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diff --git a/old/69715-0.txt b/old/69715-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2a02cae..0000000 --- a/old/69715-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5855 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The scarlet car, the Princess Aline, -by Richard Harding Davis - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The scarlet car, the Princess Aline - -Author: Richard Harding Davis - -Release Date: January 5, 2023 [eBook #69715] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCARLET CAR, THE PRINCESS -ALINE *** - - -[Illustration: Miss Forbes] - - - - - The Scarlet Car - - The Princess Aline - - - BY - RICHARD HARDING DAVIS - - - ILLUSTRATED - - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - NEW YORK 1910 - - - - - THE SCARLET CAR - - COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY - RICHARD HARDING DAVIS - - COPYRIGHT, 1907, 1910, BY - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - - - THE PRINCESS ALINE - - COPYRIGHT, 1895, BY - HARPER & BROTHERS - - COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - - -[Illustration] - - - - - THE SCARLET CAR - - THE PRINCESS ALINE - - - - - CONTENTS - - - THE SCARLET CAR - PAGE - THE JAIL-BREAKERS 3 - THE TRESPASSERS 39 - THE KIDNAPPERS 70 - - THE PRINCESS ALINE - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS - - - Miss Forbes _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - - In the two circles of light the men surveyed each other 56 - - “You’ve broken the bone,” he said 66 - - “Next to her stood the Princess Aline of Hohenwald” 142 - - “A man was talking in English, with an accent” 152 - - “This is she. Do you wonder I travelled four thousand - miles to see her?” 164 - - - - - THE SCARLET CAR - - - - - TO - - NED STONE - - - - - THE SCARLET CAR - - - - - I - THE JAIL-BREAKERS - - -For a long time it had been arranged they all should go to the Harvard -and Yale game in Winthrop’s car. It was perfectly well understood. Even -Peabody, who pictured himself and Miss Forbes in the back of the car, -with her brother and Winthrop in front, condescended to approve. It was -necessary to invite Peabody because it was his great good fortune to be -engaged to Miss Forbes. Her brother Sam had been invited, not only -because he could act as chaperon for his sister, but because since they -were at St. Paul’s, Winthrop and he, either as participants or -spectators, had never missed going together to the Yale-Harvard game. -And Beatrice Forbes herself had been invited because she was herself. - -When at nine o’clock on the morning of the game, Winthrop stopped the -car in front of her door, he was in love with all the world. In the -November air there was a sting like frost-bitten cider, in the sky there -was a brilliant, beautiful sun, in the wind was the tingling touch of -three ice-chilled rivers. And in the big house facing Central Park, -outside of which his prancing steed of brass and scarlet chugged and -protested and trembled with impatience, was the most wonderful girl in -all the world. It was true she was engaged to be married, and not to -him. But she was not yet married. And to-day it would be his privilege -to carry her through the State of New York and the State of Connecticut, -and he would snatch glimpses of her profile rising from the rough fur -collar, of her wind-blown hair, of the long, lovely lashes under the -gray veil. - -“‘Shall be together, breathe and ride, so, one day more am I deified;’” -whispered the young man in the Scarlet Car; “‘who knows but the world -may end to-night?’” - -As he waited at the curb, other great touring-cars, of every speed and -shape, in the mad race for the Boston Post Road, and the town of New -Haven, swept up Fifth Avenue. Some rolled and puffed like tugboats in a -heavy seaway, others glided by noiseless and proud as private yachts. -But each flew the colors of blue or crimson. - -Winthrop’s car, because her brother had gone to one college, and he had -played right end for the other, was draped impartially. And so every -other car mocked or cheered it, and in one a bareheaded youth stood up, -and shouted to his fellows: “Look! there’s Billy Winthrop! Three times -three for old Billy Winthrop!” And they lashed the air with flags, and -sent his name echoing over Central Park. - -Winthrop grinned in embarrassment, and waved his hand. A bicycle cop, -and Fred, the chauffeur, were equally impressed. - -“Was they the Harvoids, sir?” asked Fred. - -“They was,” said Winthrop. - -Her brother Sam came down the steps carrying sweaters and steamer-rugs. -But he wore no holiday countenance. - -“What do you think?” he demanded indignantly. “Ernest Peabody’s inside -making trouble. His sister has a Pullman on one of the special trains, -and he wants Beatrice to go with her.” - -In spite of his furs, the young man in the car turned quite cold. “Not -with us?” he gasped. - -Miss Forbes appeared at the house door, followed by Ernest Peabody. He -wore an expression of disturbed dignity; she one of distressed -amusement. That she also wore her automobile coat caused the heart of -Winthrop to leap hopefully. - -“Winthrop,” said Peabody, “I am in rather an embarrassing position. My -sister, Mrs. Taylor Holbrooke”—he spoke the name as though he were -announcing it at the door of a drawingroom—“desires Miss Forbes to go -with her. She feels accidents are apt to occur with motor cars—and there -are no other ladies in your party—and the crowds——” - -Winthrop carefully avoided looking at Miss Forbes. - -“I should be very sorry,” he murmured. - -“Ernest!” said Miss Forbes, “I explained it was impossible for me to go -with your sister. We would be extremely rude to Mr. Winthrop. How do you -wish us to sit?” she asked. - -She mounted to the rear seat, and made room opposite her for Peabody. - -“Do I understand, Beatrice,” began Peabody, in a tone that instantly -made every one extremely uncomfortable, “that I am to tell my sister you -are not coming?” - -“Ernest!” begged Miss Forbes. - -Winthrop bent hastily over the oil valves. He read the speedometer, -which was, as usual, out of order, with fascinated interest. - -“Ernest,” pleaded Miss Forbes, “Mr. Winthrop and Sam planned this trip -for us a long time ago—to give us a little pleasure——” - -“Then,” said Peabody in a hollow voice, “you have decided?” - -“Ernest,” cried Miss Forbes, “don’t look at me as though you meant to -hurl the curse of Rome. I have. Jump in. Please!” - -“I will bid you good-by,” said Peabody; “I have only just time to catch -our train.” - -Miss Forbes rose and moved to the door of the car. - -“I had better not go with any one,” she said in a low voice. - -“You will go with me,” commanded her brother. “Come on, Ernest.” - -“Thank you, no,” replied Peabody. “I have promised my sister.” - -“All right, then,” exclaimed Sam briskly, “see you at the game. Section -H. Don’t forget. Let her out, Billy.” - -With a troubled countenance Winthrop bent forward and clasped the -clutch. - -“Better come, Peabody,” he said. - -“I thank you, no,” repeated Peabody. “I must go with my sister.” - -As the car glided forward Brother Sam sighed heavily. - -“My! but he’s got a mean disposition,” he said. “He has quite spoiled -_my_ day.” - -He chuckled wickedly, but Winthrop pretended not to hear, and his sister -maintained an expression of utter dejection. - -But to maintain an expression of utter dejection is very difficult when -the sun is shining, when you are flying at the rate of forty miles an -hour, and when in the cars you pass foolish youths wave Yale flags at -you, and take advantage of the day to cry: “Three cheers for the girl in -the blue hat!” - -And to entirely remove the last trace of the gloom that Peabody had -forced upon them, it was necessary only for a tire to burst. Of course, -for this effort, the tire chose the coldest and most fiercely wind-swept -portion of the Pelham Road, where from the broad waters of the Sound -pneumonia and the grip raced rampant, and where to the touch a steel -wrench was not to be distinguished from a piece of ice. But before the -wheels had ceased to complain, Winthrop and Fred were out of their fur -coats, down on their knees, and jacking up the axle. - -“On an expedition of this sort,” said Brother Sam, “whatever happens, -take it as a joke. Fortunately,” he explained, “I don’t understand -fixing inner tubes, so I will get out and smoke. I have noticed that -when a car breaks down there is always one man who paces up and down the -road and smokes. His hope is to fool passing cars into thinking that the -people in his car stopped to admire the view.” - -Recognizing the annual football match as intended solely to replenish -the town coffers, the thrifty townsfolk of Rye, with bicycles and red -flags, were, as usual, and regardless of the speed at which it moved, -levying tribute on every second car that entered their hospitable -boundaries. But before the Scarlet Car reached Rye, small boys of the -town, possessed of a sporting spirit, or of an inherited instinct for -graft, were waiting to give a noisy notice of the ambush. And so, -forewarned, the Scarlet Car crawled up the main street of Rye as -demurely as a baby-carriage, and then, having safely reached a point -directly in front of the police station, with a loud and ostentatious -report, blew up another tire. - -“Well,” said Sam crossly, “they can’t arrest _us_ for speeding.” - -“Whatever happens,” said his sister, “take it as a joke.” - -Two miles outside of Stamford, Brother Sam burst into open mutiny. - -“Every car in the United States has passed us,” he declared. “We won’t -get there, at this rate, till the end of the first half. Hit her up, -can’t you, Billy?” - -“She seems to have an illness,” said Winthrop unhappily. “I think I’d -save time if I stopped now and fixed her.” - -Shamefacedly Fred and he hid themselves under the body of the car, and a -sound of hammering and stentorian breathing followed. Of them all that -was visible was four feet beating a tattoo on the road. Miss Forbes got -out Winthrop’s camera, and took a snapshot of the scene. - -“I will call it,” she said, “The Idle Rich.” - -Brother Sam gazed morosely in the direction of New Haven. They had -halted within fifty yards of the railroad tracks, and as each special -train, loaded with happy enthusiasts, raced past them he groaned. - -“The only one of us that showed any common-sense was Ernest,” he -declared, “and you turned him down. I am going to take a trolley to -Stamford, and the first train to New Haven.” - -“You are not,” said his sister; “I will not desert Mr. Winthrop, and you -cannot desert me.” - -Brother Sam sighed, and seated himself on a rock. - -“Do you think, Billy,” he asked, “you can get us to Cambridge in time -for next year’s game?” - -The car limped into Stamford, and while it went into dry-dock at the -garage, Brother Sam fled to the railroad station, where he learned that -for the next two hours no train that recognized New Haven spoke to -Stamford. - -“That being so,” said Winthrop, “while we are waiting for the car, we -had better get a quick lunch now, and then push on.” - -“Push,” exclaimed Brother Sam darkly, “is what we are likely to do.” - -After behaving with perfect propriety for half an hour, just outside of -Bridgeport the Scarlet Car came to a slow and sullen stop, and once more -the owner and the chauffeur hid their shame beneath it, and attacked its -vitals. Twenty minutes later, while they still were at work, there -approached from Bridgeport a young man in a buggy. When he saw the mass -of college colors on the Scarlet Car, he pulled his horse down to a -walk, and as he passed raised his hat. - -“At the end of the first half,” he said, “the score was a tie.” - -“Don’t mention it,” said Brother Sam. - -“Now,” he cried, “we’ve got to turn back, and make for New York. If we -start quick, we may get there ahead of the last car to leave New Haven.” - -“I am going to New Haven, and in this car,” declared his sister. “I must -go—to meet Ernest.” - -“If Ernest has as much sense as he showed this morning,” returned her -affectionate brother, “Ernest will go to his Pullman and stay there. As -I told you, the only sure way to get anywhere is by railroad train.” - -When they passed through Bridgeport it was so late that the electric -lights of Fairview Avenue were just beginning to sputter and glow in the -twilight, and as they came along the shore road into New Haven, the -first car out of New Haven in the race back to New York leaped at them -with siren shrieks of warning, and dancing, dazzling eyes. It passed -like a thing driven by the Furies; and before the Scarlet Car could -swing back into what had been an empty road, in swift pursuit of the -first came many more cars, with blinding searchlights, with a roar of -throbbing, thrashing engines, flying pebbles, and whirling wheels, and -behind these, stretching for a twisted mile, came hundreds of others; -until the road was aflame with flashing will-o’-the-wisps, dancing -fire-balls, and long, shifting shafts of light. - -Miss Forbes sat in front, beside Winthrop, and it pleased her to -imagine, as they bent forward, peering into the night, that together -they were facing so many fiery dragons, speeding to give them battle, to -grind them under their wheels. She felt the elation of great speed, of -imminent danger. Her blood tingled with the air from the wind-swept -harbor, with the rush of the great engines, as by a hand-breadth they -plunged past her. She knew they were driven by men and half-grown boys, -joyous with victory, piqued by defeat, reckless by one touch too much of -liquor, and that the young man at her side was driving, not only for -himself, but for them. - -Each fraction of a second a dazzling light blinded him, and he swerved -to let the monster, with a hoarse, bellowing roar, pass by, and then -again swept his car into the road. And each time for greater confidence -she glanced up into his face. - -Throughout the mishaps of the day he had been deeply concerned for her -comfort, sorry for her disappointment, under Brother Sam’s indignant -ironies patient, and at all times gentle and considerate. Now, in the -light from the onrushing cars, she noted his alert, laughing eyes, the -broad shoulders bent across the wheel, the lips smiling with excitement -and in the joy of controlling, with a turn of the wrist, a power equal -to sixty galloping horses. She found in his face much comfort. And in -the fact that for the moment her safety lay in his hands, a sense of -pleasure. That this was her feeling puzzled and disturbed her, for to -Ernest Peabody it seemed, in some way, disloyal. And yet there it was. -Of a certainty, there was the secret pleasure in the thought that if -they escaped unhurt from the trap in which they found themselves, it -would be due to him. To herself she argued that if the chauffeur were -driving, her feeling would be the same, that it was the nerve, the -skill, and the coolness, not the man, that moved her admiration. But in -her heart she knew it would not be the same. - -At West Haven Green Winthrop turned out of the track of the racing -monsters into a quiet street leading to the railroad station, and with a -half-sigh, half-laugh, leaned back comfortably. - -“Those lights coming up suddenly make it hard to see,” he said. - -“Hard to breathe,” snorted Sam; “since that first car missed us, I -haven’t drawn an honest breath. I held on so tight that I squeezed the -hair out of the cushions.” - -When they reached the railroad station, and Sam had finally fought his -way to the stationmaster, that half-crazed official informed him he had -missed the departure of Mrs. Taylor Holbrooke’s car by just ten minutes. - -Brother Sam reported this state of affairs to his companions. - -“God knows we asked for the fish first,” he said; “so now we’ve done our -duty by Ernest, who has shamefully deserted us, and we can get something -to eat, and go home at our leisure. As I have always told you, the only -way to travel independently is in a touring-car.” - -At the New Haven House they bought three waiters, body and soul, and, in -spite of the fact that in the very next room the team was breaking -training, obtained an excellent but chaotic dinner; and by eight they -were on their way back to the big city. - -The night was grandly beautiful. The waters of the Sound flashed in the -light of a cold, clear moon, which showed them, like pictures in silver -print, the sleeping villages through which they passed, the ancient -elms, the low-roofed cottages, the town-hall facing the common. The post -road was again empty, and the car moved as steadily as a watch. - -“Just because it knows we don’t care now when we get there,” said -Brother Sam, “you couldn’t make it break down with an axe.” - -From the rear, where he sat with Fred, he announced he was going to -sleep, and asked that he be not awakened until the car had crossed the -State line between Connecticut and New York. Winthrop doubted if he knew -the State line of New York. - -“It is where the advertisements for Besse Baker’s twenty-seven stores -cease,” said Sam drowsily, “and the bill-posters of Ethel Barrymore -begin.” - -In the front of the car the two young people spoke only at intervals, -but Winthrop had never been so widely alert, so keenly happy, never -before so conscious of her presence. - -And it seemed as they glided through the mysterious moonlit world of -silent villages, shadowy woods, and wind-swept bays and inlets, from -which, as the car rattled over the planks of the bridges, the wild duck -rose in noisy circles, they alone were awake and living. - -The silence had lasted so long that it was as eloquent as words. The -young man turned his eyes timorously, and sought those of the girl. What -he felt was so strong in him that it seemed incredible she should be -ignorant of it. His eyes searched the gray veil. In his voice there was -both challenge and pleading. - -“‘Shall be together,’” he quoted, “‘breathe and ride. So, one day more -am I deified; who knows but the world may end to-night?’” - -The moonlight showed the girl’s eyes shining through the veil, and -regarding him steadily. - -“If you don’t stop this car quick,” she said, “the world _will_ end for -all of us.” - -He shot a look ahead, and so suddenly threw on the brake that Sam and -the chauffeur tumbled awake. Across the road stretched the great bulk of -a touring-car, its lamps burning dully in the brilliance of the moon. -Around it, for greater warmth, a half-dozen figures stamped upon the -frozen ground, and beat themselves with their arms. Sam and the -chauffeur vaulted into the road, and went toward them. - -“It’s what you say, and the way you say it,” the girl explained. She -seemed to be continuing an argument. “It makes it so very difficult for -us to play together.” - -The young man clasped the wheel as though the force he were holding in -check were much greater than sixty horse-power. - -“You are not married yet, are you?” he demanded. - -The girl moved her head. - -“And when you are married, there will probably be an altar from which -you will turn to walk back up the aisle?” - -“Well?” said the girl. - -“Well,” he answered explosively, “until you turn away from that altar, I -do not recognize the right of any man to keep me quiet, or your right -either. Why should I be held by your engagement? I was not consulted -about it. I did not give my consent, did I? I tell you, you are the only -woman in the world I will ever marry, and if you think I am going to -keep silent and watch some one else carry you off without making a fight -for you, you don’t know me.” - -“If you go on,” said the girl, “it will mean that I shall not see you -again.” - -“Then I will write letters to you.” - -“I will not read them,” said the girl. - -The young man laughed defiantly. - -“Oh, yes, you will read them!” He pounded his gauntleted fist on the rim -of the wheel. “You mayn’t answer them, but if I can write the way I -feel, I will bet you’ll read them.” - -His voice changed suddenly, and he began to plead. It was as though she -were some masculine giant bullying a small boy. - -“You are not fair to me,” he protested. “I do not ask you to be kind, I -ask you to be fair. I am fighting for what means more to me than -anything in this world, and you won’t even listen. Why should I -recognize any other men? All I recognize is that _I_ am the man who -loves you, that ‘I am the man at your feet.’ That is all I know, that I -love you.” - -The girl moved as though with the cold, and turned her head from him. - -“I love you,” repeated the young man. - -The girl breathed like one who has been swimming under water, but, when -she spoke, her voice was calm and contained. - -“Please!” she begged, “don’t you see how unfair it is? I can’t go away; -I _have_ to listen.” - -The young man pulled himself upright, and pressed his lips together. - -“I beg your pardon,” he whispered. - -There was for some time an unhappy silence, and then Winthrop added -bitterly: “‘Methinks the punishment exceeds the offence.’” - -“Do you think you make it easy for _me_?” returned the girl. - -She considered it most ungenerous of him to sit staring into the -moonlight, looking so miserable that it made her heart ache to comfort -him, and so extremely handsome that to do so was quite impossible. She -would have liked to reach out her hand and lay it on his arm, and tell -him she was sorry, but she could not. He should not have looked so -unnecessarily handsome. - -Sam came running toward them with five grizzly bears, who balanced -themselves apparently with some slight effort upon their hind legs. The -grizzly bears were properly presented as: “Tommy Todd, of my class, and -some more like him. And,” continued Sam, “I am going to quit you two and -go with them. Tom’s car broke down, but Fred fixed it, and both our cars -can travel together. Sort of convoy,” he explained. - -His sister signalled eagerly, but with equal eagerness he retreated from -her. - -“Believe me,” he assured her soothingly, “I am just as good a chaperon -fifty yards behind you, and wide awake, as I am in the same car and fast -asleep. And, besides, I want to hear about the game. And, what’s more, -two cars are much safer than one. Suppose you two break down in a lonely -place? We’ll be right behind you to pick you up. You will keep -Winthrop’s car in sight, won’t you, Tommy?” he said. - -The grizzly bear called Tommy, who had been examining the Scarlet Car, -answered doubtfully that the only way he could keep it in sight was by -tying a rope to it. - -“That’s all right, then,” said Sam briskly, “Winthrop will go slow.” - -So the Scarlet Car shot forward with sometimes the second car so far in -the rear that they could only faintly distinguish the horn begging them -to wait, and again it would follow so close upon their wheels that they -heard the five grizzly bears chanting beseechingly: - - “Oh, bring this wagon home, John, - It will not hold us a-all.” - -For some time there was silence in the Scarlet Car, and then Winthrop -broke it by laughing. - -“First, I lose Peabody,” he explained, “then I lose Sam, and now, after -I throw Fred overboard, I am going to drive you into Stamford, where -they do not ask runaway couples for a license, and marry you.” - -The girl smiled comfortably. In that mood she was not afraid of him. - -She lifted her face, and stretched out her arms as though she were -drinking in the moonlight. - -“It has been such a good day,” she said simply, “and I am really so very -happy.” - -“I shall be equally frank,” said Winthrop. “So am I.” - -For two hours they had been on the road, and were just entering -Fairport. For some long time the voices of the pursuing grizzlies had -been lost in the far distance. - -“The road’s up,” said Miss Forbes. - -She pointed ahead to two red lanterns. - -“It was all right this morning,” exclaimed Winthrop. - -The car was pulled down to eight miles an hour, and, trembling and -snorting at the indignity, nosed up to the red lanterns. - -They showed in a ruddy glow the legs of two men. - -“You gotta stop!” commanded a voice. - -“Why?” asked Winthrop. - -The voice became embodied in the person of a tall man with a long -overcoat and a drooping mustache. - -“’Cause I tell you to!” snapped the tall man. - -Winthrop threw a quick glance to the rear. In that direction for a mile -the road lay straight away. He could see its entire length, and it was -empty. In thinking of nothing but Miss Forbes, he had forgotten the -chaperon. He was impressed with the fact that the immediate presence of -a chaperon was desirable. Directly in front of the car, blocking its -advance, were two barrels with a two-inch plank sagging heavily between -them. Beyond that the main street of Fairport lay steeped in slumber and -moonlight. - -“I am a selectman,” said the one with the lantern. “You been exceedin’ -our speed limit.” - -The chauffeur gave a gasp that might have been construed to mean that -the charge amazed and shocked him. - -“That is not possible,” Winthrop answered. “I have been going very -slow—on purpose—to allow a disabled car to keep up with me.” - -The selectman looked down the road. - -“It ain’t kep’ up with you,” he said pointedly. - -“It has until the last few minutes.” - -“It’s the last few minutes we’re talking about,” returned the man who -had not spoken. He put his foot on the step of the car. - -“What are you doing?” asked Winthrop. - -“I am going to take you to Judge Allen’s. I am chief of police. You are -under arrest.” - -Before Winthrop rose moving pictures of Miss Forbes appearing in a dirty -police station before an officious Dogberry, and, as he and his car were -well known along the post road, appearing the next morning in the New -York papers. “William Winthrop,” he saw the printed words, “son of -Endicott Winthrop, was arrested here this evening, with a young woman -who refused to give her name, but who was recognized as Miss Beatrice -Forbes, whose engagement to Ernest Peabody, the Reform candidate on the -Independent ticket——” - -And, of course, Peabody would blame her. - -“If I have exceeded your speed limit,” he said politely, “I shall be -delighted to pay the fine. How much is it?” - -“Judge Allen ’ll tell you what the fine is,” said the selectman gruffly. -“And he may want bail.” - -“Bail?” demanded Winthrop. “Do you mean to tell me he will detain us -here?” - -“He will, if he wants to,” answered the chief of police combatively. - -For an instant Winthrop sat gazing gloomily ahead, overcome apparently -by the enormity of his offence. He was calculating whether, if he rammed -the two-inch plank, it would hit the car or Miss Forbes. He decided -swiftly it would hit his new two-hundred-dollar lamps. As swiftly he -decided the new lamps must go. But he had read of guardians of the -public safety so regardless of private safety as to try to puncture -runaway tires with pistol bullets. He had no intention of subjecting -Miss Forbes to a fusillade. - -So he whirled upon the chief of police: - -“Take your hand off that gun!” he growled. “How dare you threaten me?” - -Amazed, the chief of police dropped from the step and advanced -indignantly. - -“Me?” he demanded. “I ain’t got a gun. What you mean by——” - -With sudden intelligence, the chauffeur precipitated himself upon the -scene. - -“It’s the other one,” he shouted. He shook an accusing finger at the -selectman. “He pointed it at the lady.” - -To Miss Forbes the realism of Fred’s acting was too convincing. To learn -that one is covered with a loaded revolver is disconcerting. Miss Forbes -gave a startled squeak, and ducked her head. - -Winthrop roared aloud at the selectman. - -“How dare you frighten the lady!” he cried. “Take your hand off that -gun.” - -“What you talkin’ about?” shouted the selectman. “The idea of my havin’ -a gun! I haven’t got a——” - -“All right, Fred!” cried Winthrop. “Low bridge.” - -There was a crash of shattered glass and brass, of scattered barrel -staves, the smell of escaping gas, and the Scarlet Car was flying -drunkenly down the main street. - -“What are they doing now, Fred?” called the owner. Fred peered over the -stern of the flying car. - -“The constable’s jumping around the road,” he replied, “and the long -one’s leaning against a tree. No, he’s climbing the tree. I can’t make -out _what_ he’s doing.” - -“_I_ know!” cried Miss Forbes; her voice vibrated with excitement. -Defiance of the law had thrilled her with unsuspected satisfaction; her -eyes were dancing. “There was a telephone fastened to the tree, a hand -telephone. They are sending word to some one. They’re trying to head us -off.” - -Winthrop brought the car to a quick halt. - -“We’re in a police trap!” he said. Fred leaned forward and whispered to -his employer. His voice also vibrated with the joy of the chase. - -“This’ll be our _third_ arrest,” he said. “That means——” - -“I know what it means,” snapped Winthrop. “Tell me how we can get out of -here.” - -“We can’t get out of here, sir, unless we go back. Going south, the -bridge is the only way out.” - -“The bridge!” Winthrop struck the wheel savagely with his knuckles. “I -forgot their confounded bridge!” He turned to Miss Forbes. “Fairport is -a sort of island,” he explained. - -“But after we’re across the bridge,” urged the chauffeur, “we needn’t -keep to the post road no more. We can turn into Stone Ridge, and strike -south to White Plains. Then——” - -“We haven’t crossed the bridge yet,” growled Winthrop. His voice had -none of the joy of the others; he was greatly perturbed. “Look back,” he -commanded, “and see if there is any sign of those boys.” - -He was now quite willing to share responsibility. But there was no sign -of the Yale men, and, unattended, the Scarlet Car crept warily forward. -Ahead of it, across the little reed-grown inlet, stretched their road of -escape, a long wooden bridge, lying white in the moonlight. - -“I don’t see a soul,” whispered Miss Forbes. - -“Anybody at that draw?” asked Winthrop. Unconsciously his voice also had -sunk to a whisper. - -“No,” returned Fred. “I think the man that tends the draw goes home at -night; there is no light there.” - -“Well, then,” said Winthrop, with an anxious sigh, “we’ve got to make a -dash for it.” - -The car shot forward, and, as it leaped lightly upon the bridge, there -was a rapid rumble of creaking boards. - -Between it and the highway to New York lay only two hundred yards of -track, straight and empty. - -In his excitement, the chauffeur rose from the rear seat. - -“They’ll never catch us now,” he muttered. “They’ll never catch us!” - -But even as he spoke there grated harshly the creak of rusty chains on a -cogged wheel, the rattle of a brake. The black figure of a man with -waving arms ran out upon the draw, and the draw gaped slowly open. - -When the car halted there was between it and the broken edge of the -bridge twenty feet of running water. - -At the same moment from behind it came a patter of feet, and Winthrop -turned to see racing toward them some dozen young men of Fairport. They -surrounded him with noisy, raucous, belligerent cries. They were, as -they proudly informed him, members of the Fairport “Volunteer Fire -Department.” That they might purchase new uniforms, they had arranged a -trap for the automobiles returning in illegal haste from New Haven. In -fines they had collected $300, and it was evident that already some of -that money had been expended in bad whiskey. As many as could do so -crowded into the car, others hung to the running boards and step, others -ran beside it. They rejoiced over Winthrop’s unsuccessful flight and -capture with violent and humiliating laughter. - -For the day, Judge Allen had made a temporary court in the club-room of -the fire department, which was over the engine-house; and the -proceedings were brief and decisive. The selectman told how Winthrop, -after first breaking the speed law, had broken arrest, and Judge Allen, -refusing to fine him and let him go, held him and his companions for a -hearing the following morning. He fixed the amount of bail at $500 each; -failing to pay this, they would for the night be locked up in different -parts of the engine-house, which, it developed, contained on the -ground-floor the home of the fire-engine, on the second floor the -club-room, on alternate nights, of the firemen, the local G. A. R., and -the Knights of Pythias, and in its cellar the town jail. - -Winthrop and the chauffeur the learned judge condemned to the cells in -the basement. As a concession, he granted Miss Forbes the freedom of the -entire club-room to herself. - -The objections raised by Winthrop to this arrangement were of a nature -so violent, so vigorous, at one moment so specious and conciliatory, and -the next so abusive, that his listeners were moved by awe, but not to -pity. - -In his indignation, Judge Allen rose to reply, and as, the better to -hear him, the crowd pushed forward, Fred gave way before it, until he -was left standing in sullen gloom upon its outer edge. In imitation of -the real firemen of the great cities, the vamps of Fairport had cut a -circular hole in the floor of their club-room, and from the engine-room -below had reared a sliding pole of shining brass. When leaving their -club-room, it was always their pleasure to scorn the stairs and, like -real firemen, slide down this pole. It had not escaped the notice of -Fred, and since his entrance he had been gravitating toward it. - -As the voice of the judge rose in violent objurgation, and all eyes were -fixed upon him, the chauffeur crooked his leg tightly about the brass -pole, and, like the devil in the pantomime, sank softly and swiftly -through the floor. - -The irate judge was shaking his finger in Winthrop’s face. - -“Don’t you try to teach me no law,” he shouted; “I know what I can do. -Ef _my_ darter went gallivantin’ around nights in one of them -automobiles, it would serve her right to get locked up. Maybe this young -woman will learn to stay at home nights with her folks. She ain’t goin’ -to take no harm here. The constable sits up all night downstairs in the -fire-engine-room, and that sofa’s as good a place to sleep as the hotel. -If you want me to let her go to the hotel, why don’t you send to your -folks and bail her out?” - -“You know damn well why I don’t,” returned Winthrop. “I don’t intend to -give the newspapers and you and these other idiots the chance to annoy -her further. This young lady’s brother has been with us all day; he left -us only by accident, and by forcing her to remain here alone you are -acting outrageously. If you knew anything of decency, or law, you’d——” - -“I know this much!” roared the justice triumphantly, pointing his -spectacle-case at Miss Forbes. “I know her name ain’t Lizzie Borden, and -yours ain’t Charley Ross.” - -Winthrop crossed to where Miss Forbes stood in a corner. She still wore -her veil, but through it, though her face was pale, she smiled at him. - -His own distress was undisguised. - -“I can never forgive myself,” he said. - -“Nonsense!” replied Miss Forbes briskly. “You were perfectly right. If -we had sent for any one, it would have had to come out. Now, we’ll pay -the fine in the morning and get home, and no one will know anything of -it excepting the family and Mr. Peabody, and they’ll understand. But if -I ever lay hands on my brother Sam!”