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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29278-8.txt b/29278-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..daf426b --- /dev/null +++ b/29278-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5572 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Innocent Adventuress, by Mary Hastings Bradley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Innocent Adventuress + +Author: Mary Hastings Bradley + +Release Date: June 30, 2009 [EBook #29278] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS *** + + + + +Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS + +BY MARY HASTINGS BRADLEY + +AUTHOR OF "THE FORTIETH DOOR," "THE PALACE OF DARKENED WINDOWS," "THE +WINE OF ASTONISHMENT," "THE SPLENDID CHANCE," ETC. + +[Illustration: D. A. & Co., INTER FOLIA FRUCTIS] + + +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY +NEW YORK LONDON +1921 + +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + +Copyright, 1920, by The McCall Co., Inc. +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +TO MY SISTER + +SYLVIA CORWIN FRANCISCO + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE +I. THE EAVESDROPPER 7 +II. UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY 21 +III. LUNCHEON AT THE LODGE 47 +IV. RI-RI SINGS AGAIN 67 +V. BETWEEN DANCES 88 +VI. TWO--AND A MOUNTAIN 106 +VII. JOHNNY BECOMES INEVITABLE 127 +VIII. JOHNNY BECOMES EXPLICIT 143 +IX. MRS. BLAIR REGRETS 157 +X. FANTASY 173 +XI. MORNING LIGHT 204 +XII. JOURNEY'S END 235 + + + + +THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS + +CHAPTER I + +THE EAVESDROPPER + + +Maria Angelina was eavesdropping. Not upon her sister Lucia and Paolo +Tosti whom she had been assigned to chaperon by reading a book to +herself in the adjoining room--no, they were safely busy with piano and +violin, and she was heartily bored, anyway, with their inanities. Voices +from another direction had pricked her to alertness. + +Maria Angelina was in the corner room of the Palazzo Santonini, a dim +and beautiful old library with faded furnishings whose west arch of +doorway looked into the pretentious reception room where the fiancés +were amusing themselves with their music and their whisperings. It was +quite advanced, this allowing them to be so alone, but the Contessa +Santonini was an American and, moreover, the wedding was not far off. + +One can be indulgent when the settlements are signed. + +So only Maria Angelina and her book were stationed for propriety, and, +wanting another book, she had gone to the shelves and through the north +door, ajar, caught the words that held her intent. + +"Three of them!" a masculine voice uttered explosively, and Maria knew +that Papa was speaking of his three daughters, Lucia, Julietta and Maria +Angelina--and she knew, too, that Papa had just come from the last +interview with the Tostis' lawyers. + +The Tostis had been stiff in their demands and Papa had been more +complaisant than he should have been. Altogether that marriage was +costing him dear. + +He had been figuring now with Mamma for a pencil went clattering to the +floor. + +"And something especial," he proclaimed bitterly, "will have to be done +for Julietta!" + +At that the eavesdropper could smile, a faint little smile of shy pride +and self-reliance. + +Nothing especial would have to be done for _her_! A decent dowry, of +course, as befitting a daughter of the house, but she would need no +more, for Maria was eighteen, as white as a lily and as slender as an +aspen, with big, dark eyes like strange pools of night in her child's +face. + +Whereas poor Julietta----! + +"Madre Dio!" said Papa indignantly. "For what did we name her Julietta? +And born in Verona! A pretty sentiment indeed. But it was of no +inspiration to her--none!" + +Mamma did not laugh although Papa's sudden chuckle after his explosion +was most irresistible. + +"But if Fate went by names," he continued, "then would Maria Angelina be +for the life of religion." And he chuckled again. + +Still Mamma did not laugh. Her pencil was scratching. + +"It's a pity," murmured Papa, "that you did not embrace the faith, my +dear, for then we might arrange this matter. They used to manage these +things in the old days." + +"Send Julietta into a convent?" cried Mamma in a voice of sudden energy. + +Maria could not see but she knew that the Count shrugged. + +"She appears built to coif Saint Catherine," he murmured. + +"Julietta is a dear girl," said the Contessa in a warm voice. + +"When one knows her excellencies." + +"She will do very well--with enough dowry." + +"Enough dowry--that is it! It will take all that is left for the two of +them to push Julietta into a husband's arms!" + +When the Count was annoyed he dealt directly with facts--a proceeding he +preferred to avoid at other moments. + +Behind her curtains Maria drew a troubled breath. She, too, felt the +family responsibility for Julietta--dear Julietta, with her dumpy figure +and ugly face. Julietta was nineteen and now that Lucia was betrothed it +was Julietta's turn. + +If only it could be known that Julietta had a pretty dot! + +Maria stood motionless behind the curtains, her winged imagination +rushing to meet Julietta's future, fronting the indifference, the +neglect, the ridicule before which Julietta's sensitive, shamed spirit +would suffer and bleed. She could see her partnerless at balls, lugged +heavily about to teas and dinners, shrinking eagerly and hopelessly back +into the refuge of the paternal home. . . . Yet Julietta had once +whispered to her that she wanted to die if she could never marry and +have an armful of _bambinos_! + +Maria Angelina's young heart contracted with sharp anxiety. Things were +in a bad way with her family indeed. There had always been +difficulties, for Papa was extravagant and ever since brother Francisco +had been in the army, he, too, had his debts, but Mamma had always +managed so wonderfully! But the war had made things very difficult, and +now peace had made them more difficult still. There had been one awful +time when it had looked as if the carriages and horses would have to go +and they would be reduced to sharing a barouche with some one else in +secret, proud distress--like the Manzios and the Benedettos who took +their airings alternately, each with a different crested door upon the +identical vehicle--but Mamma had overcome that crisis and the social +rite of the daily drive upon the Pincian had been sacredly preserved. +But apparently these settlements were too much, even for Mamma. + +Then her name upon her mother's lips brought the eavesdropper to swift +attention. + +It appeared that the Contessa had a plan. + +Maria Angelina could go to visit Mamma's cousins in America. They were +rich--that is understood of Americans; even Mamma had once been rich +when she was a girl, Maria dimly remembered having heard--and they would +give Maria a chance to meet people. . . . Men did not ask settlements in +America. They earned great sums and could please themselves with a +pretty, penniless face. . . . And what was saved on Maria's dowry would +plump out Julietta's. + +Thunderstruck, the Count objected. Maria was his favorite. + +"Send Julietta to America, then," he protested, but swallowed that +foolishness at Mamma's calm, "To what good?" + +To what good, indeed! It would never do to risk the cost of a trip to +America upon Julietta. + +Sulkily Papa argued that the cost in any case was prohibitive. But Mamma +had the figures. + +"One must invest to receive," she insisted; and when he grumbled, "But +to lose the child?" she broke out, "Am _I_ not losing her?" on a note +that silenced him. + +Then she added cheerfully, "But it will be for her own good." + +"You want her to marry an American? You are not satisfied, then, with +Italians?" said Papa playfully leaning over to ruffle Mamma's soft, +light hair and at his movement Maria Angelina fled swiftly from those +curtains back to her post, and sat very still, a book in front of her, a +haze of romance swimming between it and her startled eyes. + +America. . . . A rich husband. . . . Travel. . . . Adventure. . . . The +unknown. . . . + +It was wonderful. It was unbelievable. . . . It was desperate. + +It was a hazard of the sharpest chance. + +That knowledge brought a chill of gravity into the hot currents of her +beating heart--a chill that was the cold breath of a terrific +responsibility. She felt herself the hope, the sole resource of her +family. She was the die on which their throw of fortune was to be cast. + +Dropping her book she slid down from her chair and crossed to a long +mirror in an old carved frame where a dove was struggling in a falcon's +talons while Cupids drew vain bows, and in the dimmed glass stared in +passionate searching. + +She was so childish, so slight looking. She was white--that was the skin +from Mamma--and now she wondered if it were truly a charm. Certainly +Lucia preferred her own olive tints. + +And her eyes were so big and dark, like caverns in her face, and her +lips were mere scarlet threads. The beauties she had seen were +warm-colored, high-bosomed, full-lipped. + +Her distrust extended even to her coronet of black braids. + +Her uncertain youth had no vision of the purity and pride of that +braid-bound head, of the brilliance of the dark eyes against the satin +skin, of the troubling glamour of the red little mouth. In the clear +definition of the delicate features, the arch of the high eyebrows, the +sweep of the shadowy lashes, her childish hope had never dreamed of more +than mere prettiness and now she was torturingly questioning that. + +"Practicing your smiles, my dear?" said a voice from the threshold, +Lucia's voice with the mockery of the successful, and Maria Angelina +turned from her dim glass with a flame of scarlet across her pallor, and +joined, with an angry heart, in the laugh which her sister and young +Tosti raised against her. + +But Maria Angelina had a tongue. + +"But yes--for the better fish are yet uncaught," she retorted with a +flash of the eyes toward the young man, and Paolo, all ardor as he was +for Lucia's olive and rose, shot a glance of tickled humor at her +impudence. + +He promised himself some merry passes with the little sister-in-law. + +Lucia resented the glances. + +"Wait your turn, little one," she scoffed. "You will be in pinafores +until our poor Julietta is wed," and she laughed, unkindly. + +There were times, Maria felt furiously, when she hated Lucia. + +Her championing heart resolved that Julietta should not be left unwed +and defenseless to that mockery. Julietta should have her chance at +life! + + +Not a word of the great plan was breathed officially to the girl, +although the mother's expectancy for mail revealed that a letter had +already been sent, until that expectancy was rewarded by a letter with +the American postmark. Then the drama of revelation was exquisitely +enacted. + +It appeared that the Blairs of New York, Mamma's dear cousins, were +insistent that one of Mamma's daughters should know Mamma's country and +Mamma's relatives. They had a daughter about Maria Angelina's age so +Maria Angelina had been selected for the visit. The girls would have a +delightful time together. . . . Maria would start in June. + +Vaguely Maria Angelina recalled the Blairs as she had seen them some six +years ago in Rome--a kindly Cousin Jim who had given her sweets and +laughed bewilderingly at her and a Cousin Jane with beautiful blonde +hair and cool white gowns. Their daughter, Ruth, had not been with them, +so Maria had no acquaintance at all with her, but only the recollection +of occasional postcards to keep the name in memory. + +She remembered once that there had been talk of this Cousin Ruth's +coming to school for a winter in Rome and that Mamma had bestirred +herself to discover the correct schools, but nothing had ever come of +it. The war had intervened. + +And now she was to visit them. . . . + +"You are going to America just as I went to Italy at your age," cried +Mamma. "And--who knows?--you too, may meet your fate on the trip!" + +Mamma would overdo it, thought Maria Angelina nervously, her eyes +downcast for fear her mother would read their discomfort and her +knowledge of the pitiful duplicity, and her cheeks a quick shamed +scarlet. + +"She will have to--to repair the expense," flashed Lucia with a shrill +laugh. "Such expenditure, when you have just been preaching economy on +my trousseau!" + +"One must economize on the trousseau when the bridegroom has cost the +fortune," Maria found her wicked little tongue to say and Lucia turned +sallow beneath her olive. + +Briskly Mamma intervened. "We are thinking not of one of you but all. +Now no more words, my little ones. There is too much to be done." + +There was indeed, with this trip to be arranged for before the onrush of +Lucia's preparation! Once committed to the great adventure it quickly +took on the outer aspects of reality. There were clothes to be made and +clothes to be bought, there were discussions, decisions, debates and +conjectures and consultations. A thousand preparations to be pushed in +haste, and at once the big bedroom of Mamma blossomed with delicate +fabrics, with bright ribbons and frilly laces, and amid the blossoming, +the whir of the machine and the feet and hands of the two-lire-a-day +seamstress went like mad clockwork, while in and out Mamma's friends +came hurrying, at the rumor, to hint of congratulation or suggest a +style, an advice. + +The contagion of excitement seized everyone, so that even Lucia was +inspired to lend her clever fingers from her own preparations for +September. + +"But not to be back by then! Not here for my wedding--that would be too +odd!" she complained with the persistent ill-will she had shown the +expedition. + +Shrewd enough to divine its purpose and practical enough to perceive the +necessity for it, the older girl cherished her instinctive objection to +any pleasure that did not include her in its scope or that threatened +to overcast her own festivities. + +"That will depend," returned Mamma sedately, "upon the circumstance. Our +cousins may not easily find a suitable chaperon for your sister's +return. And they may have plans for her entertainment. We must leave +that to them." + +A little panic-stricken, Maria Angelina perceived that _she_ was being +left to them--until otherwise disposed of! + + +So fast had preparations whirled them on, that parting was upon the girl +before she divined the coming pain of it. Then in the last hours her +heart was wrung. + +She stared at the dear familiar rooms, the streets and the houses with a +look of one already lost to her world, and her eyes clung to the figures +of her family as if to relinquish the sight of them would dissolve them +from existence. + +They were tragic, those following, imploring eyes, but they were not +wet. Maria understood it was too late to weep. It was necessary to go. +The magnitude of the sums already invested in her affair staggered her. +They were so many pledges, those sums! + +But America was so desolately far. + +She could not sleep, that last night. She lay in the big four-poster +where once heavy draperies had shut in the slumbers of dead and gone +Contessas, and she watched the square of moonlight travel over the +painted cherubs on the ceiling. There was always a lump in her throat to +be swallowed, and often the tears soaked into the big feather pillows, +but there were no sobs to rouse the household. + +Julietta, beside her, slept very comfortably. + +But the most terrible moment of all was that last look of Mamma and that +last clasp of her hands upon the deck of the steamer. + +"You must tell me everything, little one," the Contessa Santonini kept +saying hurriedly. She was constrained and repetitious in the grip of +her emotion, as they stood together, just out of earshot of the Italian +consul's wife who was chaperoning the young girl upon her voyage. + +"Write me all about the people you meet and what they say to you, and +what you do. Remember that I am still Mamma if I am across the ocean and +I shall be waiting to hear. . . . And remember that but few of your +ideas of America may be true. Americans are not all the types you have +read of or the tourists you have met. You must expect a great +difference. . . . I should be strange, myself, now in America." + +Maria's quick sensitiveness divined a note of secret yearning. + +"Yes, Mamma," she said obediently, tightening her clasp upon her +mother's hands. + +"You must be on guard against mistakes, Maria Angelina," said the other +insistently--as if she had not said that a dozen times before! "Because +American girls do things it may be not be wise for you to do. You will +be of interest because you are different. Be very careful, my little +one." + +"Yes, Mamma," said the girl again. + +"As to your money--you understand it must last. There can be little to +pay when you are a guest. But send to Papa and me your accounts as I +have told you." + +"Yes, Mamma." + +"You will not let the American freedom turn your head. You will be +wise--Oh, I trust you, Maria Angelina, to be very wise!" + +How wise Maria Angelina thought herself! She lifted a face that shone +with confidence and understanding and for all her quivering lips she +smiled. + +"My baby!" said the mother suddenly in English and took that face +between her hands and kissed it. + +"You will be careful," she began again abruptly, and then stopped. + +Too late for more cautions. And the child was so _sage_. + +But it was such a little figure that stood there, such young eyes that +smiled so confidently into hers. . . . And America was a long, long way +off. + +The bugles were blowing for visitors to be away. Just one more hurried +kiss and hasty clasp. + +An overwhelming fright seized upon the girl as the mother went down the +ship's ladder into the small boat that put out so quickly for the shore. + +Suppose she should fail them! After all she was _not_ so wise--and not +so very pretty. And she had no experience--none! + +The sun, dancing on the bright waves, hurt Maria Angelina's eyes. She +had to shut them, they watered so foolishly. And something in her young +breast wanted to cry after that boat, "Take me back--take me back to my +home," but something else in her forbade and would have died of shame +before it uttered such weakness. + +For poor Julietta, for dear anxious Mamma, she knew herself the only +hope. + +So steadily she waved her handkerchief long after she had lost the +responding flutter from the boat. + +She was not crying now. She felt exalted. She pressed closer to the rail +and stared out very solemnly over the blue and gold bay to beautiful +Naples. . . . Suddenly her heart quickened. Vesuvius was moving. The +far-off shores of Italy were slipping by. Above her the black smoke that +had been coming faster and faster from the great funnels streamed +backward like long banners. + +Maria Angelina was on her way. