -distinguished blood. She lifted her head proudly, and her eyes flashed. - -"As I have no desire to enter into your family affairs," she said -haughtily to me, "I beg of you to excuse me." She made as though to -leave. - -"Wait!" I implored, striving to detain her. Somehow I felt that if she -went I should never see her again. - -"Let me go, Mr. Chadwick; I have only the kindest regards for you." - -"But the money?" - -"The money?" echoed my sister. - -"Nan," said I indignantly, "but for this young lady, who, I dare say, -comes of as good a family as ours-- Well, if it hadn't been for her you -might have carried me home in a pine box." - -"Robert!"--aghast. - -"Miss Carruthers is a lady," I declared vehemently. - -"Carruthers? You are English?" asked my sister, her frown smoothing. -"You will certainly pardon me if I have been rude; but this brother of -mine--" - -"Is a very good gentleman," Miss Carruthers interrupted. "My name is now -known to you; yours--" - -"Is Lady Rexford,"--with a tilt of the chin. - -Miss Carruthers bent forward. - -"Of Suffolk?" - -"Yes-- Merciful heavens! you are of the Carruthers who are my neighbors -when I am at home! I know the judge, your father, well." - -"My father!" The burden of her trouble came back to her, the reaction -from the intense excitement of the preceding hour. She reached out her -arms blindly, and would have fallen had not my sister caught her. - -"You wretch!" she cried, "what have you been doing to this girl?" - -"Don't be a fool, Nan! I haven't been doing anything. But don't let's -have a scene here. Where's your room?" - -We were still in the parlor of the hotel, and many curious glances were -directed at us. The attendant had set down his heavy and precious -burden, and was waiting patiently for further directions from me. - -"Don't scold him," said Miss Carruthers; "for he has been very good to -me." She stretched out a small white hand, and I clasped it. "Mr. -Chadwick, make me a solemn promise." - -"What is it?"--wondering. - -"Promise me never to play games of chance again. Think of what might -have happened if God hadn't been so good to us after our having been so -bad." - -I promised. Then we went to my sister's room, and the whole story came -out. - - -The colonel abruptly concluded his narrative. - -"Here, here!" we cried; "this will never do. What was the end?" - -"What happened to young Carruthers?" I demanded, with the novelist's -love for details. - -"That wasn't his name," replied the colonel, smiling. - -"And what became of the girl?" asked Fletcher. "You can't choke us off -that way, Bob. What became of the girl?" - -"Seventy thousand dollars; I believe you're codding us a whole lot," -said Collingwood. - -"You're a fakir if you don't tell us what became of the girl," Fletcher -again declared persistently. - -"Very well," laughed the colonel; "I'm a fakir." - -But the very ease with which he acknowledged this confirmed my -suspicions that he had told only the plain truth. At this moment the -butler appeared in the doorway, and we all arose. - -"Madam desires me to announce that dinner is served." - -The Scotch and the brandy saved the colonel any further embarrassment; -we were all ravenously hungry. On our way to the drawing-room where we -were to join the ladies, Fletcher began hoping for a clear, cold day for -the morrow; and the colonel escaped. - -It was my happiness to take in the hostess that night. She was toying -with her wine-glass, when I observed that the bracelet on her beautiful -arm had a curious bangle. - -"I thought bangles passe," I said. - -"This isn't a fad." She extended her arm or the bracelet (I don't know -which) for my inspection. - -"Why," I exclaimed breathlessly, "it is a miniature French louis!" A -thousand fancies flooded my brain. - -"Look," she said. She touched a spring, and the bangle opened, -discovering the colonel's youthful face. - -"How came you to select a louis for a bangle?" I asked. - -"That is a secret." - -"Oh, if it's a secret, far be it that I should strive to peer within. -The colonel is a lucky dog. If I were half as lucky, I shouldn't be -writing novels for a living." - -"Who knows?" she murmured, a far-away light in her glorious eyes. - - - - -NO CINDERELLA - -THE ADVENTURE OF THE SATIN SLIPPER - - -I - -"Madam, have you lost a slipper?" I asked politely. I held toward her -the dainty shoe that might very well have appareled the foot of Venus; -only one can not quite lift the imagination to the point of picturing -Venus rising out of the Cyprian wave in a pair of ball-room slippers. - -"I am not yet addressed as madam," said she, calmly drawing her skirts -about her feet, which were already securely hidden. - -"Not yet? Ah, that is very fortunate, indeed. I see I am not too late." - -"Sir!" - -But I saw no anger on her face. There was, however, a mixture of -amusement, _hauteur_ (that darling word of the lady novelists!) and -objection. She hadn't the least idea who I was, and I was not going to -tell her for some time to come. I was a prodigal, with a few new ideas. - -"I meant nothing more serious than that you might happen to be -Cinderella," said I. "What in the world should I do with Cinderella's -slipper, once she was married to the prince?" - -She swayed her fan indolently, but made no effort to rise. I looked upon -this as rather encouraging. - -"It would be somewhat embarrassing to ask a married woman if she were -Cinderella," I proceeded. - -"I should not particularize," she observed; "married or single, it would -be embarrassing." - -She was charming; a Watteau shepherdess in a fashionable ball-gown. She -was all alone in the nook at the farther end of the conservatory; and I -was glad. Her eyes were brown, with a glint of gold around the pupils, a -kaleidoscopic iris, as it were. She possessed one of those adorable -chins that defy the future to double them; smooth and round, such as a -man delights to curve his palm under; and I might search the several -languages I know to describe fitly her red mouth. Her hair was the color -of a fallen maple-leaf, a rich, soft, warm October brown, streaked with -red. Patience! You may laugh, but, for my part, give me a dash of red -above the alabaster brow of a pretty woman. It is a mute language which -speaks of a sparkling intellect; and whenever I seek the exhilaration -that rises from a witty conflict, I find me a woman with a glimmer of -red in her hair. - -"Well, sir?" said she, breaking in upon my train of specific adjectives. - -"Pardon me! I was thinking how I should describe you were I a successful -novelist, which I declare I am not." - -"You certainly have all the assurance of a writer of books, to speak to -me in this manner." - -"My assurance is based wholly upon the possession of a truant slipper. I -am bold; but the end justifies the means,"--having in mind her foot. - -Her shoulders drew together and fell. - -"I am searching for the Cinderella who has lost a slipper; and I am -going to call you Cinderella till I have proof that you are not she whom -I seek." - -"It is very kind of you," she replied, with a hint of sunshine -struggling at the corners of her lips. "Have I ever met you -before?"--puzzling her arched brows. - -"Memory does not follow reincarnation," I answered owlishly; "but I dare -say that I often met you at the Temple of Venus in the old, old days." - -She appeared slightly interested. - -"What, may I ask, was your business in the old, old days?" - -"I played the cithern." - -"And I?" - -"I believe you distributed flowers." - -"Do you know the hostess?"--with solemn eyes. - -"Oh, yes; though she hasn't the slightest recollection of me. But -that's perfectly natural. At affairs like this the hostess recalls -familiarly to her mind only those who sat at her dinner-table earlier in -the evening. All other invitations are paid obligations." - -"You possess some discernment, at least." - -"Thank you." - -"But I wish I knew precisely what you are about,"--her eyes growing -critical in their examination. - -"I am seeking Cinderella," once more holding out the slipper. Then I -looked at my watch. "It is not yet twelve o'clock." - -"You are, of course, a guest here,"--ruminating, "else you could not -have passed the footman at the door." - -"Mark my attire; or, candidly, do I look like a footman?" - -"No-o; I can't say you do; but in Cinderella, don't you know, the -footman carried the slipper." - -"Oh, I'm the prince," I explained easily; "I dismissed the footman at -the door." - -"Cinderella," she mused. She nestled her feet, and looked thoughtfully -at her delicate hands. I could see she was at that instant recalling the -picture of Cinderella and the ash-heap. - -"What was the prince's name?" - -"In this case it is just a prince of good fellows." - -"I should like some witnesses." She gazed at me curiously, but there was -no distrust in her limpid eye, as clear and moteless as Widow Wadman's. - -"Isn't it fine," I cried with a burst of confidence, "to possess the -courage to speak to strangers?" - -"It is equally courageous to listen," was the retort. - -"I knew I should like you!"--with enthusiasm. - -She stirred uneasily. It might have been that her foot had suddenly -grown chilled. A storm was whirling outside, and the pale, shadowy -flakes of snow brushed the windows. - -I approached her, held up the slipper and contemplated it with wrinkled -brow. She watched me covertly. What a slipper! So small and dainty was -it, so light and airy, that had I suddenly withdrawn my hand I verily -believe it would have floated. It was part satin and part skin, and the -light, striking the inner side of it, permeated it with a faint, rosy -glow. - -"What a darling thing it is!"--unable to repress my honest admiration. -"Light as one of those snowflakes out yonder in the night. What a proud -arch the instep has! Ah, but it is a high-bred shoe, fit to tread on the -heart of any man. Lovely atom!" - -She stirred again. I went on: - -"It might really belong to a princess, but only in a fairy-book; for all -the princesses I have ever seen couldn't put a hand in a shoe like this, -much less a foot. And when I declare to you, upon my honor, that I have -met various princesses in my time, you will appreciate the compliment I -pay to Cinderella." - -The smile on her lips wavered and trembled, like a puff of wind on -placid water, and was gone. - -"Leave it," she said, melting, "and be gone." - -"I couldn't. It wouldn't be gallant at all, don't you know. The prince -himself put the slipper on Cinderella." - -"But this is a modern instance, and a prosaic world. Men are no longer -gallants, but business men or club gossips; and you do not look like a -business man." - -"I never belonged to a club in my life." - -"You do not look quite so unpopular as all that." - -A witty woman! To be pretty and witty at the same time--the gifts of -Minerva and Venus in lavishment! - -"Besides, it is all very improper," she added. - -"The shoe?" I cried. - -"No; the shoe is proper enough." - -"You admit it, then!"--joyfully. - -"I refer to the dialogue between two persons who have not been -introduced." - -"Convention! Formality! Detestable things, always setting Romance at -arm's length, and making Truth desire to wear fashionable clothes." - -"Nevertheless, this is improper," she repeated. - -"Why, it doesn't matter at all," I said negligently. "We both have been -invited to this house to dance; that is to say, our hostess would not -invite any objectionable persons. What you mean to say is, -unconventional. And I hate convention and formality." - -"Are you a poet, then?"--with good-natured derision. - -"Oh, no; I have an earning capacity and a pleasant income." - -She really laughed this time; and I vaguely recalled pearls and coral -and murmuring brooks. - -"Won't you please do that again?" I asked eagerly. - -But there must have been something in my gaze that frightened Mirth -away, for she frowned. - -Faintly came the music from the ball-room. They were playing the waltzes -from _The Queen's Lace Handkerchief_. The agony of an extemporization -seized me. - -"Strauss!" I cried, flourishing the slipper. "The blue Danube, the -moonshine on the water, the tittle-tattle of the leaves, a man and woman -all, all alone! Romance, love, off to the wars!..." - -"It is a far cry to Cinderella," she interrupted. - -"Ah, yes. Music moves me so easily." - -"Indeed! It is scarcely noticeable,"--slyly. - -"Are you Cinderella, then?" - -"I do not say so." - -"Will you dance with me to prove it one way or the other?" - -"Certainly not,"--rather indignantly. - -"Why not?" - -"There are any number of reasons," she replied. - -"Name just one." - -"I do not know you." - -"You ought to,"--with a double meaning which went for nothing. - -"My angle of vision obscures that idea." - -"If you will stand up...." I hesitatingly suggested. - -"I am perfectly comfortable where I am,"--with an oblique glance at the -doorway. - -"I am convinced that you are the Cinderella; I can not figure it out -otherwise." - -"Do not figure at all; simply leave the shoe." - -"It is too near twelve o'clock for that. Besides, I wish to demolish the -pumpkin theory. It's all tommy-rot about changing pumpkins into -chariots, unless you happen to be a successful pie-merchant." - -She bit her lips and tapped her cheek with the fan. (Did I mention the -bloomy cheeks?) - -"Perhaps I am only one of Cinderella's elder sisters." - -"That would be very unfortunate. You will recollect that the elder -sisters cut off their--" - -"Good gracious!" - -"Cut off their toes in the mad effort to capture the prince," I -continued. - -"But I am not trying to capture any prince, not even a fairy prince; -and I wouldn't--" - -"Cut off your toes?" I suggested. - -"Prolong this questionable conversation, only--" - -"You can not stop it till you have the shoe," I said. - -"Only," she went on determinedly, "I am so comfortable here that I do -not care to return to the ball-room just at present." - -"I never expected such a full compliment;" and I made her my most -engaging bow. - -"I am afraid you