—she clasped her fingers together -helplessly. “To think of his leaving you to spend the night in a cell——” - -Winthrop interrupted her. - -“I will get one of these men to send his wife or sister over to stay -with you,” he said. - -But Miss Forbes protested that she did not want a companion. The -constable would protect her, she said, and she would sit up all night -and read. She nodded at the periodicals on the club table. - -“This is the only chance I may ever have,” she said, “to read the -_Police Gazette_!” - -“You ready there?” called the constable. - -“Good-night,” said Winthrop. - -Under the eyes of the grinning yokels, they shook hands. - -“Good-night,” said the girl. - -“Where’s your young man?” demanded the chief of police. - -“My what?” inquired Winthrop. - -“The young fellow that was with you when we held you up that first -time.” - -The constable, or the chief of police as he called himself, on the -principle that if there were only one policeman he must necessarily be -the chief, glanced hastily over the heads of the crowd. - -“Any of you holding that shoffer?” he called. - -No one was holding the chauffeur. - -The chauffeur had vanished. - -The cell to which the constable led Winthrop was in a corner of the -cellar in which formerly coal had been stored. This corner was now -fenced off with boards, and a wooden door with chain and padlock. - -High in the wall, on a level with the ground, was the opening, or -window, through which the coal had been dumped. This window now was -barricaded with iron bars. Winthrop tested the door by shaking it, and -landed a heavy kick on one of the hinges. It gave slightly, and emitted -a feeble groan. - -“What you tryin’ to do?” demanded the constable. “That’s town property.” - -In the light of the constable’s lantern, Winthrop surveyed his cell with -extreme dissatisfaction. - -“I call this a cheap cell,” he said. - -“It’s good enough for a cheap sport,” returned the constable. It was so -overwhelming a retort that after the constable had turned the key in the -padlock, and taken himself and his lantern to the floor above, Winthrop -could hear him repeating it to the volunteer firemen. They received it -with delighted howls. - -For an hour, on the three empty boxes that formed his bed, Winthrop sat, -with his chin on his fist, planning the nameless atrocities he would -inflict upon the village of Fairport. Compared to his tortures, those of -Neuremberg were merely reprimands. Also he considered the particular -punishment he would mete out to Sam Forbes for his desertion of his -sister, and to Fred. He could not understand Fred. It was not like the -chauffeur to think only of himself. Nevertheless, for abandoning Miss -Forbes in the hour of need, Fred must be discharged. He had, with some -regret, determined upon this discipline, when from directly over his -head the voice of Fred hailed him cautiously. - -“Mr. Winthrop,” the voice called, “are you there?” - -To Winthrop the question seemed superfluous. He jumped to his feet, and -peered up into the darkness. - -“Where are _you_?” he demanded. - -“At the window,” came the answer. “We’re in the back yard. Mr. Sam wants -to speak to you.” - -On Miss Forbes’s account, Winthrop gave a gasp of relief. On his own, -one of savage satisfaction. - -“And _I_ want to speak to _him_!” he whispered. - -The moonlight, which had been faintly shining through the iron bars of -the coal chute, was eclipsed by a head and shoulders. The comfortable -voice of Sam Forbes greeted him in a playful whisper. - -“Hullo, Billy! You down there?” - -“Where the devil did you think I was?” Winthrop answered at white heat. -“Let me tell you if I was not down here I’d be punching your head.” - -“That’s all right, Billy,” Sam answered soothingly. “But I’ll save you -just the same. It shall never be said of Sam Forbes he deserted a -comrade——” - -“Stop that! Do you know,” Winthrop demanded fiercely, “that your sister -is a prisoner upstairs?” - -“I do,” replied the unfeeling brother, “but she won’t be long. All the -low-comedy parts are out now arranging a rescue.” - -“Who are? Todd and those boys?” demanded Winthrop. “They mustn’t think -of it! They’ll only make it worse. It is impossible to get your sister -out of here with those drunken firemen in the building. You must wait -till they’ve gone home. Do you hear me?” - -“Pardon _me_!” returned Sam stiffly, “but this is _my_ relief -expedition. I have sent two of the boys to hold the bridge, like -Horatius, and two to guard the motors, and the others are going to -entice the firemen away from the engine-house.” - -“Entice them? How?” demanded Winthrop. “They’re drunk, and they won’t -leave here till morning.” - -Outside the engine-house, suspended from a heavy cross-bar, was a steel -rail borrowed from a railroad track, and bent into a hoop. When hit with -a sledge-hammer it proclaimed to Fairport that the “consuming element” -was at large. - -At the moment Winthrop asked his question, over the village of Fairport -and over the bay and marshes, and far out across the Sound, the great -steel bar sent forth a shuddering boom of warning. - -From the room above came a wild tumult of joyous yells. - -“Fire!” shrieked the vamps, “fire!” - -The two men crouching by the cellar window heard the rush of feet, the -engine banging and bumping across the sidewalk, its brass bell clanking -crazily, the happy vamps shouting hoarse, incoherent orders. - -Through the window Sam lowered a bag of tools he had taken from -Winthrop’s car. - -“Can you open the lock with any of these?” he asked. - -“I can kick it open!” yelled Winthrop joyfully. “Get to your sister, -quick!” - -He threw his shoulder against the door, and the staples flying before -him sent him sprawling in the coal-dust. When he reached the head of the -stairs, Beatrice Forbes was descending from the club-room, and in front -of the door the two cars, with their lamps unlit and numbers hidden, -were panting to be free. - -And in the north, reaching to the sky, rose a roaring column of flame, -shameless in the pale moonlight, dragging into naked day the sleeping -village, the shingled houses, the clock-face in the church steeple. - -“What the devil have you done?” gasped Winthrop. - -Before he answered, Sam waited until the cars were rattling to safety -across the bridge. - -“We have been protecting the face of nature,” he shouted. “The only way -to get that gang out of the engine-house was to set fire to something. -Tommy wanted to burn up the railroad station, because he doesn’t like -the New York and New Haven, and Fred was for setting fire to Judge -Allen’s house, because he was rude to Beatrice. But we finally formed -the Village Improvement Society, organized to burn all advertising -signs. You know those that stood in the marshes, and hid the view from -the trains, so that you could not see the Sound. We chopped them down -and put them in a pile, and poured gasolene on them, and that fire is -all that is left of the pickles, flyscreens, and pills.” - -It was midnight when the cars drew up at the door of the house of -Forbes. Anxiously waiting in the library were Mrs. Forbes and Ernest -Peabody. - -“At last!” cried Mrs. Forbes, smiling her relief; “we thought maybe Sam -and you had decided to spend the night in New Haven.” - -“No,” said Miss Forbes, “there _was_ some talk about spending the night -at Fairport, but we pushed right on.” - - - - - II - THE TRESPASSERS - - -With a long, nervous shudder, the Scarlet Car came to a stop, and the -lamps bored a round hole in the night, leaving the rest of the -encircling world in a chill and silent darkness. - -The lamps showed a flickering picture of a country road between high -banks covered with loose stones, and overhead, a fringe of pine boughs. -It looked like a colored photograph thrown from a stereopticon in a -darkened theatre. - -From the back of the car the voice of the owner said briskly: “We will -now sing that beautiful ballad entitled ‘He Is Sleeping in the Yukon -Vale To-night.’ What are you stopping for, Fred?” he asked. - -The tone of the chauffeur suggested he was again upon the defensive. - -“For water, sir,” he mumbled. - -Miss Forbes in the front seat laughed, and her brother in the rear seat -groaned in dismay. - -“Oh, for water?” said the owner cordially. “I thought maybe it was for -coal.” - -Save a dignified silence, there was no answer to this, until there came -a rolling of loose stones and the sound of a heavy body suddenly -precipitated down the bank, and landing with a thump in the road. - -“He didn’t get the water,” said the owner sadly. - -“Are you hurt, Fred?” asked the girl. - -The chauffeur limped in front of the lamps, appearing suddenly, like an -actor stepping into the lime-light. - -“No, ma’am,” he said. In the rays of the lamp, he unfolded a road map -and scowled at it. He shook his head aggrievedly. - -“There _ought_ to be a house just about here,” he explained. - -“There _ought_ to be a hotel and a garage, and a cold supper, just about -here,” said the girl cheerfully. - -“That’s the way with those houses,” complained the owner. “They never -stay where they’re put. At night they go around and visit each other. -Where do you think you are, Fred?” - -“I think we’re in that long woods, between Loon Lake and Stoughton on -the Boston Pike,” said the chauffeur, “and,” he reiterated, “there -_ought_ to be a house somewhere about here—where we get water.” - -“Well, get there, then, and get the water,” commanded the owner. - -“But I can’t get there, sir, till I get the water,” returned the -chauffeur. - -He shook out two collapsible buckets, and started down the shaft of -light. - -“I won’t be more nor five minutes,” he called. - -“I’m going with him,” said the girl. “I’m cold.” - -She stepped down from the front seat, and the owner with sudden alacrity -vaulted the door and started after her. - -“You coming?” he inquired of Ernest Peabody. But Ernest Peabody being -soundly asleep made no reply. Winthrop turned to Sam. “Are _you_ -coming?” he repeated. - -The tone of the invitation seemed to suggest that a refusal would not -necessarily lead to a quarrel. - -“I am _not_!” said the brother. “You’ve kept Peabody and me twelve hours -in the open air, and it’s past two, and we’re going to sleep. You can -take it from me that we are going to spend the rest of this night here -in this road.” - -He moved his cramped joints cautiously, and stretched his legs the full -width of the car. - -“If you can’t get plain water,” he called, “get club soda.” - -He buried his nose in the collar of his fur coat, and the odors of -camphor and raccoon skins instantly assailed him, but he only yawned -luxuriously and disappeared into the coat as a turtle draws into its -shell. From the woods about him the smell of the pine needles pressed -upon him like a drug, and before the footsteps of his companions were -lost in the silence he was asleep. But his sleep was only a review of -his waking hours. Still on either hand rose flying dust clouds and -twirling leaves; still on either side raced gray stone walls, telegraph -poles, hills rich in autumn colors; and before him a long white road, -unending, interminable, stretching out finally into a darkness lit by -flashing shop-windows, like open fireplaces, by street lamps, by -swinging electric globes, by the blinding searchlights of hundreds of -darting trolley cars with terrifying gongs, and then a cold white mist, -and again on every side, darkness, except where the four great lamps -blazed a path through stretches of ghostly woods. - -As the two young men slumbered, the lamps spluttered and sizzled like -bacon in a frying-pan, a stone rolled noisily down the bank, a white -owl, both appalled and fascinated by the dazzling eyes of the monster -blocking the road, hooted, and flapped itself away. But the men in the -car only shivered slightly, deep in the sleep of utter weariness. - -In silence the girl and Winthrop followed the chauffeur. They had passed -out of the light of the lamps, and in the autumn mist the electric torch -of the owner was as ineffective as a glowworm. The mystery of the forest -fell heavily upon them. From their feet the dead leaves sent up a clean, -damp odor, and on either side and overhead the giant pine-trees -whispered and rustled in the night wind. - -“Take my coat, too,” said the young man. “You’ll catch cold.” He spoke -with authority and began to slip the loops from the big horn buttons. It -was not the habit of the girl to consider her health. Nor did she permit -the members of her family to show solicitude concerning it. But the -anxiety of the young man did not seem to offend her. She thanked him -generously. “No; these coats are hard to walk in, and I want to walk,” -she exclaimed. “I like to hear the leaves rustle when you kick them, -don’t you? When I was so high, I used to pretend it was wading in the -surf.” - -The young man moved over to the gutter of the road where the leaves were -deepest and kicked violently. “And the more noise you make,” he said, -“the more you frighten away the wild animals.” - -The girl shuddered in a most helpless and fascinating fashion. - -“Don’t!” she whispered. “I didn’t mention it, but already I have seen -several lions crouching behind the trees.” - -“Indeed?” said the young man. His tone was preoccupied. He had just -kicked a rock, hidden by the leaves, and was standing on one leg. - -“Do you mean you don’t believe me?” asked the girl, “or is it that you -are merely brave?” - -“Merely brave!” exclaimed the young man. “Massachusetts is so far north -for lions,” he continued, “that I fancy what you saw was a grizzly bear. -But I have my trusty electric torch with me, and if there is anything a -bear cannot abide, it is to be pointed at by an electric torch.” - -“Let us pretend,” cried the girl, “that we are the babes in the wood, -and that we are lost.” - -“We don’t have to pretend we’re lost,” said the man; “and as I remember -it, the babes came to a sad end. Didn’t they die, and didn’t the birds -bury them with leaves?” - -“Sam and Mr. Peabody can be the birds,” suggested the girl. - -“Sam and Peabody hopping around with leaves in their teeth would look -silly,” objected the man. “I doubt if I could keep from laughing.” - -“Then,” said the girl, “they can be the wicked robbers who came to kill -the babes.” - -“Very well,” said the man with suspicious alacrity, “let us be babes. If -I have to die,” he went on heartily, “I would rather die with you than -live with any one else.” - -When he had spoken, although they were entirely alone in the world and -quite near to each other, it was as though the girl could not hear him, -even as though he had not spoken at all. After a silence, the girl said: -“Perhaps it would be better for us to go back to the car.” - -“I won’t do it again,” begged the man. - -“We will pretend,” cried the girl, “that the car is a van and that we -are gypsies, and we’ll build a camp-fire, and I will tell your fortune.” - -“You are the only woman who can,” muttered the young man. - -The girl still stood in her tracks. - -“You said—” she began. - -“I know,” interrupted the man, “but you won’t let me talk seriously, so -I joke. But some day——” - -“Oh, look!” cried the girl. “There’s Fred.” - -She ran from him down the road. The young man followed her slowly, his -fists deep in the pockets of the great-coat, and kicking at the -unoffending leaves. - -The chauffeur was peering through a double iron gate hung between square -brick posts. The lower hinge of one gate was broken, and that gate -lurched forward, leaving an opening. By the light of the electric torch -they could see the beginning of a driveway, rough and weed-grown, lined -with trees of great age and bulk, and an unkempt lawn, strewn with -bushes, and beyond, in an open place bare of trees and illuminated -faintly by the stars, the shadow of a house, black, silent, and -forbidding. - -“That’s it,” whispered the chauffeur. “I was here before. The well is -over there.” - -The young man gave a gasp of astonishment. - -“Why,” he protested, “this is the Carey place! I should say we _were_ -lost. We must have left the road an hour ago. There’s not another house -within miles.” But he made no movement to enter. “Of all places!” he -muttered. - -“Well, then,” urged the girl briskly, “if there’s no other house, let’s -tap Mr. Carey’s well and get on.” - -“Do you know who he is?” asked the man. - -The girl laughed. “You don’t need a letter of introduction to take a -bucket of water, do you?” she said. - -“It’s Philip Carey’s house. He lives here.” He spoke in a whisper, and -insistently, as though the information must carry some special -significance. But the girl showed no sign of enlightenment. “You -remember the Carey boys?” he urged. “They left Harvard the year I -entered. They _had_ to leave. They were quite mad. All the Careys have -been mad. The boys were queer even then, and awfully rich. Henry ran -away with a girl from a shoe factory in Brockton and lives in Paris, and -Philip was sent here.” - -“_Sent_ here?” repeated the girl. Unconsciously her voice also had sunk -to a whisper. - -“He has a doctor and a nurse and keepers, and they live here all the -year round. When Fred said there were people hereabouts, I thought we -might strike them for something to eat, or even to put up for the night, -but, Philip Carey! I shouldn’t fancy——” - -“I should think not!” exclaimed the girl. - -For a minute the three stood silent, peering through the iron bars. - -“And the worst of it is,” went on the young man irritably, “he could -give us such good things to eat.” - -“It doesn’t look it,” said the girl. - -“I know,” continued the man in the same eager whisper. “But—who was it -telling me? Some doctor I know who came down to see him. He said Carey -does himself awfully well, has the house full of bully pictures, and the -family plate, and wonderful collections—things he picked up in the -East—gold ornaments, and jewels, and jade.” - -“I shouldn’t think,” said the girl in the same hushed voice, “they would -let him live so far from any neighbors with such things in the house. -Suppose burglars——” - -“Burglars! Burglars would never hear of this place. How could they? Even -his friends think it’s just a private mad-house.” - -The girl shivered and drew back from the gate. - -Fred coughed apologetically. - -“_I’ve_ heard of it,” he volunteered. “There was a piece in the _Sunday -Post_. It said he eats his dinner in a diamond crown, and all the walls -is gold, and two monkeys wait on table with gold——” - -“Nonsense!” said the man sharply. “He eats like any one else and dresses -like any one else. How far is the well from the house?” - -“It’s purty near,” said the chauffeur. - -“Pretty near the house, or pretty near here?” - -“Just outside the kitchen; and it makes a creaky noise.” - -“You mean you don’t want to go?” - -Fred’s answer was unintelligible. - -“You wait here with Miss Forbes,” said the young man. “And I’ll get the -water.” - -“Yes, sir!” said Fred, quite distinctly. - -“No, sir!” said Miss Forbes, with equal distinctness. “I’m not going to -be left here alone—with all these trees. I’m going with you.” - -“There may be a dog,” suggested the young man, “or, I was thinking if -they heard me prowling about, they might take a shot—just for luck. Why -don’t you go back to the car with Fred?” - -“Down that long road in the dark?” exclaimed the girl. “Do you think I -have no imagination?” - -The man in front, the girl close on his heels, and the boy with the -buckets following, crawled through the broken gate, and moved cautiously -up the gravel driveway. - -Within fifty feet of the house the courage of the chauffeur returned. - -“You wait here,” he whispered, “and if I wake ’em up, you shout to ’em -that it’s all right, that it’s only me.” - -“Your idea being,” said the young man, “that they will then fire at me. -Clever lad. Run along.” - -There was a rustling of the dead weeds, and instantly the chauffeur was -swallowed in the encompassing shadows. - -Miss Forbes leaned toward the young man. - -“Do you see a light in that lower story?” she whispered. - -“No,” said the man. “Where?” - -After a pause the girl answered: “I can’t see it now, either. Maybe I -didn’t see it. It was very faint—just a glow—it might have been -phosphorescence.” - -“It might,” said the man. He gave a shrug of distaste. “The whole place -is certainly old enough and decayed enough.” - -For a brief space they stood quite still, and at once, accentuated by -their own silence, the noises of the night grew in number and -distinctness. A slight wind had risen and the boughs of the pines rocked -restlessly, making mournful complaint; and at their feet the needles -dropping in a gentle desultory shower had the sound of rain in -springtime. From every side they were startled by noises they could not -place. Strange movements and rustlings caused them to peer sharply into -the shadows; footsteps, that seemed to approach, and then, having marked -them, skulk away; branches of bushes that suddenly swept together, as -though closing behind some one in stealthy retreat. Although they knew -that in the deserted garden they were alone, they felt that from the -shadows they were being spied upon, that the darkness of the place was -peopled by malign presences. - -The young man drew a cigar from his case and put it unlit between his -teeth. - -“Cheerful, isn’t it?” he growled. “These dead leaves make it damp as a -tomb. If I’ve seen one ghost, I’ve seen a dozen. I believe we’re -standing in the Carey family’s graveyard.” - -“I thought you were brave,” said the girl. - -“I am,” returned the young man, “very brave. But if you had the most -wonderful girl on earth to take care of in the grounds of a mad-house at -two in the morning, you’d be scared too.” - -He was abruptly surprised by Miss Forbes laying her hand firmly upon his -shoulder and turning him in the direction of the house. Her face was so -near his that he felt the uneven fluttering of her breath upon his -cheek. - -“There is a man,” she said, “standing behind that tree.” - -By the faint light of the stars he saw, in black silhouette, a shoulder -and head projecting from beyond the trunk of a huge oak, and then -quickly withdrawn. The owner of the head and shoulder was on the side of -the tree nearest to themselves, his back turned to them, and so deeply -was his attention engaged that he was unconscious of their presence. - -“He is watching the house,” said the girl. “Why is he doing that?” - -“I think it’s Fred,” whispered the man. “He’s afraid to go for the -water. That’s as far as he’s gone.” He was about to move forward when -from the oak-tree there came a low whistle. The girl and the man stood -silent and motionless. But they knew it was useless; that they had been -overheard. A voice spoke cautiously. - -“That you?” it asked. - -With the idea only of gaining time, the young man responded promptly and -truthfully. “Yes,” he whispered. - -“Keep to the right of the house,” commanded the voice. - -The young man seized Miss Forbes by the wrist and moving to the right -drew her quickly with him. He did not stop until they had turned the -corner of the building and were once more hidden by the darkness. - -“The plot thickens,” he said. “I take it that that fellow is a keeper, -or watchman. He spoke as though it were natural there should be another -man in the grounds, so there’s probably two of them, either to keep -Carey in or to keep trespassers out. Now, I think I’ll go back and tell -him that Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water, and -that all they want is to be allowed to get the water, and go.” - -“Why should a watchman hide behind a tree?” asked the girl. “And why——” - -She ceased abruptly with a sharp cry of fright. “What’s that?” she -whispered. - -“What’s what?” asked the young man startled. “What did you hear?” - -“Over there,” stammered the girl. “Something—that—groaned.” - -“Pretty soon this will get on my nerves,” said the man. He ripped open -his great-coat and reached under it. “I’ve been stoned twice, when there -were women in the car,” he said, apologetically, “and so now at night I -carry a gun.” He shifted the darkened torch to his left hand, and, -moving a few yards, halted to listen. The girl, reluctant to be left -alone, followed slowly. As he stood immovable there came from the leaves -just beyond him the sound of a feeble struggle, and a strangled groan. -The man bent forward and flashed the torch. He saw stretched rigid on -the ground a huge wolf-hound. Its legs were twisted horribly, the lips -drawn away from the teeth, the eyes glazed in an agony of pain. The man -snapped off the light. “Keep back!” he whispered to the girl. He took -her by the arm and ran with her toward the gate. - -“Who was it?” she begged. - -“It was a dog,” he answered. “I think——” - -He did not tell her what he thought. - -“I’ve got to find out what the devil has happened to Fred!” he said. -“You go back to the car. Send your brother here on the run. Tell him -there’s going to be a rough-house. You’re not afraid to go?” - -“No,” said the girl. - -A shadow blacker than the night rose suddenly before them, and a voice -asked sternly but quietly: “What are you doing here?” - -The young man lifted his arm clear of the girl, and shoved her quickly -from him. In his hand she felt the pressure of the revolver. - -“Well,” he replied truculently, “and what are you doing here?” - -“I am the night watchman,” answered the voice. “Who are you?” - -It struck Miss Forbes if the watchman knew that one of the trespassers -was a woman he would be at once reassured, and she broke in quickly: - -“We have lost our way,” she said pleasantly. “We came here——” - -She found herself staring blindly down a shaft of light. For an instant -the torch held her, and then from her swept over the young man. - -“Drop that gun!” cried the voice. It was no longer the same voice; it -was now savage and snarling. For answer the young man pressed the torch -in his left hand, and, held in the two circles of light, the men -surveyed each other. The new-comer was one of unusual bulk and height. -The collar of his overcoat hid his mouth, and his derby hat was drawn -down over his forehead, but what they saw showed an intelligent, strong -face, although for the moment it wore a menacing scowl. The young man -dropped his revolver into his pocket. - -“My automobile ran dry,” he said; “we came in here to get some water. My -chauffeur is back there somewhere with a couple of buckets. This is Mr. -Carey’s place, isn’t it?” - -“Take that light out of my eyes!” said the watchman. - -“Take your light out of my eyes,” returned the young man. “You can see -we’re not—we don’t mean any harm.” - -The two lights disappeared simultaneously, and then each, as though -worked by the same hand, sprang forth again. - -“What did you think I was going to do?” the young man asked. He laughed -and switched off his torch. - -But the one the watchman held in his hand still moved from the face of -the girl to that of the young man. - -“How’d you know this was the Carey house?” he demanded. “Do you know Mr. -Carey?” - -“No, but I know this is his house.” - -For a moment from behind his mask of light the watchman surveyed them in -silence. Then he spoke quickly: - -“I’ll take you to him,” he said, “if he thinks it’s all right, it’s all -right.” - -The girl gave a protesting cry. The young man burst forth indignantly: - -“You will _not_!” he cried. “Don’t be an idiot! You talk like a -Tenderloin cop. Do we look like second-story workers?” - -“I found you prowling around Mr. Carey’s grounds at two in the morning,” -said the watchman sharply, “with a gun in your hand. My job is to -protect this place, and I am going to take you both to Mr. Carey.” - -[Illustration: In the two circles of light the men surveyed each other] - -Until this moment the young man could see nothing save the shaft of -light and the tiny glowing bulb at its base; now into the light there -protruded a black revolver. - -“Keep your hands up, and walk ahead of me to the house,” commanded the -watchman. “The woman will go in front.” - -The young man did not move. Under his breath he muttered impotently, and -bit at his lower lip. - -“See here,” he said, “I’ll go with you, but you sha’n’t take this lady -in front of that madman. Let her go to her car. It’s only a hundred -yards from here; you know perfectly well she——” - -“I know where your car is, all right,” said the watchman steadily, “and -I’m not going to let you get away in it till Mr. Carey’s seen you.” The -revolver motioned forward. Miss Forbes stepped in front of it and -appealed eagerly to the young man. - -“Do what he says,” she urged. “It’s only his duty. Please! Indeed, I -don’t mind.” She turned to the watchman. “Which way do you want us to -go?” she asked. - -“Keep in the light,” he ordered. - -The light showed the broad steps leading to the front entrance of the -house, and in its shaft they climbed them, pushed open the unlocked -door, and stood in a small hallway. It led into a greater hall beyond. -By the electric lights still burning they noted that the interior of the -house was as rich and well cared for as the outside was miserable. With -a gesture for silence the watchman motioned them into a small room on -the right of the hallway. It had the look of an office, and was -apparently the place in which were conducted the affairs of the estate. - -In an open grate was a dying fire; in front of it a flat desk covered -with papers and japanned tin boxes. - -“You stay here till I fetch Mr. Carey and the servants,” commanded the -watchman. “Don’t try to get out, and,” he added menacingly, “don’t make -no noise.” With his revolver he pointed at the two windows. They were -heavily barred. “Those bars keep Mr. Carey in,” he said, “and I guess -they can keep you in, too. The other watchman,” he added, “will be just -outside this door.” But still he hesitated, glowering with suspicion; -unwilling to trust them alone. His face lit with an ugly smile. - -“Mr. Carey’s very bad to-night,” he said; “he won’t keep his bed and -he’s wandering about the house. If he found you by yourselves, he -might——” - -The young man, who had been staring at the fire, swung sharply on his -heel. - -“Get-to-hell-out-of-here!” he said. - -The watchman stepped into the hall and was cautiously closing the door -when a man sprang lightly up the front steps. Through the inch crack -left by the open door the trespassers heard the new-comer’s eager -greeting. - -“I can’t get him right!” he panted. “He’s snoring like a hog.” - -The watchman exclaimed savagely: - -“He’s fooling you.” He gasped. “I didn’t mor’ nor slap him. Did you -throw water on him?” - -“I drowned him!” returned the other. “He never winked. I tell you we -gotta walk, and damn quick!” - -“Walk!” The watchman cursed him foully. “How far could we walk? _I’ll_ -bring him to,” he swore. “He’s scared of us, and he’s