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY + + +With whatever emotion Jane Blair had received the startling demand upon +her hospitality she rallied nobly to the family call. She left her +daughter in the Adirondacks where they were summering and descended upon +her husband in his New York office to rout him out to meet the girl with +her. + +"An infernal shame--that's what I call it!" Jim Blair grumbled, facing +the steaming heat of the unholy customs shed. "It's an outrage--an +imposition----" + +"Oh, not all that, Jim! Lucy--that's the mother--and I used to visit +like this when we were girls. It was done then," his wife replied with +an air of equable amusement. + +She added, "I rather think I did most of the visiting. I was awf'ly fond +of Lucy." + +"That's different. You'll have a total stranger on your hands. . . . Are +you sure she speaks English?" + +"Oh, dear yes, she speaks English--don't you remember her in Rome? She +was the littlest one. All the children speak English, Lucy wrote, except +Francisco who is 'very Italian,' which means he is a fascinating +spendthrift like the father, I suppose. . . . I imagine," said Mrs. +Blair, "that Lucy has not found life in a palace all a bed of roses." + +"I remember the palace. . . . Warming pans!" said Mr. Blair grimly. + +His ill-humor lasted until the first glimpse of Maria Angelina's slender +figure, and the first glance of Maria Angelina's trustfully appealing +eyes. + +"Welcome to America," he said then very heartily, both his hands closing +over the small fingers. "Welcome--_very_ welcome, my dear." + +And though Maria Angelina never knew it and Cousin Jane Blair never +told, that was Maria Angelina's first American triumph. + + +Some nine hours afterwards a stoutish gentleman in gray and a thinnish +lady in beige and a fragile looking girl in white wound their way from +the outer to the inner circle of tables next the dancing floor of the +Vandevoort. + +The room was crowded with men in light serge and women in gay summer +frocks; bright lights were shining under pink shades and sprays of pink +flowers on every table were breathing a faint perfume into an air +already impregnated with women's scents and heavy with odors of rich +food. Now and then a saltish breeze stole through the draped windows on +the sound but was instantly scattered by the vigor of the hidden, +whirling fans. + +Behind palms an orchestra clashed out the latest Blues and in the +cleared space couples were speeding up and down to the syncopations, +while between tables agile waiters balanced overloaded trays or whisked +silver covers off scarlet lobsters or lit mysterious little lights +below tiny bubbling caldrons. + +Maria Angelina's soft lips were parted with excitement and her dark eyes +round with wondering. This, indeed, was a new world. . . . + +It was gay--gayer than the Hotel Excelsior at Rome! It was a carnival of +a dinner! + +Ever since morning, when the cordiality of the new-found cousins had +dissipated the first forlorn homesickness of arrival, she had been +looking on at scenes that were like a film, ceaselessly unrolling. + +After luncheon, Cousin Jim with impulsive hospitality had carried her +off to see the Big Town--an expedition from which his wife relievedly +withdrew--and he had whirled Maria Angelina about in motors, plunged her +into roaring subways, whisked her up dizzying elevators and brought her +out upon unbelievable heights, all the time expounding and explaining +with that passionate, possessive pride of the New Yorker by adoption, +which left his young guest with the impression that he owned at least +half the city and was personally responsible for the other half. + +It had been very wonderful but Maria had expected New York to be +wonderful. And she was not interested, save superficially, in cities. +Life was the stuff her dreams were made on, and life was unfolding +vividly to her eager eyes at this gay dinner, promising her enchanted +senses the incredible richness and excitement for which she had come. + +And though she sat up very sedately, like a well-behaved child in the +midst of blazing carnival, her glowing face, her breathless lips and +wide, shining eyes revealed her innocent ardors and young expectancies. + +She was very proud of herself, in the midst of all the prideful +splendor, proud of her new, absurdly big white hat, of her new, absurdly +small white shoes, and of her new, white mull frock, soft and clinging +and exquisite with the patient embroidery of the needlewoman. + +Its low cut neck left her throat bare and about her throat hung the +string of white coral that her father had given her in parting--white +coral, with a pale, pale pink suffusing it. + +"Like a young girl's dreams," Santonini had said. "Snowy white--with a +blush stealing over them." + +That was so like dear Papa! What dreams did he think his daughter was to +have in this New World upon her golden quest? And yet, though Maria +Angelina's mocking little wit derided, her young heart believed somehow +in the union of all the impossibilities. Dreams and blushes . . . and +good fortune. . . . + +Strange food was set before her; delicious jellied cold soups, and +scarlet lobsters with giant claws; and Maria Angelina discovered that +excitement had not dulled her appetite. + +The music sounded again and Cousin Jim asked her to dance. Shyly she +protested that she did not know the American dances, and then, to her +astonishment, he turned to his wife, and the two hurried out upon the +floor, leaving her alone and unattended at that conspicuous table. + +That was American freedom with a vengeance! She sat demurely, not daring +to raise her lashes before the scrutiny she felt must be beating upon +her, until her cousins returned, warm-faced and breathless. + +"You'll learn all this as soon as you get to the Lodge," Cousin Jim +prophesied, in consolation. + +Maria Angelina smiled absently, her big eyes brilliant. Unconsciously +she was wondering what dancing could mean to these elders of hers. . . . +Dancing was the stir of youth . . . the carnival of the blood . . . the +beat of expectancy and excitement. . . . + +"Why, there's Barry Elder!" Cousin Jane gave a quick cry of pleasure. + +"Barry Elder?" + +Cousin Jim turned to look, and Maria Angelina looked too, and saw a +young man making his way to their table. He was a tall, thin, brown +young man with close-cropped curly brown hair, and very bright, deep-set +eyes. He was dressed immaculately in white with a gay tie of lavender. + +"Barry? _You_ in town?" Cousin Jane greeted him with an exaggerated +astonishment as he shook her hand. + +Maria Angelina noted that he did not kiss it. She had read that this was +not done openly in America but was a mark of especial tenderness. + +"Why not?" he retorted promptly. "You seem to forget, dear lady, that I +am again a wor-rking man, without whom the World's Greatest Daily would +lose half its circulation. Of course I'm here." + +"I thought you might be taking a vacation--in York Harbor," she said, +laughing. + +"Oh, cat!" he derided. "Kitty, kitty, kitty." + +"Don't let her kid you, Barry," advised Cousin Jim, delving into his +lobster. + +"But since you _are_ here," went on Cousin Jane, "you can meet my little +cousin from Italy, which is the reason why we are here. Her boat came in +this morning and she has never been away from home before. Mr. Elder, +the Signorina Santonini." + +"Welcome to the city, Signorina," said the young man, with a quick, +bright smile, stooping to gaze under the huge, white hat. He had odd +eyes, not large, but vivid hazel, with yellow lights in them. + +"How do you like New York? What do you think of America? What is your +opinion of prohibition and the uniformity of divorce laws? Have you ever +written _vers libre_? Are----" + +"Barry, stop bombarding the child!" exclaimed Mrs. Blair. "You are the +first young man she has met in America. Stop making her fear the race." + +"Take him away and dance with him, Jane," said Mr. Blair. "This was +probably prearranged, you know." + +If he believed it, he looked very tranquil, the startled Maria Angelina +thought, surprised into an upward glance. The two men were smiling very +frankly at each other. Mrs. Blair did not protest but rose, remarking, +"Come, Barry, since we are discovered. You can have something cool +afterwards." + +"I'll have little Cousin afterwards," said Barry Elder. "I want to be +the first young man she has danced with in America." + +"You won't be the last," Mr. Blair told him with a twinkling glance at +Maria Angelina's lovely little face. + +"One of Jane's youngsters," he added, explanatorily to her. "She always +has a lot around--she says they are the companions her son would have +had if she'd had one." + +Then, before Maria Angelina's polite but bewildered attention, he said +more comprehensibly, "You'll find Jane a lot younger than Ruth . . . +Barry's a clever chap--special work on one of the papers. Was in the +aviation. Did a play that fluked last year. Too much Harvard in it, I +expect. But a clever chap, very clever. Like him," he added decisively. + +Maria Angelina had heard of Harvard. Her mother's father had been a +Harvard man. But she did not understand just why too much Harvard would +make a play fluke nor what a play did when it fluked, but she asked no +questions and sat very still, looking out at the dancing couples. + +She saw her Cousin Jane whirling past. She tried to imagine her mother +dancing with young men at the Hotel Excelsior and she could not. Already +she wondered if she had better write everything. + +Then the dancing pair came back to them and the young man sat down and +talked a little to her cousins. But at the music's recommencement he +turned directly to her. + +"Signorina, are you going to do me the honor?" + +He had a merry way with him as if he were laughing ever so little at +her, and Maria Angelina's heart which had been beating quite fast before +began to skip dizzily. + +She thanked Heaven that it was a waltz for, while the new steps were +unknown, Maria could waltz--that was a gift from Papa. + +"With pleasure, Signor," she murmured, rising. + +"But you must take off your hat," Mrs. Blair told her. + +"My hat? Take off?" + +"That brim is too wide, my dear. You couldn't dance." + +"But to go bareheaded--like a peasant?" Maria Angelina faltered and they +laughed. + +"It doesn't matter--it's much better than that brim," Mrs. Blair +pronounced and obediently Maria's small hands rose and removed the +overshadowing whiteness from the dark little head with its coronet of +heavy braids. + +She did not raise her eyes to see Barry Elder's sudden flash of +astonishment. Shyly she slipped within his clasp and let him swing her +out into the circle of dancers. + +Maria Angelina could waltz, indeed. She was fairy-footed, and for some +moments Barry Elder was content to dance without speaking; then he bent +his head closer to those dark braids. + +"So I am the first young man you have met in America?" + +Maria Angelina looked up through her lashes in quick gayety. + +"It is my first day, Signor!" + +"Your first American--Ah, but on the boat! There must have been young +men on that boat, American young men?" + +"On that boat? Signor!" Maria Angelina laughed mischievously. "One reads +of such in novels--yes? But as to that boat, it was a floating nunnery." + +"Oh, come now," he protested amusedly, "there must have been _some_ +men!" + +"Some men, yes--a ship's officer, some married ones, a grandfather or +two--but nothing young and nothing American." + +"It must have been a great disappointment," said Barry enjoying himself. + +"It would not have mattered if there had been a thousand. The Signora +Mariotti would have seen to it that I met no one. She is a _very_ good +chaperon, Signor!" + +"I thank her. She has preserved the dew on the rose, the flush on the +dawn--the wax for the record and the--er--niche for the statue. I never +had my statue done," said Barry gayly, "but if you would care for it, in +terra cotta, rather small and neat----" + +Confusedly Maria Angelina laughed. + +"And this is your maiden voyage of discovery!" He was looking down at +her as he swept her about a corner. "Rash young person! Don't you know +what happened to your kinsman, Our First Discoverer?" + +"But what?" + +"He was loaded with fetters," said Barry solemnly. + +"Fetters? But what fetters could I fear?" + +"Have you never heard," he demanded of her upraised eyes, "of the +fetters of matrimony?" + +"Oh, Signor!" Actually the color swept into her cheeks and her eyes fled +from his, though she laughed lightly. "That is a golden fetter." + +"Sometimes," said he, dryly, "or gilded." + +But Maria Angelina was pursuing his jest. "It was not until Columbus +returned to his Europe that he was fettered. It was not from the--the +natives that he had such ill-treatment to fear." + +"Now, do you think the--the natives"--gayly Barry mimicked her quaint +inflection--"will let you get away with _that_? Or let you return? . . . +You have a great many discoveries before you, Signorina Santonini!" + +Deftly he circled, smiling down into her upturned face. + +Maria Angelina's eyes were shining, and the smooth oval of her cheeks +had deepened from poppy pink to poppy rose. She was dancing in a dream, +a golden dream . . . incredibly, ecstatically happy. . . . She was in a +confusion of young delight in which the extravagance of his words, the +light of his glances, the thrill of the violins were inextricably +involved in gayety and glamour. + +And then suddenly the dance was over, and he was returning her to her +cousins. And he was saying good-by. + +"I have a table yonder--although I appear to have forsaken it," he was +explaining. "Don't forget your first American, Signorina--I'm sorry you +are going to-morrow, but perhaps I shall be seeing you in the +Adirondacks before very long." + +He gave Maria Angelina a directly smiling glance whose boldness made her +shiver. + +Then he turned to Mrs. Blair. "You know my uncle had a little shack +built on Old Chief Mountain--not so far from you at Wilderness. I always +like to run up there----" + +"Oh, no, you won't, Barry," said Mrs. Blair, laughing incomprehensibly. +"You'll be running where the breaking waves dash high, on a stern and +rock-bound coast." + +He met the sally with answering laughter a trifle forced. + +"I'm flattered you think me so constant! But you underestimate the +charms of novelty. . . . If I should meet, say, a _petite brune_, done +in cotton wool and dewy with innocence----" + +"You're incorrigible," vowed the lady. "I have no faith in you!" + +"Not even in my incorrigibility?" + +"I'll believe it when I see you again. . . . Love to Leila." + +He made a mocking grimace at her. + +Then he stooped to clasp Maria Angelina's hand. "_A rivederci_, +Signorina," he insisted. "Don't you believe a thing she tells you about +me. . . . I'm a poor, misunderstood young man in a world of women. +_Addio_, Signorina--_a rivederci_." + +And then he was gone, so gay and brown and smiling. + +Sudden anguish swept down upon Maria Angelina, like the cold mistral +upon the southlands. + +He was gone. . . . Would she really see him again? . . . Would he come +to those mountains? + +But why would he not? He had spoken of it, all of himself . . . he had +that place he called a shack. That was beautiful good fortune--all of a +part of the amazing fairy story of the New World. . . . And he had +looked so at her. He had made such jokes. He had pressed her hands . . . +ever so lightly but without mistake. . . . + +And his eyes, that shining brightness of his eyes. . . . + + +"Why rub it in about York Harbor?" + +Cousin Jim was speaking and Maria Angelina came out of her dream with +sudden, painful intensity. Instinctively she divined that here was +something vital to her hope, and while her young face held the schooled, +unstirred detachment of the _jeune fille_, her senses were straining +nervously for any flicker of enlightenment. + +"Why not rub it in?" countered Cousin Jane briskly. "He'll go there +before long, and he might as well know that he isn't throwing any sand +in our eyes. . . . This sulking here in town is simply to punish her." + +"Perhaps he isn't sulking. Perhaps