will have to cut off _your_ toes to get into _that_ -shoe,"--maliciously. - -"I could expect no less than that from you. You keep coming closer to my -ideal every moment." - -She shrugged disdainfully and assumed a bored expression that did not -deceive me in the least. - -"Since you are so determined to continue this dialogue, go and fetch -some one you know. An introduction is absolutely necessary." She seemed -immovable on this point. - -"And the moment I turned my back--presto! away would go Cinderella, and -I should be in the dark as much as ever regarding the pumpkins. No, I -thank you. Be good, and confess that you are Cinderella." - -"Sir, this really ceases to be amusing." Her fan closed with a snap. - -"It was serious the moment I entered and saw you," I replied frankly. - -"I ought to be annoyed excessively. You are a total stranger; I declare -that I never saw you before in all my life. It is true that we are -guests in the same house, but that does not give privilege to this -particular annoyance. Here I am, talking to you as if it were distinctly -proper." - -"I can not say that you have put your foot in it yet,"--having recourse -to the slipper again. I was having a fine time. - -She smiled in spite of the anger which sparkled in her eyes. Of course, -if she became downright angry I should tell who I was, only it would -spoil everything. - -"And you do not know me?" I said dejectedly. "Do you mean to tell me -that you have never dreamed of any Prince Charming?" - -"I can not say I have,"--icily. - -A flock of young persons came in noisily, but happily they contented -themselves with the bowl of lemon-punch at the other end of the -conservatory. - -I sat down in the Roman chair which stood at the side of the -window-seat. I balanced the slipper on the palm of my hand. Funny, isn't -it, how much a woman will put up with rather than walk about in her -stockings. And I wasn't even sure that she had lost a slipper! I -wondered, too, where all her dancing partners were. - -"You say you do not know me," I began. "Let me see,"--narrowing my eyes -as one does who attempts to recall a dim and shadowy past. "Didn't you -wear your hair in two plaits down your back?" - -"That is regular; it is still the custom; it proves nothing." - -"Let me recall a rambling old garret where we used to hold shows." - -Her fan opened again, and the tendrils at her temples moved gently. - -"Once we played the _Sleeping Beauty_, and you said that I should always -be Prince Charming. How easily we forget!" - -She inclined forward a bit. There were signs of reviving interest. She -began to scrutinize me; hitherto she had surveyed and examined me. - -"Once--" - -"Say 'Once upon a time'; all fairy stories begin that way." - -"Thank you; I stand corrected. Well, once upon a time you fell down -these same garret stairs; and if you will lift that beautiful lock of -hair from your right temple I shall see a scar. I am sure of your -identity." - -Unconsciously her hand strayed to her temple, and dropped. - -"Whoever you are, you seem acquainted with certain youthful adventures. -But some one might have told you these things, thinking to annoy me." -Then the light in her eyes grew dim with the struggle of retrospection, -the effort to pierce the veil of absent years, and to place me among the -useless, forgotten things of youth, or rather childhood. "No, I can not -place you. Please tell me who you are, if I have ever known you." - -"Not just now. Mystery arouses a woman's curiosity, and I frankly -confess that I wish to arouse yours. You are nearly, if not quite, -twenty-four." - -"One does not win a woman's interest by telling her her age." - -"But I add that you do not look it." - -"That is better. Now, let me see the slipper," holding out her hand. - -"To no one but Cinderella. I'd be a nice prince, wouldn't I, to -surrender the slipper without finding Cinderella!" - -"In these days no woman would permit you to put on her slipper, unless -you were her husband or her brother." - -"No? Then I have a much perverted idea of society." - -"And,"--passing over my remark, "she would rather sit in a corner all -the evening." - -"But think of the fun you are missing!" - -"To be frank with you, I am not missing very much fun. I was at a dance -last night, and the novelty begins to pall." - -"At least, then, you will admit that I have proved a diversion." - -"It will cost me nothing to admit that; but I think you are rude not to -tell me right away who you are." - -She looked out of the blurred windows. Her profile was beautiful to -contemplate, and perhaps she knew it. - -"Why don't you seek a footman," she asked, after a pause, "and have him -announce that you have found a slipper?" - -"Have you no more regard for romance than that?" - -"You said that I was twenty-four years old. I have less regard for -romance than for propriety." - -"There you go again, battening down the hatches of convention! I am -becoming discouraged." - -"Is it possible? I have long since been." - -She had always been a match for me. - -Enter upon the scene (as they say in the play-books) a flurried partner, -rather young and tender to be thrown in company with twenty-four years -of sparkling femininity. Well, that was his affair; I didn't propose to -warn him. - -"Oh, here you are!" he cried, brightening. "I've been looking for you -everywhere,"--making believe that something was the matter with his -gloves. - -"Do you know this gentleman?" she asked, pointing to me with her fan. - -I felt a nervous tremor. I wondered if she had been waiting for a moment -like this. - -The young fellow held out his hand; his smile was pleasant and -inquiring. - -"Wait a moment," she interrupted wickedly. "I am not introducing you. I -am simply asking you if you know him." - -Wasn't this a capital revenge? - -"I ... I can't say that I ever saw the gentleman before," he stammered, -mightily bewildered. Then all at once his face grew red with anger. He -even balled his fists. "Has he dared--" - -"No, no! I only wished to know if you knew him. Since you do not there -is nothing more to be done about it." - -"But if he has insulted--" - -"Sh! That's not a nice word to hear in a conservatory," she warned. - -"But I do not understand." - -"It is not necessary. If you do not take me instantly to the ball-room -you will lose the best part of the dance." - -She rose, and then I saw two little blue slippers peeping out from under -the silken skirts. - -"You might have told me," I said reproachfully. "And now I do not -believe any other Cinderella will do. Young man," said I, holding out -the slipper for his inspection, "I was just paying this lady the very -great compliment of thinking that this might be her shoe." - -"And it isn't," she returned. "Now, in honor to yourself, what is my -name?" - -"You are Nancy Marsden." - -"And you?" - -"Your humble servant,"--bending. - -"I shall soon find out." - -"It is quite possible." - -And then, with a hand on her escort's arm, she laughed, and walked (or -should I say glided? It seems a sacrilege to say that so enchanting a -creature walked) out of the conservatory, leaving me gazing ruefully and -mournfully at the little white slipper in my hand. - -Now, where in the world was Cinderella? - - -II - -I thrust the slipper into the tail of my coat, and strolled over to the -marble bench which partly encircled the fountain. The tinkle of the -falling water made a pleasant sound. Ten years! I had been away ten -years. How quickly youth vanishes down the glimmering track of time! -Here I was at thirty, rather old, too, for that number; and here was -that pretty girl of fourteen grown into womanhood, a womanhood that -would have stirred the pulses of many a man less susceptible than -myself. That she was unmarried somehow made me glad, though why I can -not say, unless it be that vanity survives everything. - -I had been violently in love with her; at that time she hadn't quite -turned six. Then I had lorded it over her tender eighth year, and from -the serene height of twenty I had looked down upon her fourteen in a -fatherly, patronizing fashion. As I recalled her new glory the truth -came upon me that she was like to pay me back with interest for all the -snubs I had given her. - -Off to Heidelberg and Bonn and Berlin! Student days! Heigh-ho! Ten years -is a long time. I might still have been an alien, an exile, but for my -uncle's death and that the lonely aunt wanted a man about. (Not that I -was much of a man to have about.) In all these ten years I had not once -visited my native land, scandalous as it may seem; but I had always -celebrated the Fourth of July in my garden, celebrated it religiously, -too, and followed the general elections. - -All these people (or nearly all of them) I had known in my youth; and -now not one of them recognized me. There was a pang in this knowledge. -No one likes to be completely forgotten, save the absconding bank-clerk -and the defeated candidate. I had made no effort to recall myself to -those I met. My hostess thoughtlessly supposed that I should take upon -myself the labor of renewing acquaintance; but I found this rather -impossible. Everything was changed, the people and the city; the one had -added to its height and the other to its girth. So I simply wandered -about the familiar rooms summoning up the pleasant ghosts of bygone -days. Then came the slipper episode--and Nancy! - -Home again! No more should the sea call, nor the sky, nor the hills; I -was home again, for ever and for ever, so I hoped. - -And then I glanced up from my reverie to behold a woman, fair, fat and -forty-eight, seat herself breathlessly on the far end of the bench. I -recognized her instantly: she had been one of the salient features of my -childhood, only a little farther removed than my mother herself. She -was florid in her October years; twenty years ago she had been plump and -pretty; now she was only pretty plump. But a rollicking soul beamed from -her kindly eyes. So I bethought me of the slipper, dragged it forth, -rose and approached. - -"Madam," said I gravely, "are you Cinderella?" - -She balanced her lorgnette and stared, first at the slipper, then at me. - -"Young man, don't be silly. Do I look like a woman who could wear a -little thing like that? Run along with you, and don't make fun of poor -old women. If there is any Cinderella around here I'm only her -godmother." - -For a moment I stood abashed. Here was one who had outlived vanity, or -at least had discovered its worthlessness. - -"Have you no vanity, madam?" I asked solemnly. - -"If I have it has ceased to protrude. Go and give the slipper to a -footman, and don't keep some girl hopping around on one foot." - -I was almost tempted to tell her who I was. - -"Madam, there was a time"--I began. - -"Oh, yes; thirty years ago I might have claimed the slipper; I might -even have worn it,"--complacently. - -"Permit me to conclude: there was a time when you held me on your -knees." - -"What?" - -"It is indeed so." - -"Confess, then, that you were properly spanked.... Heavens and earth, -wherever did you come from?" she exclaimed suddenly. "Sit down beside me -instantly!" And she called me by name. - -It was the third time I had heard it that night. I had heard it so -infrequently that I liked the sound of it. - -"And it is really you?" pushing me off at arm's length the better to -observe the changes that had taken place. "You grow more like your -father; if you hadn't that beard you would be the exact picture of your -father when he married your mother. Oh, what a pretty wedding it was!" - -"I shall have to take your word for it. I was up and about, however, at -the tin anniversary." - -"I remember. Oh, but what a racket you made among the pans!" She laughed -softly at the recollection. - -"I was properly spanked that night," I admitted. - -And straightway we uncovered thirty and twenty years respectively. - -"By the way," said I carelessly, "is Nancy Marsden engaged to be -married?" - -"Nancy? She never will be, to my idea. She recently turned down a real -duke: a duke that had money and everything." - -"And everything: is that castles?" I inquired. - -"Nonsense!" - -"Well, between you and me and the gatepost, Miss Nancy will be engaged -within two months." - -"No!"--excitedly. - -"It is written." - -"And to whom, pray?" - -"It's the woman's place to announce an engagement. But I know the man." - -"He is worthy?" - -"Oh, as men go." - -Then the water-clock in the fountain struck twelve, and I sprang up. - -"Mercy, I'll never find any Cinderella at this rate. All is lost if she -escapes me." - -I kissed her hand gratefully, and made off. - -I immediately ran into a young miss who, judging from her short dresses, -was a guest on sufferance, not having "come out" yet. - -"Are you Cinderella?" I asked, with all the gravity I could assume. - -"Thank you, sir, but mama will not permit me," her cheeks growing -furiously red. - -I passed on, willing to wager that the little girl had understood me to -ask her to dance with me. - -How I searched among the young faces; many I saw that I knew, but my -confounded beard (which I determined to cut the very next morning) hid -me as completely as the fabled invisible cloak. I wondered where Jim -was--Nancy's brother. I had seen him in Europe, and I knew if he were -anywhere around there would be one to clap me on the back and bid me -welcome home. This prodigal business isn't what it's cracked up to -be.... Somehow I felt that within a few days I should be making love -again to Nancy; and I may truthfully add that I dreaded the ordeal while -I courted it. - -What if she refused me in the end? I cast out at once this horrific -thought as unworthy a man of my address. - - -Under the stairway there was a cozy corner. Upon the cushions I saw a -dark-haired girl in red. Now, when they haven't a dash of red in their -hair I like it in their dress. She was pretty, besides; so I stopped. - -"Pardon me, but won't you tell me if you are Cinderella?"