shamming.” He gave -a sudden start of alarm. “That’s it, he’s shamming. You fool! You -shouldn’t have left him.” - -There was the swift patter of retreating footsteps, and then a sudden -halt, and they heard the watchman command: “Go back, and keep the other -two till I come.” - -The next instant from the outside the door was softly closed upon them. - -It had no more than shut when to the surprise of Miss Forbes the young -man, with a delighted and vindictive chuckle, sprang to the desk and -began to drum upon it with his fingers. It was as though he were -practising upon a type-writer. - -“He missed _these_,” he muttered jubilantly. The girl leaned forward. -Beneath his fingers she saw, flush with the table, a roll of little -ivory buttons. She read the words “Stables,” “Servants’ hall.” She -raised a pair of very beautiful and very bewildered eyes. - -“But if he wanted the servants, why didn’t the watchman do that?” she -asked. - -“Because he isn’t a watchman,” answered the young man. “Because he’s -robbing this house.” - -He took the revolver from his encumbering great-coat, slipped it in his -pocket, and threw the coat from him. He motioned the girl into a corner. -“Keep out of the line of the door,” he ordered. - -“I don’t understand,” begged the girl. - -“They came in a car,” whispered the young man. “It’s broken down, and -they can’t get away. When the big fellow stopped us and I flashed my -torch, I saw their car behind him in the road with the front off and the -lights out. He’d seen the lamps of our car, and now they want it to -escape in. That’s why he brought us here—to keep us away from our car.” - -“And Fred!” gasped the girl. “Fred’s hurt!” - -“I guess Fred stumbled into the big fellow,” assented the young man, -“and the big fellow put him out; then he saw Fred was a chauffeur, and -now they are trying to bring him to, so that he can run the car for -them. You needn’t worry about Fred. He’s been in four smash-ups.” - -The young man bent forward to listen, but from no part of the great -house came any sign. He exclaimed angrily. - -“They must be drugged,” he growled. He ran to the desk and made vicious -jabs at the ivory buttons. - -“Suppose they’re out of order!” he whispered. - -There was the sound of leaping feet. The young man laughed nervously. -“No, it’s all right,” he cried. “They’re coming!” - -The door flung open and the big burglar and a small, rat-like figure of -a man burst upon them; the big one pointing a revolver. - -“Come with me to your car!” he commanded. “You’ve got to take us to -Boston. Quick, or I’ll blow your face off.” - -Although the young man glared bravely at the steel barrel and the lifted -trigger, poised a few inches from his eyes, his body, as though weak -with fright, shifted slightly and his feet made a shuffling noise upon -the floor. When the weight of his body was balanced on the ball of his -right foot, the shuffling ceased. Had the burglar lowered his eyes, the -manœuvre to him would have been significant, but his eyes were following -the barrel of the revolver. - -In the mind of the young man the one thought uppermost was that he must -gain time, but, with a revolver in his face, he found his desire to gain -time swiftly diminishing. Still, when he spoke, it was with -deliberation. - -“My chauffeur—” he began slowly. - -The burglar snapped at him like a dog. “To hell with your chauffeur!” he -cried. “Your chauffeur has run away. You’ll drive that car yourself, or -I’ll leave you here with the top of your head off.” - -The face of the young man suddenly flashed with pleasure. His eyes, -looking past the burglar to the door, lit with relief. - -“There’s the chauffeur now!” he cried. - -The big burglar for one instant glanced over his right shoulder. - -For months at a time, on Soldiers’ Field, the young man had thrown -himself at human targets, that ran and dodged and evaded him, and the -hulking burglar, motionless before him, was easily his victim. - -He leaped at him, his left arm swinging like a scythe, and, with the -impact of a club, the blow caught the burglar in the throat. - -The pistol went off impotently; the burglar with a choking cough sank in -a heap on the floor. - -The young man tramped over him and upon him, and beat the second burglar -with savage, whirlwind blows. The second burglar, shrieking with pain, -turned to fly, and a fist, that fell upon him where his bump of honesty -should have been, drove his head against the lintel of the door. - -At the same instant from the belfry on the roof there rang out on the -night the sudden tumult of a bell; a bell that told as plainly as though -it clamored with a human tongue, that the hand that rang it was driven -with fear; fear of fire, fear of thieves, fear of a madman with a knife -in his hand running amuck; perhaps at that moment creeping up the belfry -stairs. - -From all over the house there was the rush of feet and men’s voices, and -from the garden the light of dancing lanterns. And while the smoke of -the revolver still hung motionless, the open door was crowded with -half-clad figures. At their head were two young men. One who had drawn -over his night-clothes a serge suit, and who, in even that garb, carried -an air of authority; and one, tall, stooping, weak of face and -light-haired, with eyes that blinked and trembled behind great -spectacles, and who, for comfort, hugged about him a gorgeous kimono. -For an instant the new-comers stared stupidly through the smoke at the -bodies on the floor breathing stertorously, at the young man with the -lust of battle still in his face, at the girl shrinking against the -wall. It was the young man in the serge suit who was the first to move. - -“Who are you?” he demanded. - -“These are burglars,” said the owner of the car. “We happened to be -passing in my automobile, and——” - -The young man was no longer listening. With an alert, professional -manner he had stooped over the big burglar. With his thumb he pushed -back the man’s eyelids, and ran his fingers over his throat and chin. He -felt carefully of the point of the chin, and glanced up. - -“You’ve broken the bone,” he said. - -“I just swung on him,” said the young man. He turned his eyes, and -suggested the presence of the girl. - -At the same moment the man in the kimono cried nervously: “Ladies -present, ladies present. Go put your clothes on, everybody; put your -clothes on.” - -For orders the men in the doorway looked to the young man with the stern -face. - -He scowled at the figure in the kimono. - -“You will please go to your room, sir,” he said. He stood up, and bowed -to Miss Forbes. “I beg your pardon,” he asked, “you must want to get out -of this. Will you please go into the library?” - -He turned to the robust youths in the door, and pointed at the second -burglar. - -“Move him out of the way,” he ordered. - -The man in the kimono smirked and bowed. - -“Allow me,” he said; “allow me to show you to the library. This is no -place for ladies.” - -The young man with the stern face frowned impatiently. - -“You will please return to your room, sir,” he repeated. - -With an attempt at dignity the figure in the kimono gathered the silk -robe closer about him. - -“Certainly,” he said. “If you think you can get on without me—I will -retire,” and lifting his bare feet mincingly, he tiptoed away. Miss -Forbes looked after him with an expression of relief, of repulsion, of -great pity. - -The owner of the car glanced at the young man with the stern face, and -raised his eyebrows interrogatively. - -The young man had taken the revolver from the limp fingers of the -burglar and was holding it in his hand. Winthrop gave what was half a -laugh and half a sigh of compassion. - -“So, that’s Carey?” he said. - -There was a sudden silence. The young man with the stern face made no -answer. His head was bent over the revolver. He broke it open, and -spilled the cartridges into his palm. Still he made no answer. When he -raised his head, his eyes were no longer stern, but wistful, and filled -with an inexpressible loneliness. - -“No, _I_ am Carey,” he said. - -The one who had blundered stood helpless, tongue-tied, with no presence -of mind beyond knowing that to explain would offend further. - -The other seemed to feel for him more than for himself. In a voice low -and peculiarly appealing, he continued hurriedly. - -[Illustration: “You’ve broken the bone,” he said] - -“He is my doctor,” he said. “He is a young man, and he has not had many -advantages—his manner is not—I find we do not get on together. I have -asked them to send me some one else.” He stopped suddenly, and stood -unhappily silent. The knowledge that the strangers were acquainted with -his story seemed to rob him of his earlier confidence. He made an -uncertain movement as though to relieve them of his presence. - -Miss Forbes stepped toward him eagerly. - -“You told me I might wait in the library,” she said. “Will you take me -there?” - -For a moment the man did not move, but stood looking at the young and -beautiful girl, who, with a smile, hid the compassion in her eyes. - -“Will you go?” he asked wistfully. - -“Why not?” said the girl. - -The young man laughed with pleasure. - -“I am unpardonable,” he said. “I live so much alone—that I forget.” Like -one who, issuing from a close room, encounters the morning air, he drew -a deep, happy breath. “It has been three years since a woman has been in -this house,” he said simply. “And I have not even thanked you,” he went -on, “nor asked you if you are cold,” he cried remorsefully, “or hungry. -How nice it would be if you would say you are hungry.” - -The girl walked beside him, laughing lightly, and, as they disappeared -into the greater hall beyond, Winthrop heard her cry: “You never robbed -your own ice-chest? How have you kept from starving? Show me it, and -we’ll rob it together.” - -The voice of their host rang through the empty house with a laugh like -that of an eager, happy child. - -“Heavens!” said the owner of the car, “isn’t she wonderful!” But neither -the prostrate burglars, nor the servants, intent on strapping their -wrists together, gave him any answer. - -As they were finishing the supper filched from the ice-chest, Fred was -brought before them from the kitchen. The blow the burglar had given him -was covered with a piece of cold beefsteak, and the water thrown on him -to revive him was thawing from his leather breeches. Mr. Carey expressed -his gratitude, and rewarded him beyond the avaricious dreams even of a -chauffeur. - -As the three trespassers left the house, accompanied by many pails of -water, the girl turned to the lonely figure in the doorway and waved her -hand. - -“May we come again?” she called. - -But young Mr. Carey did not trust his voice to answer. Standing erect, -with folded arms, in dark silhouette in the light of the hall, he bowed -his head. - -Deaf to alarm bells, to pistol shots, to cries for help, they found her -brother and Ernest Peabody sleeping soundly. - -“Sam is a charming chaperon,” said the owner of the car. - -With the girl beside him, with Fred crouched, shivering, on the step, he -threw in the clutch; the servants from the house waved the emptied -buckets in salute, and the great car sprang forward into the awakening -day toward the golden dome over the Boston Common. In the rear seat -Peabody shivered and yawned, and then sat erect. - -“Did you get the water?” he demanded, anxiously. - -There was a grim silence. - -“Yes,” said the owner of the car patiently. “You needn’t worry any -longer. We got the water.” - - - - - III - THE KIDNAPPERS - - -During the last two weeks of the “whirlwind” campaign, automobiles had -carried the rival candidates to every election district in Greater New -York. - -During these two weeks, at the disposal of Ernest Peabody—on the Reform -Ticket “the people’s choice for Lieutenant-Governor”—Winthrop had placed -his Scarlet Car, and, as its chauffeur, himself. - -Not that Winthrop greatly cared for Reform or Ernest Peabody. The -“whirlwind” part of the campaign was what attracted him; the crowds, the -bands, the fireworks, the rush by night from hall to hall, from Fordham -to Tompkinsville. And while, inside the different Lyceums, Peabody -lashed the Tammany Tiger, outside, in his car, Winthrop was making -friends with Tammany policemen, and his natural enemies, the bicycle -cops. To Winthrop, the day in which he did not increase his acquaintance -with the traffic squad was a day lost. - -But the real reason for his efforts in the cause of Reform was one he -could not declare. And it was a reason that was guessed perhaps by only -one person. On some nights Beatrice Forbes and her brother Sam -accompanied Peabody. And while Peabody sat in the rear of the car, -mumbling the speech he would next deliver, Winthrop was given the chance -to talk with her. These chances were growing cruelly few. In one month -after election day Miss Forbes and Peabody would be man and wife. Once -before the day of their marriage had been fixed, but, when the Reform -Party offered Peabody a high place on its ticket, he asked, in order -that he might bear his part in the cause of reform, that the wedding be -postponed. To the postponement Miss Forbes made no objection. To one -less self-centred than Peabody, it might have appeared that she almost -too readily consented. - -“I knew I could count upon your seeing my duty as I saw it,” said -Peabody, much pleased; “it always will be a satisfaction to both of us -to remember you never stood between me and my work for reform.” - -“What do you think my brother-in-law-to-be has done now?” demanded Sam -of Winthrop, as the Scarlet Car swept into Jerome Avenue. “He’s -postponed his marriage with Trix just because he has a chance to be -Lieutenant-Governor. What is a Lieutenant-Governor anyway, do you know? -I don’t like to ask Peabody.” - -“It’s not his own election he’s working for,” said Winthrop. He was -conscious of an effort to assume a point of view both noble and -magnanimous. “He probably feels the ‘cause’ calls him. But, good -Heavens!” - -“Look out!” shrieked Sam; “where are you going?” - -Winthrop swung the car back into the avenue. - -“To think,” he cried, “that a man who could marry—a girl, and then would -ask her to wait two months. Or two days! Two months lost out of his -life, and she might die; he might lose her; she might change her mind. -Any number of men can be Lieutenant-Governors; only one man can be——” - -He broke off suddenly, coughed, and fixed his eyes miserably on the -road. After a brief pause, Brother Sam covertly looked at him. Could it -be that “Billie” Winthrop, the man liked of all men, should love his -sister, and that she should prefer Ernest Peabody? He was deeply, -loyally indignant. He determined to demand of his sister an immediate -and abject apology. - -At eight o’clock on the morning of election day, Peabody, in the Scarlet -Car, was on his way to vote. He lived at Riverside Drive, and the -polling-booth was only a few blocks distant. During the rest of the day -he intended to use the car to visit other election districts, and to -keep him in touch with the Reformers at the Gilsey House. Winthrop was -acting as his chauffeur, and in the rear seat was Miss Forbes. Peabody -had asked her to accompany him to the polling-booth, because he thought -women who believed in reform should show their interest in it in public, -before all men. Miss Forbes disagreed with him, chiefly because whenever -she sat in a box at any of the public meetings the artists from the -newspapers, instead of immortalizing the candidate, made pictures of her -and her hat. After she had seen her future lord and master cast his vote -for reform and himself, she was to depart by train to Tarrytown. The -Forbes’s country place was there, and for election day her brother Sam -had invited out some of his friends to play tennis. - -As the car darted and dodged up Eighth Avenue, a man who had been hidden -by the stairs to the Elevated, stepped in front of it. It caught him, -and hurled him, like a mail-bag tossed from a train, against one of the -pillars that support the overhead tracks. Winthrop gave a cry and fell -upon the brakes. The cry was as full of pain as though he himself had -been mangled. Miss Forbes saw only the man appear, and then disappear, -but Winthrop’s shout of warning, and the wrench as the brakes locked, -told her what had happened. She shut her eyes, and for an instant -covered them with her hands. On the front seat Peabody clutched -helplessly at the cushions. In horror his eyes were fastened on the -motionless mass jammed against the pillar. Winthrop scrambled over him, -and ran to where the man lay. So, apparently, did every other inhabitant -of Eighth Avenue; but Winthrop was the first to reach him, and kneeling -in the car tracks, he tried to place the head and shoulders of the body -against the iron pillar. He had seen very few dead men; and to him, this -weight in his arms, this bundle of limp flesh and muddy clothes, and the -purple-bloated face with blood trickling down it, looked like a dead -man. - -Once or twice when in his car Death had reached for Winthrop, and only -by the scantiest grace had he escaped. Then the nearness of it had only -sobered him. Now that he believed he had brought it to a fellow man, -even though he knew he was in no degree to blame, the thought sickened -and shocked him. His brain trembled with remorse and horror. - -But voices assailing him on every side brought him to the necessity of -the moment. Men were pressing close upon him, jostling, abusing him, -shaking fists in his face. Another crowd of men, as though fearing the -car would escape of its own volition, were clinging to the steps and -running boards. - -Winthrop saw Miss Forbes standing above them, talking eagerly to -Peabody, and pointing at him. He heard children’s shrill voices calling -to new arrivals that an automobile had killed a man; that it had killed -him on purpose. On the outer edge of the crowd men shouted: “Ah, soak -him!” “Kill him!” “Lynch him!” - -A soiled giant without a collar stooped over the purple, blood-stained -face, and then leaped upright, and shouted: “It’s Jerry Gaylor, he’s -killed old man Gaylor.” - -The response was instant. Every one seemed to know Jerry Gaylor. - -Winthrop took the soiled person by the arm. - -“You help me lift him into my car,” he ordered. “Take him by the -shoulders. We must get him to a hospital.” - -“To a hospital? To the Morgue!” roared the man. “And the police station -for yours. You don’t do no get-away.” - -Winthrop answered him by turning to the crowd. “If this man has any -friends here, they’ll please help me put him in my car, and we’ll take -him to Roosevelt Hospital.” - -The soiled person shoved a fist and a bad cigar under Winthrop’s nose. - -“Has he got any friends?” he mocked. “Sure, he’s got friends, and -they’ll fix you, all right.” - -“Sure!” echoed the crowd. - -The man was encouraged. - -“Don’t you go away thinking you can come up here with your buzz wagon -and murder better men nor you’ll ever be and——” - -“Oh, shut up!” said Winthrop. - -He turned his back on the soiled man, and again appealed to the crowd. - -“Don’t stand there doing nothing,” he commanded. “Do you want this man -to die? Some of you ring for an ambulance and get a policeman, or tell -me where is the nearest drug store.” - -No one moved, but every one shouted to every one else to do as Winthrop -suggested. - -Winthrop felt something pulling at his sleeve, and turning, found -Peabody at his shoulder, peering fearfully at the figure in the street. -He had drawn his cap over his eyes and hidden the lower part of his face -in the high collar of his motor coat. - -“I can’t do anything, can I?” he asked. - -“I’m afraid not,” whispered Winthrop. “Go back to the car and don’t -leave Beatrice. I’ll attend to this.” - -“That’s what I thought,” whispered Peabody eagerly. “I thought she and I -had better keep out of it.” - -“Right!” exclaimed Winthrop. “Go back and get Beatrice away.” - -Peabody looked his relief, but still hesitated. - -“I can’t do anything, as you say,” he stammered, “and it’s sure to get -in the ‘extras,’ and they’ll be out in time to lose us thousands of -votes, and though no one is to blame, they’re sure to blame me. I don’t -care about myself,” he added eagerly, “but the very morning of -election—half the city has not voted yet—the Ticket——” - -“Damn the Ticket!” exclaimed Winthrop. “The man’s dead!” - -Peabody, burying his face still deeper in his collar, backed into the -crowd. In the present and past campaigns, from carts and automobiles he -had made many speeches in Harlem, and on the West Side lithographs of -his stern, resolute features hung in every delicatessen shop, and that -he might be recognized was extremely likely. - -He whispered to Miss Forbes what he had said, and what Winthrop had -said. - -“But you _don’t_ mean to leave him,” remarked Miss Forbes. - -“I must,” returned Peabody. “I can do nothing for the man, and you know -how Tammany will use this. They’ll have it on the street by ten. They’ll -say I was driving recklessly; without regard for human life. And, -besides, they’re waiting for me at head-quarters. Please hurry. I am -late now.” - -Miss Forbes gave an exclamation of surprise. - -“Why, I’m not going,” she said. - -“You must go! _I_ must go. You can’t remain here alone.” - -Peabody spoke in the quick, assured tone that at the first had convinced -Miss Forbes his was a most masterful manner. - -“Winthrop, too,” he added, “wants you to go away.” - -Miss Forbes made no reply. But she looked at Peabody inquiringly, -steadily, as though she were puzzled as to his identity, as though he -had just been introduced to her. It made him uncomfortable. - -“Are you coming?” he asked. - -Her answer was a question. - -“Are you going?” - -“I am!” returned Peabody. He added sharply: “I must.” - -“Good-by,” said Miss Forbes. - -As he ran up the steps to the station of the Elevated, it seemed to -Peabody that the tone of her “good-by” had been most unpleasant. It was -severe, disapproving. It had a final, fateful sound. He was conscious of -a feeling of self-dissatisfaction. In not seeing the political -importance of his not being mixed up with this accident, Winthrop had -been peculiarly obtuse, and Beatrice, unsympathetic. - -Until he had cast his vote for Reform, he felt distinctly ill-used. - -For a moment Beatrice Forbes sat in the car motionless, staring -unseeingly at the iron steps by which Peabody had disappeared. For a few -moments her brows were tightly drawn. Then, having apparently quickly -arrived at some conclusion, she opened the door of the car and pushed -into the crowd. - -Winthrop received her most rudely. - -“You mustn’t come here!” he cried. - -“I thought,” she stammered, “you might want some one?” - -“I told—” began Winthrop, and then stopped, and added—“to take you away. -Where is he?” - -Miss Forbes flushed slightly. - -“He’s gone,” she said. - -In trying not to look at Winthrop, she saw the fallen figure, motionless -against the pillar, and with an exclamation, bent fearfully toward it. - -“Can I do anything?” she asked. - -The crowd gave way for her, and with curious pleased faces, closed in -again eagerly. She afforded them a new interest. - -A young man in the uniform of an ambulance surgeon was kneeling beside -the mud-stained figure, and a police officer was standing over both. The -ambulance surgeon touched lightly the matted hair from which the blood -escaped, stuck his finger in the eye of the prostrate man, and then with -his open hand slapped him across the face. - -“Oh!” gasped Miss Forbes. - -The young doctor heard her, and looking up, scowled reprovingly. Seeing -she was a rarely beautiful young woman, he scowled less severely; and -then deliberately and expertly, again slapped Mr. Jerry Gaylor on the -cheek. He watched the white mark made by his hand upon the purple skin, -until the blood struggled slowly back to it, and then rose. - -He ignored every one but the police officer. - -“There’s nothing the matter with _him_,” he said. “He’s dead drunk.” - -The words came to Winthrop with such abrupt relief, bearing so -tremendous a burden of gratitude, that his heart seemed to fail him. In -his suddenly regained happiness, he unconsciously laughed. - -“Are you sure?” he asked eagerly. “I thought I’d killed him.” - -The surgeon looked at Winthrop coldly. - -“When they’re like that,” he explained with authority, “you can’t hurt -’em if you throw them off _The Times_ Building.” - -He condescended to recognize the crowd. “You know where this man lives?” - -Voices answered that Mr. Gaylor lived at the corner, over the saloon. -The voices showed a lack of sympathy. Old man Gaylor dead was a novelty; -old man Gaylor drunk was not. - -The doctor’s prescription was simple and direct. - -“Put him to bed till he sleeps it off,” he ordered; he swung himself to -the step of the ambulance. “Let him out, Steve,” he called. There was -the clang of a gong and the rattle of galloping hoofs. - -The police officer approached Winthrop. “They tell me Jerry stepped in -front of your car; that you wasn’t to blame. I’ll get their names and -where they live. Jerry might try to hold you up for damages.” - -“Thank you very much,” said Winthrop. - -With several of Jerry’s friends, and the soiled person, who now seemed -dissatisfied that Jerry was alive, Winthrop helped to carry him up one -flight of stairs and drop him upon a bed. - -“In case he needs anything,” said Winthrop, and gave several bills to -the soiled person, upon whom immediately Gaylor’s other friends closed -in. “And I’ll send my own doctor at once to attend to him.” - -“You’d better,” said the soiled person morosely, “or he’ll try to shake -you down.” - -The opinions as to what might be Mr. Gaylor’s next move seemed -unanimous. - -From the saloon below, Winthrop telephoned to the family doctor, and -then rejoined Miss Forbes and the police officer. The officer gave him -the names of those citizens who had witnessed the accident, and in -return received Winthrop’s card. - -“Not that it will go any further,” said the officer reassuringly. -“They’re all saying you acted all right and wanted to take him to -Roosevelt. There’s many,” he added with sententious indignation, “that -knock a man down, and then run away without waiting to find out if -they’ve hurted ’em or killed ’em.” - -The speech for both Winthrop and Miss Forbes was equally embarrassing. - -“You don’t say?” exclaimed Winthrop nervously. He shook the policeman’s -hand. The handclasp was apparently satisfactory to that official, for he -murmured “Thank you,” and stuck something in the lining of his helmet. -“Now, then!” Winthrop said briskly to Miss Forbes, “I think we have done -all we can. And we’ll get away from this place a little faster than the -law allows.” - -Miss Forbes had seated herself in the car, and Winthrop was cranking up, -when the same policeman, wearing an anxious countenance, touched him on -the arm. “There is a gentleman here,” he said, “wants to speak to you.” -He placed himself between the gentleman and Winthrop and whispered: -“He’s ‘Izzy’ Schwab, he’s a Harlem police-court lawyer and a Tammany -man. He’s after something, look out for him.” - -Winthrop saw, smiling at him ingratiatingly, a slight, slim youth, with -beady, rat-like eyes, a low forehead, and a Hebraic nose. He wondered -how it had been possible for Jerry Gaylor to so quickly secure counsel. -But Mr. Schwab at once undeceived him. - -“I’m from _The Journal_,” he began, “not regular on the staff, but I -send ’em Harlem items, and the court reporter treats me nice, see! Now -about this accident; could you give me the name of the young lady?” - -He smiled encouragingly at Miss Forbes. - -“I could not!” growled Winthrop. “The man wasn’t hurt, the policeman -will tell you so. It is not of the least public interest.” - -With a deprecatory shrug, the young man smiled knowingly. - -“Well, mebbe not the lady’s name,” he granted, “but the name of the -_other_ gentleman who was with you, when the accident occurred.” His -black, rat-like eyes snapped. “I think _his_ name would be of public -interest.” - -To gain time Winthrop stepped into the driver’s seat. He looked at Mr. -Schwab steadily. - -“There was no other gentleman,” he said. “Do you mean my chauffeur?” Mr. -Schwab gave an appreciative chuckle. - -“No, I don’t mean your chauffeur,” he mimicked. “I mean,” he declared -theatrically in his best police-court manner, “the man who to-day is -hoping to beat Tammany, Ernest Peabody!” - -Winthrop stared at the youth insolently. - -“I don’t understand you,” he said. - -“Oh, of course not!” jeered “Izzy” Schwab. He moved excitedly from foot -to foot. “Then who _was_ the other man,” he demanded, “the man who ran -away?” - -Winthrop felt the blood rise to his face. That Miss Forbes should hear -this rat of a man sneering at the one she was to marry, made him hate -Peabody. But he answered easily: - -“No one ran away. I told my chauffeur to go and call up an ambulance. -That was the man you saw.” - -As when “leading on” a witness to commit himself, Mr. Schwab smiled -sympathetically. - -“And he hasn’t got back yet,” he purred, “has he?” - -“No, and I’m not going to wait for him,” returned Winthrop. He reached -for the clutch, but Mr. Schwab jumped directly in front of the car. - -“Was he looking for a telephone when he ran up the Elevated steps?” he -cried. - -He shook his fists vehemently. - -“Oh, no, Mr. Winthrop, it won’t do—you make a good witness. I wouldn’t -ask for no better, but, you don’t fool ‘Izzy’ Schwab.” - -“You’re mistaken, I tell you,” cried Winthrop desperately. “He may look -like—like this man you speak of, but no Peabody was in this car.” - -“Izzy” Schwab wrung his hands hysterically. - -“No, he wasn’t!” he cried, “because he run away! And left an old man in -the street—dead, for all he knowed—nor cared neither. Yah!” shrieked the -Tammany heeler. “_Him_ a Reformer, yah!” - -“Stand away from my car,” shouted Winthrop, “or you’ll get hurt.” - -“Yah, you’d like to, wouldn’t you?” returned Mr. Schwab, leaping nimbly -to one side. “What do you think _The Journal_ ’ll give me for that -story, hey? ‘Ernest Peabody, the Reformer, Kills an Old Man, AND RUNS -AWAY.’ And hiding his face, too! I seen him. What do you think that -story’s worth to Tammany, hey? It’s worth twenty thousand votes!” The -young man danced in front of the car triumphantly, mockingly, in a -frenzy of malice. “Read the extras, that’s all,” he taunted. “Read ’em -in an hour from now!” - -Winthrop glared at the shrieking figure with fierce, impotent rage; -then, with a look of disgust, he flung the robe off his knees and rose. -Mr. Schwab, fearing bodily injury, backed precipitately behind the -policeman. - -“Come here,” commanded Winthrop softly. Mr. Schwab warily approached. -“That story,” said Winthrop, dropping his voice to a low whisper, “is -worth a damn sight more to you than twenty thousand votes. You take a -spin with me up Riverside Drive where we can talk. Maybe you and I can -‘make a little business.’” - -At the words, the face of Mr. Schwab first darkened angrily, and then -lit with such exultation that it appeared as though Winthrop’s efforts -had only placed Peabody deeper in Mr. Schwab’s power. But the rat-like -eyes wavered, there was doubt in them, and greed, and, when they turned -to observe if any one could have heard the offer, Winthrop felt the -trick was his. It was apparent that Mr. Schwab was willing to arbitrate. - -He stepped gingerly into the front seat, and as Winthrop leaned over him -and tucked and buckled the fur robe around his knees, he could not -resist a glance at his friends on the sidewalk. They were grinning with -wonder and envy, and as the great car shook itself, and ran easily -forward, Mr. Schwab leaned back and carelessly waved his hand. But his -mind did not waver from the purpose of his ride. He was not one to be -cajoled with fur rugs and glittering brass. - -“Well, Mr. Winthrop,” he began briskly. “You want to say something? You -must be quick—every minute’s money.” - -“Wait till we’re out of the traffic,” begged Winthrop anxiously, “I -don’t want to run down any more old men, and I wouldn’t for the world -have anything happen to you, Mr.