he doesn't care to run after her any +more. He may not be as keen about Leila Grey as you women think." + +Maria Angelina's involuntary glance at Mrs. Blair caught the superior +assurance of her smile. + +"My dear Jim! He was simply mad about her. That last leave, before he +went to France, he only went places to meet her." + +"Well, he may have got over it. Men do," argued Cousin Jim stubbornly. + +"Yes," echoed Maria Angelina's beating heart in hope, "men do!" + +Cousin Jane laughed. "Men don't get over Leila Grey--not if Leila Grey +wants to keep them." + +"If she wanted so darn much to keep him why didn't she take him then?" + +"I didn't say she wanted to keep him _then_." Mrs. Blair's tones were +mysteriously, ironically significant. "Leila wasn't throwing herself +away on any young officer--with nothing but his insurance. It was Bobby +Martin that _she_ was after----" + +"Gad! Was she?" Cousin Jim was patently struck by this. "Why, Bobby's +just a kid and she----" + +"There's not two years' difference between them--in _years_. But Leila +came out very young--and she's the most thoroughly calculating----" + +"Oh, come now, Jane--just because the girl didn't succumb to the +impecunious Barry and did like the endowed Bobby----! She may really +have liked him, you know." + +"Oh, come now, yourself, Jim," retorted his wife good-humoredly. "Just +because she has blue eyes! No, if Leila really liked anybody I always +had the notion it was Barry--but she _wanted_ Bobby." + +For a long moment Cousin Jim was silent, turning the thing over with his +cigar. Maria Angelina sat still as a mouse, fearful to breathe lest the +bewildering revelations cease. Cousin Jane, over her second cup of +coffee, had the air of a humorous and superior oracle. + +Then Mr. Blair said slowly, "And Bobby couldn't see her?" + +He had an air of asking if Bobby were indeed of adamant and Mrs. Blair +hesitated imperceptibly over the sweeping negative. Equally slowly, "Oh, +Bobby _liked_ her, of course--she may have turned his head," she threw +out, "but I don't believe he ever lost it for a moment. And after he met +Ruth that summer at Plattsburg----" + +The implication floated there, tenuous, iridescent. Even to Maria +Angelina's eyes it was an arch of promise. + +Ruth was their daughter, the cousin of her own age. And the unknown +Bobby was some one who liked Ruth. And he was some one whom this Leila +Grey had tried to ensnare--although all the time Mrs. Blair suspected +her of liking more the Signor Barry Elder. + +Hotly Maria Angelina's precipitous intuitions endorsed that supposition. +Of course this Leila liked that Barry Elder. Of course. . . . But she +had not taken him. He was an officer, then--without fortune. Maria +Angelina was familiar enough with _that_ story. But she had supposed +that here, in America, where dowries were not exigent and the young +people were free, there was more romance. And now it was not even +Leila's parents who had interfered, apparently, but Leila herself. + +What was it Mrs. Blair had said? Thoroughly calculating. . . . +Thoroughly calculating--and blue eyes. . . . + +Maria Angelina felt a quick little inrush of fear. If it should be +blue eyes that Americans--that is, to say now, that Barry +Elder--preferred----! + +And then she wondered why, if this Leila with the blue eyes had not +taken Barry Elder before, Cousin Jane now regarded it as a foregone +conclusion between them? Was it because she could not get that Signor +Bobby Martin? Or was Barry Elder more successful now that he had left +the army? + +She puzzled away at it, like a very still little cat at an +indestructible mouse, but dared say not a word. And while she worried +away her surface attention was caught by the glance of candid humor +exchanged between Mr. Blair and his wife. + +"Ah, Jane, Jane," he was saying, in mock deprecation, "is that why we +are spending the summer at Wilderness, not two miles from the Martin +place----?" + +Mrs. Blair was smiling, but her eyes were serious. "I preferred that to +having Ruth at a house party at the Martins," she said quietly. + +At that Maria Angelina ceased to attend. She would know soon enough +about her Cousin Ruth and Bobby Martin. But as for Barry Elder and Leila +Grey----! Had he cared? Had she? . . . Unconsciously her young heart +repudiated her cousin's reading of the affair. As if Barry Elder would +be unsuccessful with any woman that he wanted! That was unbelievable. He +had not wanted her--enough. + +He could not want Leila now or he would not have spoken so of coming to +the mountains to see _her_--his direct glance had been a promise, his +eyes a prophecy. + +Dared she believe him? Dared she trust? But he was no deceiver, no +flirt, like the lady-killers who used to come to the Palazzo to bow over +Lucia's hand and eye each other with that half hostile, half knowing +swagger. She had watched them. . . . But this was America. + +And Barry Elder was--different. + +She was lost to the world about her now. Its color and motion and hot +counterfeit of life beat insensibly upon her; she was aware of it only +as an imposition, a denial to that something within her which wanted to +relax into quiet and dreaming, which wanted to live over and over again +the intoxicating excitement, the looks, the words. . . . + +She was grateful when Cousin Jane declared for an early return. She +could hardly wait to be alone. + +"_What did I tell you?_" Jane Blair stopped suddenly in their progress +to the door and turned to her husband in low-toned triumph. "She's with +him. Leila's with him." + +"Huh?" said Cousin Jim unexcitedly. + +"She's pretended some errand in town--she's come in to get hold of him +again," went on Cousin Jane hurriedly, as one who tells the story of the +act to the unobservant. "She's afraid to leave him alone. . . . And he +never mentioned her. I wonder----" + +Maria Angelina's eyes had followed theirs. She saw a group about a +table, she saw Barry Elder's white-clad shoulders and curly brown head. +She saw, unregardfully, a man and woman with him, but all her eagerness, +all her straining vision was on the young girl with him--a girl so +blonde, so beautiful that a pang went to Maria Angelina's heart. She +learned pain in a single throb. + +She heard Cousin Jim quoting oddly in undertone, "'And Beauty drew him, +by a single hair,'" and the words entered her consciousness hauntingly. + +If Leila Grey looked like that--why then---- + +Yet he had said that he would come! + + +Maria Angelina's first night in America, like that last night in Italy, +was of sleepless watching through the dark. But now there were no +child's tears at leaving home. There was no anxious planning for poor +Julietta. Already Julietta and Lucia and the Palazzo, even Papa and +dear, dear Mamma, appeared strangely unreal--like a vanished spell--and +only this night was real and this strange expectant stir in her. + +And then she fell asleep and dreamed that Barry Elder was advancing to +her across the long drawing-room of the Palazzo Santonini and as she +turned to receive him Lucia stepped between, saying, "He is for me, +instead of Paolo Tosti," and behold! Lucia's eyes were as blue as the +sea and Lucia's hair was as golden as amber and her face was the face of +the girl in the restaurant. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +LUNCHEON AT THE LODGE + + +Wilderness Lodge, Cousin Jane had said, was a simple little place in the +mountains, not a hotel but rather a club house where only certain people +could go, and Maria Angelina had pictured a white stucco pension-hotel +set against some background like the bare, bright hills of Italy. + +She found a green smother of forest, an ocean of greenness with emerald +crests rising higher and higher like giant waves, and at the end of the +long motor trip the Lodge at last disclosed itself as a low, dark, +rambling building, set in a clearing behind a blue bend of sudden river. + +And built of logs! Did people of position live yet in logs in America? +demanded the girl's secret astonishment as the motor whirled across the +rustic bridge and stopped before the wide steps of a veranda full of +people. + +Springing down the steps, two at a time, came a tall, short-skirted girl +in white. + +"Dad--you came, too!" she cried. "Oh, that's bully. You must enter the +tournament--Mother, did you remember about the cup and the--you know? +What we talked of for the booby?" + +She had a loud, gay voice like a boy's and as Maria was drawn into the +commotion of greetings, she opened wide, half-intimidated eyes at the +bigness and brownness of this Cousin Ruth. + +She had expected Heaven knows what of incredible charm in the girl who +had detached the Signor Bobby Martin from the siren Leila. Her instant +wonder was succeeded by a sensation of gay relief. After all, these +things went by chance and favor. . . . And if Bobby Martin could prefer +this brown young girl to that vision at the restaurant why then--then +perhaps there was also a chance for--what was it the young Signor Elder +had called her? A _petite brune_ wrapped in cotton wool. + +These thoughts flashed through her as one thought as she followed her +three cousins across the wide verandas, full of interested eyes, into +the Lodge and up the stairs to their rooms, where Ruth directed the men +in placing the big trunk and the bags and hospitably explained the +geography of the suite. + +"My room's on that side and Dad's and Mother's is just across--and we +all have to use this one bath--stupid, isn't it, but Dad is hardly ever +here and there's running water in the rooms. You'll survive, won't you?" + +Hastily Maria Angelina assured her that she would. + +Glimpsing the white-tiled splendors of this bath she wondered how Ruth +would survive the tin tub, set absurdly in a red plush room of the +Palazzo. . . . + +"Now you know your way about," the American girl rattled on, her tone +negligent, her eyes colored with a little warmer interest as her glance +swept her foreign little cousin. "Frightfully hot, wasn't it? I'll clear +out so you can pop into the tub. You'll just have time before luncheon," +she assured her and was off. + +The next instant, from closed doors beyond, her voice rose in unguarded +exclamation. + +"Oh, you baby doll! Mother, did you ever----" + +The voices sank from hearing and Maria Angelina was left with the +feeling that a baby doll was not a desirable being in America. This +Cousin Ruth intimidated her and her breezy indifference and lack of +affectionate interest shot the visitor with the troubled suspicion that +her own presence was entirely superfluous to her cousin's scheme of +things. She felt more at home with the elders. + +Uncertainly she crossed to her big trunk and stood looking down on the +bold labels. + +How long since she and Mamma had packed it, with dear Julietta smoothing +the folds in place! And how far away they all were. . . . It was not the +old Palazzo now that was unreal--it was this new, bright world and all +the strange faces. + +The chintz-decked room with its view of alien mountains seemed suddenly +remote and lonely. + +Her hands shook a little as she unpacked a tray of pretty dresses and +laid them carefully across the bed. . . . Unconsciously she had +anticipated a warmer welcome from this young cousin. . . . She winked +away the tears that threatened to stain the bright ribbons, and stole +into the splendor of the white bathroom, marveling at its luxurious +contrast to the logs without. + +The water refreshed her. She felt more cheerful, and when she came to a +choice of frocks, decidedly a new current of interest was stealing +through life again. + +First impressions were so terribly important! She wanted to do honor to +the Blairs--to justify the hopes of Mamma. This was not enough of an +occasion for the white mull. The silks look hot and citified. Hesitantly +she selected the apricot organdie with a deeper-shaded sash; it was +simple for all its glowing color, though the short frilled sleeves +struck her as perhaps too chic. It had been a copy of one of Lucia's +frocks, that one bought to such advantage of Madame Revenant. + +With it went a golden-strawed hat--but Maria Angelina was uncertain +about the hat. + +Did you wear one at a hotel--when you lived at a hotel? Mamma's +admonitions did not cover that. She put the hat on; she took the hat +off. She rather liked it on--but she dropped it on the bed at Ruth's +sudden knock and felt a sense of escape for Ruth was hatless. + +And Ruth still wore the same short white skirt and white blouse, open at +the throat, in which she had greeted them. . . . Was the apricot too +much then of a toilette? Ruth's eyes were frankly on it; her expression +was odd. + +But Mrs. Blair had changed. She appeared now in blue linen, very smart +and trim. + +Worriedly Maria Angelina's dark eyes went from one to the other. + +"Is this--is this what I should wear?" she asked timidly. "Am I not--as +you wish?" + +It would have taken a hard heart to wish her otherwise. + +"It's very pretty," said Cousin Jane in quick reassurance. + +"Too pretty, s'all," said Cousin Ruth. "But it won't be wasted. . . . +Bobby Martin is staying to luncheon," she flung casually at her parents. +"Has a guest with him. You remember Johnny Byrd." + +American freedom, indeed! thought Maria Angelina following down the +slippery stairs into the wide hall below where, in a boulder fireplace +that was surmounted by a stag's head, a small blaze was flickering +despite the warmth of the day. + +Wasteful, thought Maria Angelina reprovingly. One could see that the +Americans had never suffered for fuel. . . . + +Upon a huge, black fur rug before the fire two young men were waiting. + +Demurely Maria thought of the letter she would write home that +night--one young man the first evening in New York, two young men the +first luncheon at the Lodge. Decidedly, America brimmed with young men! + +Meanwhile, Ruth was presenting them. The big dark youth, heavy and lazy +moving, was the Signor Bob Martin. + +The other, Johnny Byrd, was shorter and broad of shoulder; he had +reddish blonde hair slightly parted and brushed straight back; he had a +short nose with freckles and blue eyes with light lashes. When he +laughed--and he seemed always laughing--he showed splendid teeth. + +Both young men stared--but staring was a man's prerogative in Italy and +Maria Angelina was unperturbed. At table she sat serenely, her dark +lashes shading the oval of her cheeks, while the young men's eyes--and +one pair of them, especially--took in the black, braid-bound head and +the small, Madonna-like face, faintly flushed by sun and wind, above the +golden glow of the sheer frock. + +Then Johnny Byrd leaned across the table towards her. + +"I say, Signorina," he began abruptly, "what's the Italian for peach?" +and as Maria Angelina looked up and started very innocently to explain, +he leaned back and burst into a shout of amusement in which the others +more moderately joined. + +"Don't let him get you," was Ruth's unintelligible advice, and Bobby +Martin turned to his friend to admonish, "Now, Johnny, don't start +anything. . . . Johnny's such a good little starter!" + +"And a poor finisher," added Ruth smartly and both young men laughed +again as at a very good joke. + +"A starter--but not a beginner, eh?" chuckled Cousin Jim, and Mrs. Blair +smiled at both young men even as she protested, "This is the noisiest +table in the room!" + +It _was_ a noisy table. Maria Angelina was astounded at the hilarity of +that meal. Already she began censoring her report to Mamma. Certainly +Mamma would never understand Ruth's elbows on the table, her shouts of +laughter--or the pellets of bread she flipped. + +And the words they used! Maria could only feel that the language of +Mamma must be singularly antiquated. So much she did not understand +. . . had never heard. . . . What, indeed, was a simp, a boob, a nut? +What a poor fish? . . . She held her peace, and listened, confused by +the astounding vocabulary and the even more astounding intimacy. What +things they said to each other in jest! + +And whatever Maria Angelina said they took in jest. She evoked an +appreciative peal when she ventured that the Lodge must be very old +because she had read that the first settlers made their homes of logs. + +"I'll take you up and show you _our_ ancestral hut," declared Bob +Martin. "Where Granddad used to stretch the Red Skins to dry by the +back door--before tanning 'em for raincoats." + +"Really?" said Maria Angelina ingenuously, then at sight of his +expression, "But how shall I know what you tell me is true or not?" she +appealed. "It all sounds so strange to me--the truth as well." + +"You look at _me_," said Johnny Byrd leaning forward. "When I shut this +eye, so, you shake your head at them. When I nod--you can believe." + +"But you will not always be there----" + +"I'll say you're wrong," he retorted. "I'm going to be there so usually, +like the weather--did you say you wanted me to stay a month, Bob?" + +Color stole into the young girl's cheeks even while she laughed with +them. She was conscious of a faint and confused half-distress beneath +her mounting confidence. They were so _very_ jocular. . . . + +Of course this was but chaff, she understood, and she began to wonder if +that other, that young Signor Elder, had been but joking. It might be +the American way. . . . And yet this was all flattering chaff and so +perhaps she could trust the flattery of her secret hope. + +Surely, surely, it was all going to happen. He would come--she would see +him again. + +Meanwhile she shook her young braids