--producing the -slipper. - -"I am,"--with an amused smile. - -"Then there _is_ a Cinderella, after all?" I cried joyfully. "Where are -the pumpkins?" glancing about. - -"I believe that several of them have gone hunting for the slipper." - -I was delighted. Three witty women all in one night, and two of them -charming. It was more than a man had any right to expect. - -"You have really and truly lost a slipper?" - -"Really and truly; only I am _not_ the Cinderella you are looking for." -From under her skirt there came into view (immediately to disappear) a -small scarlet slipper. - -I was very much taken aback. - -"Red?" said I. "Ah, I have it. The wicked fairy has cast a spell over -the slipper and turned it white." - -"That would simplify everything ... if we lived in fairy-tale times. Oh, -dear, there are no fairies nowadays, and I wonder how in the world I am -to get home." - -"You have the pumpkins and the mice." - -"Only the pumpkins; it is after twelve, and all the mice have gone -home." - -"Haven't you an incantation?" - -She stretched out her arms dramatically. "Be gone, young man, be gone!" - -"Very good," said I; "but I am impervious to incantations of that -sort." - -"I wonder where the other Cinderella is?"--adroitly. It was quite -evident that she wanted to be rid of me. - -If I hadn't met Nancy--! - -"Supposing I try this white slipper on your foot?" - -"It is not a supposable matter." - -"Would that I possessed a cobbler's license!"--sighing. - -She laughed. "You wouldn't be half so nice." - -This was almost the beginning of an enchantment. - -"If you will turn your head toward the wall I'll try on the slipper. I -am curious to learn if there is a girl here who has a smaller foot than -I." - -"Vanity, vanity, all is vanity!" - -"'Tisn't vanity; it's curiosity; and maybe my foot is getting cold." - -I took some pillows and piled them on the floor. "How will this do?" - -"Since I can not have the slipper I shall not move. Besides, I am -sitting on the unshod foot. Hadn't you better sit down here beside me -and give an account of yourself and what you have been doing all these -ten years?" - -"You know me?" genuinely astonished. - -"But you do not know me?" - -"No; it's a terrible thing to admit, but I do not recognize you." - -"Don't you remember Betty Lee?" - -"Betty Lee? That homely little girl turned into a goddess? Small wonder -that I didn't recognize you." - -"My girl friends all say that I haven't changed a bit in ten years." - -"Envy, malice, jealousy! But it is odd that you should recognize me and -that Nancy Marsden should forget me." - -"I used to detest you; we forget only those we loved." - -Enter one of the pumpkins, a young fellow about twenty. Hang it, I was -always being interrupted by some callow youth! - -"Here's your confounded shoe, Bett. I've had a deuce of a time finding -it." He tossed the slipper cavalierly into her lap. - -"Young man," said I severely, "you will never succeed with the ladies." - -"The lady happens to be my sister,"--haughtily. - -"Pardon me!"--contritely. "I should have remembered that sisters don't -belong." - -The girl laughed and pushed out one of the pillows. Then she gave me the -slipper. - -"We'll not haggle over a cobbler's license," she said. - -I knelt and put on the slipper. Only one thing marred the completeness -of my happiness: the slipper wasn't a blue one. - -The girl stood up and shook the folds in her dress, then turned coldly -on her brother. - -"You are a disgrace to the family, Bob." - -"Oh, fudge! Come on along to supper; it's ready, and I'm half starved." - -Brothers don't belong, either. - -"I wish you luck with the white slipper," said Betty, as she turned to -leave. "Call on me soon, and I'll forgive all the past." - -"That I shall." But I made up my mind that I should call on Nancy -first. Otherwise it would be dangerous. - -I stood alone. It rather hurt to think one girl should remember me and -that the other should absolutely forget. But supper brought me out of my -cogitations. So once again I put away the slipper and looked at my -supper-card. I was destined to sit at table four. I followed the -pilgrims out to worship at the shrine of Lucullus. - -Evidently there was no Cinderella; or, true to her condition in life, -she was at this moment seated before her ash-heap, surrounded by -strutting and cooing doves. Well, well, I could put the slipper on the -mantel at home; it would be a pleasant reminder. - -I found table four. There were four chairs, none of them occupied; and -as I sat down I wondered if any one I knew would sit down with me. - -A heavy hand fell rudely upon my shoulder. - -"What do you mean, sir, by entering a gentleman's house in this -manner?" demanded a stern voice. - -I turned, my ears burning hotly. - -"You old prodigal! You old man-without-a-country! You pirate!" went on -the voice. "How dared you sneak in in this fashion? Nan, what would you -do with him if you were in my place?" The voice belonged to Nancy -Marsden's brother. - -"I have no desire to put myself in your place," said the only girl who -_could_ be Cinderella. - -"I wouldn't bother about _his_ slipper, not if he went barefooted all -his life," said I. - -And then, and then, and then! What a bombardment! How pleased I was! I -was inordinately happy, and I didn't eat a thing till the salad. - -"How could you!" said Nancy. - -"But you didn't recognize me,"--with a show of defiance; "and I expected -that you would be the very first." - -"Cut off that horrid beard." - -"To-morrow morning." - -"And never wear it again." - -"Never." - -"Have you found Cinderella?" Nancy asked presently. - -"No; but I haven't given up all hope." - -"Let me see it." - -With some hesitance I placed the slipper in her hand. She looked at it -sharply. - -"Good gracious!" - -"What's the matter?" I asked. - -"Why, this slipper has _never_ been worn at all. It is brand new!" She -was greatly bewildered. - -"I know it," I replied; "I brought it myself." - -Then how she laughed! And when I asked her to do it again she did, even -more heartily than before. - -"You will always be the same,"--passing the slipper back to me. - -"No, I want to be just a little different from now on,"--inscrutably. - -She gave me an indescribable glance. - -"Give the slipper to me." - -"To keep?" - -"Yes, to keep. Somehow, I rather fancy I should like to try it -on,"--demurely. - -So I gave her the slipper. - - - - -TWO CANDIDATES - -AN ADVENTURE IN LOVE AND POLITICS - - -I - -To begin with, I am going to call things by their real name. At first -glance this statement will give you a shiver of terror, that is, if you -happen to be a maiden lady or a gentleman with reversible cuffs. But -your shivers will be without reason. Prue may read, and modest Prue's -mama; for it isn't going to be a naughty story; on the contrary, -grandma's spring medicines are less harmless. Yet, there is a parable to -expound and a moral to point out; but I shall leave these to your own -discernment. - -It has always appealed to me as rather a silly custom on a -story-teller's part to invent names for the two great political parties -of the United States; and for my part, I am going to call a Democrat a -Democrat and a Republican a Republican, because these titles are not so -hallowed in our time as to be disguised in print and uttered in a bated -breath. There is no _lese-majeste_ in America. - -Men inclined toward the evil side of power will be found in all parties, -and always have been. Unlike society, the middle class in politics -usually contains all the evil elements. In politics the citizen becomes -the lowest order, and the statesman the highest; and, thanks to the -common sense of the race, these are largely honest and incorruptible. -When these become disintegrated, a republic falls. - -Being a journalist and a philosopher, I look upon both parties with -tolerant contempt. The very nearness of some things disillusions us; and -I have found that only one illusion remains to the newspaper man, and -that is that some day he'll get out of the newspaper business. I vote as -I please, though the family does not know this. The mother is a -Republican and so is the grandmother; and loving peace in the house, I -dub myself a Republican till that moment when I enter the voting-booth. -Then I become an individual who votes as his common sense directs. - -The influence of woman in politics is no inconsiderable matter. The -great statesman may flatter himself that his greatness is due to his -oratorical powers; but his destiny is often decided at the -breakfast-table. Why four-fifths of the women lean toward Republicanism -is something no mere historian can analyze. - -In my town politics had an evil odor. For six years a Democrat had been -mayor, and for six years the town had been plundered. For six years the -Republicans had striven, with might and main, to regain the power ... -and the right to plunder. It did not matter which party ruled, graft -(let us omit the quotation marks) was the tocsin. The citizens were -robbed, openly or covertly, according to the policy of the party in -office. There was no independent paper in town; so, from one month's end -to another it was leaded editorial vituperation. Then Caliban revolted. -An independent party was about to be formed. - -The two bosses, however, were equal to the occasion. They immediately -hustled around and secured as candidates for the mayoralty two prominent -young men whose honesty and integrity were unimpeachable. Caliban, as is -his habit, sheathed his sword and went back to his bench, his desk, or -whatever his occupation was. - -On the Republican side they nominated a rich young club-man. Now, as you -will readily agree, it is always written large on the political banner -that a man who is rich has no incentive to become a grafter. The public -is ever willing to trust its funds to a millionaire. The Democrats, with -equal cunning, brought forward a brilliant young attorney, whose income -was rather moderate but whose ability and promise were great. The -Democratic organs hailed his nomination with delight. - -"We want one of the people to represent us, not one of the privileged -class." You see, there happened to be no rich young Democrat available. - -These two candidates were close personal friends. They had been chums -from boyhood and had been graduated from the same college. They belonged -to the same clubs, and were acknowledged to be the best horsemen in -town. As to social prominence, neither had any advantage over the other, -save in the eyes of matrons who possessed marriageable (and extravagant) -daughters. Williard, the Republican nominee, was a handsome chap, -liberal-minded and generous-hearted, without a personal enemy in the -world. I recollect only one fault: he loved the world a little too well. -The opposition organs, during the heat of the campaign, dropped vague -hints regarding dinners to singers and actresses and large stakes in -poker games. Carrington, his opponent, was not handsome, but he had a -fine clean-cut, manly face, an intrepid eye, a resolute mouth, and a -tremendous ambition. He lived well within his income, the highest -recommendation that may be paid to a young man of these days. - -He threw himself into the fight with all the ardor of which his nature -was capable; whereas Williard was content to let the machine direct his -movements. The truth is, Williard was indifferent whether he became -mayor or not. To him the conflict was a diversion, a new fish to -Lucullus; and when the Democratic organs wrote scathing editorials about -what they termed his profligate career, he would laugh and exhibit the -articles at the club. It was all a huge joke. He made very few speeches, -and at no time could he be forced into the foreign districts. He -complained that his olfactory nerve was too delicately educated. The -leaders swallowed their rancor; there was nothing else for them to do. -In Williard's very lack of ambition lay his strength. Poverty would have -made a great man out of him; but riches have a peculiar way of numbing -the appreciation of the greater and simpler things in life. - -Carrington went everywhere; the Poles hurrahed for him, the Germans, the -Irish, the Huns and the Italians. And he made no promises which he did -not honestly intend to fulfil. To him the fight meant everything; it -meant fame and honor, a comfortable addition to his income, and -Washington as a finality. He would purify the Democrats while he -annihilated the pretensions of the Republicans. He was what historians -call an active dreamer, a man who dreams and then goes forth to -accomplish things. His personality was engaging. - -Besides all this (for the secret must be told) Carrington was in love -and wished to have all these things to lay at the feet of his beloved, -even if she returned them. You will regularly find it to be true that -the single man is far more ambitious than his married brother. The -latter invariably turns over the contract to his wife. - -Williard was deeply in love, too, with Senator Gordon's lovely daughter, -and Senator Gordon was that mysterious power which directed the -Republican forces in his section of the state. So you may readily -believe that Carrington was forced to put up a better fight than -Williard, who stood high in Senator Gordon's favor. The girl and the two -young men had been friends since childhood, and nobody knew whether she -cared for either of them in the way they desired. Everybody in town, who -was anybody, understood the situation; and everybody felt confident that -Williard was most likely to win. The girl never said anything, even to -her intimate friends; but when the subject was brought up, she smiled in -a way that dismissed it. - -Such was the political situation at the beginning of the municipal -campaign. There have been like situations in any number of cities which -boast of one hundred thousand inhabitants or more; perhaps in your town, -and yours, and yours. That bugaboo of the politician, reform, brings -round this phenomenon about once in every eight years. For a while the -wicked ones promise to be good, and you will admit