—” He paused politely. - -“Schwab—Isadore Schwab.” - -“How did you know _my_ name?” asked Winthrop. - -“The card you gave the police officer.” - -“I see,” said Winthrop. They were silent while the car swept swiftly -west, and Mr. Schwab kept thinking that for a young man who was afraid -of the traffic, Winthrop was dodging the motor cars, beer vans, and iron -pillars, with a dexterity that was criminally reckless. - -At that hour Riverside Drive was empty, and after a gasp of relief, Mr. -Schwab resumed the attack. - -“Now, then,” he said sharply, “don’t go any further. What is this you -want to talk about?” - -“How much will _The Journal_ give you for this story of yours?” asked -Winthrop. - -Mr. Schwab smiled mysteriously. - -“Why?” he asked. - -“Because,” said Winthrop, “I think I could offer you something better.” - -“You mean,” said the police-court lawyer cautiously, “you will make it -worth my while not to tell the truth about what I saw?” - -“Exactly,” said Winthrop. - -“That’s all! Stop the car,” cried Mr. Schwab. His manner was commanding. -It vibrated with triumph. His eyes glistened with wicked satisfaction. - -“Stop the car?” demanded Winthrop, “what do you mean?” - -“I mean,” said Mr. Schwab dramatically, “that I’ve got you where I want -you, thank you. You have killed Peabody dead as a cigar butt! Now I can -tell them how his friends tried to bribe me. Why do you think I came in -your car? For what money _you_ got? Do you think you can stack up your -roll against the _New York Journal’s_, or against Tammany’s?” His shrill -voice rose exultantly. “Why, Tammany ought to make me judge for this! -Now, let me down here,” he commanded, “and next time, don’t think you -can take on ‘Izzy’ Schwab and get away with it.” - -They were passing Grant’s Tomb, and the car was moving at a speed that -Mr. Schwab recognized was in excess of the speed limit. - -“Do you hear me?” he demanded, “let me down!” - -To his dismay Winthrop’s answer was in some fashion to so juggle with -the shining brass rods that the car flew into greater speed. To “Izzy” -Schwab it seemed to scorn the earth, to proceed by leaps and jumps. But, -what added even more to his mental discomfiture was, that Winthrop -should turn, and slowly and familiarly wink at him. - -As through the window of an express train, Mr. Schwab saw the white -front of Claremont, and beyond it the broad sweep of the Hudson. And -then, without decreasing its speed, the car like a great bird swept down -a hill, shot under a bridge, and into a partly paved street. Mr. Schwab -already was two miles from his own bailiwick. His surroundings were -unfamiliar. On the one hand were newly erected, untenanted flat houses -with the paint still on the window panes, and on the other side, -detached villas, a roadhouse, an orphan asylum, a glimpse of the Hudson. - -“Let me out,” yelled Mr. Schwab, “what you trying to do? Do you think a -few blocks’ll make any difference to a telephone? You think you’re -damned smart, don’t you? But you won’t feel so fresh when I get on the -long distance. You let me down,” he threatened, “or, I’ll——” - -With a sickening skidding of wheels, Winthrop whirled the car round a -corner and into the Lafayette Boulevard, that for miles runs along the -cliff of the Hudson. - -“Yes,” asked Winthrop, “_what_ will you do?” On one side was a high -steep bank, on the other many trees, and through them below, the river. -But there were no houses, and at half-past eight in the morning those -who later drive upon the boulevard were still in bed. - -“_What_ will you do?” repeated Winthrop. - -Miss Forbes, apparently as much interested in Mr. Schwab’s answer as -Winthrop, leaned forward. Winthrop raised his voice above the whir of -flying wheels, the rushing wind, and scattering pebbles. - -“I asked you into this car,” he shouted, “because I meant to keep you in -it until I had you where you couldn’t do any mischief. I told you I’d -give you something better than _The Journal_ I would give you, and I am -going to give you a happy day in the country. We’re now on our way to -this lady’s house. You are my guest, and you can play golf, and bridge, -and the piano, and eat and drink until the polls close, and after that -you can go to the devil. If you jump out at this speed, you will break -your neck. And if I have to slow up for anything, and you try to get -away, I’ll go after you—it doesn’t matter where it is—and break every -bone in your body.” - -“Yah! you can’t!” shrieked Mr. Schwab. “You can’t do it!” The madness of -the flying engines had got upon his nerves. Their poison was surging in -his veins. He knew he had only to touch his elbow against the elbow of -Winthrop, and he could throw the three of them into eternity. He was -travelling on air, uplifted, defiant, carried beyond himself. - -“I can’t do what?” asked Winthrop. - -The words reached Schwab from an immeasurable distance, as from another -planet, a calm, humdrum planet on which events moved in commonplace, -orderly array. Without a jar, with no transition stage, instead of -hurtling through space, Mr. Schwab found himself luxuriously seated in a -cushioned chair, motionless, at the side of a steep bank. For a mile -before him stretched an empty road. And beside him in the car, with arms -folded calmly on the wheel, there glared at him a grim, alert young man. - -“I can’t do what?” growled the young man. - -A feeling of great loneliness fell upon “Izzy” Schwab. Where were now -those officers, who in the police courts were at his beck and call? -Where the numbered houses, the passing surface cars, the sweating -multitudes of Eighth Avenue? In all the world he was alone, alone on an -empty country road, with a grim, alert young man. - -“When I asked you how you knew my name,” said the young man, “I thought -you knew me as having won some races in Florida last winter. This is the -car that won. I thought maybe you might have heard of me when I was -captain of a football team at—a university. If you have any idea that -you can jump from this car and not be killed, or that I cannot pound you -into a pulp, let me prove to you you’re wrong—now. We’re quite alone. Do -you wish to get down?” - -“No,” shrieked Schwab, “I won’t!” He turned appealingly to the young -lady. “You’re a witness,” he cried. “If he assaults me, he’s liable. I -haven’t done nothing.” - -“We’re near Yonkers,” said the young man, “and if you try to take -advantage of my having to go slow through the town, you know now what -will happen to you.” - -Mr. Schwab having instantly planned, on reaching Yonkers, to leap from -the car into the arms of the village constable, with suspicious alacrity -assented. The young man regarded him doubtfully. - -“I’m afraid I’ll have to show you,” said the young man. He laid two -fingers on Mr. Schwab’s wrist; looking at him, as he did so, steadily -and thoughtfully, like a physician feeling a pulse. Mr. Schwab screamed. -When he had seen policemen twist steel nippers on the wrists of -prisoners, he had thought, when the prisoners shrieked and writhed, they -were acting. He now knew they were not. - -“Now, will you promise?” demanded the grim young man. - -“Yes,” gasped Mr. Schwab. “I’ll sit still. I won’t do nothing.” - -“Good,” muttered Winthrop. - -A troubled voice that carried to the heart of Schwab a promise of -protection, said: “Mr. Schwab, would you be more comfortable back here -with me?” - -Mr. Schwab turned two terrified eyes in the direction of the voice. He -saw the beautiful young lady regarding him kindly, compassionately; with -just a suspicion of a smile. Mr. Schwab instantly scrambled to safety -over the front seat into the body of the car. Miss Forbes made way for -the prisoner beside her and he sank back with a nervous, apologetic -sigh. The alert young man was quick to follow the lead of the lady. - -“You’ll find caps and goggles in the boot, Schwab,” he said hospitably. -“You had better put them on. We are going rather fast now.” He extended -a magnificent case of pigskin, that bloomed with fat black cigars. “Try -one of these,” said the hospitable young man. The emotions that swept -Mr. Schwab he found difficult to pursue, but he raised his hat to the -lady. “May I, Miss?” he said. - -“Certainly,” said the lady. - -There was a moment of delay while with fingers that slightly trembled, -Mr. Schwab selected an amazing green cap and lit his cigar; and then the -car swept forward, singing and humming happily, and scattering the -autumn leaves. The young lady leaned toward him with a book in a leather -cover. She placed her finger on a twisting red line that trickled -through a page of type. - -“We’re just here,” said the young lady, “and we ought to reach home, -which is just about there, in an hour.” - -“I see,” said Schwab. But all he saw was a finger in a white glove, and -long eyelashes tangled in a gray veil. - -For many minutes or, for all Schwab knew, for many miles, the young lady -pointed out to him the places along the Hudson, of which he had read in -the public school history, and quaint old manor houses set in glorious -lawns; and told him who lived in them. Schwab knew the names as -belonging to down-town streets, and up-town clubs. He became nervously -humble, intensely polite, he felt he was being carried as an honored -guest into the very heart of the Four Hundred, and when the car jogged -slowly down the main street of Yonkers, although a policeman stood idly -within a yard of him, instead of shrieking to him for help, “Izzy” -Schwab looked at him scornfully across the social gulf that separated -them, with all the intolerance he believed becoming in the upper -classes. - -“Those bicycle cops,” he said confidentially to Miss Forbes, “are too -chesty.” - -The car turned in between stone pillars, and under an arch of red and -golden leaves, and swept up a long avenue to a house of innumerable -roofs. It was the grandest house Mr. Schwab had ever entered, and when -two young men in striped waistcoats and many brass buttons ran down the -stone steps and threw open the door of the car, his heart fluttered -between fear and pleasure. - -Lounging before an open fire in the hall were a number of young men, who -welcomed Winthrop delightedly, and to all of whom Mr. Schwab was -formally presented. As he was introduced he held each by the hand and -elbow and said impressively, and much to the other’s embarrassment, -“_What_ name, please?” - -Then one of the servants conducted him to a room opening on the hall, -from whence he heard stifled exclamations and laughter, and some one -saying “Hush.” But “Izzy” Schwab did not care. The slave in brass -buttons was proffering him ivory-backed hair-brushes, and obsequiously -removing the dust from his coat collar. Mr. Schwab explained to him that -he was not dressed for automobiling, as Mr. Winthrop had invited him -quite informally. The man was most charmingly sympathetic. And when he -returned to the hall every one received him with the most genial, -friendly interest. Would he play golf, or tennis, or pool, or walk over -the farm, or just look on? It seemed the wish of each to be his escort. -Never had he been so popular. - -He said he would “just look on.” And so, during the last and decisive -day of the “whirlwind” campaign, while in Eighth Avenue voters were -being challenged, beaten, and bribed, bonfires were burning, and -“extras” were appearing every half-hour, “Izzy” Schwab, the Tammany -henchman, with a secret worth twenty thousand votes, sat a prisoner, in -a wicker chair, with a drink and a cigar, guarded by four young men in -flannels, who played tennis violently at five dollars a corner. - -It was always a great day in the life of “Izzy” Schwab. After a -luncheon, which, as he later informed his friends, could not have cost -less than “two dollars a plate and drink all you like,” Sam Forbes took -him on at pool. Mr. Schwab had learned the game in the cellars of Eighth -Avenue at two and a half cents a cue, and now, even in Columbus Circle -he was a star. So, before the sun had set Mr. Forbes, who at pool rather -fancied himself, was seventy-five dollars poorer, and Mr. Schwab just -that much to the good. Then there followed a strange ceremony called -tea, or, if you preferred it, whiskey and soda; and the tall footman -bent before him with huge silver salvers laden down with flickering -silver lamps, and bubbling soda bottles, and cigars, and cigarettes. - -“You could have filled your pockets with twenty-five cent Havanas, and -nobody would have said nothing!” declared Mr. Schwab, and his friends, -who never had enjoyed his chance to study at such close quarters the -truly rich, nodded enviously. - -At six o’clock Mr. Schwab led Winthrop into the big library and asked -for his ticket of leave. - -“They’ll be counting the votes soon,” he begged. “I can’t do no harm -now, and I don’t mean to. I didn’t see nothing, and I won’t say nothing. -But it’s election night, and—and I just _got_ to be on Broadway.” - -“Right,” said Winthrop, “I’ll have a car take you in, and if you will -accept this small check——” - -“No!” roared “Izzy” Schwab. Afterward he wondered how he came to do it. -“You’ve give me a good time, Mr. Winthrop. You’ve treated me fine, all -the gentlemen have treated me nice. I’m not a blackmailer, Mr. -Winthrop.” Mr. Schwab’s voice shook slightly. - -“Nonsense, Schwab, you didn’t let me finish,” said Winthrop, “I’m likely -to need a lawyer any time; this is a retaining fee. Suppose I exceed the -speed limit—I’m liable to do that——” - -“You bet you are!” exclaimed Mr. Schwab violently. - -“Well, then, I’ll send for _you_, and there isn’t a police magistrate, -nor any of the traffic squad, you can’t handle, is there?” - -Mr. Schwab flushed with pleasure. - -“You can count on me,” he vowed, “and your friends, too, and the -ladies,” he added gallantly. “If ever the ladies want to get bail, tell -’em to telephone for ‘Izzy’ Schwab. Of course,” he said reluctantly, “if -it’s a retaining fee——” - -But when he read the face of the check he exclaimed in protest: “But, -Mr. Winthrop, this is more than _The Journal_ would have give me!” - -They put him in a car belonging to one of the other men, and all came -out on the steps to wave him “good-by,” and he drove magnificently into -his own district, where there were over a dozen men who swore he tipped -the French chauffeur a five-dollar bill “just like it was a cigarette.” - -All of election day since her arrival in Winthrop’s car Miss Forbes had -kept to herself. In the morning, when the other young people were out of -doors, she remained in her room, and after luncheon, when they gathered -round the billiard table, she sent for her cart and drove off alone. The -others thought she was concerned over the possible result of the -election, and did not want to disturb them by her anxiety. Winthrop, -thinking the presence of Schwab embarrassed her, recalling as it did -Peabody’s unfortunate conduct of the morning, blamed himself for -bringing Schwab to the house. But he need not have distressed himself. -Miss Forbes was thinking neither of Schwab nor Peabody, nor was she -worried or embarrassed. On the contrary, she was completely happy. - -When that morning she had seen Peabody running up the steps of the -Elevated, all the doubts, the troubles, questions, and misgivings that -night and day for the last three months had upset her, fell from her -shoulders like the pilgrim’s heavy pack. For months she had been telling -herself that the unrest she felt when with Peabody was due to her not -being able to appreciate the importance of those big affairs in which he -was so interested; in which he was so admirable a figure. She had, as -she supposed, loved him, because he was earnest, masterful, intent of -purpose. His had seemed a fine character. When she had compared him with -the amusing boys of her own age, the easy-going joking youths to whom -the betterment of New York was of no concern, she had been proud in her -choice. She was glad Peabody was ambitious. She was ambitious for him. -She was glad to have him consult her on those questions of local -government, to listen to his fierce, contemptuous abuse of Tammany. And -yet early in their engagement she had missed something, something she -had never known, but which she felt sure should exist. Whether she had -seen it in the lives of others, or read of it in romances, or whether it -was there because it was nature to desire to be loved, she did not know. -But long before Winthrop returned from his trip round the world, in her -meetings with the man she was to marry, she had begun to find that there -was something lacking. And Winthrop had shown her that this something -lacking was the one thing needful. When Winthrop had gone abroad he was -only one of her brother’s several charming friends. One of the amusing -merry youths who came and went in the house as freely as Sam himself. -Now, after two years’ absence, he refused to be placed in that category. - -He rebelled on the first night of his return. As she came down to the -dinner of welcome her brother was giving Winthrop, he stared at her as -though she were a ghost, and said, so solemnly that every one in the -room, even Peabody, smiled: “Now I know why I came home.” That he -refused to recognize her engagement to Peabody, that on every occasion -he told her, or by some act showed her, he loved her; that he swore she -should never marry any one but himself, and that he would never marry -any one but her, did not at first, except to annoy, in any way impress -her. - -But he showed her what in her intercourse with Peabody was lacking. At -first she wished Peabody could find time to be as fond of her, as -foolishly fond of her, as was Winthrop. But she realized that this was -unreasonable. Winthrop was just a hot-headed impressionable boy, Peabody -was a man doing a man’s work. And then she found that week after week -she became more difficult to please. Other things in which she wished -Peabody might be more like Winthrop, obtruded themselves. Little things -which she was ashamed to notice, but which rankled; and big things, such -as consideration for others, and a sense of humor, and not talking of -himself. Since this campaign began, at times she had felt that if -Peabody said “I” once again, she must scream. She assured herself she -was as yet unworthy of him, that her intelligence was weak, that as she -grew older and so better able to understand serious affairs, such as the -importance of having an honest man at Albany as Lieutenant-Governor, -they would become more in sympathy. And now, at a stroke, the whole -fabric of self-deception fell from her. It was not that she saw Peabody -so differently, but that she saw herself and her own heart, and where it -lay. And she knew that “Billy” Winthrop, gentle, joking, selfish only in -his love for her, held it in his two strong hands. - -For the moment, when as she sat in the car deserted by Peabody this -truth flashed upon her, she forgot the man lying injured in the street, -the unscrubbed mob crowding about her. She was conscious only that a -great weight had been lifted. That her blood was flowing again, leaping, -beating, dancing through her body. It seemed as though she could not too -quickly tell Winthrop. For both of them she had lost out of their lives -many days. She had risked losing him for always. Her only thought was to -make up to him and to herself the wasted time. But throughout the day -the one-time welcome, but now intruding, friends and the innumerable -conventions of hospitality required her to smile and show an interest, -when her heart and mind were crying out the one great fact. - -It was after dinner, and the members of the house party were scattered -between the billiard-room and the piano. Sam Forbes returned from the -telephone. - -“Tammany,” he announced, “concedes the election of Jerome by forty -thousand votes, and that he carries his ticket with him. Ernest Peabody -is elected his Lieutenant-Governor by a thousand votes. Ernest,” he -added, “seems to have had a close call.” There was a tremendous chorus -of congratulations in the cause of Reform. They drank the health of -Peabody. Peabody himself, on the telephone, informed Sam Forbes that a -conference of the leaders would prevent his being present with them that -evening. The enthusiasm for Reform perceptibly increased. - -An hour later Winthrop came over to Beatrice and held out his hand. “I’m -going to slip away,” he said. “Good-night.” - -“Going away!” exclaimed Beatrice. - -Her voice showed such apparently acute concern that Winthrop wondered -how the best of women could be so deceitful, even to be polite. - -“I promised some men,” he stammered, “to drive them down-town to see the -crowds.” - -Beatrice shook her head. - -“It’s far too late for that,” she said. “Tell me the real reason.” - -Winthrop turned away his eyes. - -“Oh! the real reason,” he said gravely, “is the same old reason, the one -I’m not allowed to talk about. It’s cruelly hard when I don’t see you,” -he went on, slowly dragging out the words, “but it’s harder when I do; -so I’m going to say ‘good-night’ and run into town.” - -He stood for a moment staring moodily at the floor, and then dropped -into a chair beside her. - -“And, I believe, I’ve not told you,” he went on, “that on Wednesday I’m -running away for good, that is, for a year or two. I’ve made all the -fight I can and I lose, and there is no use in my staying on here -to—well—to suffer, that is the plain English of it. So,” he continued -briskly, “I won’t be here for the ceremony, and this is ‘good-by’ as -well as ‘good-night.’” - -“Where are you going for a year?” asked Miss Forbes. - -Her voice now showed no concern. It even sounded as though she did not -take his news seriously, as though as to his movements she was possessed -of a knowledge superior to his own. He tried to speak in matter-of-fact -tones. - -“To Uganda!” he said. - -“To Uganda?” repeated Miss Forbes. “Where is Uganda?” - -“It is in East Africa; I had bad luck there last trip, but now I know -the country better, and I ought to get some good shooting.” - -Miss Forbes appeared indifferently incredulous. In her eyes there was a -look of radiant happiness. It rendered them bewilderingly beautiful. - -“On Wednesday,” she said. “Won’t you come and see us again before you -sail for Uganda?” - -Winthrop hesitated. - - -“I’ll stop in and say ‘good-by’ to your mother if she’s in town, and to -thank her. She’s been awfully good to me. But you—I really would rather -not see you again. You understand, or rather, you don’t understand, -and,” he added vehemently, “you never will understand.” He stood looking -down at her miserably. - -On the driveway outside there was a crunching on the gravel of heavy -wheels and an aurora-borealis of lights. - -“There’s your car,” said Miss Forbes. “I’ll go out and see you off.” - -“You’re very good,” muttered Winthrop. He could not understand. This -parting from her was the great moment in his life, and although she must -know that, she seemed to be making it unnecessarily hard for him. He had -told her he was going to a place very far away, to be gone a long time, -and she spoke of saying “good-by” to him as pleasantly as though it was -his intention to return from Uganda for breakfast. - -Instead of walking through the hall where the others were gathered, she -led him out through one of the French windows upon the terrace, and -along it to the steps. When she saw the chauffeur standing by the car, -she stopped. - -“I thought you were going alone,” she said. - -“I am,” answered Winthrop. “It’s not Fred; that’s Sam’s chauffeur; he -only brought the car around.” - -The man handed Winthrop his coat and cap, and left them, and Winthrop -seated himself at the wheel. She stood above him on the top step. In the -evening gown of lace and silver she looked a part of the moonlight -night. For each of them the moment had arrived. Like a swimmer standing -on the bank gathering courage for the plunge, Miss Forbes gave a -trembling, shivering sigh. - -“You’re cold,” said Winthrop, gently. “You must go in. Good-by.” - -“It isn’t that,” said the girl. “Have you an extra coat?” - -“It isn’t cold enough for——” - -“I meant for me,” stammered the girl in a frightened voice. “I thought -perhaps you would take me a little way, and bring me back.” - -At first the young man did not answer, but sat staring in front of him, -then, he said simply: - -“It’s awfully good of you, Beatrice. I won’t forget it.” - -It was a wonderful autumn night, moonlight, cold, clear and brilliant. -She stepped in beside him and wrapped herself in one of his greatcoats. -They started swiftly down the avenue of trees. - -“No, not fast,” begged the girl, “I want to talk to you.” - -The car checked and rolled forward smoothly, sometimes in deep shadow, -sometimes in the soft silver glamour of the moon; beneath them the -fallen leaves crackled and rustled under the slow moving wheels. At the -highway Winthrop hesitated. It lay before them arched with great and -ancient elms; below, the Hudson glittered and rippled in the moonlight. - -“Which way do you want to go?” said Winthrop. - -His voice was very grateful, very humble. - -The girl did not answer. - -There was a long, long pause. - -Then he turned and looked at her and saw her smiling at him with that -light in her eyes that never was on land or sea. - -“To Uganda,” said the girl. - - - - - THE PRINCESS ALINE - - - - - I - - -H. R. H. the Princess Aline of Hohenwald came into the life of Morton -Carlton—or “Morney” Carlton, as men called him—of New York City, when -that young gentleman’s affairs and affections were best suited to -receive her. Had she made her appearance three years sooner or three -years later, it is quite probable that she would have passed on out of -his life with no more recognition from him than would have been -expressed in a look of admiring curiosity. - -But coming when she did, when his time and heart were both unoccupied, -she had an influence upon young Mr. Carlton which led him into doing -several wise and many foolish things, and which remained with him -always. Carlton had reached a point in his life, and very early in his -life, when he could afford to sit at ease and look back with modest -satisfaction to what he had forced himself to do, and forward with -pleasurable anticipations to whatsoever he might choose to do in the -future. The world had appreciated what he had done, and had put much to -his credit, and he was prepared to draw upon this grandly. - -At the age of twenty he had found himself his own master, with excellent -family connections, but with no family, his only relative being a -bachelor uncle, who looked at life from the point of view of the Union -Club’s windows, and who objected to his nephew’s leaving Harvard to take -up the study of art in Paris. In that city (where at Julian’s he was -nicknamed the Junior Carlton, for the obvious reason that he was the -older of the two Carltons in the class, and because he was well-dressed) -he had shown himself a harder worker than others who were less careful -of their appearance and of their manners. His work, of which he did not -talk, and his ambitions, of which he also did not talk, bore fruit -early, and at twenty-six he had become a portrait-painter of -international reputation. Then the French government purchased one of -his paintings at an absurdly small figure, and placed it in the -Luxembourg, from whence it would in time depart to be buried in the hall -of some provincial city; and American millionaires, and English Lord -Mayors, members of Parliament, and members of the Institute, masters of -hounds in pink coats, and ambassadors in gold lace, and beautiful women -of all nationalities and conditions sat before his easel. And so when he -returned to New York he was welcomed with an enthusiasm which showed -that his countrymen had feared that the artistic atmosphere of the Old -World had stolen him from them forever. He was particularly silent, even -at this date, about his work, and listened to what others had to say of -it with much awe, not unmixed with some amusement, that it should be he -who was capable of producing anything worthy of such praise. We have -been told what the mother duck felt when her ugly duckling turned into a -swan, but we have never considered how much the ugly duckling must have -marvelled also. - -“Carlton is probably the only living artist,” a brother artist had said -of him, “who fails to appreciate how great his work is.” And on this -being repeated to Carlton by a good-natured friend, he had replied -cheerfully, “Well, I’m sorry, but it is certainly better to be the only -one who doesn’t appreciate it than to be the only one who does.” - -He had never understood why such a responsibility had been intrusted to -him. It was, as he expressed it, not at all in his line, and young girls -who sought to sit at the feet of the master found him making love to -them in the most charming manner in the world, as though he were not -entitled to all the rapturous admiration of their very young hearts, but -had to sue for it like any ordinary mortal. Carlton always felt as -though some day some one would surely come along and say: “Look here, -young man, this talent doesn’t belong to you; it’s mine. What do you -mean by pretending that such an idle good-natured youth as yourself is -entitled to such a gift of genius?” He felt that he was keeping it in -trust, as it were; that it had been changed at birth, and that the -proper guardian would eventually relieve him of his treasure. - -Personally Carlton was of the opinion that he should have been born in -the active days of knights-errant—to have had nothing more serious to do -than to ride abroad with a blue ribbon fastened to the point of his -lance, and with the spirit to unhorse any one who objected to its color, -or to the claims of superiority of the noble lady who had tied it there. -There was not, in his opinion, at the present day any sufficiently -pronounced method of declaring admiration for the many lovely women this -world contained. A proposal of marriage he considered to be a mean and -clumsy substitute for the older way, and was uncomplimentary to the many -other women left unasked, and marriage itself required much more -constancy than he could give. He had a most romantic and old-fashioned -ideal of women as a class, and from the age of fourteen had been a -devotee of hundreds of them as individuals; and though in that time his -ideal had received several severe shocks, he still believed that the -“not impossible she” existed somewhere, and his conscientious efforts to -find out whether every woman he met might not be that one had led him -not unnaturally into many difficulties. - -“The trouble with me is,” he said, “that I care too much to make -Platonic friendship possible, and don’t care enough to marry any -particular woman—that is, of course, supposing that any particular one -would be so little particular as to be willing to marry me. How -embarrassing it would be, now,” he argued, “if when you were turning -away from the chancel after the ceremony you should look at one of the -bridemaids and see the woman whom you really should have married! How -distressing that would be! You couldn’t very well stop and say: ‘I am -very sorry, my dear, but it seems I have made a mistake. That young -woman on the right has a most interesting and beautiful face. I am very -much afraid that she is the one.’ It would be too late then; while now, -in my free state, I can continue my search without any sense of -responsibility.” - -“Why”—he would exclaim—“I have walked miles to get a glimpse of a -beautiful woman in a suburban window, and time and time again when I -have seen a face in a passing brougham I have pursued it in a hansom, -and learned where the owner of the face lived, and spent weeks in -finding some one to present me, only to discover that she was -self-conscious or uninteresting or engaged. Still I had assured myself -that she was not the one. I am very conscientious, and I consider that -it is my duty to go so far with every woman I meet as to be able to -learn whether she is or is not the one, and the sad result is that I am -like a man who follows the hounds but is never in at the death.” - -“Well,” some married woman would say, grimly, “I hope you will get your -deserts some day; and you _will_, too. Some day some girl will make you -suffer for this.” - -“Oh, that’s all right,” Carlton would answer, meekly. “Lots of women -have made me suffer, if that’s what you think I need.” - -“Some day,” the married woman would prophesy, “you will care for a woman -so much that you will have no eyes for any one else. That’s the way it -is when one is married.” - -“Well, when that’s the way it is with _me_,” Carlton would reply, “I -certainly hope to get married; but until it is, I think it is safer for -all concerned that I should not.” - -Then Carlton would go to the club and complain bitterly to one of his -friends. - -“How unfair married women are!” he would say. “The idea of thinking a -man could have no eyes but for one woman! Suppose I had never heard a -note of music until I was twenty-five years of age, and was then given -my hearing. Do you suppose my pleasure in music would make me lose my -pleasure in everything else? Suppose I met and married a girl at -twenty-five. Is that going to make me forget all the women I knew before -I met her? I think not. As a matter of fact, I really deserve a great -deal of credit for remaining single, for I am naturally very -affectionate; but when I see what poor husbands my friends make, I -prefer to stay as I am until I am sure that I will make a better one. It -is only fair to the woman.” - -Carlton was sitting in the club alone. He had that sense of superiority -over his fellows and of irresponsibility to the world about him that -comes to a man when he knows that his trunks are being packed and that -his state-room is engaged. He was leaving New York long before most of -his friends could get away. He did not know just where he was going, and -preferred not to know. He wished to have a complete holiday, and to see -Europe as an idle tourist, and not as an artist with an eye to his own -improvement. He had plenty of time and money; he was sure to run across -friends in the big cities, and acquaintances he could make or not, as he -pleased, _en route_. He was not sorry to go. His going would serve to -put an end to what gossip there might be of his engagement to numerous -young women whose admiration for him as an artist, he was beginning to -fear, had taken on a more personal tinge. “I wish,” he said, gloomily, -“I didn’t like people so well. It seems to cause them and me such a lot -of trouble.” - -He sighed, and stretched out his hand for a copy of one of the English -illustrated papers. It had a fresher interest to him because the next -number of it that he would see would be in the city in which it was -printed. The paper in his hands was the _St. James Budget_, and it -contained much fashionable intelligence concerning the preparations for -a royal wedding which was soon to take place between members of two of -the reigning families of Europe. There was on one page a half-tone -reproduction of a photograph, which showed a group of young people -belonging to several of these reigning families, with their names and -titles printed above and below the picture. They were princesses, -archdukes, or grand dukes, and they were dressed like young English men -and women, and with no sign about them of their possible military or -social rank. - -One of the young princesses in the photograph was looking out of it and -smiling in a tolerant, amused way, as though she had thought of -something which she could not wait to enjoy until after the picture was -taken. She was not posing consciously, as were some of the others, but -was sitting in a natural attitude, with one arm over the back of her -chair, and with her hands clasped before her. Her face was full of a -fine intelligence and humor, and though one of the other princesses in -the group was far more beautiful, this particular one had a much more -high-bred air, and there was something of a challenge in her smile that -made any one who looked at the picture smile also. Carlton studied the -face for some time, and mentally approved of its beauty; the others -seemed in comparison wooden and unindividual, but this one looked like a -person he might have known, and whom he would certainly have liked. He -turned the page and surveyed the features of the Oxford crew with lesser -interest, and then turned the page again and gazed critically and -severely at the face of the princess with the high-bred smile. He had -hoped that he would find it less interesting at a second glance, but it -did not prove to be so. - -“‘The Princess Aline of Hohenwald,’” he read. “She’s probably engaged to -one of those Johnnies beside her, and the Grand-Duke of Hohenwald behind -her must be her brother.” He put the paper down and went in to luncheon, -and diverted himself by mixing a salad dressing; but after a few moments -he stopped in the midst of this employment, and told the waiter, with -some unnecessary sharpness, to bring him the last copy of the _St. James -Budget_. - -“Confound it!” he added, to himself. - -He opened the paper with a touch of impatience and gazed long and -earnestly at the face of the Princess Aline, who continued to return his -look with the same smile of amused tolerance. Carlton noted every detail -of her tailor-made gown, of her high mannish collar, of her tie, and -even the rings on her hand. There was nothing about her of which he -could fairly disapprove. He wondered why it was that she could not have -been born an approachable New York girl instead of a princess of a -little German duchy, hedged in throughout her single life, and to be -traded off eventually in marriage with as much consideration as though -she were a princess of a real kingdom. - -“She looks jolly too,” he mused, in an injured tone; “and so very -clever; and of course she has a beautiful complexion. All those German -girls have. Your Royal Highness is more than pretty,” he said, bowing -his head gravely. “You look as a princess should look. I am sure it was -one of your ancestors who discovered the dried pea under a dozen -mattresses.” He closed the paper, and sat for a moment with a perplexed -smile of consideration. “Waiter,” he exclaimed, suddenly, “send a -messenger-boy to Brentano’s for a copy of the _St. James Budget_, and -bring me the Almanach de Gotha from the library. It is a little fat red -book on the table near the window.” Then Carlton opened the paper again -and propped it up against a carafe, and continued his critical survey of -the Princess Aline. He seized the Almanach, when it came, with some -eagerness. - -“Hohenwald (Maison de Grasse),” he read, and in small type below it: - - “1. Ligne cadette (régnante) grand-ducale: Hohenwald et de Grasse. - - “Guillaume-Albert-Frederick-Charles-Louis, Grand-Duc de Hohenwald et - de Grasse, etc., etc., etc.” - -“That’s the brother, right enough,” muttered Carlton. - -And under the heading “Sœurs” he read: - - “4. _Psse Aline._—Victoria-Beatrix-Louise-Helene, Alt. Gr.-Duc. Née à - Grasse, Juin, 1872.” - -“Twenty-two years old,” exclaimed Carlton. “What a perfect age! I could -not have invented a better one.” He looked from the book to the face -before him. “Now, my dear young lady,” he said, “I know all about _you_. -You live at Grasse, and you are connected, to judge by your names, with -all the English royalties; and very pretty names they are, too—Aline, -Helene, Victoria, Beatrix. You must be much more English than you are -German; and I suppose you live in a little old castle, and your brother -has a standing army of twelve men, and some day you are to marry a -Russian Grand-Duke, or whoever your brother’s Prime Minister—if he has a -Prime Minister—decides is best for the politics of your little toy -kingdom. Ah! to think,” exclaimed Carlton, softly, “that such a lovely -and glorious creature as that should be sacrificed for so insignificant -a thing as the peace of Europe when she might make some young man -happy?” - -He carried a copy of the paper to his room, and cut the picture of the -group out of the page and pasted it carefully on a stiff piece of -card-board. Then he placed it on his dressing-table, in front of a -photograph of a young woman in a large silver frame—which was a sign, -had the young woman but known it, that her reign for the time being was -over. - -Nolan, the young Irishman who “did for” Carlton, knew better than to -move it when he found it there. He had learned to study his master since -he had joined him in London, and understood that one photograph in the -silver frame was entitled to more consideration than three others on the -writing-desk or half a dozen on the mantel-piece. Nolan had seen them -come and go; he had watched them rise and fall; he had carried notes to -them, and books and flowers; and had helped to depose them from the -silver frame and move them on by degrees down the line, until they went -ingloriously into the big brass bowl on the side table. Nolan approved -highly of this last choice. He did not know which one of the three in -the group it might be; but they were all pretty, and their social -standing was certainly distinguished. - -Guido, the Italian model who ruled over the studio, and Nolan were -busily packing when Carlton entered. He always said that Guido -represented him in his professional and Nolan in his social capacity. -Guido cleaned the brushes and purchased the artists’ materials; Nolan -cleaned his riding-boots and bought his theatre and railroad tickets. - -“Guido,” said Carlton, “there are two sketches I made in Germany last -year, one of the Prime Minister, and one of Ludwig the actor; get them -out for me, will you, and pack them for shipping. Nolan,” he went on, -“here is a telegram to send.” - -Nolan would not have read a letter, but he looked upon telegrams as -public documents, the reading of them as part of his perquisites. This -one was addressed to Oscar Von Holtz, First Secretary, German Embassy, -Washington, D. C., and the message read: - - “Please telegraph me full title and address Princess Aline of - Hohenwald. Where would a letter reach her? - - “MORTON CARLTON.” - -The next morning Nolan carried to the express office a box containing -two oil-paintings on small canvases. They were addressed to the man in -London who attended to the shipping and forwarding of Carlton’s pictures -in that town. - - -There was a tremendous crowd on the _New York_. She sailed at the -obliging hour of eleven in the morning, and many people, in consequence, -whose affection would not have stood in the way of their breakfast, made -it a point to appear and to say good-by. Carlton, for his part, did not -notice them; he knew by experience that the attractive-looking people -always leave a steamer when the whistle blows, and that the next most -attractive-looking, who remain on board, are ill all the way over. A man -that he knew seized him by the arm as he was entering his cabin, and -asked if he were crossing or just seeing people off. - -“Well, then, I want to introduce you to Miss Morris and her aunt, Mrs. -Downs; they are going over, and I should be glad if you would be nice to -them. But you know her, I guess?” he asked, over his shoulder, as -Carlton pushed his way after him down the deck. - -“I know who she is,” he said. - -Miss Edith Morris was surrounded by a treble circle of admiring friends, -and seemed to be holding her own. They all stopped when Carlton came up, -and looked at him rather closely, and those whom he knew seemed to mark -the fact by a particularly hearty greeting. The man who had brought him -up acted as though he had successfully accomplished a somewhat difficult -and creditable feat. Carlton bowed himself away, leaving Miss Morris to -her friends, and saying that she would probably have to see him later, -whether she wished it or not. He then went to meet the aunt, who -received him kindly, for there were very few people on the passenger -list, and she was glad they were to have his company. Before he left she -introduced him to a young man named Abbey, who was hovering around her -most anxiously, and whose interest, she seemed to think it necessary to -explain, was due to the fact that he was engaged to Miss Morris. Mr. -Abbey left the steamer when the whistle blew, and Carlton looked after -him gratefully. He always enjoyed meeting attractive girls who were -engaged, as it left him no choice in the matter, and excused him from -finding out whether or not that particular young woman was the one. - -Mrs. Downs and her niece proved to be experienced sailors, and faced the -heavy sea that met the _New York_ outside of Sandy Hook with unconcern. -Carlton joined them, and they stood together leaning with their backs to -the rail, and trying to fit the people who flitted past them to the -names on the passenger list. - -“The young lady in the sailor suit,” said Miss Morris, gazing at the top -of the smoke-stack, “is Miss Kitty Flood, of Grand Rapids. This is her -first voyage, and she thinks a steamer is something like a yacht, and -dresses for the part accordingly. She does not know that it is merely a -moving hotel.” - -“I am afraid,” said Carlton, “to judge from her agitation, that hers is -going to be what the professionals call a ‘dressing-room’ part. Why is -it,” he asked, “that the girls on a steamer who wear gold anchors and -the men in yachting-caps are always the first to disappear? That man -with the sombrero,” he went on, “is James M. Pollock, United States -Consul to Mauritius; he is going out to his post. I know he is the -consul, because he comes from Fort Worth, Texas, and is therefore -admirably fitted to speak either French or the native language of the -island.” - -“Oh, we don’t send consuls to Mauritius,” laughed Miss Morris. -“Mauritius is one of those places from which you buy stamps, but no one -really lives or goes there.” - -“Where are you going, may I ask?” inquired Carlton. - -Miss Morris said that they were making their way to Constantinople and -Athens, and then to Rome; that as they had not had the time to take the -southern route, they purposed to journey across the Continent direct -from Paris to the Turkish capital by the Orient Express. - -“We shall be a few days in London, and in Paris only long enough for -some clothes,” she replied. - -“The trousseau,” thought Carlton. “Weeks is what she should have said.” - -The three sat together at the captain’s table, and as the sea continued -rough, saw little of either the captain or his other guests, and were -thrown much upon the society of each other. They had innumerable friends -and interests in common; and Mrs. Downs, who had been everywhere, and -for long seasons at a time, proved as alive as her niece, and Carlton -conceived a great liking for her. She seemed to be just and kindly -minded, and, owing to her age, to combine the wider judgment of a man -with the sympathetic interest of a woman. Sometimes they sat together in -a row and read, and gossiped over what they read, or struggled up the -deck as it rose and fell and buffeted with the wind; and later they -gathered in a corner of the saloon and ate late suppers of Carlton’s -devising, or drank tea in the captain’s cabin, which he had thrown open -to them. They had started knowing much about one another, and this and -the necessary proximity of the ship hastened their acquaintance. - -The sea grew calmer the third day out, and the sun came forth and showed -the decks as clean as bread-boards. Miss Morris and Carlton seated -themselves on the huge iron riding-bits in the bow, and with their -elbows on the rail looked down at the whirling blue water, and rejoiced -silently in the steady rush of the great vessel, and in the uncertain -warmth of the March sun. Carlton was sitting to leeward of Miss Morris, -with a pipe between his teeth. He was warm, and at peace with the world. -He had found his new acquaintance more than entertaining. She was even -friendly, and treated him as though he were much her junior, as is the -habit of young women lately married or who are about to be married. -Carlton did not resent it; on the contrary, it made him more at his ease -with her, and as she herself chose to treat him as a youth, he permitted -himself to be as foolish as he pleased. - -“I don’t know why it is,” he complained, peering over the rail, “but -whenever I look over the side to watch the waves a man in a greasy cap -always sticks his head out of a hole below me and scatters a barrelful -of ashes or potato peelings all over the ocean. It spoils the effect for -one. Next time he does it I am going to knock out the ashes of my pipe -on the back of his neck.” Miss Morris did not consider this worthy of -comment, and there was a long lazy pause. - -“You haven’t told us where you go after London,” she said; and then, -without waiting for him to reply, she asked, “Is it your professional or -your social side that you are treating to a trip this time?” - -“Who told you that?” asked Carlton, smiling. - -“Oh, I don’t know. Some man. He said you were a Jekyll and Hyde. Which -is Jekyll? You see, I only know your professional side.” - -“You must try to find out for yourself by deduction,” he said, “as you -picked out the other passengers. I am going to Grasse,” he continued. -“It’s the capital of Hohenwald. Do you know it?” - -“Yes,” she said; “we were there once for a few days. We went to see the -pictures. I suppose you know that the old Duke, the father of the -present one, ruined himself almost by buying pictures for the Grasse -gallery. We were there at a bad time, though, when the palace was closed -to visitors, and the gallery too. I suppose that is what is taking you -there?” - -“No,” Carlton said, shaking his head. “No, it is not the pictures. I am -going to Grasse,” he said, gravely, “to see the young woman with whom I -am in love.” - -Miss Morris looked up in some surprise, and smiled consciously, with a -natural feminine interest in an affair of love, and one which was a -secret as well. - -“Oh,” she said, “I beg your pardon; we—I had not heard of it.” - -“No, it is not a thing one could announce exactly,” said Carlton; “it is -rather in an embyro state as yet—in fact, I have not met the young lady -so far, but I mean to meet her. That’s why I am going abroad.” - -Miss Morris looked at him sharply to see if he were smiling, but he was, -on the contrary, gazing sentimentally at the horizon-line, and puffing -meditatively on his pipe. He was apparently in earnest, and waiting for -her to make some comment. - -“How very interesting!” was all she could think to say. - -“Yes, when you know the details, it is,—_very_ interesting,” he -answered. “She is the Princess Aline of Hohenwald,” he explained, bowing -his head as though he were making the two young ladies known to one -another. “She has several other names, six in all, and her age is -twenty-two. That is all I know about her. I saw her picture in an -illustrated paper just before I sailed, and I made up my mind I would -meet her, and here I am. If she is not in Grasse, I intend to follow her -to wherever she may be.” He waved his pipe at the ocean before him, and -recited, with mock seriousness: - - “‘Across the hills and far away, - Beyond their utmost purple rim, - And deep into the dying day, - The happy Princess followed him.’ - -“Only in this case, you see,” said Carlton, “I am following the happy -Princess.” - -“No; but seriously, though,” said Miss Morris, “what is it you mean? Are -you going to paint her portrait?” - -“I never thought of that,” exclaimed Carlton. “I don’t know but what -your idea is a good one. Miss Morris, that’s a great idea.” He shook his -head approvingly. “I did not do wrong to confide in you,” he said. “It -was perhaps taking a liberty; but as you have not considered it as such, -I am glad I spoke.” - -“But you don’t really mean to tell me,” exclaimed the girl, facing -about, and nodding her head at him, “that you are going abroad after a -woman whom you have never seen, and because you like a picture of her in -a paper?” - -“I do,” said Carlton. “Because I like her picture, and because she is a -Princess.” - -“Well, upon my word,” said Miss Morris, gazing at him with evident -admiration, “that’s what my younger brother would call a distinctly -sporting proposition. Only I don’t see,” she added, “what her being a -Princess has to do with it.” - -“You don’t?” laughed Carlton easily. “That’s the best part of it—that’s -the plot. The beauty of being in love with a Princess, Miss Morris,” he -said, “lies in the fact that you can’t marry her; that you can love her -deeply and forever, and nobody will ever come to you and ask your -intentions, or hint that after such a display of affection you ought to -do something. Now, with a girl who is not a Princess, even if she -understands the situation herself, and wouldn’t marry you to save her -life, still there is always some one—a father, or a mother, or one of -your friends—who makes it his business to interfere, and talks about it, -and bothers you both. But with a Princess, you see, that is all -eliminated. You can’t marry a Princess, because they won’t let you. A -Princess has got to marry a real royal chap, and so you are perfectly -ineligible and free to sigh for her, and make pretty speeches to her, -and see her as often as you can, and revel in your devotion and -unrequited affection.” - -Miss Morris regarded him doubtfully. She did not wish to prove herself -too credulous. “And you honestly want me, Mr. Carlton, to believe that -you are going abroad just for this?” - -“You see,” Carlton answered her, “if you only knew me better you would -have no doubt on the subject at all. It isn’t the thing some men would -do, I admit, but it is exactly what any one who knows me would expect of -me. I should describe it, having had acquaintance with the young man for -some time, as being eminently characteristic. And besides, think what a -good story it makes! Every other man who goes abroad this summer will -try to tell about his travels when he gets back to New York, and, as -usual, no one will listen to him. But they will _have_ to listen to me. -‘You’ve been across since I saw you last. What did you do?’ they’ll ask, -politely. And then, instead of simply telling them that I have been in -Paris or London, I can say, ‘Oh, I’ve been chasing around the globe -after the Princess Aline of Hohenwald.’ That sounds interesting, doesn’t -it? When you come to think of it,” Carlton continued, meditatively, “it -is not so very remarkable. Men go all the way to Cuba and Mexico, and -even to India, after orchids, after a nasty flower that grows in an -absurd way on the top of a tree. Why shouldn’t a young man go as far as -Germany after a beautiful Princess, who walks on the ground, and who can -talk and think and feel? She is much more worth while than an orchid.” - -Miss Morris laughed indulgently. “Well, I didn’t know such devotion -existed at this end of the century,” she said; “it’s quite nice and -encouraging. I hope you will succeed, I am sure. I only wish we were -going to be near enough to see how you get on. I have never been a -confidante when there was a real Princess concerned,” she said; “it -makes it so much more amusing. May one ask what your plans are?” - -Carlton doubted if he had any plans as yet. “I have to reach the ground -first,” he said, “and after that I must reconnoitre. I may possibly -adopt your idea, and ask to paint her portrait, only I dislike confusing -my social and professional sides. As a matter of fact, though,” he said, -after a pause, laughing guiltily, “I have done a little of that already. -I prepared her, as it were, for my coming. I sent her studies of two -pictures I made last winter in Berlin. One of the Prime Minister, and -one of Ludwig, the tragedian at the Court Theatre. I sent them to her -through my London agent, so that she would think they had come from some -one of her English friends, and I told the dealer not to let any one -know who had forwarded them. My idea was that it might help me, perhaps, -if she knew something about me before I appeared in person. It was a -sort of letter of introduction written by myself.” - -“Well, really,” expostulated Miss Morris, “you certainly woo in a royal -way. Are you in the habit of giving away your pictures to any one whose -photograph you happen to like? That seems to me to be giving new lamps -for old to a degree. I must see if I haven’t some of my sister’s -photographs in my trunk. She is considered very beautiful.” - -“Well, you wait until you see this particular portrait, and you will -understand it better,” said Carlton. - -The steamer reached Southampton early in the afternoon, and Carlton -secured a special compartment on the express to London for Mrs. Downs -and her niece and himself, with one adjoining for their maid and Nolan. -It was a beautiful day, and Carlton sat with his eyes fixed upon the -passing fields and villages, exclaiming with pleasure from time to time -at the white roads and the feathery trees and hedges, and the red roofs -of the inns and square towers of the village churches. - -“Hedges are better than barbed-wire fences, aren’t they?” he said. “You -see that girl picking wild flowers from one of them? She looks just as -though she were posing for a picture for an illustrated paper. She -couldn’t pick flowers from a barbed-wire fence, could she? And there -would probably be a tramp along the road somewhere to frighten her; and -see—the chap in knickerbockers farther down the road leaning on the -stile. I am sure he is waiting for her; and here comes a coach,” he ran -on. “Don’t the red wheels look well against the hedges? It’s a pretty -little country, England, isn’t it?—like a private park or a model -village. I am glad to get back to it—I am glad to see the three-and-six -signs with the little slanting dash between the shillings and pennies. -Yes, even the steam-rollers and the man with the red flag in front are -welcome.” - -“I suppose,” said Mrs. Downs, “it’s because one has been so long on the -ocean that the ride to London seems so interesting. It always pays me -for the entire trip. Yes,” she said, with a sigh, “in spite of the -patent-medicine signs they have taken to putting up all along the road. -It seems a pity they should adopt our bad habits instead of our good -ones.” - -“They are a bit slow at adopting anything,” commented Carlton. “Did you -know, Mrs. Downs, that electric lights are still as scarce in London as -they are in Timbuctoo? Why, I saw an electric-light plant put up in a -Western town in three days once; there were over a hundred burners in -one saloon, and the engineer who put them up told me in confidence -that——” - -What the chief engineer told him in confidence was never disclosed, for -at that moment Miss Morris interrupted him with a sudden sharp -exclamation. - -“Oh, Mr. Carlton,” she exclaimed, breathlessly, “listen to this!” She -had been reading one of the dozen papers which Carlton had purchased at -the station, and was now shaking one of them at him, with her eyes fixed -on the open page. - -“My dear Edith,” remonstrated her aunt, “Mr. Carlton was telling us——” - -“Yes, I know,” exclaimed Miss Morris, laughing, “but this interests him -much more than electric lights. Who do you think is in London?” she -cried, raising her eyes to his, and pausing for proper dramatic effect. -“The Princess Aline of Hohenwald!” - -“No?” shouted Carlton. - -“Yes,” Miss Morris answered, mocking his tone. “Listen. ‘The Queen’s -Drawing-room’—em—e—m—‘on her right was the Princess of Wales’—em—m. Oh, -I can’t find it—no—yes, here it is. ‘Next to her stood the Princess -Aline of Hohenwald. She wore a dress of white silk, with train of silver -brocade trimmed with fur. Ornaments—emeralds and diamonds; -orders—Victoria and Albert, Jubilee Commemoration Medal, Coburg and -Gotha, and Hohenwald and Grasse.’” - -“By Jove!” cried Carlton, excitedly. “I say, is that really there? Let -me see it, please, for myself.” - -Miss Morris handed him the paper, with her finger on the paragraph, and -picking up another, began a search down its columns. - -“You are right,” exclaimed Carlton, solemnly; “it’s she, sure enough. -And here I’ve been within two hours of her and didn’t know it?” - -Miss Morris gave another triumphant cry, as though she had discovered a -vein of gold. - -“Yes, and here she is again,” she said, “in the _Gentlewoman_: ‘The -Queen’s dress was of black, as usual, but relieved by a few violet -ribbons in the bonnet; and Princess Beatrice, who sat by her mother’s -side, showed but little trace of the anxiety caused by Princess Ena’s -accident. Princess Aline, on the front seat, in a light-brown jacket and -a becoming bonnet, gave the necessary touch to a picture which Londoners -would be glad to look upon more often.’” - -Carlton sat staring forward, with his hands on his knees, and with his -eyes open wide from excitement. He presented so unusual an appearance of -bewilderment and delight that Mrs. Downs looked at him and at her niece -for some explanation. “The young lady seems to interest you,” said she, -tentatively. - -[Illustration: “Next to her stood the Princess Aline of Hohenwald”] - -“She is the most charming creature in the world, Mrs. Downs,” cried -Carlton, “and I was going all the way to Grasse to see her, and now it -turns out that she is here in England, within a few miles of us.” He -turned and waved his hands at the passing landscape. “Every minute -brings us nearer together.” - -“And you didn’t feel it in the air!” mocked Miss Morris, laughing. “You -are a pretty poor sort of a man to let a girl tell you where to find the -woman you love.” - -Carlton did not answer, but stared at her very seriously and frowned -intently. “Now I have got to begin all over again and readjust things,” -he said. “We might have guessed she would be in London, on account of -this royal wedding. It is a great pity it isn’t later in the season, -when there would be more things going on and more chances of meeting -her. Now they will all be interested in themselves, and, being extremely -exclusive, no one who isn’t a cousin to the bridegroom or an Emperor -would have any chance at all. Still, I can see her! I can look at her, -and that’s something.” - -“It is better than a photograph, anyway,” said Miss Morris. - -“They will be either at Buckingham Palace or at Windsor, or they will -stop at Brown’s,” said Carlton. “All royalties go to Brown’s. I don’t -know why, unless it is because it is so expensive; or maybe it is -expensive because royalties go there; but, in any event, if they are not -at the palace, that is where they will be, and that is where I shall -have to go too.” - -When the train drew up at Victoria Station, Carlton directed Nolan to -take his things to Brown’s Hotel, but not to unload them until he had -arrived. Then he drove with the ladies to Cox’s, and saw them settled -there. He promised to return at once to dine, and to tell them what he -had discovered in his absence. “You’ve got to help me in this, Miss -Morris,” he said, nervously. “I am beginning to feel that I am not -worthy of her.” - -“Oh yes, you are!” she said, laughing; “but don’t forget that ‘it’s not -the lover who comes to woo, but the lover’s _way_ of wooing,’ and that -‘faint heart’—and the rest of it.” - -“Yes, I know,” said Carlton, doubtfully; “but it’s a bit sudden, isn’t -it?” - -“Oh, I am ashamed of you! You are frightened.” - -“No, not frightened, exactly,” said the painter. “I think it’s just -natural emotion.” - -As Carlton turned into Albemarle Street he noticed a red carpet -stretching from the doorway of Brown’s Hotel out across the sidewalk to -a carriage, and a bareheaded man bustling about apparently assisting -several gentlemen to get into it. This and another carriage and Nolan’s -four-wheeler blocked the way; but without waiting for them to move up, -Carlton leaned out of his hansom and called the bareheaded man to its -side. - -“Is the Duke of Hohenwald stopping at your hotel?” he asked. The -bareheaded man answered that he was. - -“All right, Nolan,” cried Carlton. “They can take in the trunks.” - -Hearing this, the bareheaded man hastened to help Carlton to alight. -“That was the Duke who just drove off, sir; and those,” he said, -pointing to three muffled figures who were stepping into a second -carriage, “are his sisters, the Princesses.” - -Carlton stopped midway, with one foot on the step and the other in the -air. - -“The deuce they are!” he exclaimed; “and which is—” he began, eagerly, -and then remembering himself, dropped back on the cushions of the -hansom. - -He broke into the little dining-room at Cox’s in so excited a state that -two dignified old gentlemen who were eating there sat open-mouthed in -astonished disapproval. Mrs. Downs and Miss Morris had just come down -stairs. - -“I have seen her!” Carlton cried, ecstatically; “only half an hour in -the town, and I’ve seen her already!” - -“No, really?” exclaimed Miss Morris. “And how did she look? Is she as -beautiful as you expected?” - -“Well, I can’t tell yet,” Carlton answered. “There were three of them, -and they were all muffled up, and which one of the three she was I don’t -know. She wasn’t labelled, as in the picture, but she was there, and I -saw her. The woman I love was one of that three, and I have engaged -rooms at the hotel, and this very night the same roof shelters us both.” - - - - - II - - -“The course of true love certainly runs smoothly with you,” said Miss -Morris, as they seated themselves at the table. “What is your next move? -What do you mean to do now?” - -“The rest is very simple,” said Carlton. “To-morrow morning I will go to -the Row; I will be sure to find some one there who knows all about -them—where they are going, and who they are seeing, and what engagements -they may have. Then it will only be a matter of looking up some friend -in the Household or in one of the embassies who can present me.” - -“Oh,” said Miss Morris, in the tone of keenest disappointment, “but that -is such a commonplace ending! You started out so romantically. Couldn’t -you manage to meet her in a less conventional way?” - -“I am afraid not,” said Carlton. “You see, I want to meet her very much, -and to meet her very soon, and the quickest way of meeting her, whether -it’s romantic or not, isn’t a bit too quick for me. There will be -romance enough after I am presented, if I have my way.” - -But Carlton was not to have his way; for he had overlooked the fact that -it requires as many to make an introduction as a bargain, and he had -left the Duke of Hohenwald out of his considerations. He met many people -he knew in the Row the next morning; they asked him to lunch, and -brought their horses up to the rail, and he patted the horses’ heads, -and led the conversation around to the royal wedding, and through it to -the Hohenwalds. He learned that they had attended a reception at the -German Embassy on the previous night, and