at Johnny Byrd. + +"But you are so sudden! I think he is a flirter, yes?" she said gayly to +Mr. Blair who smiled back appreciatively and a trifle protectively at +her. + +But Bobby Martin drawled, "Oh, no, he's not. He's too careful," and more +laughter ensued. + +After luncheon they went back into the hall where the three men drifted +out into a side room where cigars and cigarettes were sold, and began +filling their cases, while Mrs. Blair stepped out on the verandas and +joined a group there. Ruth remained by the fireplace, and Maria Angelina +waited by her. + +"Your friends are very nice," she began with a certain diffidence, as +her cousin had nothing to say. "That Johnny Byrd--he is very funny----" + +"Oh, Johnny's funny," said Ruth in an odd voice. She added, "Regular +spoiled baby--had everything his way. Only an old guardian to boss him." + +"You mean he is an orphan?" + +"Completely." + +Maria Angelina did not smile. "But that is very sad," she said soberly. +"No home life----" + +"Don't get it into your head that Johnny Byrd wants any _home life_," +said her cousin dryly, and with a hint of hard warning in her negligent +voice. "He's been dodging home life ever since he wore long trousers." + +"He must then," Maria Angelina deduced, very simply, "be rich." + +"He's one of the Long Island Byrds." + +It sounded to Maria like a flock of ducks, but she perceived that it was +given for affirmation. She followed Ruth's glance to where the backs of +the young men's heads were visible, bending over some coins they were +apparently matching. . . . Johnny Byrd's head was flaming in the +sunshine. . . . + +"He's a bird from a hard-boiled egg," Ruth said with a smile of inner +amusement. + +But whatever cryptic signal she flashed slipped unseen from Maria +Angelina's vision. Johnny Byrd was nice, but it was a gay, cheery, +everyday sort of niceness, she thought, with none of the quicksilver +charm of the young man at the dinner dance. . . . And she was +unimpressed by Johnny's money. She took the millionaires in America as +for granted as fish in the sea. + +She merely felt cheerfully that Fate was galloping along the expected +course. + +Subconsciously, perhaps, she recorded a possible second string to her +bow. + +With tact, she thought, she turned the talk to Ruth's young man. + +"And the Signor Bob Martin--I suppose he, too, is a millionaire," she +smiled, and was astonished at Ruth's derisive laugh. + +"Not unless he murders his father," said that barbaric young woman. + +She added, relenting towards her cousin's ignorance, "Oh, Bob hasn't +anything of his own, you know. . . . But his father's taking him into +business this fall." + +Maria Angelina was bewildered. Distinctly she had understood, from the +Leila Grey conversation, that Bobby Martin was a very eligible young man +and yet here was her cousin flouting any financial congratulation. + +Hesitantly, "Is his father--in a good business?" she offered, and won +from Ruth more merriment as inexplicable as her speech. + +"He's in Steel," she murmured, which was no enlightenment to Maria. + +She ventured to more familiar ground. + +"He is very handsome." + +To her astonishment Ruth snorted. . . . Now Lucia always bridled +consciously when one praised Paolo Tosti. + +"Don't let him hear you say so," she scoffed. "He's too fat. He needs a +lot more tennis." + +And then to Maria's horror she raised her voice and confided this +conviction to the approaching young men. + +"You're getting fat, Bob. I just got your profile--and you need a lot of +tennis for that tummy!" + +And young Martin laughed--the indolent, submissive laughter with which +he appeared to accept all things at the hands of this audacious, +brown-cheeked, gray-eyed young girl. + +She must be very sure of him, thought the little Italian sagely. Then, +not so sagely, she wondered if Ruth was exhibiting her power to warn off +all newcomers. . . . Was _that_ why she refused to admit his wealth or +his good looks--she wanted to invite no competition? + +Maria Angelina believed she saw the light. + +She would reassure Ruth, she thought eagerly. She was a young person of +honor. Never would she attempt to divert a glance from her cousin's +admirer. + +Meanwhile a debate was carried on between golf and tennis, and was +carried in favor of golf by Cousin Jim. There was unintelligible talk of +hazards and bunkers and handicaps for the tournament, of records and of +bogey, and then as Johnny turned to her with a casual, "Like the game?" +a shadow of misgiving crept into her confidence. + +She could not golf. Nor could she play tennis. Nor could she follow the +golfers--as Johnny Byrd suggested--for Cousin Jane declared her frock +and slippers too delicate. She must get into something more appropriate. + +And in Maria Angelina the worried suspicion woke that she had nothing +more appropriate. + +A few minutes later Cousin Jane confirmed that suspicion as she paused +by the trunk the young girl was hastily unpacking. + +"I'll send to town for some plain little things for you to play in," she +said cheerfully. "You must have some low-heeled white shoes and short +white skirts and a batting hat. They won't come to much," she added as +if carelessly, going down to her bridge game on the veranda. + +But Maria Angelina's small hands clenched tightly at her sides in a +panic out of all proportion to the idea. + +More expense, she was thinking quiveringly. More investment! + +Oh, she must not fail--she dared not fail. She must find some one--the +right some one---- + +She dropped beside her trunk of pretty things in a passion of frightened +tears. + + +But the night swung her back to triumph again. + +For although she could not golf, and her hands could not wield a tennis +racket, Maria Angelina could play a guitar and she could sing to it like +the angels she had been named for. And the young people at the Lodge had +a way of gathering in the dark upon the wide steps and strumming chords +and warbling strange strains about intimate emotions. And as Maria +Angelina's voice rose with the rest her gift was discovered. + +"Gosh, the little Wop's a Galli-Curci," was John Byrd's aside to Bob. + +So presently with Johnny Byrd's guitar in her hands Maria Angelina was +singing the songs of Italy, sometimes in English, when she knew the +words, that all might join in the choruses, but more often in their own +Italian. + +A crescent moon edged over the shadowy dark of the mountains before her +. . . the same moon whose silver thread of light slipped down those far +Apennine hills of home and touched the dome of old Saint Peter's. She +felt far away and lonely . . . and deliciously sad and subtly expectant. +. . . + +"'O Sole mio----" + +And as she sang, with her eyes on the far hills, her ears caught the +whir of wheels on the road below, and all her nerves tightened like +wires and hummed with the charged currents. + +Out of the dark she conjured a tall young figure advancing . . . a +figure topped by short-cut curly brown hair . . . a figure with eyes of +incredible brightness. . . . + +If he would only come now and find her like this, singing. . . . + +It was so exquisite a hope that her heart pleaded for it. + +But the wheels went on. + +"But he will come," she thought swiftly, to cover the pang of that +expiring hope. "He will come soon. He said so. And perhaps again it will +be like this and he will find me here----" + +"'O Sole mio----" + +And only Johnny Byrd, staring steadily through the dusk, discerned that +there were tears in her eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +RI-RI SINGS AGAIN + + +She told herself that she was foolish to hope for him so soon. Of course +he could not follow at once. He could not leave New York. He had work to +be done. She must not begin to hope until the week-end at least. + +But though she talked to herself so wisely, she hoped with every breath +she drew. She was accustomed to Italian precipitancy--and nothing in +Barry Elder suggested delay. If he came, he would come while his memory +of her was fresh. + +It would be either here or York Harbor. Either herself or that girl with +the blue eyes. If he really wanted to see her at all, if he had any +memory of their dance, any interest in the newness of her, then he would +come soon. + +And so through Maria Angelina's days ran a fever of expectancy. + +At first it ran high. The honk of a motor horn, the reverberation of +wheels upon the bridge, the slam of a door and the flurry of steps in +the hall set up that instant, tumultuous commotion. + +At any moment, she felt, Barry Elder might arrive. Every morning her +pulses confessed that he might come that day; every night her courage +insisted that the next morning would bring him. + +And as the days passed the expectancy increased. It grew acute. It grew +painful. The feeling, at every arrival, that he might be there gave her +a tight pinch of suspense, a hammering racket of pulse-beats--succeeded +by an empty, sickening, sliding-down-to-nothingness sensation when she +realized that he was not there, when her despair proclaimed that he +would never be there--and then, stoutly, she told herself that he would +come the next time. + +They were days of dreams for her--dreams of the restaurant, of color, +light and music, of that tall, slim figure . . . dreams of the dance, of +the gay, half-teasing voice, the bright eyes, the direct smile. . . . +Every word he had uttered became precious, infinitely significant. + +"_A rivederci_, Signorina. . . . Don't forget me." + +She had not forgotten him. Like the wax he had named she had guarded his +image. Through all the swiftly developing experiences of those strange +days she retained that first vivid impression. + +She saw him in every group. She pictured him in every excursion. Above +Johnny Byrd's light, straight hair she saw those close-cropped brown +curls. . . . She held long conversations with him. She confided her +impressions. She read him Italian poems. + +But still he did not come. + +And sharply she went from hope to despair. She told herself that he +would never come. + +She did not believe herself. Beneath a set little pretense of +indifference she listened intently for the sound of arrivals; her heart +turned over at an approaching car. + +But she did not admit it. She said that she was through with hope. She +said that she did not care whether he came or not. She said she did not +want him to come. + +He was with Leila Grey, of course. + +Well--she was with Johnny Byrd. + +She was with him every day, for with that amazing American freedom, +Bobby Martin came down to see Ruth every day and the four young people +with other couples from the Lodge were always involved in some game, +some drive, some expedition. + +But it was not accident nor a lazy concurrence with propinquity that +kept Johnny Byrd at Maria Angelina's side. + +Openly he announced himself as tied hand and foot. His admiration was as +vivid as his red roadster. It was as unabashed and clamant as his motor +horn. He reveled in her. He monopolized her. In his own words, he +lapped her up. + +With amazing simplicity Maria Angelina accepted this miracle. It was +only a second-rate miracle to her, for it was not the desire of her +heart, and she was uneasy about it. She did not want to be involved with +Johnny Byrd if Barry Elder should arrive. . . . Of course, if she had +never met Barry Elder. . . . + +Johnny Byrd was a very nice, merry boy. And he was rich . . . +independent. . . . If one has never tasted _Asti Spumante_, then one can +easily be pleased with _Chianti_. + +Her secret dream was the young girl's protection against over-eagerness. + +To her young hostess this indifference came as an enormous relief. + +"She's all right," Ruth reported to her mother, upon an afternoon that +Maria Angelina had taken herself downstairs to the piano and to a +prospective call from Johnny Byrd while Ruth herself, in riding togs, +awaited Bob Martin and his horses. + +"She isn't jumping down Johnny's throat at all," the girl went on. "I +was afraid, that first day, when she asked such nutty questions. . . . +But she seems to take it all for granted. That ought to hold Johnny for +a while--long enough so he won't get tired and throw her down for +somebody else before he goes." + +"You think, then, there isn't a chance of----?" + +Mrs. Blair left the hypothesis in midair, convicted of ancient sentiment +by the frank amusement of her young daughter's look. + +"No, my dear, there isn't a chance of," Ruth so competently informed her +that Mrs. Blair, in revolt, was moved to murmur, "After all, Ruth, +people do fall in love and get married in this world." + +"Oh, yes." + +Patiently Ruth gave this thought her consideration and in +fair-mindedness turned her scrutiny upon past days to evoke some sign +that should contradict her own conclusions. + +"She's got something--it's something different from the rest of us--but +it would take more than that to do for Johnny Byrd." + +Definitely, Ruth shook her head. + +"You don't suppose she's beginning to think----?" hazarded Mrs. Blair. + +Better than her daughter, she envisaged the circumstances which might +have led, in her Cousin Lucy's mind, to this young girl's visit. Lucy, +herself, had been taken abroad in those early days by a competent aunt. +Now Lucy, in the turn of the tide, was sending her daughter to America. + +Jane Blair would have liked to play fairy godmother, to make a +benevolent gesture, to scatter largess. . . . + +But she was not going to have it said that she was a fortune hunter. She +was not going to alarm Johnny Byrd and implicate Bob Martin and disturb +the delicate balance between him and Ruth. + +Lucy's daughter must take her chances. This wasn't Europe. + +"Well, I've said enough to her," Ruth stated briskly, in answer to her +mother's supposition. "I don't know how much she believes. . . . You +know Ri-Ri is seething with Old World sentiment and she may be such a +little nut as to think--but she doesn't act as if she really cared about +it. It isn't just a pose. . . . Do you imagine," said Ruth, suddenly +lapsing into a little Old World sentiment herself, "that she's gone on +some one in Italy and they sent her over to forget him? That might +account----" + +"Lucy's letter didn't sound like it. She was very emphatic about Maria +Angelina's knowing nothing of the world or young men. I rather +gathered," Mrs. Blair made out, "that the family had a plain daughter to +marry off and wanted the pretty one in ambush for a while--they take +care of those things, you know." + +"And I suppose if she copped a millionaire in the ambush they wouldn't +howl bloody murder," said the girl, with admirable intuition. + +"Oh, well----" She yawned and looked out of the window. "She's probably +having the time of her life. . . . I'm grateful she turned out such a +little peach. . . . When she goes back and marries some fat spaghetti it +will give her something to moon about to remember how she and Johnny +Byrd used to sit out and strum to the stars---- There he is now." + +"Bob?" said Mrs. Blair absently, her mind occupied by her young +daughter's large sophistication. + +"Johnny," said Ruth. + +She leaned half out the window as the red roadster shot thunderously +across the rustic bridge and brought up sharply on the driveway below. +With a shouted greeting she brought the driver's red-blonde head to +attention. + +"Hullo--where's the Bob?" + +Johnny grinned. "Trying to ride one horse and lead another. Sweet mount +he's bringing you, Ruth. Didn't like the way I passed him. Bet you he +throws you." + +"Bet you he doesn't." + +"You lose. . . . Where's the little Wop?" + +"You mean Maria Angelina Santonini?" + +"Gosh, is that all? Well, you scoot across to her room and tell Maria +Angelina Santonini that she has a perfectly good date with me." + +"She powdered her nose and went down stairs an hour ago," Ruth sang +down, just as a small figure emerged from the music room upon the +veranda and approached the rail. + +"The little Wop is here, Signor," said Maria Angelina lightly. + +Unabashed Johnny Byrd beamed at her. It was a perfectly good sensation, +each time, to see her. One grew to suspect, between times, that anything +so enchanting didn't really exist--and then, suddenly, there she was, +like a conjurer's trick, every lovely young line of her. + +Johnny knew girls. He knew them, he would have informed you, backwards +and forwards. And he liked girls--devilish cunning games, with the same +old trumps up their sleeves--when they wore 'em--but this girl was just +puzzlingly different enough to evoke a curiously haunting wonder. + +Was it the difference in environment? Or in herself? He couldn't quite +make her out. + +He seemed to be groping for some clew, some familiar sign that would +resolve all the unfamiliarities to old acquaintance. + +Meanwhile he continued to smile cheerily at the young person he had so +rudely designated as a little Wop and gestured to the seat beside him. + +"Hop in," he admonished. "Let us be off before that horse comes and +steps on me. That's a dear girl." + +But Maria Angelina shook her dark head. + +"I told you, no, Signor, I could not go. In my country one does not ride +with young men." + +"But you are in my country now. And in my country one jolly well rides +with young men." + +"In your country--but for a time, yes." Unconvinced Maria Angelina stood +by her rail, like the boy upon the burning deck. + +"But your aunt--cousin, I mean--would let you," he argued. "I'll shout +up now and see----" + +Unrelentingly, "It is not my cousin, but my mother who would object," +she informed him. + +"Holy Saint Cecilia! You're worse than boarding school. Come on, Maria +Angelina--I'll promise not to kiss you." + +That was one of Johnny's best lines. It always had a deal of effect--one +way or another. It startled Maria Angelina. Her eyes opened as if he had +set off a rocket--and something very bright and light, like the impish +reflections of that rocket, danced a moment in her look. + +"I will write that promise to my mother and see if it persuades her," +she informed him. + +"Oh, all right, all right." + +With the sigh of the defeated Johnny Byrd turned off the gas and climbed +out of his car. + +"Just for that the promise is off," he announced. "Do you think your +mother would mind letting you sit in the same room with me and teach me +that song you promised?" + +"She would mind very much in Italy." Over her shoulder Maria cast a +laughing look at him as she stepped back into the music room. "There I +would never be alone like this." + +Incredulously Johnny stared past her into the music room. Through the +windows upon the other side came the voices of bridge players upon the +veranda without. Through those same windows were visible the bridge +players' heads. Other windows opened upon the veranda in the front of +the Lodge from which they had just come. An arch of doorway gave upon +the wide hall where a guest was shuffling the mail. + +"_Alone!