that that helps. - -It was amusing to follow the newspapers. They vilified each other, -ripped to shreds the character of each candidate, recalled boyhood -escapades and magnified them into frightful crimes, and declared in turn -that the opposition boss should land in the penitentiary if it took all -the type in the composing-rooms to do it. What always strikes me as odd -is that, laughter-loving people that we are, nobody laughs during these -foolish periods. Instead, everybody goes about, straining his conscience -and warping his common sense into believing these flimsy campaign lies, -these political roorbacks. - -When Williard and Carrington met at the club, at the Saturday-night -luncheons, they avoided each other tactfully, each secretly longing to -grasp the other's hand and say: "Don't believe a word of it, old boy; -it's all tommy-rot." But policy held them at arm's length. What would -the voters say if they heard that their respective candidates were -hobnobbing at a private club? Carrington played billiards in the -basement while Williard played a rubber at whist up stairs; and the -Saturday rides out to the country club became obsolete. Only a few -cynics saw the droll side of the situation; and they were confident that -when the election was over the friendship would be renewed all the more -strongly for the tension. - -One night, some weeks before the election, Williard dined alone with the -senator at the Gordon home. Betty Gordon was dining elsewhere. With the -cognac and cigars, the senator drew out a slip of paper, scrutinized it -for a space, then handed it to his protege. - -"That's the slate. How do you like it?" - -Williard ran his glance up and down the columns. Once he frowned. - -"What's the matter?" asked the senator shrewdly. - -"I do not like the idea of Matthews for commissioner of public works. -He's a blackleg,--there's no getting around that. He practically runs -that faro-bank above his down-town saloon. Can't you put some one else -in his place?" - -The senator filliped the ash from the end of his cigar. - -"Honestly, my boy, I agree with your objection; but the word is given, -and if we turn him down now, your friend Carrington will stand a pretty -fair show of being the next mayor." - -"You might get a worse one," Williard laughed. "Jack is one of the -finest fellows in the world,"--loyally. - -"Not a bit of doubt; but politically," said the senator, laughing, "he -is a rascal, a man without a particle of character, and all that. But -personally speaking, I would that this town had more like him. Win or -lose, he will always be welcome in this house. But this Matthews matter; -you will have to swallow him or be swallowed." - -"He's a rascal." - -"Perhaps he is. Once you are elected, however, you can force him out, -and be hanged to him. Just now it would be extremely dangerous. My boy, -politics has strange bed-fellows, as the saying goes. These men are -necessary; to fight them is to cut your own throat. No one knows just -how they get their power; but one morning you wake up and find them -menacing you, and you have to placate them and toss them sops." - -"I might at least have been consulted." - -"I appreciated your antagonism beforehand. Politics is a peculiar -business. A man must form about himself a shell as thick as a turtle's, -or his feelings are going to be hurt. Now, if you would like to change -any of these smaller offices, the health department doesn't matter. What -do you say?" - -"Oh, if Matthews remains on the slate, I do not care to alter the rest -of it. But I warn you that I shall get rid of him at the earliest -opportunity." - -"Just as you like." - -The senator smiled covertly. Matthews was one of his henchmen in the -larger matters of state. His name had been the first to appear on the -slate, and the senator was determined that it should remain there. Not -that he had any liking for the man; simply he was one of the wheels -which made the machine run smoothly. The senator knew his power of -persuasion; he knew Williard's easy-going nature; but he also knew that -these easy-going persons are terribly stubborn at times. He was obliged -to hold on to Matthews. The gubernatorial campaign was looming up for -the ensuing year, and the senator was curious to learn the real power -that went with the seal of a governor of a first-class state. - -There fell an intermission to the conversation. Williard smoked -thoughtfully. He recalled the years during which he had accepted the -generous hospitality of this house, and the love he held for the host's -daughter. Only since his return from abroad had he learned the strength -of his sentiment. Heretofore he had looked upon the girl as a sister, -jolly, talented, a fine dancer, a daring rider, a good comrade. He had -been out of the country for three years. On his return he had found -Betty Gordon a beautiful woman, and he had silently surrendered. As yet -he had said nothing, but he knew that she knew. Yet he always saw the -shadow of Carrington, old Jack Carrington. Well, let the best man win! - -"I can find a way to dispose of Matthews," he said finally. - -"I dare say." - -But Williard did not know the tenacity with which some men cling to -office. The senator did. - -Here the servant ushered in two lieutenants of the senator's. One was an -ex-consul and the other was the surveyor of customs, who was not -supposed to dabble in local politics. - -"Everything is agreeable to Mr. Williard," the senator answered in reply -to the questioning looks of his subordinates. "He vows, however, that he -will shake Matthews when he gets the chance." - -The new arrivals laughed. - -"We'll put you through, young man," said the ex-consul; "and one of -these fine days we shall send you to France. That's the place for a man -of your wit and wealth." - -Williard smiled and lighted a fresh cigar. He did possess the reputation -of being a clever wit, and in his secret heart he would much prefer a -consulate or a secretaryship at the French embassy. He thoroughly -detested this indiscriminate hand-shaking which went with local -politics. - -But Matthews stuck in his gorge, and he wondered if Carrington was -going through any like ordeal, and if Carrington would submit so -readily.... Why the deuce didn't Betty return? It was almost nine -o'clock. - -Presently her sunny countenance appeared in the doorway, and Williard -dropped his cigar joyfully and rose. It was worth all the politics in -the world! - -"Gentlemen, you will excuse me," he said. - -"Go along!" the senator cried jovially. "We can spare you." - -As indeed they very well could! - -In a minute Williard was in the music-room. - -"I really do not know that I ought to shake hands with you, Dick," began -Betty, tossing her hat on the piano. "You have deceived me for years." - -"Deceived you! What do you mean?"--mightily disturbed. - -"Wait a moment." She brought forth a paper. "Sit down in front of me. -This is going to be a court of inquiry, and your sins shall be passed -in review." He obeyed meekly. "Now listen," the girl went on, mischief -in her eyes; "this paper says horrid things about you. It claims that -you have given riotous dinners to actresses and comic-opera singers. I -classify them because I do not think comic-opera singers are actresses." - -"Rot!" said Williard, crossing his legs and eying with pleasure the -contours of her face. "Jolly rot!" - -"You mustn't say 'jolly' in this country; it's English, and they'll be -accusing you of it." - -"Well, bally rot; how will that go?" - -"That isn't very pretty, but it will pass. Now, to proceed. They say -that your private life is profligate." - -"Oh, come now, Betty!" laughing diffidently. - -"They say that you gamble at poker and win and lose huge sums." - -"Your father plays poker in Washington; I've seen him." - -"He's not on trial; _you_ are. Furthermore," went on the girl, the -twinkle going from her eye, leaving it searching yet unfathomable, "this -editor says that you are only a dummy in this game of politics, and that -once you are mayor, your signature will be all that will be required of -you. That is to say, you will be nothing but a puppet in the hands of -the men who brought about your election." - -Williard thought of Matthews, and the smile on his lips died. - -"Now, Dick, this paper says that it seeks only the truth of things, and -admits that you possess certain engaging qualities. What am I to -believe?" - -"Betty, you know very well that they'll have me robbing the widows -before election." He was growing restless. He felt that this trial -wasn't all play. "If you don't mind, I'd rather talk of something else. -Politics, politics, morning, noon and night until my ears ache!" - -"Or burn," suggested the girl. "The things they say about your private -life--I don't care for them. I know that they are not truths. But the -word 'puppet' annoys me." She laid aside the paper. - -"Have I ever acted like a dummy, Betty? In justice to me, have I?" He -was serious. - -"Not in ordinary things." - -"No one has ever heard that I broke a promise." - -"No." - -"Or that I was cowardly." - -"No, no!" - -"Well, if I am elected, I shall fool certain persons. I am easy-going; I -confess to that impeachment; but I have never been crossed -successfully." - -"They'll know how to accomplish their ends without crossing you. That's -a part of the politician's business." - -"If I am elected, I'll study ways and means. Hang it, I wasn't running -after office. They said that they needed me. As a property owner I had -to surrender. I am not a hypocrite; I never was. I can't go honestly -among the lower classes and tell them that I like them, shake their -grimy hands, hobnob with them at caucuses and in gloomy halls. I am not -a politician; my father was not before me; it isn't in my blood. I -haven't the necessary ambition. Carrington's grandfather was a -war-governor; mine was a planter in the South. Now, Carrington has -ambition enough to carry him to the presidency; and I hope he'll get it -some day, and make an ambassador out of me. Sometimes I wish I wasn't -rich, so that I might enjoy life as some persons do. To have something -to fight for constantly! I am spoiled." - -He wheeled his chair toward the fire and rested his elbows on his knees. - -"He's very handsome," thought the girl; but she sighed. - - -II - -That same evening Carrington and McDermott, the Democratic leader, met -by appointment in the former's law-offices. McDermott was a wealthy -steel-manufacturer who had held various state and national offices. As -a business man his policy was absolute honesty. He gave liberal wages, -met his men personally, and adjusted their differences. There were as -many Republicans as Democrats in his employ. Politics never entered the -shop. Every dollar in his business had been honestly earned. He was a -born leader, kindly, humorous, intelligent. But once he put on his silk -hat and frock coat, a metamorphosis, strange and incomprehensible, took -place. He became altogether a different man; cold, purposeful, -determined, bitter, tumbling over obstacles without heart or conscience, -using all means to gain his devious ends; scheming, plotting, -undermining this man or elevating that, a politician in every sense of -the word; cunning, astute, long-headed, far-seeing. He was not suave -like his old enemy, the senator; he was blunt because he knew the -fullness of his power. But for all his bluntness, he was, when need said -must, a diplomat of no mean order. If he brought about a shady election, -he had the courage to stand by what he had done. He was respected and -detested alike. - -The present incumbent in the city hall was no longer of use to him. He -was wise enough to see that harm to his power would come about in case -the reform movement got headway; he might even be dethroned. So his -general's eye had lighted on Carrington, as the senator's had lighted on -Williard; only he had mistaken his man where the senator had not. - -"My boy," he began, "I'm going to lecture you." - -"Go ahead," said Carrington. "I know what the trouble is. I crossed out -Mr. Murphy's name from the list you fixed up for my inspection." - -"And his name must go back,"--smiling. "We can't afford to turn him down -at this late day." - -"I can," said the protege imperturbably and firmly. - -For a moment their glances met and clashed. - -"You must always remember the welfare of the party,"--gently. - -"And the people," supplemented the admonished one. - -"Of course,"--with thin lips. "But Murphy's name must stand. We depend -upon the eighth ward to elect you, and Murphy holds it in his palm. Your -friend Williard will be forced to accept Matthews for the same reason. -It's a game of chess, but a great game." - -"Matthews? I don't believe it. Williard would not speak to him on the -street, let alone put him on the ticket." - -"Wait and see." - -"He's a blackleg, a gambler, worse than Murphy." - -"And what is your grievance against Murphy? He has always served the -party well." - -"Not to speak of Mr. Murphy." - -"What has he done?" - -"He has sold his vote three times in the common council. He sold it once -for two thousand dollars in that last pavement deal. I have been rather -observant. Let him remain alderman; I can not see my way clear to -appoint him to a position in the city hall." - -McDermott's eyes narrowed. "Your accusations are grave. If Murphy -learns, he may make you prove it." - -Carrington remained silent for a few minutes, his face in thoughtful -repose; then having decided to pursue a certain course, he reached into -a pigeon-hole of his desk and selected a paper which he gave to -McDermott. The latter studied the paper carefully. From the paper his -glance traveled to the face of the young man opposite him. He wondered -why he hadn't taken more particular notice of the cleft chin and the -blue-gray eyes. Had he made a mistake? Was the young fellow's honesty -greater than his ambition? McDermott returned the paper without comment. - -"Is that proof enough?" Carrington asked, a bit of raillery in his -tones. - -"You