it was one of the secretaries -of that embassy who informed him of their intended departure that -morning on the eleven o’clock train to Paris. - -“To Paris!” cried Carlton, in consternation. “What! all of them?” - -“Yes, all of them, of course. Why?” asked the young German. But Carlton -was already dodging across the tan-bark to Piccadilly and waving his -stick at a hansom. - -Nolan met him at the door of Brown’s Hotel with an anxious countenance. - -“Their Royal Highnesses have gone, sir,” he said. “But I’ve packed your -trunks and sent them to the station. Shall I follow them, sir?” - -“Yes,” said Carlton. “Follow the trunks and follow the Hohenwalds. I -will come over on the Club train at four. Meet me at the station, and -tell me to what hotel they have gone. Wait; if I miss you, you can find -me at the Hôtel Continental; but if they go straight on through Paris, -you go with them, and telegraph me here and to the Continental. -Telegraph at every station, so I can keep track of you. Have you enough -money?” - -“I have, sir—enough for a long trip, sir.” - -“Well, you’ll need it,” said Carlton, grimly. “This is going to be a -long trip. It is twenty minutes to eleven now; you will have to hurry. -Have you paid my bill here?” - -“I have, sir,” said Nolan. - -“Then get off, and don’t lose sight of those people again.” - -Carlton attended to several matters of business, and then lunched with -Mrs. Downs and her niece. He had grown to like them very much, and was -sorry to lose sight of them, but consoled himself by thinking he would -see them a few days at least in Paris. He judged that he would be there -for some time, as he did not think the Princess Aline and her sisters -would pass through that city without stopping to visit the shops on the -Rue de la Paix. - -“All women are not princesses,” he argued, “but all princesses are -women.” - -“We will be in Paris on Wednesday,” Mrs. Downs told him. “The Orient -Express leaves there twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays, and we have -taken an apartment for next Thursday, and will go right on to -Constantinople.” - -“But I thought you said you had to buy a lot of clothes there?” Carlton -expostulated. - -Mrs. Downs said that they would do that on their way home. - -Nolan met Carlton at the station, and told him that he had followed the -Hohenwalds to the Hôtel Meurice. “There is the Duke, sir, and the three -Princesses,” Nolan said, “and there are two German gentlemen acting as -equerries, and an English captain, a sort of A.D.C. to the Duke, and two -elderly ladies, and eight servants. They travel very simple, sir, and -their people are in undress livery. Brown and red, sir.” - -Carlton pretended not to listen to this. He had begun to doubt but that -Nolan’s zeal would lead him into some indiscretion, and would end -disastrously to himself. He spent the evening alone in front of the Café -de la Paix, pleasantly occupied in watching the life and movement of -that great meeting of the highways. It did not seem possible that he had -ever been away. It was as though he had picked up a book and opened it -at the page and place at which he had left off reading it a moment -before. There was the same type, the same plot, and the same characters, -who were doing the same characteristic things. Even the waiter who -tipped out his coffee knew him; and he knew, or felt as though he knew, -half of those who passed, or who shared with him the half of the -sidewalk. The women at the next table considered the slim, good-looking -young American with friendly curiosity, and the men with them discussed -him in French, until a well-known Parisian recognized Carlton in -passing, and hailed him joyously in the same language, at which the -women laughed and the men looked sheepishly conscious. - -On the following morning Carlton took up his post in the open court of -the Meurice, with his coffee and the _Figaro_ to excuse his loitering -there. He had not been occupied with these over-long before Nolan -approached him, in some excitement, with the information that their -Royal Highnesses—as he delighted to call them—were at that moment -“coming down the lift.” - -Carlton could hear their voices, and wished to step around the corner -and see them; it was for this chance he had been waiting; but he could -not afford to act in so undignified a manner before Nolan, so he merely -crossed his legs nervously, and told the servant to go back to the -rooms. - -“Confound him!” he said; “I wish he would let me conduct my own affairs -in my own way. If I don’t stop him, he’ll carry the Princess Aline off -by force and send me word where he has hidden her.” - -The Hohenwalds had evidently departed for a day’s outing, as up to five -o’clock they had not returned; and Carlton, after loitering all the -afternoon, gave up waiting for them, and went out to dine at Laurent’s, -in the Champs Elysées. He had finished his dinner, and was leaning -luxuriously forward, with his elbows on the table, and knocking the -cigar ashes into his coffee-cup. He was pleasantly content. The trees -hung heavy with leaves over his head, a fountain played and overflowed -at his elbow, and the lamps of the fiacres passing and repassing on the -Avenue of the Champs Elysées shone like giant fire-flies through the -foliage. The touch of the gravel beneath his feet emphasized the free, -out-of-door charm of the place, and the faces of the others around him -looked more than usually cheerful in the light of the candles flickering -under the clouded shades. His mind had gone back to his earlier student -days in Paris, when life always looked as it did now in the brief -half-hour of satisfaction which followed a cold bath or a good dinner, -and he had forgotten himself and his surroundings. It was the voices of -the people at the table behind him that brought him back to the present -moment. A man was talking; he spoke in English, with an accent. - -[Illustration: “A man was talking in English, with an accent”] - -“I should like to go again through the Luxembourg,” he said; “but you -need not be bound by what I do.” - -“I think it would be pleasanter if we all keep together,” said a girl’s -voice, quietly. She also spoke in English, and with the same accent. - -The people whose voices had interrupted him were sitting and standing -around a long table, which the waiters had made large enough for their -party by placing three of the smaller ones side by side; they had -finished their dinner, and the women, who sat with their backs toward -Carlton, were pulling on their gloves. - -“Which is it to be, then?” said the gentleman, smiling. “The pictures or -the dressmakers?” - -The girl who had first spoken turned to the one next to her. - -“Which would you rather do, Aline?” she asked. - -Carlton moved so suddenly that the men behind him looked at him -curiously; but he turned, nevertheless, in his chair and faced them, and -in order to excuse his doing so beckoned to one of the waiters. He was -within two feet of the girl who had been called “Aline.” She raised her -head to speak, and saw Carlton staring open-eyed at her. She glanced at -him for an instant, as if to assure herself that she did not know him, -and then, turning to her brother, smiled in the same tolerant, amused -way in which she had so often smiled upon Carlton from the picture. - -“I am afraid I had rather go to the Bon Marché,” she said. - -One of the waiters stepped in between them, and Carlton asked him for -his bill; but when it came he left it lying on the plate, and sat -staring out into the night between the candles, puffing sharply on his -cigar, and recalling to his memory his first sight of the Princess Aline -of Hohenwald. - -That night, as he turned into bed, he gave a comfortable sigh of -content. “I am glad she chose the dressmakers instead of the pictures,” -he said. - -Mrs. Downs and Miss Morris arrived in Paris on Wednesday, and expressed -their anxiety to have Carlton lunch with them, and to hear him tell of -the progress of his love-affair. There was not much to tell; the -Hohenwalds had come and gone from the hotel as freely as any other -tourists in Paris, but the very lack of ceremony about their movements -was in itself a difficulty. The manner of acquaintance he could make in -the court of the Hôtel Meurice with one of the men over a cup of coffee -or a glass of bock would be as readily discontinued as begun, and for -his purpose it would have been much better if the Hohenwalds had been -living in state with a visitors’ book and a chamberlain. - -On Wednesday evening Carlton took the ladies to the opera, where the -Hohenwalds occupied a box immediately opposite them. Carlton pretended -to be surprised at this fact, but Mrs. Downs doubted his sincerity. - -“I saw Nolan talking to their courier to-day,” she said, “and I fancy he -asked a few leading questions.” - -“Well, he didn’t learn much if he did,” he said. - -“The fellow only talks German.” - -“Ah, then he has been asking questions!” said Miss Morris. - -“Well, he does it on his own responsibility,” said Carlton, “for I told -him to have nothing to do with servants. He has too much zeal, has -Nolan; I’m afraid of him.” - -“If you were only half as interested as he is,” said Miss Morris, “you -would have known her long ago.” - -“Long ago?” exclaimed Carlton. “I only saw her four days since.” - -“She is certainly very beautiful,” said Miss Morris, looking across the -auditorium. - -“But she isn’t there,” said Carlton. “That’s the eldest sister; the two -other sisters went out on the coach this morning to Versailles, and were -too tired to come to-night. At least, so Nolan says. He seems to have -established a friendship for their English maid, but whether it’s on my -account or his own I don’t know. I doubt his unselfishness.” - -“How disappointing of her!” said Miss Morris. “And after you had -selected a box just across the way, too. It is such a pity to waste it -on us.” Carlton smiled, and looked up at her impudently, as though he -meant to say something; but remembering that she was engaged to be -married, changed his mind, and lowered his eyes to his programme. - -“Why didn’t you say it?” asked Miss Morris, calmly, turning her glass to -the stage. “Wasn’t it pretty?” - -“No,” said Carlton—“not pretty enough.” - -The ladies left the hotel the next day to take the Orient Express, which -left Paris at six o’clock. They had bidden Carlton good-by at four the -same afternoon, and as he had come to their rooms for that purpose, they -were in consequence a little surprised to see him at the station, -running wildly along the platform, followed by Nolan and a porter. He -came into their compartment after the train had started, and shook his -head sadly at them from the door. - -“Well, what do you think of this?” he said. “You can’t get rid of me, -you see. I’m going with you.” - -“Going with us?” asked Mrs. Downs. “How far?” - -Carlton laughed, and, coming inside, dropped onto the cushions with a -sigh. “I don’t know,” he said, dejectedly. “All the way, I’m afraid. -That is, I mean, I’m very glad I am to have your society for a few days -more; but really I didn’t bargain for this.” - -“You don’t mean to tell me that _they_ are on this train?” said Miss -Morris. - -“They are,” said Carlton. “They have a car to themselves at the rear. -They only made up their minds to go this morning, and they nearly -succeeded in giving me the slip again; but it seems that their English -maid stopped Nolan in the hall to bid him good-by, and so he found out -their plans. They are going direct to Constantinople, and then to -Athens. They had meant to stay in Paris two weeks longer, it seems, but -they changed their minds last night. It was a very close shave for me. I -only got back to the hotel in time to hear from the concierge that Nolan -had flown with all of my things, and left word for me to follow. Just -fancy! Suppose I had missed the train, and had had to chase him clear -across the continent of Europe with not even a razor——” - -“I am glad,” said Miss Morris, “that Nolan has not taken a fancy to -_me_. I doubt if I could resist such impetuosity.” - -The Orient Express, in which Carlton and the mistress of his heart and -fancy were speeding toward the horizon’s utmost purple rim, was made up -of six cars, one dining-car with a smoking-apartment attached, and five -sleeping-cars, including the one reserved for the Duke of Hohenwald and -his suite. These cars were lightly built, and rocked in consequence, and -the dust raised by the rapid movement of the train swept through cracks -and open windows, and sprinkled the passengers with a fine and -irritating coating of soot and earth. There was one servant to the -entire twenty-two passengers. He spoke eight languages, and never slept; -but as his services were in demand by several people in as many -different cars at the same moment he satisfied no one, and the -complaint-box in the smoking-car was stuffed full to the slot in -consequence before they had crossed the borders of France. - -Carlton and Miss Morris went out upon one of the platforms and sat down -upon a tool-box. “It isn’t as comfortable here as in an observation-car -at home,” said Carlton, “but it’s just as noisy.” - -He pointed out to her from time to time the peasants gathering twigs, -and the blue-bloused gendarmes guarding the woods and the fences -skirting them. “Nothing is allowed to go to waste in this country,” he -said. “It looks as though they went over it once a month with a -lawn-mower and a pruning-knife. I believe they number the trees as we -number the houses.” - -“And did you notice the great fortifications covered with grass?” she -said. “We have passed such a lot of them.” - -Carlton nodded. - -“And did you notice that they all faced only one way?” - -Carlton laughed, and nodded again. “Toward Germany,” he said. - -By the next day they had left the tall poplars and white roads behind -them, and were crossing the land of low shiny black helmets and brass -spikes. They had come into a country of low mountains and black forests, -with old fortified castles topping the hills, and with red-roofed -villages scattered around the base. - -“How very military it all is!” Mrs. Downs said. “Even the men at the -lonely little stations in the forests wear uniforms; and do you notice -how each of them rolls up his red flag and holds it like a sword, and -salutes the train as it passes?” - -They spent the hour during which the train shifted from one station in -Vienna to the other driving about in an open carriage, and stopped for a -few moments in front of a café to drink beer and to feel solid earth -under them again, returning to the train with a feeling which was almost -that of getting back to their own rooms. Then they came to great steppes -covered with long thick grass, and flooded in places with little lakes -of broken ice; great horned cattle stood knee-deep in this grass, and at -the villages and way-stations were people wearing sheepskin jackets and -waistcoats covered with silver buttons. In one place there was a wedding -procession waiting for the train to pass, with the friends of the bride -and groom in their best clothes, the women with silver breastplates, and -boots to their knees. It seemed hardly possible that only two days -before they had seen another wedding party in the Champs Elysées, where -the men wore evening dress, and the women were bareheaded and with long -trains. In forty-eight hours they had passed through republics, -principalities, empires, and kingdoms, and from spring to winter. It was -like walking rapidly over a painted panorama of Europe. - -On the second evening Carlton went off into the smoking-car alone. The -Duke of Hohenwald and two of his friends had finished a late supper, and -were seated in the apartment adjoining it. The Duke was a young man with -a heavy beard and eye-glasses. He was looking over an illustrated -catalogue of the Salon, and as Carlton dropped on the sofa opposite the -Duke raised his head and looked at him curiously, and then turned over -several pages of the catalogue and studied one of them, and then back at -Carlton, as though he were comparing him with something on the page -before him. Carlton was looking out at the night, but he could follow -what was going forward, as it was reflected in the glass of the car -window. He saw the Duke hand the catalogue to one of the equerries, who -raised his eyebrows and nodded his head in assent. Carlton wondered what -this might mean, until he remembered that there was a portrait of -himself by a French artist in the Salon, and concluded it had been -reproduced in the catalogue. He could think of nothing else which would -explain the interest the two men showed in him. On the morning following -he sent Nolan out to purchase a catalogue at the first station at which -they stopped, and found that his guess was a correct one. A portrait of -himself had been reproduced in black and white, with his name below it. - -“Well, they know who I am now,” he said to Miss Morris, “even if they -don’t know me. That honor is still in store for them.” - -“I wish they did not lock themselves up so tightly,” said Miss Morris. -“I want to see her very much. Cannot we walk up and down the platform at -the next station? She may be at the window.” - -“Of course,” said Carlton. “You could have seen her at Buda-Pesth if you -had spoken of it. She was walking up and down then. The next time the -train stops we will prowl up and down and feast our eyes upon her.” - -But Miss Morris had her wish gratified without that exertion. The -Hohenwalds were served in the dining-car after the other passengers had -finished, and were in consequence only to be seen when they passed by -the doors of the other compartments. But this same morning, after -luncheon, the three Princesses, instead of returning to their own car, -seated themselves in the compartment adjoining the dining-car, while the -men of their party lit their cigars and sat in a circle around them. - -“I was wondering how long they could stand three men smoking in one of -the boxes they call cars,” said Mrs. Downs. She was seated between Miss -Morris and Carlton, directly opposite the Hohenwalds, and so near them -that she had to speak in a whisper. To avoid doing this Miss Morris -asked Carlton for a pencil, and scribbled with it in the novel she held -on her lap. Then she passed them both back to him, and said, aloud: -“Have you read this? It has such a pretty dedication.” The dedication -read, “Which is Aline?” And Carlton, taking the pencil in his turn, made -a rapid sketch of her on the fly-leaf, and wrote beneath it: “This is -she. Do you wonder I travelled four thousand miles to see her?” - -Miss Morris took the book again, and glanced at the sketch, and then at -the three Princesses, and nodded her head. “It is very beautiful,” she -said, gravely, looking out at the passing landscape. - -“Well, not beautiful exactly,” answered Carlton, surveying the hills -critically, “but certainly very attractive. It is worth travelling a -long way to see, and I should think one would grow very fond of it.” - -Miss Morris tore the fly-leaf out of the book, and slipped it between -the pages. “May I keep it?” she said. Carlton nodded. “And will you sign -it?” she asked, smiling. Carlton shrugged his shoulders, and laughed. -“If you wish it,” he answered. - -The Princess wore a gray cheviot travelling dress, as did her sisters, -and a gray Alpine hat. She was leaning back, talking to the English -captain who accompanied them, and laughing. Carlton thought he had never -seen a woman who appealed so strongly to every taste of which he was -possessed. She seemed so sure of herself, so alert, and yet so gracious, -so easily entertained, and yet, when she turned her eyes toward the -strange, dismal landscape, so seriously intent upon its sad beauty. The -English captain dropped his head, and with the pretence of pulling at -his mustache, covered his mouth as he spoke to her. When he had finished -he gazed consciously at the roof of the car, and she kept her eyes fixed -steadily at the object toward which they had turned when he had ceased -speaking, and then, after a decent pause, turned her eyes, as Carlton -knew she would, toward him. - -[Illustration: “This is she. Do you wonder I travelled four thousand -miles to see her?”] - -“He was telling her who I am,” he thought, “and about the picture in the -catalogue.” - -In a few moments she turned to her sister and spoke to her, pointing out -at something in the scenery, and the same pantomime was repeated, and -again with the third sister. - -“Did you see those girls talking about you, Mr. Carlton?” Miss Morris -asked, after they had left the car. - -Carlton said it looked as though they were. - -“Of course they were,” said Miss Morris. “That Englishman told the -Princess Aline something about you, and then she told her sister, and -she told the eldest one. It would be nice if they inherit their father’s -interest in painting, wouldn’t it?” - -“I would rather have it degenerate into an interest in painters myself,” -said Carlton. - -Miss Morris discovered, after she had returned to her own car, that she -had left the novel where she had been sitting, and Carlton sent Nolan -back for it. It had slipped to the floor, and the fly-leaf upon which -Carlton had sketched the Princess Aline was lying face down beside it. -Nolan picked up the leaf, and saw the picture, and read the inscription -below: “This is she. Do you wonder I travelled four thousand miles to -see her?” - -He handed the book to Miss Morris, and was backing out of the -compartment, when she stopped him. - -“There was a loose page in this, Nolan,” she said. “It’s gone; did you -see it?” - -“A loose page, miss?” said Nolan, with some concern. “Oh, yes, miss; I -was going to tell you; there was a scrap of paper blew away when I was -passing between the carriages. Was it something you wanted, miss?” - -“Something I wanted!” exclaimed Miss Morris, in dismay. - -Carlton laughed easily. “It is just as well I didn’t sign it, after -all,” he said. “I don’t want to proclaim my devotion to any Hungarian -gypsy who happens to read English.” - -“You must draw me another, as a souvenir,” Miss Morris said. - -Nolan continued on through the length of the car until he had reached -the one occupied by the Hohenwalds, where he waited on the platform -until the English maid-servant saw him and came to the door of the -carriage. - -“What hotel are your people going to stop at in Constantinople?” Nolan -asked. - -“The Grande-Bretagne, I think,” she answered. - -“That’s right,” said Nolan, approvingly. “That’s the one we are going -to. I thought I would come and tell you about it. And, by the way,” he -said, “here’s a picture somebody’s made of your Princess Aline. She -dropped it, and I picked it up. You had better give it back to her. -Well,” he added, politely, “I’m glad you are coming to our hotel in -Constantinople; it’s pleasant having some one to talk to who can speak -your own tongue.” - -The girl returned to the car, and left Nolan alone upon the platform. He -exhaled a long breath of suppressed excitement, and then gazed around -nervously upon the empty landscape. - -“I fancy that’s going to hurry things up a bit,” he murmured, with an -anxious smile; “he’d never get along at all if it wasn’t for me.” - -For reasons possibly best understood by the German ambassador, the state -of the Hohenwalds at Constantinople differed greatly from that which had -obtained at the French capital. They no longer came and went as they -wished, or wandered through the show-places of the city like ordinary -tourists. There was, on the contrary, not only a change in their manner -toward others, but there was an insistence on their part of a difference -in the attitude of others toward themselves. This showed itself in the -reserving of the half of the hotel for their use, and in the haughty -bearing of the equerries, who appeared unexpectedly in magnificent -uniforms. The visitors’ book was covered with the autographs of all of -the important people in the Turkish capital, and the Sultan’s carriages -stood constantly before the door of the hotel, awaiting their pleasure, -until they became as familiar a sight as the street dogs, or as cabs in -a hansom-cab rank. - -And in following out the programme which had been laid down for her, the -Princess Aline became even less accessible to Carlton than before, and -he grew desperate and despondent. - -“If the worst comes,” he said to Miss Morris, “I shall tell Nolan to -give an alarm of fire some night, and then I will run in and rescue her -before they find out there is no fire. Or he might frighten the horses -some day, and give me a chance to stop them. We might even wait until we -reach Greece, and have her carried off by brigands, who would only give -her up to me.” - -“There are no more brigands in Greece,” said Miss Morris; “and besides, -why do you suppose they would only give her up to you?” - -“Because they would be imitation brigands,” said Carlton, “and would be -paid to give her up to no one else.” - -“Oh, you plan very well,” scoffed Miss Morris, “but you don’t _do_ -anything.” - -Carlton was saved the necessity of doing anything that same morning, -when the English captain in attendance on the Duke sent his card to -Carlton’s room. He came, he explained, to present the Prince’s -compliments, and would it be convenient for Mr. Carlton to meet the Duke -that afternoon? Mr. Carlton suppressed an unseemly desire to shout, and -said, after a moment’s consideration, that it would. He then took the -English captain downstairs to the smoking-room, and rewarded him for his -agreeable message. - -The Duke received Carlton in the afternoon, and greeted him most -cordially, and with as much ease of manner as it is possible for a man -to possess who has never enjoyed the benefits of meeting other men on an -equal footing. He expressed his pleasure in knowing an artist with whose -work he was so familiar, and congratulated himself on the happy accident -which had brought them both to the same hotel. - -“I have more than a natural interest in meeting you,” said the Prince, -“and for a reason which you may or may not know. I thought possibly you -could help me somewhat. I have within the past few days come into the -possession of two of your paintings; they are studies, rather, but to me -they are even more desirable than the finished work; and I am not -correct in saying that they have come to me exactly, but to my sister, -the Princess Aline.” - -Carlton could not withhold a certain start of surprise. He had not -expected that his gift would so soon have arrived, but his face showed -only polite attention. - -“The studies were delivered to us in London,” continued the Duke. “They -are of Ludwig the tragedian, and of the German Prime Minister, two most -valuable works, and especially interesting to us. They came without any -note or message which would inform us who had sent them, and when my -people made inquiries, the dealer refused to tell them from whom they -had come. He had been ordered to forward them to Grasse, but, on -learning of our presence in London, sent them direct to our hotel there. -Of course it is embarrassing to have so valuable a present from an -anonymous friend, especially so for my sister, to whom they were -addressed, and I thought that, besides the pleasure of meeting one of -whose genius I am so warm an admirer, I might also learn something which -would enable me to discover who our friend may be.” He paused, but as -Carlton said nothing, continued: “As it is now, I do not feel that I can -accept the pictures; and yet I know no one to whom they can be returned, -unless I send them to the dealer.” - -“It sounds very mysterious,” said Carlton, smiling; “and I am afraid I -cannot help you. What work I did in Germany was sold in Berlin before I -left, and in a year may have changed hands several times. The studies of -which you speak are unimportant, and merely studies, and could pass from -hand to hand without much record having been kept of them; but -personally I am not able to give you any information which would assist -you in tracing them.” - -“Yes,” said the Duke. “Well, then, I shall keep them until I can learn -more; and if we can learn nothing, I shall return them to the dealer.” - -Carlton met Miss Morris that afternoon in a state of great excitement. -“It’s come!” he cried—“it’s come! I am to meet her this week. I have met -her brother, and he has asked me to dine with them on Thursday night; -that’s the day before they leave for Athens; and he particularly -mentioned that his sisters would be at the dinner, and that it would be -a pleasure to present me. It seems that the eldest paints, and all of -them love art for art’s sake, as their father taught them to do; and, -for all we know, he may make me court painter, and I shall spend the -rest of my life at Grasse painting portraits of the Princess Aline, at -the age of twenty-two, and at all future ages. And if he does give me a -commission to paint her, I can tell you now in confidence that that -picture will require more sittings than any other picture ever painted -by man. Her hair will have turned white by the time it is finished, and -the gown she started to pose in will have become forty years behind the -fashion!” - -On the morning following, Carlton and Mrs. Downs and her niece, with all -the tourists in Constantinople, were placed in open carriages by their -dragomans, and driven in a long procession to the Seraglio to see the -Sultan’s treasures. Those of them who had waited two weeks for this -chance looked aggrieved at the more fortunate who had come at the -eleventh hour on the last night’s steamer, and seemed to think these -latter had attained the privilege without sufficient effort. The -ministers of the different legations—as is the harmless custom of such -gentlemen—had impressed every one for whom they had obtained permission -to see the treasures with the great importance of the service rendered, -and had succeeded in making every one feel either especially honored or -especially uncomfortable at having given them so much trouble. This -sense of obligation, and the fact that the dragomans had assured the -tourists that they were for the time being the guests of the Sultan, -awed and depressed most of the visitors to such an extent that their -manner in the long procession of carriages suggested a funeral cortege, -with the Hohenwalds in front, escorted by Beys and Pashas, as chief -mourners. The procession halted at the palace, and the guests of the -Sultan were received by numerous effendis in single-button frock-coats -and freshly ironed fezzes, who served them with glasses of water, and a -huge bowl of some sweet stuff, of which every one was supposed to take a -spoonful. There was at first a general fear among the Cook’s tourists -that there would not be enough of this to go round, which was succeeded -by a greater anxiety lest they should be served twice. Some of the -tourists put the sweet stuff in their mouths direct and licked the -spoon, and others dropped it off the spoon into the glass of water, and -stirred it about and sipped at it, and no one knew who had done the -right thing, not even those who happened to have done it. Carlton and -Miss Morris went out on to the terrace while this ceremony was going -forward, and looked out over the great panorama of waters, with the Sea -of Marmora on one side, the Golden Horn on the other, and the Bosporus -at their feet. The sun was shining mildly, and the waters were stirred -by great and little vessels; before them on the opposite bank rose the -dark green cypresses which marked the grim cemetery of England’s dead, -and behind them were the great turtle-backed mosques and pencil-like -minarets of the two cities, and close at hand the mosaic walls and -beautiful gardens of Constantine. - -“Your friends the Hohenwalds don’t seem to know you this morning,” she -said. - -“Oh, yes; he spoke to me as we left the hotel,” Carlton answered. “But -they are on parade at present. There are a lot of their countrymen among -the tourists.” - -“I feel rather sorry for them,” Miss Morris said, looking at the group -with an amused smile. “Etiquette cuts them off from so much innocent -amusement. Now, you are a gentleman, and the Duke presumably is, and why -should you not go over and say, ‘Your Highness, I wish you would present -me to your sister, whom I am to meet at dinner to-morrow night. I admire -her very much,’ and then you could point out the historical features to -her, and show her where they have finished off a blue and green tiled -wall with a rusty tin roof, and make pretty speeches to her. It wouldn’t -hurt her, and it would do you a lot of good. The simplest way is always -the best way, it seems to me.” - -“Oh yes, of course,” said Carlton. “Suppose he came over here and said: -‘Carlton, I wish you would present me to your young American friend. I -admire her very much.’ I would probably say: ‘Do you? Well, you will -have to wait until she expresses some desire to meet you.’ No; etiquette -is all right in itself, only some people don’t know its laws, and that -is the one instance to my mind where ignorance of the law is no excuse.” - -Carlton left Miss Morris talking with the Secretary of the American -Legation, and went to look for Mrs. Downs. When he returned he found -that the young Secretary had apparently asked and obtained permission to -present the Duke’s equerries and some of his diplomatic confrères, who -were standing now about her in an attentive semicircle, and pointing out -the different palaces and points of interest. Carlton was somewhat -disturbed at the sight, and reproached himself with not having presented -any one to her before. He was sure now that she must have had a dull -time of it; but he wished, nevertheless, that if she was to meet other -men, the Secretary had allowed him to act as master of ceremonies. - -“I suppose you know,” that gentleman was saying as Carlton came up, -“that when you pass by Abydos, on the way to Athens, you will see where -Leander swam the Hellespont to meet Hero. That little white light-house -is called Leander in honor of him. It makes rather an interesting -contrast—does it not?—to think of that chap swimming along in the dark, -and then to find that his monument to-day is a light-house, with -revolving lamps and electric appliances, and with ocean tramps and -bridges and men-of-war around it. We have improved in our mechanism -since then,” he said, with an air, “but I am afraid the men of to-day -don’t do that sort of thing for the women of to-day.” - -“Then it is the men who have deteriorated,” said one of the equerries, -bowing to Miss Morris; “it is certainly not the women.” - -The two Americans looked at Miss Morris to see how she received this, -but she smiled good-naturedly. - -“I know a man who did more than that for a woman,” said Carlton, -innocently. “He crossed an ocean and several countries to meet her, and -he hasn’t met her yet.” - -Miss Morris looked at him and laughed, in the safety that no one -understood him but herself. - -“But he ran no danger,” she answered. - -“He didn’t, didn’t he?” said Carlton, looking at her closely and -laughing. “I think he was in very great danger all the time.” - -“Shocking!” said Miss Morris, reprovingly; “and in her very presence, -too.” She knitted her brows and frowned at him. “I really believe if you -were in prison you would make pretty speeches to the jailer’s daughter.” - -“Yes,” said Carlton, boldly, “or even to a woman who was a prisoner -herself.” - -“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, turning away from him to the -others. “How far was it that Leander swam?” she asked. - -The English captain pointed out two spots on either bank, and said that -the shores of Abydos were a little over that distance apart. - -“As far as that?” said Miss Morris. “How much he must have cared for -her!” She turned to Carlton for an answer. - -“I beg your pardon,” he said. He was measuring the distance between the -two points with his eyes. - -“I said how much he must have cared for her! You wouldn’t swim that far -for a girl.” - -“For a girl!” laughed Carlton, quickly. “I was just thinking I would do -it for fifty dollars.” - -The English captain gave a hasty glance at the distance he had pointed -out, and then turned to Carlton. “I’ll take you,” he said, seriously. -“I’ll bet you twenty pounds you can’t do it.” There was an easy laugh at -Carlton’s expense, but he only shook his head and smiled. - -“Leave him alone, captain,” said the American Secretary. “It seems to me -I remember a story of Mr. Carlton’s swimming out from Navesink to meet -an ocean liner. It was about three miles, and the ocean was rather -rough, and when they slowed up he asked them if it was raining in London -when they left. They thought he was mad.” - -“Is that true, Carlton?” asked the Englishman. - -“Something like it,” said the American, “except that I didn’t ask them -if it was raining in London. I asked them for a drink, and it was they -who were mad. They thought I was drowning, and slowed up to lower a -boat, and when they found out I was just swimming around they were -naturally angry.” - -“Well, I’m glad you didn’t bet with me,” said the captain, with a -relieved laugh. - -That evening, as the Englishman was leaving the smoking-room, and after -he had bidden Carlton good-night, he turned back and said: “I didn’t -like to ask you before those men this morning, but there was something -about your swimming adventure I wanted to know: Did you get that drink?” - -“I did,” said Carlton—“in a bottle. They nearly broke my shoulder.” - -As Carlton came into the breakfast-room on the morning of the day he was -to meet the Princess Aline at dinner, Miss Morris was there alone, and -he sat down at the same table, opposite to her. She looked at him -critically, and smiled with evident amusement. - -“‘To-day,’” she quoted, solemnly, “‘the birthday of my life has come.’” - -Carlton poured out his coffee, with a shake of his head, and frowned. -“Oh, you can laugh,” he said, “but I didn’t sleep at all last night. I -lay awake making speeches to her. I know they are going to put me -between the wrong sisters,” he complained, “or next to one of those old -ladies-in-waiting, or whatever they are.” - -“How are you going to begin?” said Miss Morris. “Will you tell her you -have followed her from London—or from New York, rather—that you are -young Lochinvar, who came out of the West, and——” - -“I don’t know,” said Carlton, meditatively, “just how I shall begin; but -I know the curtain is going to rise promptly at eight o’clock—about the -time the soup comes on, I think. I don’t see how she can help but be -impressed a little bit. It isn’t every day a man hurries around the -globe on account of a girl’s photograph; and she _is_ beautiful, isn’t -she?” - -Miss Morris nodded her head encouragingly. - -“Do you know, sometimes,” said Carlton, glancing over his shoulders to -see if the waiters were out of hearing, “I fancy she has noticed me. -Once or twice I have turned my head in her direction without meaning to, -and found her looking—well, looking my way, at least. Don’t you think -that is a good sign?” he asked, eagerly. - -“It depends on what you call a ‘good sign,’” said Miss Morris, -judicially. “It is a sign you’re good to look at, if that’s what you -want. But you probably know that already, and it’s nothing to your -credit. It certainly isn’t a sign that a person cares for you because -she prefers to look at your profile rather than at what the dragomans -are trying to show her.” - -Carlton drew himself up stiffly. “If you knew your _Alice_ better,” he -said, with severity, “you would understand that it is not polite to make -personal remarks. I ask you, as my confidante, if you think she has -noticed me, and you make fun of my looks! That’s not the part of a -confidante.” - -“Noticed you!” laughed Miss Morris, scornfully. “How could she help it? -You are always in the way. You are at the door whenever they go out or -come in, and when we are visiting mosques and palaces you are invariably -looking at her instead of the tombs and things, with a wistful far-away -look, as though you saw a vision. The first time you did it, after you -had turned away I saw her feel to see if her hair was all right. You -quite embarrassed her.” - -“I didn’t—I don’t!” stammered Carlton, indignantly. “I wouldn’t be so -rude. Oh, I see I’ll have to get another confidante; you are most -unsympathetic and unkind.” - -But Miss Morris showed her sympathy later in the day, when Carlton -needed it sorely; for the dinner toward which he had looked with such -pleasurable anticipations and loverlike misgivings did not take place. -The Sultan, so the equerry informed him, had, with Oriental -unexpectedness, invited the Duke to dine that night at the Palace, and -the Duke, much to his expressed regret, had been forced to accept what -was in the nature of a command. He sent word by his equerry, however, -that the dinner to Mr. Carlton was only a pleasure deferred, and that at -Athens, where he understood Carlton was also going, he hoped to have the -pleasure of entertaining him and making him known to his sisters. - -“He is a selfish young egoist,” said Carlton to Mrs. Downs. “As if I -cared whether he was at the dinner or not! Why couldn’t he have fixed it -so I might have dined with his sisters alone? We would never have missed -him. I’ll never meet her now. I know it; I feel it. Fate is against me. -Now I will have to follow them on to Athens, and something will turn up -there to keep me away from her. You’ll see; you’ll see. I wonder where -they go from Athens?” - -The Hohenwalds departed the next morning, and as their party had engaged -all the staterooms in the little Italian steamer, Carlton was forced to -wait over for the next. He was very gloomy over his disappointment, and -Miss Morris did her best to amuse him. She and her aunt were never idle -now, and spent the last few days of their stay in Constantinople in the -bazaars or in excursions up and down the river. - -“These are my last days of freedom,” Miss Morris said to him once, “and -I mean to make the most of them. After this there will be no more -travelling for me. And I love it so!” she added, wistfully. - -Carlton made no comment, but he felt a certain contemptuous pity for the -young man in America who had required such a sacrifice. “She is too nice -a girl to let him know she is making a sacrifice,” he thought, “or -giving up anything for him, but _she_ won’t forget it.” And Carlton -again commended himself for not having asked any woman to make any -sacrifices for him. - -They left Constantinople for Athens one moonlight night, three days -after the Hohenwalds had taken their departure, and as the evening and -the air were warm, they remained upon the upper deck until the boat had -entered the Dardanelles. There were few passengers, and Mrs. Downs went -below early, leaving Miss Morris and Carlton hanging over the rail, and -looking down upon a band of Hungarian gypsies, who were playing the -weird music of their country on the deck beneath them. The low receding -hills lay close on either hand, and ran back so sharply from the narrow -waterway that they seemed to shut in the boat from the world beyond. The -moonlight showed a little mud fort or a thatched cottage on the bank -fantastically, as through a mist, and from time to time as they sped -forward they saw the camp-fire of a sentry, and his shadow as he passed -between it and them, or stopped to cover it with wood. The night was so -still that they could hear the waves in the steamer’s wake washing up -over the stones on either shore, and the muffled beat of the engines -echoed back from either side of the valley through which they passed. -There was a great lantern hanging midway from the mast, and shining down -upon the lower deck. It showed a group of Greeks, Turks, and Armenians, -in strange costumes, sleeping, huddled together in picturesque confusion -over the bare boards, or wide awake and voluble, smoking and chatting -together in happy company. The music of the tizanes rose in notes of -passionate ecstasy and sharp, unexpected bursts of melody. It ceased and -began again, as though the musicians were feeling their way, and then -burst out once more into shrill defiance. It stirred Carlton with a -strange turbulent unrest. From the banks the night wind brought soft -odors of fresh earth and of heavy foliage. - -“The music of different countries,” Carlton said at last, “means many -different things. But it seems to me that the music of Hungary is the -music of love.” - -Miss Morris crossed her arms comfortably on the rail, and he heard her -laugh softly. “Oh no, it is not,” she said, undisturbed. “It is a -passionate, gusty, heady sort of love, if you like, but it’s no more -like the real thing than burgundy is like clear, cold, good water. It’s -not the real thing at all.” - -“I beg your pardon,” said Carlton, meekly. “Of course I don’t know -anything about it.” He had been waked out of the spell which the night -and the tizanes had placed upon him as completely as though some one had -shaken him sharply by the shoulder. “I bow,” he said, “to your superior -knowledge. I know nothing about it.” - -“No; you are quite right. I don’t believe you do know anything about -it,” said the girl, “or you wouldn’t have made such a comparison.” - -“Do you know, Miss Morris,” said Carlton, seriously, “that I believe I’m -not able to care for a woman as other men do—at least as some men do; -it’s just lacking in me, and always will be lacking. It’s like an ear -for music; if you haven’t got it, if it isn’t born in you, you’ll never -have it. It’s not a thing you can cultivate, and I feel that it’s not -only a misfortune, but a fault. Now I honestly believe that I care more -for the Princess Aline, whom I have never met, than many other men could -care for her if they knew her well; but what they feel would last, and I -have doubts from past experience that what I feel would. I don’t doubt -it while it exists, but it never does exist long, and so I am afraid it -is going to be with me to the end of the chapter.” He paused for a -moment, but the girl did not answer. “I am speaking in earnest now,” he -added, with a rueful laugh. - -“I see you are,” she replied, briefly. She seemed to be considering his -condition as he had described it to her, and he did not interrupt her. -From below them came the notes of the waltz the gypsies played. It was -full of the undercurrent of sadness that a waltz should have, and filled -out what Carlton said as the music from the orchestra in a theatre -heightens the effect without interrupting the words of the actor on the -stage. - -“It is strange,” said Miss Morris. “I should have thought you were a man -who would care very much and in just the right way. But I don’t believe -really—I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you do know what love means at -all.” - -“Oh, it isn’t as bad as that,” said Carlton. “I think I know what it is, -and what it means to other people, but I can’t feel it myself. The best -idea I ever got of it—the thing that made it clear to me—was a line in a -play. It seemed to express it better than any of the love-poems I ever -read. It was in ‘Shenandoah.’” - -Miss Morris laughed. - -“I beg your pardon,” said Carlton. - -“I beg yours,” she said. “It was only the incongruity that struck me. It -seemed so odd to be quoting ‘Shenandoah’ here in the Dardanelles, with -these queer people below us and ancient Troy on one hand—it took me by -surprise, that’s all. Please go on. What was it impressed you?” - -“Well, the hero in the play,” said Carlton, “is an officer in the -Northern army, and he is lying wounded in a house near the Shenandoah -Valley. The girl he loves lives in this house, and is nursing him; but -she doesn’t love him, because she sympathizes with the South. At least -she says she doesn’t love him. Both armies are forming in the valley -below to begin the battle, and he sees his own regiment hurrying past to -join them. So he gets up and staggers out on the stage, which is set to -show the yard in front of the farm-house, and he calls for his horse to -follow his men. Then the girl runs out and begs him not to go; and he -asks why, what does it matter to her whether he goes or not? And she -says, ‘But I cannot let you go; you may be killed.’ And he says again, -‘What is that to you?’ And she says: ‘It is everything to me. I love -you.’ And he makes a grab at her with his wounded arm, and at that -instant both armies open fire in the valley below, and the whole earth -and sky seem to open and shut, and the house rocks. The girl rushes at -him and crowds up against his breast, and cries: ‘What is that? Oh, what -is that?’ and he holds her tight to him and laughs, and says: ‘_That?_ -That’s only a battle—you love me.’” - -Miss Morris looked steadfastly over the side of the boat at the waters -rushing by beneath, smiling to herself. Then she turned her face toward -Carlton, and nodded her head at him. “I think,” she said, dryly, “that -you have a fair idea of what it means; a rough working-plan at -least—enough to begin on.” - -“I said that I knew what it meant to others. I am complaining that I -cannot feel it myself.” - -“That will come in time, no doubt,” she said, encouragingly, with the -air of a connoisseur; “and let me tell you,” she added, “that it will be -all the better for the woman that you have doubted yourself so long.” - -“You think so?” said Carlton, eagerly. - -Miss Morris laughed at his earnestness, and left him to go below to ask -her aunt to join them, but Mrs. Downs preferred to read in the saloon, -and Miss Morris returned alone. She had taken off her Eton jacket and -pulled on a heavy blue football sweater, and over this a reefer. The -jersey clung to her and showed the lines of her figure, and emphasized -the freedom and grace with which she made every movement. She looked, as -she walked at his side with her hands in the pockets of her coat and -with a flat sailor hat on her head, like a tall, handsome boy; but when -they stopped and stood where the light fell full on her hair and the -exquisite coloring of her skin, Carlton thought her face had never -seemed so delicate or fair as it did then, rising from the collar of the -rough jersey, and contrasted with the hat and coat of a man’s attire. -They paced the deck for an hour later, until every one else had left it, -and at midnight were still loath to give up the beautiful night and the -charm of their strange surroundings. There were long silent places in -their talk, during which Carlton tramped beside her with his head half -turned, looking at her and noting with an artist’s eye the free light -step, the erect carriage, and the unconscious beauty of her face. The -captain of the steamer joined them after midnight, and falling into -step, pointed out to Miss Morris where great cities had stood, where -others lay buried, and where beyond the hills were the almost -inaccessible monasteries of the Greek Church. The moonlight turned the -banks into shadowy substances, in which the ghosts of former days seemed -to make a part; and spurred by the young girl’s interest, the Italian, -to entertain her, called up all the legends of mythology and the stories -of Roman explorers and Turkish conquerors. - -“I turn in now,” he said, after Miss Morris had left them. “A most -charming young lady. Is it not so?” he added, waving his cigarette in a -gesture which expressed the ineffectiveness of the adjective. - -“Yes, very,” said Carlton. “Good-night, sir.” - -He turned, and leaned with both elbows on the rail, and looked out at -the misty banks, puffing at his cigar. Then he dropped it hissing into -the water, and, stifling a yawn, looked up and down the length of the -deserted deck. It seemed particularly bare and empty. - -“What a pity she’s engaged!” Carlton said. “She loses so much by it.” - -They steamed slowly into the harbor of the Piræus at an early hour the -next morning, with a flotilla of small boats filled with shrieking -porters and hotel-runners at the sides. These men tossed their painters -to the crew, and crawled up them like a boarding crew of pirates, -running wildly about the deck, and laying violent hands on any piece of -baggage they saw unclaimed. The passengers’ trunks had been thrown out -in a heap on the deck, and Nolan and Carlton were clambering over them, -looking for their own effects, while Miss Morris stood below, as far out -of the confusion as she could place herself, and pointed out the -different pieces that belonged to her. As she stood there one of the -hotel-runners, a burly, greasy Levantine in pursuit of a possible -victim, shouldered her intentionally and roughly out of the way. He -shoved her so sharply that she lost her balance and fell back against -the rail. Carlton saw what had happened, and made a flying leap from the -top of the pile of trunks, landing beside her, and in time to seize the -escaping offender by the collar. He jerked him back off his feet. - -“How dare you—” he began. - -But he did not finish. He felt the tips of Miss Morris’s fingers laid -upon his shoulder, and her voice saying, in an annoyed tone: “Don’t; -please don’t.” And, to his surprise, his fingers lost their grip on the -man’s shirt, his arms dropped at his side, and his blood began to flow -calmly again through his veins. Carlton was aware that he had a very -quick temper. He was always engaging in street rows, as he called them, -with men who he thought had imposed on him or on some one else, and -though he was always ashamed of himself later, his temper had never been -satisfied without a blow or an apology. Women had also touched him -before, and possibly with a greater familiarity; but these had stirred -him, not quieted him; and men who had laid detaining hands on him had -had them beaten down for their pains. But this girl had merely touched -him gently, and he had been made helpless. It was most perplexing; and -while the custom-house officials were passing his luggage, he found -himself rubbing his arm curiously, as though it were numb, and looking -down at it with an amused smile. He did not comment on the incident, -although he smiled at the recollection of his prompt obedience several -times during the day. But as he was stepping into the cab to drive to -Athens, he saw the offending ruffian pass, dripping with water, and -muttering bitter curses. When he saw Carlton he disappeared instantly in -the crowd. Carlton stepped over to where Nolan sat beside the driver on -the box. “Nolan,” he said, in a low voice, “isn’t that the fellow who——” - -“Yes, sir,” said Nolan, touching his hat gravely. “He was pulling a -valise one way, and the gentleman that owned it, sir, was pulling it the -other, and the gentleman let go sudden, and the Italian went over -backwards off the pier.” - -Carlton smiled grimly with secret satisfaction. - -“Nolan,” he said, “you’re not telling the truth. You did it yourself.” -Nolan touched his cap and coughed consciously. There had been no -detaining fingers on Nolan’s arm. - - - - - III - - -“You are coming now, Miss Morris,” exclaimed Carlton from the front of -the carriage in which they were moving along the sunny road to Athens, -“into a land where one restores his lost illusions. Anybody who wishes -to get back his belief in beautiful things should come here to do it, -just as he would go to a German sanitarium to build up his nerves or his -appetite. You have only to drink in the atmosphere and you are cured. I -know no better antidote than Athens for a siege of cable-cars and muddy -asphalt pavements and a course of ‘Robert Elsmeres’ and the ‘Heavenly -Twins.’ Wait until you see the statues of the young athletes in the -Museum,” he cried, enthusiastically, “and get a glimpse of the blue sky -back of Mount Hymettus, and the moonlight some evening on the Acropolis, -and you’ll be convinced that nothing counts for much in this world but -health and straight limbs, and tall marble pillars, and eyes trained to -see only what is beautiful. Give people a love for beauty and a respect -for health, Miss Morris, and the result is going to be, what they once -had here, the best art and the greatest writers and satirists and poets. -The same audience that applauded Euripides and Sophocles in the open -theatre used to cross the road the same day to applaud the athletes who -ran naked in the Olympian games, and gave them as great honor. I came -here once on a walking tour with a chap who wasn’t making as much of -himself as he should have done, and he went away a changed man, and -became a personage in the world, and you would never guess what it was -that did it. He saw a statue of one of the Greek gods in the Museum -which showed certain muscles that he couldn’t find in his own body, and -he told me he was going to train down until they did show; and he -stopped drinking and loafing to do it, and took to exercising and -working; and by the time the muscles showed out clear and strong he was -so keen over life that he wanted to make the most of it, and, as I said, -he has done it. That’s what a respect for his own body did for him.” - -The carriage stopped at the hotel on one side of the public square of -Athens, with the palace and its gardens blocking one end, and yellow -houses with red roofs, and gay awnings over the cafés, surrounding it. -It was a bright sunny day, and the city was clean and cool and pretty. - -“Breakfast?” exclaimed Miss Morris, in answer to Carlton’s inquiry; -“yes, I suppose so, but I won’t feel safe until I have my feet on that -rock.” She was standing on the steps of the hotel, looking up with -expectant, eager eyes at the great Acropolis above the city. - -“It has been there for a long time now,” suggested Carlton, “and I think -you can risk its being there for a half-hour longer.” - -“Well,” she said, reluctantly, “but I don’t wish to lose this chance. -There might be an earthquake, for instance.” - - -“We are likely to see _them_ this morning,” said Carlton, as he left the -hotel with the ladies and drove toward the Acropolis. “Nolan has been -interviewing the English maid, and she tells him they spend the greater -part of their time up there on the rock. They are living very simply -here, as they did in Paris; that is, for the present. On Wednesday the -King gives a dinner and a reception in their honor.” - -“When does your dinner come off?” asked Miss Morris. - -“Never,” said Carlton, grimly. - -“One of the reasons why I like to come back to Athens so much,” said -Mrs. Downs, “is because there are so few other tourists here to spoil -the local color for you, and there are almost as few guides as tourists, -so that you can wander around undisturbed and discover things for -yourself. They don’t label every fallen column, and place fences around -the temples. They seem to put you on your good behavior. Then I always -like to go to a place where you are as much of a curiosity to the people -as they are to you. It seems to excuse your staring about you.” - -“A curiosity!” exclaimed Carlton; “I should say so! The last time I was -here I tried to wear a pair of knickerbockers around the city, and the -people stared so that I had to go back to the hotel and change them. I -shouldn’t have minded it so much in any other country, but I thought men -who wore Jaeger underclothing and women’s petticoats for a national -costume might have excused so slight an eccentricity as knickerbockers. -_They_ had no right to throw the first stone.” - -The rock upon which the temples of the Acropolis are built is more of a -hill than a rock. It is much steeper upon one side than the other, with -a sheer fall a hundred yards broad; on the opposite side there are the -rooms of the Hospital of Æsculapius and the theatres of Dionysus and -Herodes Atticus. The top of the rock holds the Parthenon and the other -smaller temples, or what yet remains of them, and its surface is -littered with broken marble and stones and pieces of rock. The top is so -closely built over that the few tourists who visit it can imagine -themselves its sole occupants for a half-hour at a time. When Carlton -and his friends arrived, the place appeared quite deserted. They left -the carriage at the base of the rock, and climbed up to the entrance on -foot. - -“Now, before I go on to the Parthenon,” said Miss Morris, “I want to -walk around the sides, and see what is there. I shall begin with that -theatre to the left, and I warn you that I mean to take my time about -it. So you people who have been here before can run along by yourselves, -but I mean to enjoy it leisurely. I am safe by myself here, am I not?” -she asked. - -“As safe as though you were in the Metropolitan Museum,” said Carlton, -as he and Mrs. Downs followed Miss Morris along the side of the hill -toward the ruined theatre of Herodes, and stood at its top, looking down -into the basin below. From their feet ran a great semicircle of marble -seats, descending tier below tier to a marble pavement, and facing a -great ruined wall of pillars and arches which in the past had formed the -background for the actors. From the height on which they stood above the -city they could see the green country stretching out for miles on every -side and swimming in the warm sunlight, the dark groves of myrtle on the -hills, the silver ribbon of the inland water, and the dark blue Ægean -Sea. The bleating of sheep and the tinkling of the bells came up to them -from the pastures below, and they imagined they could hear the shepherds -piping to their flocks from one little hill-top to another. - -“The country is not much changed,” said Carlton. “And when you stand -where we are now, you can imagine that you see the procession winding -its way over the road to the Eleusinian Mysteries, with the gilded -chariots, and the children carrying garlands, and the priestesses -leading the bulls for the sacrifice.” - -“What can we imagine is going on here?” said Miss Morris, pointing with -her parasol to the theatre below. - -“Oh, this is much later,” said Carlton. “This was built by the Romans. -They used to act and to hold their public meetings here. This -corresponds to the top row of our gallery, and you can imagine that you -are looking down on the bent backs of hundreds of bald-headed men in -white robes, listening to the speakers strutting about below there.” - -“I wonder how much they could hear from this height?” said Mrs. Downs. - -“Well, they had that big wall for a sounding-board, and the air is so -soft here that their voices should have carried easily, and I believe -they wore masks with mouth-pieces, that conveyed the sound like a -fireman’s trumpet. If you like, I will run down there and call up to -you, and you can hear how it sounded. I will speak in my natural voice -first, and if that doesn’t reach you, wave your parasol, and I will try -it a little louder.” - -“Oh, do!” said Miss Morris. “It will be very good of you. I should like -to hear a real speech in the theatre of Herodes,” she said, as she -seated herself on the edge of the marble crater. - -“I’ll have to speak in English,” said Carlton, as he disappeared; “my -Greek isn’t good enough to carry that far.” - -Mrs. Downs seated herself beside her niece, and Carlton began scrambling -down the side of the amphitheatre. The marble benches were broken in -parts, and where they were perfect were covered with a fine layer of -moss as smooth and soft as green velvet, so that Carlton, when he was -not laboriously feeling for his next foothold with the toe of his boot, -was engaged in picking spring flowers from the beds of moss and sticking -them, for safe-keeping, in his button-hole. He was several minutes in -making the descent, and so busily occupied in doing it that he did not -look up until he had reached the level of the ground, and jumped lightly -from the first row of seats to the stage, covered with moss, which lay -like a heavy rug over the marble pavement. When he did look up he saw a -tableau that made his heart, which was beating quickly from the exertion -of the descent, stand still with consternation. The Hohenwalds had, in -his short absence, descended from the entrance of the Acropolis, and had -stopped on their way to the road below to look into the cool green and -white basin of the theatre. At the moment Carlton looked up the Duke was -standing in front of Mrs. Downs and Miss Morris, and all of the men had -their hats off. Then, in pantomime, and silhouetted against the blue sky -behind them, Carlton saw the Princesses advance beside their brother, -and Mrs. Downs and her niece curtsied three times, and then the whole -party faced about in a line and looked down at him. The meaning of the -tableau was only too plain. - -“Good heavens!” gasped Carlton. “Everybody’s getting introduced to -everybody else, and I’ve missed the whole thing! If they think I’m going -to stay down here and amuse them, and miss all the fun myself, they are -greatly mistaken.” He made a mad rush for the front first row of seats; -but there was a cry of remonstrance from above, and, looking up, he saw -all of the men waving him back. - -“Speech!” cried the young English Captain, applauding loudly, as though -welcoming an actor on his first entrance. “Hats off!” he cried. “Down in -front! Speech!” - -“Confound that ass!” said Carlton, dropping back to the marble pavement -again, and gazing impotently up at the row of figures outlined against -the sky. “I must look like a bear in the bear-pit at the Zoo,” he -growled. “They’ll be throwing buns to me next.” He could see the two -elder sisters talking to Mrs. Downs, who was evidently explaining his -purpose in going down to the stage of the theatre, and he could see the -Princess Aline bending forward, with both hands on her parasol, and -smiling. The captain made a trumpet of his hands, and asked why he -didn’t begin. - -“Hello! how are you?” Carlton called back, waving his hat at him in some -embarrassment. “I wonder if I look as much like a fool as I feel?” he -muttered. - -“What did you say? We can’t hear you,” answered the captain. - -“Louder! louder!” called the equerries. Carlton