_" ejaculated Johnny. + +"My mother allows this when my sister Lucia and her fiancé, Paolo Tosti, +are together," said Maria Angelina. "I am in the next room with a book. +And that is very advanced. It is because Mamma is American." + +"I'll say it's advanced," Johnny muttered. "You mean--you mean your +sister and that--that toasted one she's engaged to have never really +seen each other----?" + +"Oh, they have _seen_ each other----" + +"The poor fish," said Johnny heavily. He glanced with increasing +curiosity at the young girl by his side. . . . After all, this _jeune +fille_ thing might be true. . . . + +"Well, I'm glad your mother was American," he declared, beginning to +strum upon the piano and inviting her to a seat beside him. + +But Maria Angelina remained looking through her music. + +"Then I am only half a Wop," said she. She added, bright mischief +between her long lashes, "What is it then--a Wop?" + +Johnny Byrd, striking random chords, looked up at her. + +"What is it?" he repeated. "I'll say that depends. . . . Sometimes it's +dark and greasy and throws bombs. . . . Sometimes it's bad and glad and +sings Carmen. . . . And sometimes it's--it's----" + +Deliberately he stared at the small braid-bound head, the shadowy dark +of the eyes, the scarlet curve of the small mouth. + +"Sometimes it's just the prettiest, youngest----" + +"I am _not_ so young," said Maria Angelina indignantly. + +"Lordy, you're a babe in arms." + +"I am _not_." Her defiance was furious. It had a twinge of +terror--terror lest they treat her everlastingly as child. + +"I am eighteen. I am but a year and three months younger than Ruth." + +"She's a kid," grinned Johnny. + +"The Signor Bob Martin does not think so!" + +"The Signor Bob Martin is nuts on that particular kid. And he's a kid +himself." + +"And do you think that you are----?" + +"Sure. We're all kids together. Why not? I like it," declared young +Byrd. + +But Maria Angelina was not appeased. She had half glimpsed that +indefinite irresponsibility of these strangers which treated youth as a +toy, an experiment. . . . + +"And is the Signorina Leila Grey," said she suddenly, "is she, also, a +kid?" + +Roundly Johnny opened his eyes. His face presented a curious stolidity +of look, as if a protection against some unforeseen attack. At the same +time it was streaked with humor. + +"Now where," said he, "did you get that?" + +"Is she," the girl persisted, "is she also a kid?" + +"The Signorina Leila Grey? No," conceded Johnny, "the Signorina Leila +Grey was born with her wisdom teeth cut. . . . At that she hasn't found +so much to chew on," he murmured cheerily. + +The girl's eyes were bright with divinations. "You mean that she did +not--did not find your friend Bob something to chew upon?" + +Johnny's laugh was a guffaw. It rang startlingly in that quiet room. +"You're there, Ri-Ri--absolutely there," he vowed. "But where, I +wonder----" He broke off. His look held both surmise and a shrewd +suspicion. + +"I--guessed," said Maria Angelina hastily. "And I saw her the first +evening in New York. . . . She is very beautiful." + +"She's a wonder," he admitted heartily. "Yes--and I'll say Bob nearly +fell for her. If she'd been expert enough she could have gathered him +in. He just dodged in time--and now he's busy forgetting he ever knew +her." + +"Perhaps," slowly puzzled out Maria Angelina, "perhaps the reason that +she was not--not expert, as you say--was because her attention was just +a little--wandering." + +Johnny yawned. "Often happens." He struck a few chords. "Where's that +little song of yours--the one you were going to teach me? I could do +something with that at the next show at the club." + +"If you will let me sit down, Signor----" + +"I'm not crabbing the bench." + +"But I wish the place in the center." + +"What you 'fraid of, Ri-Ri?" Obligingly Johnny moved over. "Why, you +have me tied hand and foot. I'm afraid to move a muscle for fear you'll +tell me it isn't done--in Italy." + +But Ri-Ri gave this an absent smile. For long, now, she had been leading +up to this talk and she felt herself upon the brink of revelations. +. . . Perhaps this Johnny Byrd knew where Barry Elder was. Perhaps they +were friends. . . . + +"In New York," she told him, "that Leila Grey was at the restaurant with +a young man--with the Signor Barry Elder." + +"Huh? Barry Elder?" + +"Are you,"--she was proud of the splendid indifference of her +voice,--"are you a friend of his?" + +Uninterestedly, "Oh, I know Barry," Johnny told her. "Bright boy--Barry. +Awful high-brow, though. Wrote a play or something. Not a darn bed in +it. Oh, well," said Johnny hastily, with a glance at the girl's young +face, "I say, how does this go? Ta _tump_ ti tum ti _tump tump_--what do +those words of yours mean?" + +"Perhaps this Barry Elder," said Ri-Ri with averted eyes, her hands +fluttering the pages, "perhaps he is the one that Leila Grey's attention +was upon. Did you not hear that?" + +"Who? Barry?" + +"Has he not," said the girl desperately, "become recently more desirable +to her--more rich, perhaps----" + +"That play didn't make him anything, that's sure," the young man +meditated. "But seems to me I did hear--something about an uncle +shuffling off and leaving him a few thous. . . . Maybe he left enough to +buy Leila a supper." + +"Here are the English words." Maria Angelina spread the music open +before them. "Mrs. Blair was joking with him," she reverted, "because he +was not going to that York Harbor this summer where this Leila Grey was. +But perhaps he has gone, after all?" + +"Search me," said Johnny negligently. "I'm not his keeper." + +"But you would know if he is coming to the dance at the Martins--that +dance next week----?" + +"He isn't coming to the house party, he's not invited. He and Bob aren't +anything chummy at all. Barry trains in an older crowd. . . . Seems to +me," said Johnny, turning to look at her out of bright blue eyes, +"you're awf'ly interested in this Barry Elder thing. Did you say you met +him in New York?" + +"I met him--yes," said Maria Angelina, in a steady little voice, +beginning suddenly to play. "And I thought it was so romantic--about him +and this Leila Grey. She was so beautiful and he had been so brave in +the war. And so I wondered----" + +"Well, don't you wonder about who's coming to that dance. That dance is +_mine_," said Johnny definitely. "I want you to look your darndest--put +it all over those flappers. Show them what you got," admonished Johnny +with the simple directness in such vogue. + +"And now come on, Ri-Ri--let's get into this together. + + 'I cannot now forget you + And you think not of me!' + +_Come_ on, Maria Angelina!" + +And Maria Angelina, her face lifted, her eyes strangely bright, sang, +while Johnny Byrd stared fixedly down at her, angrily, defiantly, sang +to that unseen young man--back in the shadows---- + + "I cannot now forget you + And you think not of me!" + +And then she told herself that she would forget him very well indeed. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BETWEEN DANCES + + +There had been distinct proprietorship in Johnny's reference to the +dance, a hint of possessive admonition, a shade of anxiety to which +Maria Angelina was not insensitive. + +He wanted her to excel. His pride was calling, unconsciously, upon her, +to justify his choice. The dance was an exhibition . . . competition. It +was the open market . . . appraisal. . . . + +No matter how charming she might be in the motor rides with the four, +how pretty and piquant in the afternoon at the piano, how melodious in +the evenings upon the steps, the full measure of his admiration was not +exacted. + +Sagely she surmised this. Anxiously she awaited the event. + +It was her first real dance. It was her first American affair. Casually, +in the evenings at the Lodge, they had danced to the phonograph and she +had been initiated into new steps and amazed at the manner of them, but +there had been nothing of the slightest formality. + +Now the Martins were entertaining over the week-end, and giving a dance +to which the neighborhood--meaning the neighborhood of the Martins' +acquaintance--was assembling. + +And again Maria Angelina felt the inrush of fear, the overwhelming +timidity of inexperience held at bay by pride alone . . . again she knew +the tormenting question which she had confronted in that dim old glass +at the Palazzo Santonini on the day when she had heard of the adventure +before her. + +She asked it that night of a different glass, the big, built-in mirror +of the dressing-room at the Martins given over to the ladies--a mirror +that was a dissolving kaleidoscope of color and motion, of bright +silks, bare shoulders and white arms, of pink cheeks, red lips and +shining hair. + +Advancing shyly among the young girls, filled with divided wonder at +their self-possession and their extreme décolletage, Ri-Ri gazed at the +glass timidly, determinedly, fatefully, as one approaches an oracle, and +out from the glittering surface was flung back to her a radiant image of +reassurance--a vision of a slim figure in filmiest white, slender arms +and shoulders bare, dark hair not braided now, but piled high upon her +head--a revelation of a nape of neck as young and kissable as a baby's +and yet an addition of bewildering years to her immaturity. + +To-night she was glad of the white skin, that was a gift from Mamma. The +white coral string, against the satin softness of her throat, revealed +its opalescent flush. She was immaculate, exquisite, like some figurine +of fancy--an image of youth as sweet and innocently troubling as a May +night. + +"You're a love," said Ruth heartily, appearing at her side, very +stunning herself in jade green, with her smooth hair a miracle of +shining perfection. + +"And you're--different," added Ruth in a slightly puzzled voice, looking +her small cousin over with the thoroughness of an inventory. "It must be +the hair, Ri-Ri. . . . You've lost that little Saint Susy air." + +"But there is no Saint Susy," Ri-Ri interposed gayly, lightly fingering +the dark curves of her hair. + +Truly--for Johnny--she had done her darndest! Surely he would be +pleased. + +"If you'd only let me cut that lower--you're simply swaddled in +tulle----" + +Startled, Maria glanced down at the hollows of her young bosom, at the +scantiness of her bodice suspended only by bands of sheerest gauze. She +wondered what Mamma would say, if she could see her so, without that +drape of net. . . . + +"You have the duckiest shoulder blades," said Ruth. + +"Oh--do _they_ show?" cried Maria Angelina in dismay. She twisted for a +view and the movement drew Ruth's glance along her lithe figure. + +"We ought to have cut two inches more off," she declared, and now +Ri-Ri's glance fled down to the satin slippers with their crossed +ribbons, to the narrow, silken ankles, to the slender legs above the +ankles. It seemed to her an utterly limitless exhibition. And Ruth was +proposing two more inches! + +Apprehensively she glanced about to make sure that no scissors were in +prospect. + +"But you'll do," Ruth pronounced, and in relief Maria Angelina +relinquished the center of the mirror, and slipped out into the gallery +that ran around three sides of the house. + +It was built like a chalet, but Maria Angelina had seen no such chalet +in her childish summers in Switzerland. Over the edge of the rail she +gazed into the huge hall, cleared now for dancing. The furniture had +been pushed back beneath the gallery where it was arranged in intimate +little groups for future tęte-ŕ-tętes, except a few lounging chairs left +on the black bear-skins by the chimney-piece. In one corner a screen of +pine boughs and daisies shut off the musicians from the streets, and in +the opposite corner an English man-servant was presiding over a huge +silver punch bowl. + +To Maria Angelina, accustomed to Italian interiors, the note was +buoyantly informal. And the luxury of service in this informality was a +piquant contrast. . . . No one seemed to care what anything cost. . . . +They gave dances in a log chalet and sent to New York for the favors and +to California for the fruit. . . . Into the huge punch-bowl they poured +wine of a value now incredible, since the supply could never be +replenished. . . . + +Very different would be Lucia's wedding party in the Palazzo Santonini, +on that marvelous old service that Pietro polished but three times a +year, with every morsel of refreshment arranged and calculated +beforehand. + +What miracles of economy would be performed in that stone-flagged +kitchen, many of them by Mamma's own hands! Suddenly Maria Angelina +found a moment to wonder afresh at that mother . . . and with a new +vision. . . . For Mamma had come from this profusion. + +"They have a regular place at Newport." Ruth was concluding some unheard +speech behind her. "But they like this better. . . . This is the life," +and with a just faintly discernible note of proprietorship in her air +she was off down the stairs. + +"Didn't they find Newport rather chilly?" murmured the girl to whom she +had been talking. "Wasn't Mrs. M. a Smith or a Brown-Jones or +something----?" + +"It was something in butterine," said another guest negligently and +swore, softly and intensely, at a shoulder strap. "Oh, _damn_ the +thing! . . . Well--flop if you want to. I've got nothing to hide." + +"You know why girls hide their ears, don't you?" said the other voice, +and the second girl flung wearily back, "Oh, so they can have something +to show their husbands--I heard that in my cradle!" + +"It _is_ rather old," its sponsor acknowledged wittily, and the pair +went clattering on. + +Had America, Maria Angelina wondered, been like this in her mother's +youth? Was it from such speeches that her mother had turned, in +helplessness or distaste, to the delicate implications, the finished +innuendo of the Italian world? + +Or had times changed? Were these girls truly different from their +mothers? Was it a new society? + +That was it, she concluded, and she, in her old-world seclusion, was of +another era from these assured ones. . . . Again, for a moment the doubt +of her capacity to cope with these times assailed her, but only for a +moment, for next instant she caught Johnny Byrd's upturned glance from +the floor below and in its flash of admiration, as unstinted as a sun +bath, her confidence drew reanimation. + +Later, she found that same warmth in other men's eyes and in the +eagerness with which they kept cutting in. + +That cutting in, itself, was strange to her. It filled her with a +terrifying perspective of what would happen if she were _not_ cut in +upon--if she were left to gyrate endlessly in the arms of some luckless +one, eternally stuck. . . . + +At home, at a ball, she knew that there were fixed dances, and programs, +in which engagements were jotted definitely down, and at each dance's +end a girl was returned respectfully to her chaperon where the next +partner called for her. Often she had scanned Lucia's scrawled programs +for the names there. + +But none of that now. + +Up and down the hall she sped in some man's arms, round and round, up +and down, until another man, agile, dexterous, shot between the couples +and claimed her. And then up and down again until some other man. . . . +And sometimes they went back to rest in the intimately arranged chairs +beneath the balcony, and sometimes stepped out of doors to saunter along +a wide terrace. + +It was incredibly independent. It was intoxicatingly free. It was also +terrifyingly responsible. + +And Maria Angelina, in her young fear of unpopularity, smiled so +ingenuously upon each arrival, with a shy, backward deprecatory glance +at her lost partner, that she stirred something new and wondering in +each seasoned breast, and each dancer came again and again. + +But all of them, the new young men from town, the tennis champion from +Yale, the polo player from England, the lawyer from Washington, the +stout widower, the professional bachelor, all were only moving shapes +that came and went and came again and by their tribute made her +successful in Johnny's eyes. + +Indeed, so well did they do their work that Johnny was moved to brusque +expostulation. + +"Look here, Ri-Ri, I