should have told me of this long ago." - -"I hadn't the remotest idea that Murphy's name would turn up. You can -very well understand that I can not consider this man's name as an -appointee." - -"Why hasn't it been turned over to the district attorney?" - -"The plaintiff is a patient man. He left it to me. It is a good sword, -and I may have to hold it over Mr. Murphy's neck." - -McDermott smiled. - -"The Democratic party in this county needs a strong tonic in the nature -of a clean bill. I want my appointees men of high standing; I want them -honest; I want them not for what they have done, but what they may do." - -McDermott smiled again. "I have made a mistake in not coming to you -earlier. There is a great future for a man of your kidney, Carrington. -You have a genuine talent for politics. You possess something that only -a dozen men in a hundred thousand possess, a tone. Words are empty -things unless they are backed by a tone. Tone holds the auditor, -convinces him, directs him if by chance he is wavering. You are a born -orator. Miller retires from Congress next year. His usefulness in -Washington has passed. How would you like to succeed him?" - -Insidious honey! Carrington looked out of the window. Washington! A -seat among the Seats of the Mighty! A torch-light procession was passing -through the street below, and the noise of the fife and drum rose. The -world's applause; the beating of hands, the yells of triumph, the -laudation of the press,--the world holds no greater thrill than this. -Art and literature stand pale beside it. But a worm gnawed at the heart -of this rose, a cancer ate into the laurel. Carrington turned. He was by -no means guileless. - -"When I accepted this nomination, I did so because I believed that the -party was in danger, and that, if elected, I might benefit the people. I -have remained silent; I have spoken but little of my plans; I have made -few promises. Mr. McDermott, I am determined, first and foremost, to be -mayor in all the meaning of the word. I refuse to be a figure-head. I -have crossed out Murphy's name because he is a dishonest citizen. Yes, I -am ambitious; but I would forego Washington rather than reach it by -shaking Murphy's hand." The blood of the old war-governor tingled in -his veins at that moment. - -"It must be replaced,"--quietly. - -"In face of that document?" - -"In spite of it." - -"I refuse!" - -"Listen to reason, my boy; you are young, and you have to learn that in -politics there's always a bitter pill with the sweet. To elect you I -have given my word to Murphy that he shall have the office." - -"You may send Mr. Murphy to me," said Carrington curtly. "I'll take all -the blame." - -"This is final?" - -"It is. And I am surprised that you should request this of me." - -"He will defeat you." - -"So be it." - -McDermott was exceedingly angry, but he could not help admiring the -young man's resoluteness and direct honesty. - -"You are making a fatal mistake. I shall make an enemy of the man, and I -shall not be able to help you. I have a great deal at stake. If we lose -the eighth, we lose everything, and for years to come." - -"Perhaps. One dishonest step leads to another, and if I should sanction -this man, I should not hesitate at greater dishonesty. My honesty is my -bread and butter ... and my conscience." - -"Corporations have no souls; politics has no conscience. Williard...." - -"My name is Carrington,"--abruptly. "In a matter of this kind I can not -permit myself to be subjected to comparisons. You brought about my -present position in municipal affairs." - -"We had need of you, and still need you," confessed the other -reluctantly. "The party needs new blood." - -"You are a clever man, Mr. McDermott; you are a leader; let me appeal to -your better judgment. Murphy is a blackguard, and he would be in any -party, in any country. In forcing him on me, you rob me of my -self-respect." - -McDermott shrugged. "In this case he is a necessary evil. The success -of the party depends upon his good will. Listen. Will you find, in all -this wide land, a ruling municipality that is incorrupt? Is there not a -fly in the ointment whichever way you look? Is not dishonesty fought -with dishonesty; isn't it corruption against corruption? Do you believe -for a minute that you can bring about this revolution? No, my lad; no. -This is a workaday world; Utopia is dreamland. You can easily keep your -eye on this man. If he makes a dishonest move, you can find it in your -power to remove him effectually. But I swear to you that he is -absolutely necessary." - -"Well, I will assume the risk of his displeasure." - -"Show him your document, and tell him that if he leaves you in the lurch -at the polls, you'll send him to prison. That's the only way out." -McDermott thought he saw light. - -"Make a blackmailer of myself? Hardly." - -"I am sorry." McDermott rose. "You are digging a pit for a very bright -future." - -"Politically, perhaps." - -"If you are defeated, there is no possible method of sending you to -Washington in Miller's place. You must have popularity to back you. I -have observed that you are a very ambitious young man." - -"Not so ambitious as to obscure my sense of right." - -"I like your pluck, my boy, though it stands in your own light. I'll do -all I can to pacify Murphy. Good night and good luck to you." And -McDermott made his departure. - -Carrington remained motionless in his chair, studying the night. So much -for his dreams! He knew what McDermott's "I'll do what I can" meant. If -only he had not put his heart so thoroughly into the campaign! Was there -any honesty? Was it worth while to be true to oneself? Murphy controlled -nearly four hundred votes. For six years the eighth ward had carried the -Democratic party into victory. Had he turned this aside? For years the -elections had been like cheese-parings; and in ten years there hadn't -been a majority of five hundred votes on either side. If Murphy was a -genuine party man, and not a leech, he would stand square for his party -and not consider personal enmity. What would he do when he heard from -McDermott that he (Carrington) had deliberately crossed him off the -ticket of appointees? - -From among some old papers in a drawer Carrington produced the portrait -of a young girl of sixteen in fancy dress. When he had studied this a -certain length of time, he took out another portrait: it was the young -girl grown into superb womanhood. The eyes were kind and merry, the -mouth beautiful, the brow fine and smooth like a young poet's, a nose -with the slightest tilt; altogether a high-bred, queenly, womanly face, -such as makes a man desire to do great things in the world. Carrington -had always loved her. He had gone through the various phases: the boy, -the diffident youth, the man. (Usually it takes three women to bring -about these changes!) There was nothing wild or incoherent in his love, -nothing violent or passionate; rather the serene light, the steady -burning light, that guides the ships at sea; constant, enduring, a sure -beacon. - -As he studied the face from all angles, his jaws hardened. He lifted his -chin defiantly. He had the right to love her; he had lived cleanly, he -had dealt justly to both his friends and his enemies, he owed no man, he -was bound only to his mother, who had taught him the principles of manly -living. He had the right to love any woman in the world.... And there -was Williard,--handsome, easy-going old Dick! Why was it written that -their paths must cross in everything? Yes, Dick loved her, too, but with -an affection that had come only with majority. Williard had everything -to offer besides. Should he step down and aside for his friend? Did -friendship demand such a sacrifice? No! Let Williard fight for her as he -(Carrington) intended to fight for her; and if Williard won, there would -be time then to surrender. - -It was almost twelve when the scrub-woman aroused him from his reveries. -He closed his desk and went home, his heart full of battle. He would -put up the best fight that was in him, for love and for fame; and if he -lost he would still have his manhood and self-respect, which any woman -might be proud to find at her feet, to accept or decline. He would go -into Murphy's own country and fight him openly and without secret -weapons. He knew that he held it in his power to coerce Murphy, but that -wasn't fighting. - -Neither of the candidates slept well that night. - - -So the time went forward. The second Tuesday in November was but a -fortnight off. Carrington fought every inch of ground. He depended but -little, if any, upon McDermott's assistance, though that gentleman came -gallantly to his rescue, as it was necessary to save his own scalp. It -crept into the papers that there was a rupture between Murphy and the -Democratic candidate. The opposition papers cried in glee; the others -remained silent. Murphy said nothing when questioned; he simply smiled. -Carrington won the respect of his opponents. The laboring classes saw -in him a Moses, and they hailed him with cheers whenever they saw him. - -There were many laughable episodes during the heat of the campaign; but -Carrington knew how and when to laugh. He answered questions from the -platform, and the ill-mannered were invariably put to rout by his -good-natured wit. Once they hoisted him on top of a bar in an obscure -saloon. His shoulders touched the gloomy ceiling, and he was forced to -address the habitues, with his head bent like a turtle's, his nose and -eyes offended by the heat and reek of kerosene and cheap tobacco. They -had brought him there to bait him; they carried him out on their -shoulders. To those who wanted facts he gave facts; to some he told -humorous stories; and to others he spoke his sincere convictions. - -Meantime Williard took hold of affairs, but in a bored fashion. He did -the best he knew how, but it wasn't the best that wins high places in -the affections of the people. - -The betting was even. - -Election day came round finally--one of those rare days when the pallid -ghost of summer returns to view her past victories, when the broad wings -of the West go a-winnowing the skies, and the sun shines warm and -grateful. On that morning a change took place in Carrington's heart. He -became filled with dread. After leaving the voting-polls early in the -morning, he returned to his home and refused to see any one. He even had -the telephone wires cut. Only his mother saw him, and hovered about him -with a thousand kindly attentions. At the door she became a veritable -dragon; not even telegraph messengers could pass her or escape her -vigilance. - -At six in the evening Carrington ordered around his horse. He mounted -and rode away into the hill country south of the city, into the cold -crisp autumn air. There was fever in his veins that needed cooling; -there were doubts and fears in his mind that needed clearing. He wanted -that sense of physical exhaustion which makes a man indifferent to -mental blows. - -The day passed and the night came. Election night! The noisy, -good-natured crowds in the streets, the jostling, snail-moving crowds! -The illuminated canvas-sheets in front of the newspaper offices! The -blare of horns, the cries, the yells, the hoots and hurrahs! The petty -street fights! The stalled surface-cars, the swearing cabbies, the -venders of horns and whistles, the newsboys hawking their extras! It is -the greatest of all spectacular nights; humanity comes out into the -open. - -The newspaper offices were yellow with lights. It was a busy time. There -was a continuous coming and going of messengers, bringing in returns. -The newspaper men took off their coats and rolled up their sleeves. -Figures, figures, thousands of figures to sift and resift! Filtering -through the various noises was the maddening click of the telegraph -instruments. Great drifts of waste paper littered the floors. A sandwich -man served coffee and sandwiches. The chief distributed cigars. -Everybody was writing, writing. Five men were sent out to hunt for -Carrington, but none could find him. His mother refused to state where -he had gone; in fact, she knew nothing save that he had gone horseback -riding. - -At nine there was a gathering at the club. Williard was there, and all -who had charge of the wheels within wheels. They had ensconced -themselves in the huge davenports in the bow-window facing the street, -and had given orders to the steward to charge everything that night to -Senator Gordon. A fabulous number of corks were pulled; but gentlemen -are always orderly. - -Williard, however, seemed anything but happy. He had dined at the -senator's that evening, and something had taken place there which the -general public would never learn. He was gloomy, and the wine he drank -only added to his gloom. - -The younger element began to wander in, carrying those execrable -rooster-posters. A gay time ensued. - -Carrington had ridden twelve miles into the country. At eight o'clock -the temperature changed and it began to snow. He turned and rode back -toward the city, toward victory or defeat. Sometimes he went at a -canter, sometimes at a trot. By and by he could see the aureola from the -electric lights wavering above the city. Once he struck a wind-match and -glanced at his watch. Had he lost or had he won? A whimsical inspiration -came to him. He determined to hear victory or defeat from the lips of -the girl he loved. The snow fell softly into his face and melted. His -hair became matted over his eyes; his gauntlets dripped and the reins -became slippery; a steam rose from the horse's body, a big-hearted -hunter on which he had ridden many a mile. - -"Good boy!" said Carrington; "we'll have it first from her lips." - -Finally he struck the asphalt of the city limits, and he slowed down to -a walk. He turned into obscure streets. Whenever he saw a bonfire, he -evaded it. - -It was ten o'clock when he drew up in front of the Gordon home. He tied -his horse to the post with the hitching-chain and knotted the reins so -that they would not slip over the horse's head, wiped his face with his -handkerchief, and walked bravely up to the veranda. There were few -lights. Through the library window he saw the girl standing at the -telephone. He prayed that she might be wholly alone. After a moment's -hesitation he pressed the button and waited. - -Betty herself came to the door. She peered out. - -"What is it?" she asked. - -"I did not expect that you would recognize me," said Carrington, -laughing. - -"John? Where in the world did you come from?"