swore at them under his -breath, and turned and gazed round the hole in which he was penned in -order to make them believe that he had given up the idea of making a -speech, or had ever intended doing so. He tried to think of something -clever to shout back at them, and rejected “Ye men of Athens” as being -too flippant, and “Friends, Countrymen, Romans,” as requiring too much -effort. When he looked up again the Hohenwalds were moving on their way, -and as he started once more to scale the side of the theatre the Duke -waved his hand at him in farewell, and gave another hand to his sisters, -who disappeared with him behind the edge of the upper row of seats. -Carlton turned at once and dropped into one of the marble chairs and -bowed his head. When he did reach the top Miss Morris held out a -sympathetic hand to him and shook her head sadly, but he could see that -she was pressing her lips tightly together to keep from smiling. - -“Oh, it’s all very funny for you,” he said, refusing her hand. “I don’t -believe you are in love with anybody. You don’t know what it means.” - -They revisited the rock on the next day and on the day after, and then -left Athens for an inland excursion to stay overnight. Miss Morris -returned from it with the sense of having done her duty once, and by so -doing having earned the right to act as she pleased in the future. What -she best pleased to do was to wander about over the broad top of the -Acropolis, with no serious intent of studying its historical values, but -rather, as she explained it, for the simple satisfaction of feeling that -she was there. She liked to stand on the edge of the low wall along its -top and look out over the picture of sea and plain and mountains that -lay below her. The sun shone brightly, and the wind swept by them as -though they were on the bridge of an ocean steamer, and there was the -added invigorating sense of pleasure that comes to us when we stand on a -great height. Carlton was sitting at her feet, shielded from the wind by -a fallen column, and gazing up at her with critical approval. - -“You look like a sort of a ‘Winged Victory’ up there,” he said, “with -the wind blowing your skirts about and your hair coming down.” - -“I don’t remember that the ‘Winged Victory’ has any hair to blow about,” -suggested Miss Morris. - -“I’d like to paint you,” continued Carlton, “just as you are standing -now, only I would put you in a Greek dress; and you could stand a Greek -dress better than almost any one I know. I would paint you with your -head up and one hand shielding your eyes, and the other pressed against -your breast. It would be stunning.” He spoke enthusiastically, but in -quite an impersonal tone, as though he were discussing the posing of a -model. - -Miss Morris jumped down from the low wall on which she had been -standing, and said, simply, “Of course I should like to have you paint -me very much.” - -Mrs. Downs looked up with interest to see if Mr. Carlton was serious. - -“When?” said Carlton, vaguely. “Oh, I don’t know. Of course this is -entirely too nice to last, and you will be going home soon, and then -when I do get back to the States you will—you will have other things to -do.” - -“Yes,” repeated Miss Morris, “I shall have something else to do besides -gazing out at the Ægean Sea.” She raised her head and looked across the -rock for a moment with some interest. Her eyes, which had grown wistful, -lighted again with amusement. “Here are your friends,” she said, -smiling. - -“No!” exclaimed Carlton, scrambling to his feet. - -“Yes,” said Miss Morris. “The Duke has seen us, and is coming over -here.” - -When Carlton had gained his feet and turned to look, his friends had -separated in different directions, and were strolling about alone or in -pairs among the great columns of the Parthenon. But the Duke came -directly toward them, and seated himself on a low block of marble in -front of the two ladies. After a word or two about the beauties of the -place, he asked if they would go to the reception which the King gave to -him on the day following. They answered that they should like to come -very much, and the Prince expressed his satisfaction, and said that he -would see that the chamberlain sent them invitations. “And you, Mr. -Carlton, you will come also, I hope. I wish you to be presented to my -sisters. They are only amateurs in art, but they are great admirers of -your work, and they have rebuked me for not having already presented -you. We were all disappointed,” he continued, courteously, “at not -having you to dine with us that night in Constantinople, but now I trust -I shall see something of you here. You must tell us what we are to -admire.” - -“That is very easy,” said Carlton. “Everything.” - -“You are quite right,” said the Prince, bowing to the ladies as he moved -away. “It is all very beautiful.” - -“Well, now you certainly will meet her,” said Miss Morris. - -“Oh no, I won’t,” said Carlton, with resignation. “I have had two -chances and lost them, and I’ll miss this one too.” - -“Well, there is a chance you shouldn’t miss,” said Miss Morris, pointing -and nodding her head. “There she is now, and all alone. She’s sketching, -isn’t she, or taking notes? What is she doing?” - -Carlton looked eagerly in the direction Miss Morris had signified, and -saw the Princess Aline sitting at some distance from them, with a book -on her lap. She glanced up from this now and again to look at something -ahead of her, and was apparently deeply absorbed in her occupation. - -“There is your opportunity,” said Mrs. Downs; “and we are going back to -the hotel. Shall we see you at luncheon?” - -“Yes,” said Carlton, “unless I get a position as drawing-master; in that -case I shall be here teaching the three amateurs in art. Do you think I -can do it?” he asked Miss Morris. - -“Decidedly,” she answered. “I have found you a most educational young -person.” - -They went away together, and Carlton moved cautiously toward the spot -where the Princess was sitting. He made a long and roundabout détour as -he did so, in order to keep himself behind her. He did not mean to come -so near that she would see him, but he took a certain satisfaction in -looking at her when she was alone, though her loneliness was only a -matter of the moment, and though he knew that her people were within a -hundred yards of her. He was in consequence somewhat annoyed and -surprised to see another young man dodging in and out among the pillars -of the Parthenon immediately ahead of him, and to find that this young -man also had his attention centred on the young girl, who sat -unconsciously sketching in the foreground. - -“Now what the devil can he want?” muttered Carlton, his imagination -taking alarm at once. - -“If it would only prove to be some one who meant harm to her,” he -thought—“a brigand, or a beggar, who might be obligingly insolent, or -even a tipsy man, what a chance it would afford for heroic action!” - -With this hope he moved forward quickly but silently, hoping that the -stranger might prove even to be an anarchist with a grudge against -royalty. And as he advanced he had the satisfaction of seeing the -Princess glance over her shoulder, and, observing the man, rise and walk -quickly away toward the edge of the rock. There she seated herself with -her face toward the city, and with her back firmly set against her -pursuer. - -“He _is_ annoying her!” exclaimed Carlton, delightedly, as he hurried -forward. “It looks as though my chance had come at last.” But as he -approached the stranger he saw, to his great disappointment, that he had -nothing more serious to deal with than one of the international army of -amateur photographers, who had been stalking the Princess as a hunter -follows an elk, or as he would have stalked a race-horse or a prominent -politician or a Lord Mayor’s show, everything being fish that came -within the focus of his camera. A helpless statue and an equally -helpless young girl were both good subjects and at his mercy. He was -bending over, with an anxious expression of countenance, and focussing -his camera on the back of the Princess Aline, when Carlton approached -from the rear. As the young man put his finger on the button of the -camera, Carlton jogged his arm with his elbow, and pushed the -enthusiastic tourist to one side. - -“I say,” exclaimed that individual, “look where you’re going, will you? -You spoiled that plate.” - -“I’ll spoil your camera if you annoy that young lady any longer,” said -Carlton, in a low voice. - -The photographer was rapidly rewinding his roll, and the fire of pursuit -was still in his eye. - -“She’s a Princess,” he explained, in an excited whisper. - -“Well,” said Carlton, “even a Princess is entitled to some -consideration. Besides,” he said, in a more amicable tone, “you haven’t -a permit to photograph on the Acropolis. You know you haven’t.” Carlton -was quite sure of this, because there were no such permits. - -The amateur looked up in some dismay. “I didn’t know you had to have -them,” he said. “Where can I get one?” - -“The King may give you one,” said Carlton. “He lives at the palace. If -they catch you up here without a license, they will confiscate your -camera and lock you up. You had better vanish before they see you.” - -“Thank you. I will,” said the tourist, anxiously. - -“Now,” thought Carlton, smiling pleasantly, “when he goes to the palace -with that box and asks for a permit, they’ll think he is either a -dynamiter or a crank, and before they are through with him his interest -in photography will have sustained a severe shock.” - -As Carlton turned from watching the rapid flight of the photographer, he -observed that the Princess had remarked it also, as she had no doubt -been a witness of what had passed, even if she had not overheard all -that had been said. She rose from her enforced position of refuge with a -look of relief, and came directly toward Carlton along the rough path -that led through the débris on the top of the Acropolis. Carlton had -thought, as he watched her sitting on the wall, with her chin resting on -her hand, that she would make a beautiful companion picture to the one -he had wished to paint of Miss Morris—the one girl standing upright, -looking fearlessly out to sea, on the top of the low wall, with the wind -blowing her skirts about her, and her hair tumbled in the breeze, and -the other seated, bending intently forward, as though watching for the -return of a long-delayed vessel; a beautifully sad face, fine and -delicate and noble, the face of a girl on the figure of a woman. And -when she rose he made no effort to move away, or, indeed, to pretend not -to have seen her, but stood looking at her as though he had the right to -do so, and as though she must know he had that right. As she came toward -him the Princess Aline did not stop, nor even shorten her steps; but as -she passed opposite to him she bowed her thanks with a sweet impersonal -smile and a dropping of the eyes, and continued steadily on her way. - -Carlton stood for some short time looking after her, with his hat still -at his side. She seemed farther from him at that moment than she had -ever been before, although she had for the first time recognized him. -But he knew that it was only as a human being that she had recognized -him. He put on his hat, and sat down on a rock with his elbows on his -knees, and filled his pipe. - -“If that had been any other girl,” he thought, “I would have gone up to -her and said, ‘Was that man annoying you?’ and she would have said, -‘Yes; thank you,’ or something; and I would have walked along with her -until we had come up to her friends, and she would have told them I had -been of some slight service to her, and they would have introduced us, -and all would have gone well. But because she is a Princess she cannot -be approached in that way. At least she does not think so, and I have to -act as she has been told I should act, and not as I think I should. -After all, she is only a very beautiful girl, and she must be very tired -of her cousins and grandmothers, and of not being allowed to see any one -else. These royalties make a very picturesque show for the rest of us, -but indeed it seems rather hard on them. A hundred years from now there -will be no more kings and queens, and the writers of that day will envy -us, just as the writers of this day envy the men who wrote of chivalry -and tournaments, and they will have to choose their heroes from bank -presidents, and their heroines from lady lawyers and girl politicians -and type-writers. What a stupid world it will be then!” - -The next day brought the reception to the Hohenwalds; and Carlton, -entering the reading-room of the hotel on the same afternoon, found Miss -Morris and her aunt there together taking tea. They both looked at him -with expressions of such genuine commiseration that he stopped just as -he was going to seat himself and eyed them defiantly. - -“Don’t tell me,” he exclaimed, “that this has fallen through too!” - -Miss Morris nodded her head silently. - -Carlton dropped into the chair beside them, and folded his arms with a -frown of grim resignation. “What is it?” he asked. “Have they postponed -the reception?” - -“No,” Miss Morris said; “but the Princess Aline will not be there.” - -“Of course not,” said Carlton, calmly, “of course not. May I ask why? I -knew that she wouldn’t be there, but I may possibly be allowed to -express some curiosity.” - -“She turned her ankle on one of the loose stones on the Acropolis this -afternoon,” said Miss Morris, “and sprained it so badly that they had to -carry her——” - -“Who carried her?” Carlton demanded, fiercely. - -“Some of her servants.” - -“Of course, of course!” cried Carlton. “That’s the way it always will -be. I was there the whole afternoon, and I didn’t see her. I wasn’t -there to help her. It’s Fate, that’s what it is—Fate! There’s no use in -my trying to fight against Fate. Still,” he added anxiously, with a -sudden access of hope, “she may be well by this evening.” - -“I hardly think she will,” said Miss Morris, “but we will trust so.” - -The King’s palace and gardens stretch along one end of the public park, -and are but just across the street from the hotel where the Hohenwalds -and the Americans were staying. As the hotel was the first building on -the left of the square, Carlton could see from his windows the -illuminations, and the guards of honor, and the carriages arriving and -departing, and the citizens of Athens crowding the parks and peering -through the iron rails into the King’s garden. It was a warm night, and -lighted grandly by a full moon that showed the Acropolis in silhouette -against the sky, and gave a strangely theatrical look to the yellow -house fronts and red roofs of the town. Every window in the broad front -of the palace was illuminated, and through the open doors came the sound -of music, and one without could see rows of tall servants in the King’s -blue and white livery, and the men of his guard in their white -petticoats and black and white jackets and red caps. Carlton pulled a -light coat over his evening dress, and, with an agitation he could -hardly explain, walked across the street and entered the palace. The -line of royalties had broken by the time he reached the ball-room, and -the not over-severe etiquette of the Greek court left him free, after a -bow to those who still waited to receive it, to move about as he -pleased. His most earnest desire was to learn whether or not the -Princess Aline was present, and with that end he clutched the English -adjutant as that gentleman was hurrying past him, and asked eagerly if -the Princess had recovered from her accident. - -“No,” said the officer; “she’s able to walk about, but not to stand, and -sit out a dinner, and dance, and all this sort of thing. Too bad, wasn’t -it?” - -“Yes,” said Carlton, “very bad.” He released his hand from the other’s -arm, and dropped back among the men grouped about the doorway. His -disappointment was very keen. Indeed, he had not known how much this -meeting with the Princess had meant to him until he experienced this -disappointment, which was succeeded by a wish to find Miss Morris, and -have her sympathize and laugh with him. He became conscious, as he -searched with growing impatience the faces of those passing and -repassing before him, of how much the habit of going to Miss Morris for -sympathy in his unlucky love-affair had grown of late upon him. He -wondered what he would have done in his travels without her, and whether -he should have had the interest to carry on his pursuit had she not been -there to urge him on, and to mock at him when he grew faint-hearted. - -But when he finally did discover her he stood quite still, and for an -instant doubted if it were she. The girl he saw seemed to be a more -beautiful sister of the Miss Morris he knew—a taller, fairer, and more -radiant personage; and he feared that it was not she, until he -remembered that this was the first time he had ever seen her with her -hair dressed high upon her head, and in the more distinguished -accessories of a décolleté gown and train. Miss Morris had her hand on -the arm of one of the equerries, who was battling good-naturedly with -the crowd, and trying to draw her away from two persistent youths in -diplomatic uniform who were laughing and pressing forward in close -pursuit on the other side. Carlton approached her with a certain feeling -of diffidence, which was most unusual to him, and asked if she were -dancing. - -“Mr. Carlton shall decide for me,” Miss Morris said, dropping the -equerry’s arm and standing beside the American. “I have promised all of -these gentlemen,” she explained, “to dance with them, and now they won’t -agree as to which is to dance first. They’ve wasted half this waltz -already in discussing it, and they make it much more difficult by saying -that no matter how I decide, they will fight duels with the one I -choose, which is most unpleasant for me.” - -“Most unpleasant for the gentleman you choose, too,” suggested Carlton. - -“So,” continued Miss Morris, “I have decided to leave it to you.” - -“Well, if I am to arbitrate between the powers,” said Carlton, with a -glance at the three uniforms, “my decision is that as they insist on -fighting duels in any event, you had better dance with me until they -have settled it between them, and then the survivor can have the next -dance.” - -“That’s a very good idea,” said Miss Morris; and taking Carlton’s arm, -she bowed to the three men and drew away. - -“Mr. Carlton,” said the equerry, with a bow, “has added another argument -in favor of maintaining standing armies, and of not submitting questions -to arbitration.” - -“Let’s get out of this,” said Carlton. “You don’t want to dance, do you? -Let us go where it’s cool.” - -He led her down the stairs, and out on to the terrace. They did not -speak again until they had left it, and were walking under the trees in -the Queen’s garden. He had noticed as they made their way through the -crowd how the men and women turned to look at her and made way for her, -and how utterly unconscious she was of their doing so, with that -unconsciousness which comes from familiarity with such discrimination, -and Carlton himself held his head a little higher with the pride and -pleasure the thought gave him that he was in such friendly sympathy with -so beautiful a creature. He stopped before a low stone bench that stood -on the edge of the path, surrounded by a screen of tropical trees, and -guarded by a marble statue. They were in deep shadow themselves, but the -moonlight fell on the path at their feet, and through the trees on the -other side of the path they could see the open terrace of the palace, -with the dancers moving in and out of the lighted windows. The splash of -a fountain came from some short distance behind them, and from time to -time they heard the strains of a regimental band alternating with the -softer strains of a waltz played by a group of Hungarian musicians. For -a moment neither of them spoke, but sat watching the white dresses of -the women and the uniforms of the men moving in and out among the trees, -lighted by the lanterns hanging from the branches, and the white mist of -the moon. - -“Do you know,” said Carlton, “I’m rather afraid of you to-night!” He -paused, and watched her for a little time as she sat upright, with her -hands folded on her lap. “You are so very resplendent and queenly and -altogether different,” he added. The girl moved her bare shoulders -slightly and leaned back against the bench. - -“The Princess did not come,” she said. - -“No,” Carlton answered, with a sudden twinge of conscience at having -forgotten that fact. “That’s one of the reasons I took you away from -those men,” he explained. “I wanted you to sympathize with me.” - -Miss Morris did not answer him at once. She did not seem to be in a -sympathetic mood. Her manner suggested rather that she was tired and -troubled. - -“I need sympathy myself to-night,” she said. “We received a letter after -dinner that brought bad news for us. We must go home at once.” - -“Bad news!” exclaimed Carlton, with much concern. “From home?” - -“Yes, from home,” she replied; “but there is nothing wrong there; it is -only bad news for us. My sister has decided to be married in June -instead of July, and that cuts us out of a month on the Continent. -That’s all. We shall have to leave immediately—to-morrow. It seems that -Mr. Abbey is able to go away sooner than he had hoped, and they are to -be married on the first.” - -“Mr. Abbey!” exclaimed Carlton, catching at the name. “But your sister -isn’t going to marry him, is she?” - -Miss Morris turned her head in some surprise. “Yes—why not?” she said. - -“But I say!” cried Carlton, “I thought—your aunt told me that you were -going to marry Abbey; she told me so that day on the steamer when he -came to see you off.” - -“I marry him—my aunt told you—impossible!” said Miss Morris, smiling. -“She probably said that ‘her niece’ was going to marry him; she meant my -sister. They had been engaged some time.” - -“Then who are _you_ going to marry?” stammered Carlton. - -“I am not going to marry any one,” said Miss Morris. - -Carlton stared at her blankly in amazement. “Well, that’s most absurd!” -he exclaimed. - -He recognized instantly that the expression was hardly adequate, but he -could not readjust his mind so suddenly to the new idea, and he remained -looking at her with many confused memories rushing through his brain. A -dozen questions were on his tongue. He remembered afterward how he had -noticed a servant trimming the candle in one of the orange-colored -lanterns, and that he had watched him as he disappeared among the palms. - -The silence lasted for so long a time that it had taken on a -significance in itself which Carlton recognized. He pulled himself up -with a short laugh. “Well,” he remonstrated, mirthlessly, “I don’t think -you’ve treated _me_ very well.” - -“How, not treated you very well?” Miss Morris asked, settling herself -more easily. She had been sitting during the pause which followed -Carlton’s discovery with a certain rigidity, as if she was on a strain -of attention. But her tone was now as friendly as always, and held its -customary suggestion of amusement. Carlton took his tone from it, -although his mind was still busily occupied with incidents and words of -hers that she had spoken in their past intercourse. - -“Not fair in letting me think you were engaged,” he said. “I’ve wasted -so much time; I’m not half civil enough to engaged girls,” he explained. - -“You’ve been quite civil enough to us,” said Miss Morris, “as a courier, -philosopher, and friend. I’m very sorry we have to part company.” - -“Part company!” exclaimed Carlton, in sudden alarm. “But, I say, we -mustn’t do that.” - -“But we must, you see,” said Miss Morris. “We must go back for the -wedding, and you will have to follow the Princess Aline.” - -“Yes, of course,” Carlton heard his own voice say. “I had forgotten the -Princess Aline.” But he was not thinking of what he was saying, nor of -the Princess Aline. He was thinking of the many hours Miss Morris and he -had been together, of the way she had looked at certain times, and of -how he had caught himself watching her at others; how he had pictured -the absent Mr. Abbey travelling with her later over the same route, and -without a chaperon, sitting close at her side or holding her hand, and -telling her just how pretty she was whenever he wished to do so, and -without any fear of the consequences. He remembered how ready she had -been to understand what he was going to say before he had finished -saying it, and how she had always made him show the best of himself, and -had caused him to leave unsaid many things that became common and -unworthy when considered in the light of her judgment. He recalled how -impatient he had been when she was late at dinner, and how cross he was -throughout one whole day when she had kept her room. He felt with a -sudden shock of delightful fear that he had grown to depend upon her, -that she was the best companion he had ever known; and he remembered -moments when they had been alone together at the table, or in some old -palace, or during a long walk, when they had seemed to have the whole -world entirely to themselves, and how he had consoled himself at such -times with the thought that no matter how long she might be Abbey’s -wife, there had been these moments in her life which were his, with -which Abbey had had nothing to do. - -Carlton turned and looked at her with strange wide-open eyes, as though -he saw her for the first time. He felt so sure of himself and of his -love for her that the happiness of it made him tremble, and the thought -that if he spoke she might answer him in the old, friendly, mocking tone -of good-fellowship filled him with alarm. At that moment it seemed to -Carlton that the most natural thing in the world for them to do would be -to go back again together over the road they had come, seeing everything -in the new light of his love for her, and so travel on and on forever -over the world, learning to love each other more and more each -succeeding day, and leaving the rest of the universe to move along -without them. - -He leaned forward with his arm along the back of the bench, and bent his -face toward hers. Her hand lay at her side, and his own closed over it, -but the shock that the touch of her fingers gave him stopped and -confused the words upon his tongue. He looked strangely at her, and -could not find the speech he needed. - -Miss Morris gave his hand a firm, friendly little pressure and drew her -own away, as if he had taken hers only in an exuberance of good feeling. - -“You have been very nice to us,” she said, with an effort to make her -tone sound kindly and approving. “And we——” - -“You mustn’t go; I can’t let you go,” said Carlton, hoarsely. There was -no mistaking his tone or his earnestness now. “If you go,” he went on, -breathlessly, “I must go with you.” - -The girl moved restlessly; she leaned forward, and drew in her breath -with a slight, nervous tremor. Then she turned and faced him, almost as -though she were afraid of him or of herself, and they sat so for an -instant in silence. The air seemed to have grown close and heavy, and -Carlton saw her dimly. In the silence he heard the splash of the -fountain behind them, and the rustling of the leaves in the night wind, -and the low, sighing murmur of a waltz. - -He raised his head to listen, and she saw in the moonlight that he was -smiling. It was as though he wished to delay any answer she might make -to his last words. - -“That is the waltz,” he said, still speaking in a whisper, “that the -gypsies played that night—” He stopped, and Miss Morris answered him by -bending her head slowly in assent. It seemed to be an effort for her to -even make that slight gesture. - -“_You_ don’t remember it,” said Carlton. “It meant nothing to you. I -mean that night on the steamer when I told you what love meant to other -people. What a fool I was!” he said, with an uncertain laugh. - -“Yes, I remember it,” she said—“last Thursday night, on the steamer.” - -“Thursday night!” exclaimed Carlton, indignantly. “Wednesday night, -Tuesday night, how should I know what night of the week it was? It was -the night of my life to me. That night I knew that I loved you as I had -never hoped to care for any one in this world. When I told you that I -did not know what love meant I felt all the time that I was lying. I -knew that I loved you, and that I could never love any one else, and -that I had never loved any one before; and if I had thought then you -could care for me, your engagement or your promises would never have -stopped my telling you so. You said that night that I would learn to -love all the better, and more truly, for having doubted myself so long, -and, oh, Edith,” he cried, taking both her hands and holding them close -in his own, “I cannot let you go now! I love you so! Don’t laugh at me; -don’t mock at me. All the rest of my life depends on you.” - -And then Miss Morris laughed softly, just as he had begged her not to -do, but her laughter was so full of happiness, and came so gently and -sweetly, and spoke so truly of content, that though he let go of her -hands with one of his, it was only that he might draw her to him, until -her face touched his, and she felt the strength of his arm as he held -her against his breast. - - -The Hohenwalds occupied the suite of rooms on the first floor of the -hotel, with the privilege of using the broad balcony that reached out -from it over the front entrance. And at the time when Mrs. Downs and -Edith Morris and Carlton drove up to the hotel from the ball, the -Princess Aline was leaning over the balcony and watching the lights go -out in the upper part of the house, and the moonlight as it fell on the -trees and statues in the public park below. Her foot was still in -bandages, and she was wrapped in a long cloak to keep her from the cold. -Inside of the open windows that led out on to the balcony her sisters -were taking off their ornaments, and discussing the incidents of the -night just over. - -The Princess Aline, unnoticed by those below, saw Carlton help Mrs. -Downs to alight from the carriage, and then give his hand to another -muffled figure that followed her; and while Mrs. Downs was ascending the -steps, and before the second muffled figure had left the shadow of the -carriage and stepped into the moonlight, the Princess Aline saw Carlton -draw her suddenly back and kiss her lightly on the cheek, and heard a -protesting gasp, and saw Miss Morris pull her cloak over her head and -run up the steps. Then she saw Carlton shake hands with them, and stand -for a moment after they had disappeared, gazing up at the moon and -fumbling in the pockets of his coat. He drew out a cigar-case and -leisurely selected a cigar, and with much apparent content lighted it, -and then, with his head thrown back and his chest expanded, as though he -were challenging the world, he strolled across the street and -disappeared among the shadows of the deserted park. - -The Princess walked back to one of the open windows, and stood there -leaning against the side. “That young Mr. Carlton, the artist,” she said -to her sisters, “is engaged to that beautiful American girl we met the -other day.” - -“Really!” said the elder sister. “I thought it was probable. Who told -you?” - -“I saw him kiss her good-night,” said the Princess, stepping into the -window, “as they got out of their carriage just now.” - -The Princess Aline stood for a moment looking thoughtfully at the floor, -and then walked across the room to a little writing-desk. She unlocked a -drawer in this and took from it two slips of paper, which she folded in -her hand. Then she returned slowly across the room, and stepped out -again on to the balcony. - -One of the pieces of paper held the picture Carlton had drawn of her, -and under which he had written: “This is she. Do you wonder I travelled -four thousand miles to see her?” And the other was the picture of -Carlton himself, which she had cut out of the catalogue of the Salon. - -From the edge of the balcony where the Princess stood she could see the -glimmer of Carlton’s white linen and the red glow of his cigar as he -strode proudly up and down the path of the public park, like a sentry -keeping watch. She folded the pieces of paper together and tore them -slowly into tiny fragments, and let them fall through her fingers into -the street below. Then she returned again to the room, and stood looking -at her sisters. - -“Do you know,” she said, “I think I am a little tired of travelling so -much. I want to go back to Grasse.” She put her hand to her forehead and -held it there for a moment. “I think I am a little homesick,” said the -Princess Aline. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in - spelling. - 2. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCARLET CAR, THE PRINCESS -ALINE *** - -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. 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