told you this was to be _my_ dance! With all those +outsiders cutting in--Freeze them, Ri-Ri. Try a long, hard level look on +the next one you see making your way. . . . Don't you _want_ to dance +with me, any more? Huh? Where's that stand-in of mine? Is it a little, +old last year's model?" + +"But what am I to do----?" + +"Fight 'em off. Bite 'em. Kick their shins. . . . Oh, Lord," groaned +Johnny, dexterously whirling her about, "there's another coming. . . . +Here's where we go. This way out." + +Speedily he piloted her through the throng. Masterfully he caught her +arm and drew her out of doors. + +She was glad to be out of the dance. His clasp had been growing too +personal . . . too tight. . . . Perhaps she was only oddly +self-conscious . . . incapable of the serene detachment of those other +dancers, who, yielding and intertwined, revolved in intimate harmony. + +There was a moon. It shone soft and bright upon them, making a world of +enchantment. The long lines of the mountains melted together like a +violet cloud and above them a round top floated, pale and dreamy, as the +dome of Saint Peter's at twilight. + +From the terrace stretched a grassy path where other couples were +strolling and Johnny Byrd guided her past them. They walked in silence. +He kept his hand on her arm and from time to time glanced about at her +in a half-constraint that was no part of his usual air. + +At a curve of the path the girl drew definitely back. + +"Ah no----" + +"Oh, why not? Isn't it the custom?" He laughed over the often-cited +phrase but absently. His eyes had a warm, hurrying look in them that +rooted her feet the more stubbornly to the ground. + +"Decidedly not." She turned a merriment lighted face to him. "To walk +alone with a young man--between dances--beneath the moon!" + +Maria Angelina shuddered and cast impish eyes at heaven. + +"Honestly?" Johnny demanded. "Do you mean to tell me you've never walked +between dances with young men?" + +"I tell you that I have never even danced with a young man until----" +She flashed away from that memory. "Until I came to America. I am not +yet in Italian society. I have never been presented. It is not yet my +time." + +"But--but don't the sub debs have any good times over there? Don't you +have dances of your own? Don't you meet fellows? Don't you know +anybody?" Johnny demanded with increasing amazement at each new shake of +her head. + +"Oh, come," he protested. "You can't put that over me. I'll bet you've +got a bagful of fellows crazy about you. Don't you ever slip out on an +errand, you know, and find some one waiting round the corner----?" + +"You are speaking of the customs of my maid, perhaps," said Maria +Angelina with becoming young haughtiness. "For myself, I do not go upon +errands. I have never been upon the streets alone." + +Johnny Byrd stared. With a supreme effort of credulity he envisaged the +fact. Perhaps it was really so. Perhaps she was just as sequestered and +guileless and inexperienced as that. It was ridiculous. It was amusing. +It was--somehow--intriguing. + +With his hand upon her bare arm he drew her closer. + +"Ri-Ri--honest now--is this the first----?" + +She drew away instinctively before the suppressed excitement of him. Her +heart beat fast; her hands were very cold. She knew elation . . . and +panic . . . and dread and hope. + +It was for this she had come. Young and rich and free! What more would +Mamma ask? What greater triumph could be hers? + +"I'd like to make a lot of other things the first, too," muttered +Johnny. + +To Ri-Ri it seemed irrevocable things were being said. But she still +held lightly away from him, resisting the clumsy pull of his arm. He +hesitated--laughed oddly. + +"It ought to be against the law for any girl to look the way you do, +Ri-Ri." He laughed again. "I wonder if you know how the deuce you _do_ +look?" + +"Perhaps it is the moonlight, Signor." + +"Moonlight--you look as if you were made of it. . . . I could eat you +up, Ri-Ri." His eyes on her red little mouth, on her white, beating +throat. His voice had an odd, husky note. + +"Don't be such a little frost, Ri-Ri. Don't you like me at all?" + +It was the dream coming true. It was the fairy prince--not the false +figure she had set in the prince's place, but a proud revenge upon him. +This was reality, fulfillment. + +She saw herself already married to Johnny, returning proudly with him +to Italy. She saw them driving in a victoria, openly as man and wife--or +no, Johnny would have a wonderful car, all metal and bright color. They +would be magnificently touring, with their luggage strapped on the side, +as she had seen Americans. + +She saw them turning into the sombre courtway of the old Palazzo +Santonini and, so surely had she been attuned to the American note, she +could presage Johnny's blunt disparagement. He would be astonished that +they were living upon the third floor--with the lower apartment let. He +would be amused at the servants toiling up the stairs from the kitchens +to the dining hall. He would be entertained at the solitary tub. He +would be disgusted, undoubtedly, at the candles. . . . + +But of course Mamma would have everything very beautiful. There would be +no lack of candles. . . . The chandeliers would be sparkling for that +dinner. There would be delicious food, delicate wines, an abundant +gleam of shining plate and crystal and embroidered linens. + +And how Lucia would stare, how dear Julietta would smile! She would buy +Julietta the prettiest clothes, the cleverest hats. . . . She would give +dear Mamma gold--something that neither dear Papa nor Francisco knew +about--and to dear Papa and Francisco she would give, too, a little +gold--something that dear Mamma did not know about. + +For once Papa could have something for his play that was not a roast +from his kitchen nor clothes from his daughters' backs nor oats from his +horses! + +Probably they would be married at once. Johnny was free and rich--and +impatient. She did not suspect him of interest in a long wooing or +betrothal. . . . And while she must appear to be in favor of a return +home, first, and a marriage from her home, the American ceremony would +cut many knots for her--save much expense at home. . . . + +She saw herself proudly exhibiting Johnny, delighting in his youth, his +blonde Americanism, his smartly cut clothes, his conqueror's assurance. + +Meanwhile Maria Angelina was still standing there in the moonlight, like +a little wraith of silver, smiling with absent eyes at Johnny's muttered +words, withdrawing, in childish panic, from Johnny's close pressing +ardor. She knew that if he persisted . . . but before her soft +detachment, her half laughing evasiveness of his mood, he did not +persist. He seemed oddly struggling with some withholding uncertainties +of his own. + +"Oh, well, if that's all you like me," said Johnny grumpily. + +It was reprieve . . . reprieve to the irrevocable things. Her heart +danced . . . and yet a piqued resentment pinched her. + +He had been able to resist. + +She knew subtly that she could have overcome that irresolution. . . . +But she was not going to make things too easy for him--her Santonini +pride forbade! + +"We must go back," she told him and exulted in his moodiness. + +And for the rest of the evening his arm pressed her, his eyes smiled +down significantly upon her, and when she confronted the great mirror +again it was to glimpse a girl with darkly shining eyes and cheeks like +scarlet poppies, a girl in white, like a bride, and with a bride's high +pride and assured heart. + +She slept, that night, composing the letter to dear Mamma. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +TWO--AND A MOUNTAIN + + +The next morning was given to recovery from the dance. In the afternoon +the Martins had planned a mountain climb. It was not a really bad +mountain, at all, and the arrangement was to start in the late +afternoon, have dinner upon the top, and descend by moonlight. + +It was the plan of the younger inexhaustibles among the group, but in +spite of faint protests from some of the elders all the Martin +house-party was in line for the climb, and with the addition of the +Blair party and several other couples from the Lodge, quite a procession +was formed upon the path by the river. + +It was a lovely day--a shade too hot, if anything was to be urged +against it. The sun struck great shafts of golden light amid the rich +green of the forest, splashing the great tree boles with bold light and +shade. The air was fragrant with spruce and pine and faint, aromatic +wintergreen. A hot little wind rocked the reflections in the river and +blew its wimpling surface into crinkled, lace-paper fantasies. + +Overhead the sky burned blue through the white-cottonballs of cloud. + +Bob Martin headed the procession, Ruth at his side, and the stout +widower concluded it, squiring a rather heavy-footed Mrs. Martin. Midway +in the line came Mrs. Blair, and beside her, abandoning the line of +young people behind the immediate leaders was a small figure in short +white skirt and middy, pressing closely to her Cousin Jane's side. + +It was Maria Angelina, her dark hair braided as usual about her head, +her eyes a shade downcast and self-conscious, withdrawn and +tight-wrapped as any prudish young bud. + +But if virginal pride had urged her to flee all appearance of +expectation, an equally sharp masculine reaction was withholding Johnny +Byrd from any appearance of pursuit. + +He went from group to group, clowning it with jokes and laughter, and +only from the corners of his eyes perceiving that small figure, like a +child's in its white play clothes. + +For half an hour that separation endured--a half hour in which Cousin +Jane told Maria Angelina all about her first mountain climb, when a +girl, and the storm that had driven herself and her sister and her +father and the guide to sleep in the only shelter, and of the guide's +snores that were louder than the thunder--and Maria Angelina laughed +somehow in the right places without taking in a word, for all the time +apprehension was tightening, tightening like a violin string about to +snap. + +And then, when it was drawn so tight that it did not seem possible to +endure any more, Johnny Byrd appeared at Ri-Ri's side, conscious-eyed +and boyishly embarrassed, but managing an offhand smile. + +"And is this the very first mountain you've ever climbed?" he demanded +banteringly. + +Gladness rushed back into the girl. She raised a face that sparkled. + +"The very first," she affirmed, very much out of breath. "That is, upon +the feet. In Italy we go up by diligence and there is always a hotel at +the top for tea." + +"We'll have a little old bonfire at the top for tea. . . . Don't take it +so fast and you'll be all right," he advised, and, laying a restraining +hand upon her arm he held her back while Cousin Jane, with her casual, +careless smile, passed ahead to join one of the Martin party. + +It was an act of masterful significance. Maria Angelina accepted it +meekly. + +"Like this?" asked Johnny of her smiling face. + +"I love it," she told him, and looked happily at the green woods about +them, and across the river, rushing now, to where the forest was +clinging to sharply rising mountain flanks. Her eyes followed till they +found the bare, shouldering peaks outlined against the blue and white +of the cumulous sky. + +The beauty about her flooded the springs of happiness. It was a +wonderful world, a radiant world, a world of dream and delights. It was +a world more real than the fantasy of moonlight. She felt more real. She +was herself, too, not some strange, diaphanous image conjured out of +tulle and gauze, she was her own true flesh-and-blood self, living in a +dream that was true. + +She looked away from the mountains and smiled up at Johnny Byrd very +much as the young princess in the fairy tale must have smiled at the +all-conquering prince, and Johnny Byrd's blue eyes grew bluer and +brighter and his voice dropped into intimate possessiveness. + +It didn't matter in the least what they talked about. They were absurdly +merry, loitering behind the procession. + +Suddenly it occurred to Maria Angelina that it had been some time since +he had drawn her back from Cousin Jane's casual but comprehending +smile, some time since they had even heard the echo of voices ahead. + +Her conscience woke guiltily. + +"We must hurry," she declared, quickening her own small steps. + +Teasingly Johnny Byrd hung back. "'Fraid cat, 'fraid cat--what you +'fraid of, Maria Angelina?" + +He added, "I'm not going to eat you--though I'd like to," he finished in +lower tone. + +"But it is getting dark! There are clouds," said the girl, gazing up in +frank surprise at the changed sky. She had not noticed when the sunlight +fled. It was still visible across the river, slipping over a hill's +shoulder, but from their woods it was withdrawn and a dark shadow was +stretching across them. + +"Clouds--what do you care for clouds?" scoffed Johnny gayly, and in his +rollicking tenor, "Just roll dem clouds along," sang he. + +Politely Maria Angelina waited until he had finished the song, but she +waited with an uneasy mind. + +She cared very much for clouds. They looked very threatening, blowing so +suddenly over the mountain top, overcasting the brightness of the way. +And behind the scattered white were blowing gray ones, their edges +frayed like torn clothes on a line, and after the gray ones loomed a +dark, black one, rushing nearer. + +And suddenly the woods at their right began to thresh about, with a +surprised rustling, and a low mutter, as of smothered warning, ran over +the shoulder of the mountain. + +"Rain! As sure as the Lord made little rain drops," said Johnny +unconcerned. "There's going to be a cloudful spilled on us," he told the +troubled girl, "but it won't last a moment. Come into the wood and find +the dry side of a tree." + +He caught at her hand and brought her crashing through the underbrush, +pushing through thickets till they were in the center of a great group +of maples, their heavy boughs spread protectingly above. + +A giant tree trunk protected her upon one side; upon the other Johnny +drew close, spreading his sweater across her shoulders. Looking upwards, +Maria Angelina could not see the sky; above and about her was soft +greenness, like a fairy bower. And when the rain came pouring like hail +upon the leaves scarcely a drop won through to her. + +They stood very still, unmoving, unspeaking while the shower fell. There +was an unreal dreamlike quality about the happening to the girl. Then, +almost intrusively, she became deeply aware of his presence there beside +her--and conscious that he was aware of hers. + +She shivered. + +"Cold," said Johnny, in a jumpy voice, and put a hand on her shoulders, +guarded by his sweater. + +"N-no," she whispered. + +"Feel dry?" + +His hand moved upward to her bared head, lingered there upon the heavy +braids. + +"Yes," she told him, faintly as before. + +"But you're shivering." + +"I don't like t-thunder," she told him absurdly, as a muttering roll +shook the air above them. + +His hand, still hovering over her hair, went down against her cheek and +pressed her to him. She could hear his heart beating. It sounded as +loudly in his breast as her own. She had a sense of sudden, +unpremeditated emotion. + +She felt his lips upon the back of her neck. + +She tried to draw away, and suddenly he let her go and gave a short, +unsteady laugh. + +"It's all right, Ri-Ri--you're my little pal, aren't you?" he murmured. + +Unseeingly she nodded, drawing a long, shaken breath. Then as he started +to draw her nearer again she moved away, putting up her arms to her hair +in a gesture that instinctively shielded the confusion of her face. + +"No? . . . All right, Ri-Ri, I won't crowd you," he murmured. "But oh, +you little Beauty Girl, you ought to be in a cage with bars about. . . . +You ought to wear a mask--a regular diving outfit----" + +Unexpectedly Ri-Ri recovered her self-possession. Again she fled from +the consummation of the scene. + +"I shall wear nothing so unbecoming," she flung lightly back. "And it +has not been raining for ever so long. Unless you wish to build a nest +in the forest, like a new fashion of oriole, Signor Byrd, you had better +hurry and catch up with the others." + +Johnny did not speak as they came out of the woods and in silence they +hurried along the path on the river's edge. + +The sun came out again to light them; on the green leaves about them the +wetness glittered and dried and the ephemeral shower seemed as unreal as +the memory it evoked. + +With her head bent Maria Angelina pressed on in a haste that grew into +anxiety. Not a sound came back to them from those others ahead. Not a +voice. Not a footstep. + +And presently the path appeared dying under their feet. + +Green moss overspread it. Brambles linked arms across it. + +"They are not here. We are on the wrong way," cried Maria Angelina and +turned startled eyes on the young man. + +Johnny Byrd refused to take alarm. + +"They must have crossed the river farther back--that's the answer," he +said easily. "We went past the right crossing--probably just after the +storm. You know you were speeding like a two-year-old on the home +stretch." + +But Ri-Ri refused to shoulder all that blame. + +"It might have been before the storm--while we were lingering so," she +urged distressfully. "You know that for so long we had heard nothing--we +ought to go back quickly--very quickly and find that crossing." + +Johnny did not look back. He looked across the