--taking him by the arm and -dragging him into the hall. "Good gracious!" - -"The truth is, Betty, I took to my heels at six o'clock, and have been -riding around the country ever since." He sent her a penetrating glance. - -"Come in to the fire," she cried impulsively. "You are cold and wet and -hungry." - -"Only wet," he admitted as he entered the cheerful library. He went -directly to the blazing grate and spread out his red, wet, aching hands. -He could hear her bustling about; it was a pleasant sound. A chair -rolled up to the fender; the rattle of a tea-table followed. It was all -very fine. "I ought to be ashamed to enter a house in these reeking -clothes," he said; "but the temptation was too great." - -"You are always welcome, John,"--softly. - -His keen ear caught the melancholy sympathy in her tone. He shrugged. He -had lost the fight. Had he won, she would already have poured forth her -congratulations. - -"Sit down," she commanded, "while I get the tea. Or would you prefer -brandy?" - -"The tea, by all means. I do not need brandy to bolster up my courage." -He sat down. - -She left the room and returned shortly with biscuit and tea. She filled -a cup, put in two lumps of sugar, and passed the cup to him. - -"You've a good memory," he said, smiling at her. "It's nice to have -one's likes remembered, even in a cup of tea. I look as if I had been to -war, don't I?" - -She buttered a biscuit. He ate it, not because he was hungry, but -because her fingers had touched it. It was a phantom kiss. He put the -cup down. - -"Now, which is it; have I been licked, or have I won?" - -"What!" she cried; "do you mean to tell me you do not know?" She gazed -at him bewilderedly. - -"I have been four hours in the saddle. I know nothing, save that which -instinct and the sweet melancholy of your voice tell me. Betty, I've -been licked, haven't I, and old Dick has gone and done it, eh?" - -The girl choked for a moment; there was a sob in her throat. - -"Yes, John." - -Carrington reached over and tapped the hearth with his riding-crop, -absent-mindedly. The girl gazed at him, her eyes shining in a mist of -unshed tears.... She longed to reach out her hand and smooth the -furrows from his care-worn brow, to brush the melting crystals of snow -from his hair; longed to soothe the smart of defeat which she knew was -burning his heart. She knew that only strong men suffer in silence. - -From a half-opened window the night breathed upon them, freighted with -the far-off murmur of voices. - -"I confess to you that I built too much on the outcome. I am ambitious; -I want to be somebody, to take part in the great affairs of the world. I -fought the very best I knew how. I had many dreams. Do you recollect the -verses I used to write to you when we were children? There was always -something of the poet in me, and it is still there, only it no longer -develops on paper. I had looked toward Washington ... even toward you, -Betty." - -Silence. The girl sat very still. Her face was white and her eyes large. - -"I am honest. I can see now that I have no business in politics...." He -laughed suddenly and turned toward the girl. "I was on the verge of -wailing. I'm licked, and I must begin all over again. Dick will make a -good mayor, that is, if they leave him alone.... Whimsical, wasn't it, -of me, coming here to have you tell me the news." He looked away. - -The girl smiled and held out her hand to him, and as he did not see it, -laid it gently on his sleeve. - -"It does not matter, John. Some day you will realize all your ambitions. -You are not the kind of man who gives up. Defeat is a necessary step to -greatness; and you will become great. I am glad that you came to me." -She knew now; all her doubts were gone, all the confusing shadows. - -Carrington turned and touched her hand with his lips. - -"Why did you come to me?" she asked with fine courage. - -His eyes widened. "Why did I come to you? If I had won I should have -told you. But I haven't won; I have lost." - -"Does that make the difference so great?" - -"It makes the difficulty greater." - -"Tell me!"--with a voice of command. - -They both rose suddenly, rather unconsciously, too. Their glances held, -magnet and needle-wise. Across the street a bonfire blazed, and the -ruddy light threw a mellow rose over their strained faces. - -"I love you," he said simply. "That is what drew me here, that is what -has always drawn me here. But say nothing to me, Betty. God knows I am -not strong enough to suffer two defeats in one night. God bless you and -make you happy!" - -He turned and took a few steps toward the door. - -"If it were not defeat ... if it were victory?" she said, in a kind of -whisper, her hands tense on the back of her chair. - - -The senator came in about midnight. He found his daughter asleep in a -chair before a half-dead fire. There was a tender smile on her lips. He -touched her gently. - -"It is you, daddy?" Her glance traveled from his florid countenance to -the clock. "Mercy! I have been dreaming these two hours." - -"What do you suppose Carrington did to-night?"--lighting a cigar. - -"What did he do?" - -"Came into the club and congratulated Williard publicly." - -"He did that?" cried the girl, her cheeks dyeing exquisitely. - -"Did it like a man, too." The senator dropped into a chair. "It was a -great victory, my girl." - -Betty smiled. "Yes, it was." - - - - -THE ENCHANTED HAT - -THE ADVENTURE OF MY LADY'S LETTER - - -It was half-after six when I entered Martin's from the Broadway side. I -chose a table by the north wall and sat down on the cushioned seat. I -ordered dinner, and the ample proportions of it completely hoodwinked -the waiter as to the condition of my cardiac affliction: being, as I -was, desperately and hopelessly and miserably in love. Old owls say that -a man can not eat when he is in love. He can if he is mad at the way the -object of his affections has treated him; and I was mad. To be sure, I -can not recall what my order was, but the amount of the waiter's check -is still vivid to my recollection. - -I glanced about. The cafe was crowded, as it usually is at this hour. -Here and there I caught glimpses of celebrities and familiar faces: -journalists, musicians, authors, artists and actors. This is the time -they drop in to be pointed out to strangers from out of town. It's a -capital advertisement. To-night, however, none of these interested me in -the slightest degree; rather, their animated countenances angered me. -How _could_ they laugh and look happy! - -At my left sat a young man about my own age. He was also in evening -dress. At my right a benevolent old gentleman, whose eye-glasses -balanced neatly upon the end of his nose, was deeply interested in _The -Law Journal_ and a pint of mineral water. A little beyond my table was -an exiled Frenchman, and the irritating odor of absinthe drifted at -times across my nostrils. - -With my coffee I ordered a glass of Dantzic, and watched the flakes of -beaten gold waver and settle; and presently I devoted myself entirely to -my own particularly miserable thoughts.... To be in love and in debt! To -be with the gods one moment and hunted by a bill-collector the next! To -have the girl you love snub and dismiss you for no more lucid reason -than that you did not attend the dance at the Country Club when you -promised you would! It did not matter that you had a case on that night -from which depended a large slice of your bread and butter; no, that did -not matter. Neither did the fact that you had mixed the dates. You had -promised to go, and you hadn't gone or notified the girl that you -wouldn't go. Your apologetic telegram she had torn into halves and -returned the following morning, together with a curt note to the effect -that she could not value the friendship of a man who made and broke a -promise so easily. It was all over. It was a dashed hard world. How the -deuce do you win a girl, anyhow? - -Supposing, besides, that you possessed a rich uncle who said that on the -day of your wedding he would make over to you fifty thousand in -Government three per cents? Hard, wasn't it? Suppose that you were -earning about two thousand a year, and that the struggle to keep up -smart appearances was a keen one. Wouldn't you have been eager to -marry, especially the girl you loved? A man can not buy flowers twice a -week, dine before and take supper after the theater twice a week, belong -(and pay dues and house-accounts) to a country club, a town club and -keep respectable bachelor apartments on two thousand ... and save -anything. And suppose the girl was independently rich? Heigh-ho! - -I find that a man needs more money in love than he does in debt. This is -not to say that I was ever very hard pressed; but I hated to pay ten -dollars "on account" when the total was only twenty. You understand me, -don't you? If you don't, somebody who reads this will. Of course, the -girl knew nothing about these things. A young man always falls into the -fault of magnifying his earning capacity to the girl he loves. You see, -I hadn't told her yet that I loved her, though I was studying up -somebody on Moral and Physical Courage for that purpose. - -And now it was all over! - -I did not care so much about my uncle's gold-bonds, but I did think a -powerful lot of the girl. Why, when I recall the annoyances I've put up -with from that kid brother of hers!... Pshaw, what's the use? - -His mother called him "Toddy-One-Boy," in memory of a book she had read -long years ago. He was six years old, and I never think of him without -that jingle coming to mind: - - - "Little Willie choked his sister, - She was dead before they missed her. - Willie's always up to tricks. - Ain't he cute, he's only six!" - - -He had the face of a Bouguereau cherub, and mild blue eyes such as we -are told inhabit the countenances of angels. He was the most -innocent-looking chap you ever set eyes on. His mother called him an -angel; I should hate to tell you what the neighbors called him. He -lacked none of that subtile humor so familiar in child-life. Heavens! -the deeds I could (if I dared) enumerate. They turned him loose among -the comic supplements one Sunday, and after that it was all over. - -Hadn't he emptied his grandma's medicine capsules and substituted -cotton? And hadn't dear old grandma come down stairs three days later, -saying that she felt much improved? Hadn't he beaten out the brains of -his toy bank and bought up the peanut man on the corner? Yes, indeed! -And hadn't he taken my few letters from his sister's desk and played -postman up and down the street? His papa thought it all a huge joke till -one of the neighbors brought back a dunning dressmaker's bill that had -lain on the said neighbor's porch. It was altogether a different matter -then. Toddy-One-Boy crawled under the bed that night, and only his -mother's tears saved him from a hiding. - -All these things I thought over as I sat at my table. She knew that I -would have gone had it been possible. Women and logic are only cousins -german. Six months ago I hadn't been in love with any one but myself, -and now the Virgil of love's dream was leading me like a new Dante -through _his_ Inferno, and was pointing out the foster-brother of -Sisyphus (if he had a foster-brother), pushing the stone of my lady's -favor up the steeps of Forlorn Hope. Well, I would go up to the club, -and if I didn't get home till mor-r-ning, who was there to care? - -The Frenchman had gone, and the benevolent old gentleman. The crowd was -thinning out. The young man at my left rose, and I rose also. We both -stared thoughtfully at the hat-rack. There hung two hats: an opera-hat -and a dilapidated old stovepipe. The young fellow reached up and, quite -naturally, selected the opera-hat. He glanced into it, and immediately a -wrinkle of annoyance darkened his brow. He held the hat toward me. - -"Is this yours?" he asked. - -I looked at the label. - -"No." The wrinkle of annoyance sprang from his brow to mine. My -opera-hat had cost me eight dollars. - -The young fellow laughed rather lamely. "Do you live in New York?" he -asked. - -I nodded. - -"So do I," he continued; "and yet it is evident that both of us have -been neatly caught." He thought for a moment, then brightened. "I'll -tell you what; let's match for the good one." - -I gazed indignantly at the rusty stovepipe. "Done!" said I. - -I lost; I knew that I should; and the young fellow walked off with the -good hat. Then, with the relic in my hand, a waiter and myself began a -systematic search. My hat was nowhere to be found. How the deuce was I -to get up town to the club? I couldn't wear the old plug; I wasn't rich -enough for such an eccentricity. I had nothing but a silk hat at the -apartment, and I hated it because it was always in the way when I -entered carriages and elevators. - -Angrily, I strode up to the cashier's desk and explained the situation, -leaving my address and the number of my apartment; my name wasn't -necessary. - -Troubles never come singly. Here I had lost my girl and my hat, to say -nothing of my temper--of the three the most certain to be found again. I -passed out of the cafe, bareheaded and hotheaded. I hailed a cab and -climbed in. I had finally determined to return to my rooms and study. I -simply could not afford to be seen with that stovepipe hat either on my -head or under my arm. Had I been green from college it is probable that -I should have worn it proudly and defiantly. But I had left college -behind these six years. - -Hang these old duffers who are so