river, which ran more +deeply here between narrowed banks, and then glanced on ahead. + +"Oh, we'll go ahead and cross the next chance we get," he informed her. +"We can strike in from there to old Baldy. I know the way. . . . Trust +your Uncle Leatherstocking," he told her genially. + +But no geniality appeased Maria Angelina's deepening sense of +foreboding. + +She quickened her steps after him as he strode on ahead, gallantly +holding back brambles for her and helping her scramble over fallen logs, +and she assented, with the eagerness of anxiety, when he announced a +place as safe for crossing. + +It was at the head of a mild rush of rapids, and an outcropping of large +rocks made possible, though slippery, stepping-stones. + +But Ri-Ri's heelless shoes were rubber soled, and she was both fearless +and alert. And though the last leap was too long for her, for she landed +in the shallows with splashing ankles, she had scarcely a down glance +for them. Her worried eyes were searching the green uplands before +them. + +Secretly she was troubled at Johnny's instant choice of way. Her own +instinct was to go back along the river and then strike in towards old +Baldy, but men, she knew from Papa, did not like objections to their +wisdom, so she reminded herself that she was a stranger and ignorant of +this country and that Johnny Byrd knew his mountains. + +He told her, as they went along, how well he knew them. + +Steadily their path climbed. + +"Should we not wind back a little?" she ventured once. + +"Oh, we're on another path--we'll dip back and meet the other path a +little higher up," the young man told her. + +But still the path did not dip back. It reached straight up. But Johnny +would not abandon it. He seemed to feel it inextricably united with his +own rightness of decision, and since he was inevitably right, so +inevitably the path must disclose its desired character. + +But once or twice he paused and looked out over the way. Then, +hopefully, Ri-Ri hung upon his expression, longing for reconsideration. +But he never faltered, always on her approach he charged ahead again. + +No holding back of brambles, now. No helping over logs. Johnny was the +pathfinder, oblivious, intent, and Ri-Ri, the pioneer woman, enduring as +best she might. + +Up he drove, straight up the mountain side, and after him scrambled the +girl, her fears voiceless in her throat, her heart pounding with +exertion and anxiety like a ship's engine in her side. + +Time seemed interminable. There was no sun now. The gray and white +clouds were spread thinly over the sky and only a diffused brightness +gave the suggestion of the west. + +When the path wound through woods it seemed already night. On barren +slopes the day was clear again. + +Hours passed. Endless hours to the tired-footed girl. They had left the +last woods behind them now and reached a clearing of bracken among the +granite, and here Johnny Byrd stopped, and stared out with an +unconcealed bewilderment that turned her hopes to lead. + +With him, she stared out at the great gray peaks closing in about them +without recognizing a friend among them. Dim and unfamiliar they loomed, +shrouded in clouds, like chilly giants in gray mufflers against the +damp. + +It was not old Baldy. It could not be old Baldy. One looked up at old +Baldy from the Lodge and she had heard that from old Baldy one looked +down upon the Lodge and the river and the opening valley. She had been +told that from old Baldy the Martin chalet resembled a cuckoo clock. +. . . + +No cuckoo clocks in those vague sweeps below. + +"Can we not go down a little bit?" said Maria Angelina gently. "Farther +down again we might find the right path. . . . Up here--I think we are +on the wrong mountain." + +Turning, Johnny looked about. Ahead of him were overhanging slabs of +rock. + +Irresolution vanished. "That's the top now," he declared. "We are just +coming up the wrong side, that's all. I'll say it's wrong--but here we +are. I'll bet the others are up there now--lapping up that food. Come +on, Ri-Ri, we haven't far now to go." + +In a gust of optimism he held out his hand and Maria Angelina clutched +it with a weariness courage could not conceal. + +It seemed to her that her breath was gone utterly, that her feet were +leaden weights and her muscles limply effortless. But after him she +plunged, panting and scrambling up the rocks, and then, very suddenly, +they found themselves to be on only a plateau and the real mountain head +reared high and aloof above. + +Under his breath--and not particularly under it, either--Johnny Byrd +uttered a distinct blasphemy. + +And in her heart Maria Angelina awfully seconded it. + +Then with decidedly assumed nonchalance, "Gosh! All that way to supper!" +said the young man. "Well, come on, then--we got to make a dent in +this." + +"Oh, are you sure--are you _sure_ that this is the right mountain?" +Maria Angelina begged of him. + +"Don't I know Baldy?" he retorted. "We're just on another side of it +from the others, I told you. Come on, Ri-Ri--we'll soon smell the coffee +boiling." + +She wished he had not mentioned coffee. It put a name to that gnawing, +indefinite feeling she had been too intent to own. + +Coffee . . . Fragrant and steaming, with bread and butter . . . +sandwiches filled with minced ham, with cream cheese, with olive +paste--sandwiches filled with anything at all! Cold chicken . . . salad +. . . fruit. Food in any form! _Food!!_ + +She felt empty. Utterly empty and disconsolate. + +And she was tired. She had never known such tiredness--her feet ached, +her legs ached, her back ached, her arms ached. She could have dropped +with the achingness of her. Each effort was a punishment. + +Yet she went on with a feverish haste. She was driven by a compulsion to +which fatigue was nothing. + +It had become terrible not to be reunited with the others. She thought +of the hours, the long hours, that she and Johnny Byrd had been alone +and she flinched, shivering under the whiplash of fear. + +What were they saying of her, those others? What were they thinking? + +She knew how unwarrantable, how inexcusable a thing she had done. + +It had begun with deliberate loitering. For that--for a little of +that--she had the sanction of the new American freedom, the permission +of Cousin Jane's casual, understanding smile. + +"It's all right," that smile had seemed to say to her, "it's all right +as long as it's Johnny Byrd--but be careful, Ri-Ri." + +And she had loitered shamefully, she had plunged into the woods with +Johnny in that thunder storm, she had let him take her on the wrong +path. + +And now it was growing dark and they were far from the others--and she +was not sure, even, that they were upon the right way. + +But they _must_ be. They could not be so hideously, so finally wrong. + +Panic routed her exhaustion and she toiled furiously on. + +"You're a pretty good scout--for a little Wop," said Johnny Byrd with a +sudden grin and a moment's brightness was lighted within her. + +She did not speak--she could only breathe hard and smile. + +Nearer and nearer they gained the top, rough climbing but not dangerous. +The top was not far now. Johnny shouted and listened, then shouted +again. + +Once they thought they heard voices but it was only the echoes of their +own, borne hollowly back. + +"The wind is the other way," said Johnny, and on they went, charging up +a steep, gravelly slope over more rocks and into a scrub group of firs. +. . . + +Surely this was as near the top as one could go! Nothing above but +barren, tilted rock. Nothing beyond but more boulders and stunted trees. +The place lay bare before their eyes. + +Round and round they went, calling, holding their breath to listen. +Then, with a common impulse, they turned and stared at each other. + +That moment told Maria Angelina what panic was. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +JOHNNY BECOMES INEVITABLE + + +She did not speak. She was afraid she was going to burst into tears. Her +knees were trembling and she sat down with the effect of collapse and +looked mutely up at Johnny. + +"Judas," said Johnny bitterly. + +He stared around once more, evading her eyes now, and then he moved over +and sat down beside her, drawing out his cigarettes. + +Slowly he took one, tapped its end upon a rock, and lighted it. Then, +the case still open, he looked inquiringly at her. + +"Smoke, Ri-Ri?" he questioned. "Ought to--never too late to learn." + +She shook her head, smiling faintly. She knew his own perturbation must +be immense. She did not want to add to it; she wanted to be brave and +conceal her own agony. + +He put the cigarettes away and from an inner pocket drew out a cake of +chocolate. + +"Supper," he announced. + +She broke the cake in two even halves, giving him back one. He took but +half of that. With the cigarette between his lips he felt better. Slowly +he relaxed. + +"I'll have to teach you how to smoke," he said, blowing rings. "When +we're rested we'll get some wood and build a fire. The others will see +that and signal back and we'll make connections." + +At that she stared, round-eyed. "Wait for a fire?" Incredulously she +straightened. Her voice grew breathless. "Oh, no, we must go--we must +go," she said with a hint of wildness in her urgency. + +Deliberately Johnny leaned back. "Go? Go where?" + +"Go down. Go to where the others are. We must find them." + +"Nothing doing." Johnny rubbed a stout leg. "Your Uncle Dudley is all +in. So are you." + +"But I can go, I am able to go on," she insisted. "And I would +rather--Oh, if you please, I would so much rather go on at once. We +cannot wait like this." + +"I'll say we can wait like this. Watch me." + +"But we cannot stay----" + +"Well, we cannot go," said Johnny mimicking. "We'd get nowhere if we did +try. We'd just go round and round. Our best bet is to stay on this peak +and signal. Believe me, I'm not going to stir for one long while." + +Again the fear of tears choked back the words that rushed upon her. She +told herself that she must not be weak and frantic and make a scene. +. . . Men abhorred scenes. And it would not help. It would only anger +him. He was tired now. He was not thinking of her. He had not realized +the situation. + +Presently he would realize. . . . And, anyway, he was there with her, he +would take care of her, protect her from the tongues of gossip. + +Slowly Johnny smoked two cigarettes, then he rose and gathered sticks +for a fire. It burned briskly, its swift flame throwing a glowing circle +about them and extinguishing the rest of the world. + +There had been no sunset. A bank of clouds had swallowed the last +vestige of ruddy light. The mountain peaks darkened. It was growing +night. + +"We'll wait for moonlight," said Johnny Byrd. + +But at that Maria Angelina's eyes came away from those mountains which +she was unremittingly watching for an answering fire and fixed +themselves upon his face in startled horror. + +"Moonlight!" she gasped. "But no--no! We must not wait any more. It is +too late now. We must get down as soon as we can." + +"Why, you little baby!" Johnny Byrd moved nearer to her. "What you +'fraid of, Ri-Ri? We can't help how late it is, can we?" + +He put an arm about her and drew her gently close, and because she was +so tired and frightened and upset Maria Angelina could no longer resist +the tears that came blinding her eyes. + +"You little baby!" said Johnny again softly, and suddenly she felt his +kiss upon her cheek. + +"Poor little Ri-Ri! Poor tired little girl!" + +"Oh, you must not. Signor, you must not." + +"Signor," he said reproachfully. + +"J-Johnny," she choked. + +"That's better. . . . All right, I'll be good, Ri-Ri. Just sit still. +And I'll be good." + +But firmly he kept his arm about her and soon her tense little figure +relaxed in that strong clasp. She was not frightened, as last night at +the dance, she felt utterly forlorn and comforted by his strength. + +They sat very still, unspeaking in that silent embrace, and about them +it grew colder and darker while the sky seemed to grow thinner and +grayer and clear. And at last against the pallor of the sky, mountain +after mountain lifted itself out of the shadowy cloud mass, and peak +after peak defined itself, stretching on and on like an army of giants. + +Then the ridges grew blacker again, and back of one edge a sharp flare +of light flamed, and a blood red disc of a moon came pushing furiously +up into the sky, flinging down a transforming radiance. + +In the valley the silvery birches gleamed like wood nymphs against the +ebony firs. + +Beauty had touched the world again. A long breath came fluttering from +the girl's lips; she felt strangely solaced and comforted. After all, it +was Johnny with her . . . the fairy prince. Her dreams were coming true +. . . even under the shadow of this tragedy. + +Again she felt his lips upon her cheek and now he was trying to turn her +head towards him. Mutely she resisted, drawing away, but his force +increased. She closed her eyes; she felt his kiss upon her hair, her +cheek, the corner of her unstirring mouth. + +And she thought that it was his right--if she turned from him she would +seem strangely refusing. An American, she knew, kissed his fiancée +freely. + +But it was a tremendous freedom. . . . + +It would have been--knightlier, she thought quiveringly, if he had not +done that, if he had revealed a more respectful homage. + +But these were American ways . . . and he was a man and he loved her and +he wanted to feel that she belonged to him utterly. It was comfort for +her troubled spirit. + +But when she felt his hand trying to turn up her chin, so that her young +lips might meet his, she slipped decidedly away. + +"No? All right." Johnny gave a short, uncertain laugh. "All right, +little girl, I'll be good." + +She had risen to her feet and he rose now and his voice changed to a +heartier note. + +"Ready for the going? We'll have to make a start, I suppose. I don't see +any rescue expeditions starting this way. . . . Lordy, I'm a starved +man! I could eat the side of a house." + +"I could eat the other side," said Maria Angelina smiling shakily. + +Johnny put out the fire, ground out its embers beneath his heels, and +started down upon the trail that they had come. Closely after him came +the girl. The moonlight flooded the mountain side with vague, uncertain +light and the descent was a difficult and dangerous matter. + +They tripped over rocks; they stumbled through underbrush. The moon was +their only clue to direction and the moon seemed to be slipping past the +peaks at a confusing speed. + +"We're going down anyway," said Johnny Byrd grimly. + +Sharply they were stopped. The ledge on which they found themselves +ended abruptly, like a bluff, and peering over its edge they looked down +into the dark tops of tall fir trees. + +No more descent there. + +In disgusted rage Johnny strode up and down the length of that ledge +but it was a clear shelf, with no way out from it except the way that +they had come. There was no approach from below. + +"And some fools go in for mountaineering!" said Johnny Byrd bitterly. + +It was the last gust of humor in him. He was furious--and he grew more +furious unrestrainedly. He exploded in muttered oaths and exclamations. + +In her troubled little heart Maria Angelina felt for him. She knew that +he was tired and hungry, and men, when they were hungry, were very +unhappy. But she was tired and hungry, too--and her reputation, the +reputation that was her very existence, was in jeopardy. + +Up they scrambled, from the ledge again, and once back upon the mountain +side, they circled farther back around the mountain before starting down +again. + +Blindly Maria Angelina followed Johnny's lead. She tripped over roots; +she caught upon brambles. With her last shreds of vanity she was +grateful that he could not see her streaming hair and scratched and +dirty face. + +It had grown darker and darker and the moon had vanished utterly behind +the clouds. The air was damp and cold. A wind was rising. + +Suddenly their feet struck into the faint line of a path. Eagerly they +followed. It wound on back across the mountain side and rounded a wooded +spur. + +"It will lead somewhere, anyway," declared Johnny, hope returning good +nature to his tone. + +"But it is not the right way," Maria Angelina combated in distress. +"See, we are not going down any more. Oh, let us keep on going down +until we find that river below, and then we can return to the Lodge----" + +"You come on," said Johnny firmly, striding on ahead, and unhappily she +followed, her anxiety warring with her weariness. + +What time could it be? She felt as if it were the middle of the night. +The picnickers must all be home by now, looking for her, organizing +searching parties perhaps. . . . What must they think? What must they +not think? + +She saw her Cousin Jane's distress. . . . Ruth's disgust. Would they +imagine that she had eloped? + +She knew but little of American conventions and that little told her +that the ceremonies were easy of accomplishment. Young people were +always eloping. . . . The consent of guardians was not necessary. . . . +How terrible, if they imagined her gone on a romantic elopement, to have +her return, mud plastered, after a night with a young man upon the +mountain! + +A night upon the mountain with a young man . . . a young man in love +with her. + +Scandal. . . . Unbelievable shame. + +She felt as if they were in the grip of a nightmare. + +They must hurry, hurry. Somehow they must gain upon that night, they +must return to the Lodge before it was