absent-minded! For I was confident -that the benevolent old gentleman was the cause of all this confusion. -Inside the cab I tried on the thing, just to get a picture in my mind of -the old gentleman going it up Broadway with my opera-hat on his head. -The hat sagged over my ears; and I laughed. The picture I had conjured -up was too much for my anger, which vanished suddenly. And once I had -laughed I felt a trifle more agreeable toward the world. So long as a -man can see the funny side of things he has no active desire to leave -life behind; and laughter does more to lighten his sorrows than -sympathy, which only aggravates them. - -After all, the old gentleman would feel the change more sharply than I. -This was, in all probability, the only hat he had. I turned it over and -scrutinized it. It was a genteel old beaver, with an air of -respectability that was quite convincing. There was nothing smug about -it, either. It suggested amiability in the man who had recently -possessed it. It suggested also a mild contempt for public opinion, -which is always a sign of superior mentality and advanced years. I began -to draw a mental portrait of the old man. He was a family lawyer, -doubtless, who lived in the past and hugged his retrospections. When we -are young there is never any vanishing point to our day-dreams. Well, -well! On the morrow he would have a new hat, of approved shape and -pattern; unless, indeed, he possessed others like this which had fallen -into my keeping. Perhaps he would soon discover his mistake, return to -the cafe and untangle the snarl. I sincerely hoped he would. As I -remarked, my hat had cost me eight dollars. - -I soon arrived at my apartments, and got into a smoking-jacket. I rather -delight in lolling around in a dress-shirt; it looks so like the -pictures we see in the fashionable novels. I picked up Blackstone and -turned to his "promissory notes." I had two or three out myself. It was -nine o'clock when the hall-boy's bell rang, and I placed my ear to the -tube. A gentleman wished to see me in regard to a lost hat. - -"Send him up, James; send him up!" I bawled down the tube. Visions of -the club returned, and I tossed Blackstone into a corner. - -Presently there came a tap on the door, and I flung it wide. But my -visitor was not the benevolent old gentleman. He was the Frenchman whose -absinthe had offended me. He glanced at the slip of paper in his hand. - -"I have zee honaire to address zee--ah--gentleman in numbaire six?" - -"I live here." - -"Delight'! We have meexed zee hats, I have zee r-r-regret. Ees thees -your hat?" He held out, for my inspection, an opera-hat. "I am _so_ -absent-mind'--what you call deestrait?"--affably. - -I took the hat, which at first glance I thought to be mine, and went -over to the rack, taking down the old stovepipe. - -"This is yours, then?" I said, smiling. - -"Thousand thanks, m'sieu! Eet ees certain mine. I have zee honaire to -beg pardon for zee confusion. My compliments! Good night!" - -Without giving the hat a single glance, he clapped it on his head, bowed -and disappeared, leaving me his card. He hadn't been gone two minutes -when I discovered that the hat he had exchanged for the stovepipe was -_not_ mine. It came from the same firm, but the initials proved it -without doubt to belong to the young fellow I had met at the table. I -said some uncomplimentary things. Where the deuce _was_ my hat? -Evidently the benevolent old gentleman hadn't waked up yet. - -Ting-a-ling! It was the boy's bell again. - -"Well?" - -"Another man after a hat. What's goin' on?" - -"Send him up!" I yelled. It came over me that the Frenchman had made a -second mistake. - -I was not disappointed this time in my visitor. It was the benevolent -old gentleman. Evidently he had not located _his_ hat either, and might -not for some time to come. I began to believe that I had given it to the -Frenchman. He seemed terribly excited. - -"You are the gentleman who occupies number six?" - -"Yes, sir. This is my apartment. You have come in regard to a hat?" - -"Yes, sir. My name is Chittenden. Our hats got mixed up at Martin's this -evening; my fault, as usual. I am always doing something absurd, my -memory is so bad. When I discovered my mistake I was calling on the -family of a client with whom I had spent most of the afternoon. I missed -some valuable papers, legal documents. I believed as usual that I had -forgotten to take them with me. They were nowhere to be found at the -house. My client has a very mischievous son, and it seems that he -stuffed the papers behind the inside band of my hat. With them there was -a letter. I have had two very great scares. A great deal of trouble -would ensue if the papers were lost. I just telephoned that I had -located the hat." He laughed pleasantly. - -Good heavens! here was a howdy-do. - -"My dear Mr. Chittenden, there has been a great confusion," I faltered. -"I had your hat, but--but you have come too late." - -"Too late?" he roared, or I should say, to be exact, shouted. - -"Yes, sir." - -"What have you done with it?" - -"Not five minutes ago I gave it to a Frenchman, who seemed to recognize -it as his. It was the Frenchman, if you will remember, who sat near your -table in the cafe." - -"And this hat isn't yours, then?"--helplessly. - -"This" was a flat-brimmed hat of the Paris boulevards, the father of -all stovepipe hats, dear to the Frenchman's heart. - -"Candidly, now," said I with a bit of excusable impatience, "do I look -like a man who would wear a hat like that?" - -He surveyed me miserably through his eye-glasses. - -"No, I can't say that you do. But what in the world am I to do?" He -mopped his brow in the ecstasy of anguish. "The hat must be found. The -legal papers could be replaced, but.... You see, sir, that boy put a -private letter of his sister's in the band of that hat, and it must be -recovered at all hazards." - -"I am very sorry, sir." - -"But what shall I do?" - -"I do not see what can be done save for you to leave word at the cafe. -The Frenchman is doubtless a frequenter, and may easily be found. If you -had come a few moments sooner...." - -With a gurgle of dismay he fled, leaving me with a half-finished -sentence hanging on my lips and the Frenchman's chapeau hanging on my -fingers. And _my_ hat; where was _my_ hat? (I may as well add here, in -parenthesis, that the disappearance of my eight-dollar hat still remains -a mystery. I have had to buy a new one.) - -So the boy had put a letter of his sister's in the band of the hat, I -mused. How like _her_ kid brother! It seemed that more or less families -had Toddy-One-Boys to look after. Pshaw! what a muddle because a man -couldn't keep his thoughts from wool-gathering! - -Well, here I had two hats, neither of which was mine. I could, at a -pinch, wear the opera-hat, as it was the exact size of the one I had -lost. But what was to be done with the Frenchman's?... Fool that I was! -I rushed over to the table. The Frenchman had left his card, and I -had forgotten all about it. And I hadn't asked the benevolent old -gentleman where he lived. The Frenchman's card read: "M. de Beausire, -No. -- Washington Place." I decided to go myself to the address, state -the matter to Monsieur de Beausire, and rescue the letter. I knew all -about these Toddy-One-Boys, and I might be doing some girl a signal -service. - -I looked at my watch. It was closing on to ten. So I reluctantly got -into my coat again, drew on a topcoat, and put on the hat that fitted -me. Probably the girl had been writing some fortunate fellow a -love-letter. No gentleman will ever overlook a chance to do a favor for -a young girl in distress. I had scarcely drawn my stick from the -umbrella-jar when the bell rang once again. - -"Hello!" I called down the tube. Why couldn't they let me be? - -"Lady wants to see you, sir." - -"A lady!" - -"Yes, sir. A real lady; l-a-d-y. She says she's come to see the -gentleman in number six about a plug-hat. What's the graft, anyway?" - -"A plug-hat!" - -"Yes, sir; a plug-hat. She seems a bit anxious. Shall I send her up? -She's a peach." - -"Yes, send her up," I answered feebly enough. - -And now there was a woman in the case! I wiped the perspiration from my -brow and wondered what I should say to her. A woman.... By Jove! the -sister of the mischievous boy! Old Chittenden must have told her where -he had gone, and as he hasn't shown up, she's worried. It must be a -tremendously important letter to cause all this hubbub. So I laid aside -my hat and waited, tugging and gnawing at my mustache.... Had the Girl -acted reasonably I shouldn't have gone to Martin's that night. - -How easy it is for a woman to hurt the man she knows is in love with -her! And the Girl had hurt me more than I was willing to confess even to -myself. She had implied that I had carelessly broken an engagement. - -Soon there came a gentle tapping. Certainly the young woman had abundant -pluck. I approached the door quickly, and flung it open. - -The Girl herself stood on the threshold, and we stared at each other -with bewildered eyes! - - -II - -She was the most exquisite creature in all the wide world; and here she -was, within reach of my hungry arms! - -"You?" she cried, stepping back, one hand at her throat and the other -against the jamb of the door. - -Dumb as ever was Lot's wife (after the turning-point in her career), I -stood and stared and admired. A woman would instantly have noticed the -beauty of her sables, but I was a man to whom such details were -inconsequent. - -"I did not expect ... that is, only the number of the apartment was -given," she stammered. "I...." Then her slender figure straightened, and -with an effort she subdued the fright and dismay which had evidently -seized her. "Have you Mr. Chittenden's hat?" - -"Mr. Chittenden's hat?" I repeated, with a tingling in my throat -similar to that when you hit your elbow smartly on a corner. "Mr. -Chittenden's hat?" - -"Yes; he is so thoughtless that I dared not trust him to search for it -alone. Have _you_ got it?" - -Heavens! how my heart beat at the sight of this beautiful being, as she -stood there, palpitating between shame and anxiety! She _was_ beautiful; -and I knew instantly that I loved her better than anything else on -earth. - -"Mr. Chittenden's hat?" I continued, as lucid as a trained parrot and in -tones not wholly dissimilar. - -"Can't you say anything more than that?"--impatiently. - -How much more easily a woman recovers her poise than a man, especially -when that man gives himself over as tamely as I did! - -"Was it _your_ letter he was seeking?" I cried, all eagerness and -excitement as this one sane thought entered my head. - -"Did he tell you that there was a letter in it?"--scornfully. - -"Yes,"--guiltily. Heaven only knows why I should have had any sense of -guilt. - -"Give it to me at once,"--imperatively. - -"The hat or the letter?" Truly, I did not know what I was about. Only -one thing was plain to my confused mind, and that was the knowledge that -I wanted to put my arms around her and carry her far, far away from -Toddy-One-Boy. - -"Are you mad, to anger me in this fashion?" she said, balling her little -gloved hands wrathfully. Had there been real lightning in her eyes I'd -have been dead this long while. "Do you dare believe that I knew you -lived in this apartment?" - -"I ... haven't the hat." - -"You dared to search it?"--drawing herself up to a supreme height, which -was something less than five-feet-two. - -I became angry, and somehow found myself. - -"I never pry into other people's affairs. You are the last person I -expected to see this night." - -"Will you answer a single question? I promise not to intrude further -upon your time, which, doubtless, is very valuable. Have you either the -hat or the letter?" - -"Neither. I knew nothing about any letter till Mr. Chittenden came. But -he came too late." - -"Too late?"--in an agonized whisper. - -"Yes, too late. I had, unfortunately, given his hat to another gentleman -who made a trifling mistake in thinking it to be his own." Suddenly my -manners returned to me. "Will you come in?" - -"Come in? No! You have given the hat to another man? A trifling mistake! -He calls it a trifling mistake!"--addressing the heavens, obscured -though they were by the thickness of several ceilings. "Oh, what _shall_ -I do?" She began to wring her hands, and when a woman does that what -earthly hope is there for the man who looks on? - -"Don't do that!" I implored. "I'll find the hat." At a word from her, -for all she had trampled on me, I would gladly have gone to Honolulu in -search of a hat-pin. "The gentleman left me his card. With your -permission I will go at once in search of him." - -"I have a cab outside. Give me the address." - -"I refuse to permit you to go alone." - -"You have absolutely nothing to say in regard to where I shall or shall -not go." - -"In this one instance. I shall withhold the address." - -How her eyes blazed! - -"Oh, it is easily to be seen that you do not trust me." I was utterly -discouraged. - -"I did not imply that," with the least bit of softening. "Certainly I -would trust you. But...." - -"Well?"--as laughingly as I could. - -"I must be the one to take out that letter,"--decidedly. - -"I offer to bring you the hat untouched," I replied. - -"I insist on going." - -"Very well; we shall go together; under no other circumstances. This is -a common courtesy that I would show to a perfect stranger." - -I put on my hat, took up the Frenchman's card and tile, and bowed her -gravely into the main hallway. We did not speak on the way down to the -street. We entered the cab in silence, and went rumbling off southwest. -When the monotony became positively unbearable I spoke. - -"I regret to force myself upon you." - -No reply. - -"It must be a very important letter." - -"To no one but myself,"--with extreme frigidity. - -"His father ought to wring his neck,"--thinking of Toddy-One-Boy. - -"Sir, he is my brother!" - -"I beg your pardon." It seemed that I wasn't getting on very well. - -We bumped across the Broadway tracks. Once or twice our shoulders -touched, and the thrill I experienced was as painful as it was -rapturous. What was in a letter that she should go to this extreme to -recall it? A heat-flash of jealousy went over me. She had written to -some other fellow; for there always is some other fellow, hang him!... -And then a grand idea came into my erstwhile stupid head. Here she was, -alone with me in a cab. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. I could -force her to listen to my explanation. - -"I received your note," I began. "It was cruel and without justice." - -Her chin went up a degree. - -"The worst criminal is not condemned without a hearing, and I have had -none." - -No perceptible movement. - -"We are none of us infallible in keeping appointments. We are liable to -make mistakes occasionally. Had I known that Tuesday night was the night -of the dance I'd have crossed to Jersey in a rowboat." - -The chin remained precipitously inclined. - -"I am poor, and the case involved some of my bread and butter. The work -was done at ten, and even then I did not discover that I had in any way -affronted you. I had it down in my note-book as Wednesday night." - -The lips above the chin curled slightly. - -"You see," I went on, striving to keep my voice even-toned, "my uncle is -rich, but I ask no odds of him. I live entirely upon what I earn at law. -It's the only way I can maintain my individuality, my self-respect and -independence. My uncle has often expressed his desire to make me a -handsome allowance, but what would be the use ... now?"--bitterly. - -The chin moved a little. It was too dark to see what this movement -expressed. - -"It seems that I am only a very unfortunate fellow." - -"You had given me your promise." - -"I know it." - -"Not that I cared,"--with cat-like cruelty; "but I lost the last train -out while waiting for you. Not even a note to warn me! Not the slightest -chance to find an escort! When a man gives his promise to a lady it does -not seem possible that he could forget it ... if he cared to keep it." - -"I tell you honestly that I mixed the dates." How weak my excuses -seemed, now that they had passed my lips! - -"You are sure that you mixed nothing else?"--ironically. (She afterward -apologized for this.) "It appears that it would have been better to come -alone." - -"I regret I did not give you the address." - -"It is not too late." - -"I never retreat from any position I have taken." - -"Indeed?" - -Then both our chins assumed an acute angle and remained thus. When a -woman is angry she is about as reasonable as a frightened horse; when a -man is angry he longs to hit something or smoke a cigar. Imagine my -predicament! - -When the cab reached Washington Place and came to a stand I spoke again. - -"Shall I take the hat in, or will you?" - -"We shall go together." - -Ah, if only I had had the courage to say: "I would it were for ever!" -But I feared that it wouldn't take. - -I rang the bell, and presently a maid opened the door. - -"Is Monsieur de Beausire in?" I asked. - -"No, sir, he is not," the maid answered civilly. - -"Do you know where he may be found?" - -"If you have a bill you may leave it,"--frostily and with sudden -suspicion. - -There was a smothered sound from behind me, and I flushed angrily. - -"I am not a bill-collector." - -"Oh; it's the second day of the month, you know. I thought perhaps you -were." - -"He has in his possession a hat which does not belong to him." - -"Good gracious, he hasn't been _stealing_? I don't believe"--making as -though to shut the door. - -This was too much, and I laughed. "No, my girl; he hasn't been stealing. -But, being absent-minded, he has taken another man's hat, and I am -bringing his home in hopes of getting the one he took by mistake." - -"Oh!" And the maid laughed shrilly. - -I held out the hat. - -"My land! that's his hat, sure enough. I was wondering what made him -look so funny when he went out." - -"Where has he gone?" came sharply over my shoulder. - -"If you will wait," said the maid good-naturedly, "I will inquire." - -We waited. So far as I was concerned, I hoped he was miles away, and -that we might go on riding for hours and hours. The maid returned soon. - -"He has gone to meet the French consul at Mouquin's." - -"Which one?" I asked. "There are two, one down and one up town." - -"I'm sure I don't know. You can leave the hat and your card." - -"Thank you; we shall retain the hat. If we find monsieur he will need -it." - -"I'm sorry," said the maid sympathetically. "He's the worst man you ever -saw for forgetting things. Sometimes he goes right by the house and has -to walk back." - -"I'm sorry to have bothered you," said I; and the only girl in the -world and myself re-entered the cab. - -"This is terrible!" she murmured as we drove off. - -"It might be worse," I replied, thinking of the probable long ride with -her: perhaps the last I should ever take! - -"How could it be!" - -I had nothing to offer, and subsided for a space. - -"If we should not find him!" - -"I'll sit on his front stoop all night.... Forgive me if I sound -flippant; but I mean it." Snow was in the air, and I considered it a -great sacrifice on my part to sit on a cold stone in the small morning -hours. It looks flippant in print, too, but I honestly meant it. "I am -sorry. You are in great trouble of some sort, I know; and there's -nothing in the world I would not do to save you from this trouble. Let -me take you home and continue the search alone. I'll find him if I have -to search the whole town." - -"We shall continue the search together,"--wearily. - -What had she written to this other fellow? _Did_ she love some one else -and was she afraid that I might learn who it was? My heart became as -lead in my bosom. I simply could not lose this charming creature. And -now, how was I ever to win her? - -It was not far up town to the restaurant, and we made good time. - -"Would you know him if you saw him?" she asked as we left the cab. - -"Not the least doubt of it,"--confidently. - -She sighed, and together we entered the restaurant. It was full of -theater-going people, music and the hum of voices. We must have created -a small sensation, wandering from table to table, from room to room, the -girl with a look of dread and weariness on her face, and I with the -Frenchman's hat grasped firmly in my hand and my brows scowling. If I -hadn't been in love it would have been a fine comedy. Once I surprised -her looking toward the corner table near the orchestra. How many joyous -Sunday dinners we had had there! Heigh-ho! - -"Is that he?" she whispered, clutching my arm of a sudden, her gaze -directed to a nearby table. - -I looked and shook my head. - -"No; my Frenchman had a mustache and a goatee." - -Her hand dropped listlessly. I confess to the thought that it must have -been very trying for her. What a plucky girl she was! She held me in -contempt, and yet she clung to me, patiently and unmurmuring. And I had -lost her! - -"We may have to go down town.... No! as I live, there he is now!" - -"Where?" There was half a sob in her throat. - -"The table by the short flight of stairs ... the man just lighting the -cigarette. I'll go alone." - -"But I can not stand here alone in the middle of the floor...." - -I called a waiter. "Give this lady a chair for a moment;" and I dropped -a coin in his palm. He bowed, and beckoned for her to follow.... Women -are always writing fool things, and then moving Heaven and earth to -recall them. - -"Monsieur de Beausire?" I said. - -Beausire glanced up. - -"Oh, eet ees.... I forget zee name?" - -I told him. - -"I am delight'!" he cried joyfully, as if he had known me all my life. -"Zee chair; be seat'...." - -"Thank you, but it's about the hats." - -"Hats?" - -"Yes. It seems that the hat I gave you belongs to another man. In your -haste you did not notice the mistake. _This_ is your hat,"--producing -the shining tile. - -"_Mon Dieu!_" he gasped, seizing the hat; "eet _ees_ mine! See! I bring -heem from France; zee _nom_ ees mine. _V'la!_ And I nevaire look in zee -uzzer hat! I am _pair_fickly dumfound'!" And his astonishment was -genuine. - -"Where is the other hat: the one I gave you?" I was in a great hurry. - -"I have heem here," reaching to the vacant chair at his side, while the -French consul eyed us both with some suspicion. We _might_ be lunatics. -Beausire handed me the benevolent old gentleman's hat, and the burden -dropped from my shoulders. "Eet ees _such_ a meestake! I laugh; eh?" He -shook with merriment. "I wear _two_ hats and not know zee meestake!" - -I thanked him and made off as gracefully as I could. The girl rose as -she saw me returning. When I reached her side she was standing with her -slender body inclined toward me. She stretched forth a hand and solemnly -I gave her Mr. Chittenden's hat. I wondered vaguely if anybody was -looking at us, and, if so, what he thought of us. - -The girl pulled the hat literally inside out in her eagerness; but her -gloved fingers trembled so that the precious letter fluttered to the -floor. We both stooped, but I was quicker. It was no attempt on my part -to see the address; my act was one of common politeness. But I could -not help seeing the name. It was my own! - -"Give it to me!" she cried breathlessly. - -I did so. I was not, at that particular moment, capable of doing -anything else. I was too bewildered. My own name! She turned, hugging -the hat, the legal documents and the letter, and hurried down the main -stairs, I at her heels. - -"Tell the driver my address; I can return alone." - -"I can not permit that," I objected decidedly. "The driver is a stranger -to us both. I insist on seeing you to the door; after that you may rest -assured that I shall no longer inflict upon you my presence, odious as -it doubtless is to you." - -As she was already in the cab and could not get out without aid, I -climbed in beside her and called the street and number to the driver. - -"Legally the letter is mine; it is addressed to me, and had passed out -of your keeping." - -"You shall never, never have it!"--vehemently. - -"It is not necessary that I should," I replied; "for I vaguely -understand." - -I saw that it was all over. There was now no reason why I should not -speak my mind fully. - -"I can understand without reading. You realize that your note was cruel -and unlike anything you had done, and your good heart compelled you to -write an apology; but your pride got the better of you, and upon second -thought you concluded to let the unmerited hurt go on." - -"Will you kindly stop the driver, or shall I?" - -"Does truth annoy you?" - -"I decline to discuss truth with you. Will you stop the driver?" - -"Not until we reach Seventy-first Street West." - -"By what right----" - -"The right of a man who loves you. There, it is out, and my pride has -gone down the wind. After to-night I shall trouble you no further. But -every man has the right to tell one woman that he loves her; and I love -you. I loved you the moment I first laid eyes on you. I couldn't help -it. I say this to you now because I perceive how futile it is. What -dreams I have conjured up about you! Poor fool! When I was at work your -face was always crossing the page or peering up from the margins. I -never saw a fine painting that I did not think of you, or heard a fine -piece of music that I did not think of your voice." - -There was a long interval of silence; block after block went by. I never -once looked at her. - -"If I had been rich I should have put it to the touch some time ago; but -my poverty seems to have been fortunate; it has saved me a refusal. In -some way I have mortally offended you; how, I can not imagine. It can -not be simply because I innocently broke an engagement." - -Then she spoke. - -"You dined after the theater that night with a comic-opera singer. You -were quite at liberty to do so, only you might have done me the honor -to notify me that you had made your choice of entertainment." - -So it was out! Decidedly it was all over now. I never could explain away -the mistake. - -"I have already explained to you my unfortunate mistake. There was and -is no harm that I can see in dining with a woman of her attainments. But -I shall put up no defense. You have convicted me. I retract nothing I -have said. I _do_ love you." - -I was very sorry for myself. - -Cabby drew up. I alighted, and she silently permitted me to assist her -down. I expected her immediately to mount the steps. Instead, she -hesitated, the knuckle of a forefinger against her lips, and assumed the -thoughtful pose of one who contemplates two courses. - -"Have you a stamp?" she asked finally. - -"A stamp?"--blankly. - -"Yes; a postage-stamp." - -I fumbled in my pocket and found, luckily, a single pink square, which I -gave to her. She moistened it with the tip of her tongue and ... stuck -it on the letter! - -"Now, please, drop this in the corner box for me, and take this hat -over to Mr. Chittenden's--Sixty-ninth." - -"What----" - -"Do as I say, or I shall ask you to return the letter to me." - -I rushed off toward the letter-box, drew down the lid, and deposited the -letter--my letter. When I turned she was running up the steps, and a -second later she had disappeared. - -I hadn't been so happy in all my life! - -Cabby waited at the curb. - -Suddenly I became conscious that I was holding something in my hand. It -was the benevolent old gentleman's stovepipe hat! - - -I pushed the button: pushed it good and hard. Presently I heard a window -open cautiously. - -"What is it?" asked a querulous voice. - -"Mr. Chittenden?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, here's your hat!" I cried. - - - - - * * * * * * - - - -Transcriber's note: - -A Table of Contents has been added. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ENCHANTMENT*** - - -******* This file should be named 55162.txt or 55162.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/5/1/6/55162 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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