too late. + +A cold sprinkle of rain fell, plastering her middy shiveringly to her, +but the rain soon stopped and the path grew clearer and more and more +defined as they stumbled along it to its end. + +It was not a house they found. It was not really a cabin. It was just +three walls of logs built against the rocky face of the mountain. + +But it was a hut, a shelter, with a door that swung open on leather +hinges at Johnny's tug. + +He called, then peered within. Finally he struck a match and stared +about and Maria Angelina came to look, too. The place was so tiny that a +bed of boughs and blankets on the floor covered most of the space, save +for a few boxes. Outside the doors were the ashes of old fires. + +"Well, it's _something_," said Johnny in glum resignation. "Hasn't the +fool that built it any food?" + +Vigorously he poked about the tiny place, then emerged to report in +disgust, "Not a darn thing. . . . Oh, well, it's a shelter, anyway." + +The incredible idea pierced Maria Angelina that he was going to pause +there for rest. + +"Oh, we must go on," she insisted. + +"Go on?" He turned to stare in indignation at the girl who had gasped +that at him. "Go on? In this dark? When it's going to rain? Why, you're +nearly all in, now." + +"Indeed--indeed, I am not all in," she protested. "It is not necessary +for me to rest--not necessary at all. I am quite strong. I want only to +go on--to go to the Lodge----" + +"We'll never make the Lodge to-night. We'll have to camp here the best +way we can." + +It seemed to her that she could hardly have heard him. It was so +incredible a thought--so overwhelming---- + +A queer gulping sound came from her throat. Her words fell without her +volition, like spent breaths. + +"But that is wrong. We cannot stay. We cannot stay like that----" + +"Why can't we stay?" + +"It--it is impossible! The scandal----" + +Angrily he wheeled about. "Scandal?" he said sharply. "What the hell +scandal is there?" + +His indignation at the words could not dispel her terror. But it was +something to have him so hot her champion. + +"You know, they will all talk----" + +"Let 'em talk," he said curtly. "We can't help it." + +She put a hand to her throat as if to still that throbbing pulse there +that impeded speech. + +"I know we cannot help it. But we cannot--not give them so much to talk +of. We can be trying to return----" + +"Don't be a goose, Ri-Ri!" he broke in sharply. + +He was a man. He did not understand the full agony. . . . Desperately +Maria Angelina wondered as to her reception. She had no parallel in +Italian society. The thing could not happen in Italian society. A girl, +a well born girl, rambling the woods all night with her fiancé! + +She wondered if the announcement of their engagement instantly upon +their return would appease the world. Of course, there would always be +the story. As long as she lived there would be the story. But as +Johnny's wife, triumphant, assured, she could afford to ignore it. + +At her stillness Johnny had looked about, and something infinitely +drooping and forlorn in the vague outlines of her small figure made its +softening appeal. + +His voice changed. "Don't you worry, little girl," he told her +soothingly, "I'll take care of you." + +Her heart leaped. + +"Ah, yes," she said faintly, "but what can we do? Had it better be at +once----?" + +"At once----?" + +"The marriage," she choked out. + +"Marriage?" Even in the dimness she saw that he raised his head, his +chin stiffening, his whole outline hardening. + +"What are you talking about?" he said very roughly. + +"About--about our marriage," she repeated trembling, and then, at +something in his hardness and his grimness, "Why, what did you mean----? +Must it not be soon?" + +A dreadful, deliberate silence engulfed her words. + +Coldly Johnny's slow voice broke it. + +"Who said anything about marriage?" defiantly he demanded. "I never +asked you to marry me." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +JOHNNY BECOMES EXPLICIT + + +"I never asked you to marry me," he repeated very stiffly. + +The crash of all her worlds sounded in Maria Angelina's ears. An aghast +bewilderment flooded her soul. + +Pitiably she stammered, "Why it--it was understood, was it not? You +cared--you--you----" + +She could not put into words the memories that beset her stricken +consciousness. But the cheeks that had felt his kiss flamed with a +sudden burning scarlet. + +"What was understood?" said Johnny Byrd. "That I was going to marry +you--because I kissed you?" And with that dreadful hostile grimness he +insisted, "You knew darned well I wasn't proposing to you." + +What did he mean? Had not every action of his been an affirmation of +their relation? Did he believe she was one to whom men acted lightly? +Had he never meant to propose to her, never meant to marry? + +Last night at the dance--this afternoon in the woods--what had he meant +by all his admiration and his boldness? + +And that evening on the mountain, when, with his arm around her, he had +murmured that he would take care of her. . . . Had he meant nothing by +it, nothing, except the casual insolent intimacy which a man would grant +a _ballerina_? + +Or was he now turning from her in dreadful abandonment because after +this scandal she would be too conspicuous to make it agreeable to carry +out the intentions--perhaps only the vaguely realized intentions--of the +past? + +But why then, why had he kissed her on the mountain? + +Utter terror beset her. Her voice shook so that the words dropped +almost incoherently from the quivering lips. + +"But if not--if not--Oh, you must know that now--now it is imperative!" + +Shameful beseeching--shameful that she should have to beseech. Where was +his manhood, his chivalry--where his compassion? + +"Imperative _nuts_! You don't mean to say you're trying to make me marry +you because we got lost in the woods?" + +Desperately the girl struggled for dignity. + +"It is the least you could do, Signor. Even if--if you had not +cared----" + +Her voice broke again. + +"You little nut." Johnny's tones had altered. More mildly he went on, "I +don't quite get you, Ri-Ri, and I don't think you get me. It isn't up to +me to do any marrying, if that's honestly what's worrying you. And I'm +not going to be stampeded, if that's what you're trying to do. . . . Our +reputations will have to stand it." + +And this, Maria Angelina despairingly recalled, was the man who had +kissed her, had watched the moon rise with his arm about her, promising +her his protection. . . . Wildly she wished that she had died before she +had come to this--a thing lightly regarded and repudiated. + +It was horrible to plead to him but the panic of her plight drove her +on. + +"Reputations!" she said chokingly. "Yours can stand it, perhaps--but +what of me? You cannot be serious, you cannot! Why, it is my name, my +life, my everything! . . . You made me come this way. Always I wanted +you to go another way, but no, you were sure, you told me to trust to +you. And then you pretended to care for me--do you think I would have +tolerated your arm about me for one instant if I had not believed it was +forever? Oh, if my father were here you would talk differently! Have you +no honor? None? . . . Every one knew there was an--an affair of the +heart growing between us, and then for us two to disappear--this night +alone----" + +Her voice kept breaking off. She could not control it or the tears that +ran down her face in the darkness. She was a choking, crying wild thing. + +Desperately she forced one last insistence, "Oh, you must, you must!" + +"Must nothing," Byrd answered her savagely. "What kind of scheme is +this, anyhow? I've had a few things tried before but this beats the +Dutch. I don't know how much of this talk you mean but I'll tell you +right now, young lady, nobody can tie me up for life with any such +stuff. Father! Honor! Scandal! Believe me, little one, you've got the +wrong number." + +"You mean--you dare refuse?" + +"You bet I dare refuse. There's no sense to all this. Nobody's going to +think the worse of you because you got lost with me--and if you're +trying to put anything over, you might as well stop now." + +Maria Angelina stopped. It seemed to her that she should die of shame. + +Dazedly she stood and looked at him through the darkness out of which a +few drops of rain were again falling. + +"You just forget it and get a bit of rest," Johnny Byrd advised +brusquely. "Hurry in out of the wet. That thing's going to leak again," +and he nodded jerkily up at the sky. + +He tugged open the door, and stricken as a wounded creature crawling to +shelter Maria Angelina bent her head and stumbled across the threshold. + +"In you go," he said with a more cheerful air. "Wrap yourself up as warm +as you can and I'll follow----" + +She was within the doorway when these words came. She turned and saw +that he was stooping to enter. + +"I shall do quite well, Signor," she found her voice quickly to say. +"You need not come in." + +"Need not----?" He appeared caught with fresh amazement. "Judas, where +do you think I'm going to stay? Out in the rain?" + +"Certainly not in here, Signor." + +Desperation lent Maria Angelina sudden fire. "You must be mad, Signor!" +she told him fiercely. + +"And you madder. You don't think I'm going to stay"--he jerked his head +backward--"out in the wet?" + +"But naturally. You are a man. It is your place." + +"My place--you little Wop! A man! I'd be a dead one." The words of a +humorous lecturer smote his memory and with harsh merriment he quoted, +"'Good-night, Miss Middleton, said I, as I buttoned her carefully into +her tent and went out to sleep upon a cactus.' . . . None of that stuff +for mine," and without more ado Johnny Byrd lowered his head to pass +under the doorway. + +There was a gasp from the interior. + +"Ri-Ri, listen to me!" he demanded upon the threshold. "You're +raving--loco--nuts! There's no harm in my huddling under the same roof +with you--it's a damn necessity. I'm not going to hold hands and I'm +not going to kiss you. If you've got any drawn swords you can lay their +blades between us. You turn your face to the wall and forget all about +it and I'll do the same." + +"Signor, stay without!" + +"Got a dagger in your garter? . . . Ri-Ri, listen to me. You're +absolutely wrong in the head. Be sensible. Have a heart. I'm going to +get some rest." + +"It does not matter what you say or what you intend. You do not need to +reassure me that you will not kiss me, Signor. That will not happen +again." Maria Angelina's voice was like ice. "But you are not coming +within this place." + +Tensely she confronted him. He loomed before her as a wolfish brute, +seeking his comfort at this last cost of her pride. . . . But no man, +she thought tragically, should ever say that he had spent the night +within the same four walls. + +She sprang forward, her hands outstretched, then shrank back. + +She could not touch him. Not only the perception of the ludicrous folly +of matching her strength against his withheld her, but some flaming fury +against putting a hand upon a man who had so repudiated her. + +Her brain grew alert. Suddenly very intent and collected she stepped +aside and Johnny Byrd came in. + +Close to the wall she pressed, edging nearer and nearer the door, and as +he stumbled and fumbled with the blankets she gave a quick spring and +flashed out. + +Like mad she ran across the clearing, through a thicket, and out again +and away. + +On the instant he was after her; she heard his steps crashing behind her +but she had the start of her swiftness and the speed of her desperation. +Brambles meant nothing to her, nor the thickets nor branches. She flew +on and on, lost in the darkness, his shouts growing fainter and fainter +in her ears. + +At last, in a shrub, she stopped to listen. She could hear nothing. Then +came a call--very faint. It came from the wrong direction. She had +turned and doubled like a hare and Johnny was pursuing, if he still +pursued, a mistaken way. + +She was safe . . . and she stood still for a few minutes to quiet her +pounding heart and catch her gasping breath, and then she stole out, +cautiously, anxiously hurrying, to make her own way down. + +She had no idea of time or of distance. Vaguely she felt that it was the +middle of the night but that if she were quick, very quick, she might +reach the Lodge before it was too disastrously late. She might meet a +searching party out for them--there would be searching parties if people +were truly worried at their absence. + +Of course if they thought it an elopement, they might not take that +trouble. They might be merely waiting and conjecturing. + +If only Cousin Jim had not returned to New York! He was so kind and +concerned that he would be searching. There would be a chance of his +understanding. But Cousin Jane--what would she believe? + +Cousin Jane had seen Johnny draw her significantly back. + +At her folly of the afternoon she looked back with horror. How bold she +had been in that new American freedom! Mamma had warned her--dear Mamma +so far away, so innocent of this terrible disgrace. . . . + +Wildly she plunged on through the dark, hoping always for a path but +finding nothing but rough wilderness. She knew no landmarks to guide +her, but down she went determinedly, down, down continually. + +An hour had passed. Perhaps two hours. The sky had grown blacker and +blacker. There were occasional gusts of rain. The wind that had been +threshing the tree tops blew with increasing fury. + +Jagged tridents of lightning flashed before her eyes. Thunder followed +almost instantly, great crashing peals that seemed to be rending the +heavens. + +Maria Angelina felt as if the splinters must fall upon her. It was like +the voice of judgment. + +On she went, down, down, through a darkness that was chaos lit by +lightning. Rain came, in a torrent of water, heavy as lead, drenching +her to the skin. Her hair had streamed loose and was plastered about her +face, her throat, her arms. A strand like a wet rope wound about her +wrist and delayed her. Often she slipped and fell. + +Still down. But if she should find the Lodge, what then? What would they +think of her, wet, torn, disheveled, an outcast of the night? + +She sobbed aloud as she went. She, who had come to America so proudly, +so confidently of glad fortune, who had thought the world a fairy tale +and believed that she had found its prince--what place on earth would +there be for her after this, disgraced and ashamed? + +They would ship her back to Mamma at once. And the scandal would travel +with her, whispered by tourists, blazoned by newspapers. + +And her family had so counted upon her! They had looked for such great +things! + +Now she had utterly blackened their name, tarnished them all forever +with her disrepute. Poor Julietta's hopes would be ruined. . . . No one +would want a Santonini. . . . Lucia would be furious. The Tostis might +even repudiate her--certainly they would inflict their condescension. + +She could only disappear, hide in some nursing sisterhood. + +So ran her wild thoughts as she scrambled down these endless mountain +sides. All the black fears that she had fought off earlier in the +evening by her belief in Johnny's devotion were upon her now like a pack +of wolves. She wished that she could die at once and be out of it, yet +when she heard the sudden wash of water, almost under her feet, she +jumped aside and screamed. + +A river! In the night it looked wider than that one they had followed +that afternoon but it might only be another part of it. + +Very wearily she made her way along the bank, so mortally tired that it +seemed as if every step must be her last. There was no underbrush to +struggle with now, for she had come to a grove of pines and their fallen +needles made a carpet for her lagging feet. + +The rain was nearly over, but she was too wet and too cold to take +comfort in that. + +More and more laggingly she went and at last, when a hidden root tripped +her, she made no effort to rise, but lay prostrate, her cheek upon her +outflung arm, and yielded to the dark, drowsy oblivion that stole +numbingly over her. + +She would be glad, she thought, never to wake. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MRS. BLAIR REGRETS + + +It had taken a long time for concern to spread among the picnickers. + +The sudden shower had sent them all scurrying for shelter, and when the +climb was resumed, they crossed the river on those wide, flat +stepping-stones that Johnny Byrd had missed, and re-formed in +self-absorbed little twos and threes that failed to take note of the +absence of the laggards. + +When Ruth remembered to call back, "Where's Ri-Ri?" to her mother, Mrs. +Blair only glanced over her shoulder and answered, "She's coming," with +no thought of anxiety. + +It did occur to her, however, somewhat later, that the girl was +loitering a little too significantly with young Byrd, and she made a +point of suggesting to Ruth, when she passed her in a short time, that +she wait for her cousin who was probably finding the climb too +strenuous. + +"Who? Me?" said Ruth amazedly. "Gee, what do you want me to do--fan her? +Let Johnny do it," and cheerfully she went on photographing a group upon +a fallen log, and Mrs. Blair went on with the lawyer from Washington who +was a rapid walker. + +And Ruth, with the casual thought that neither Ri-Ri nor Johnny Byrd +would relish such attendance, promptly let the thought of them dissolve +from her memory. + +She was immersed in her own particular world that afternoon. + +Life was at a crisis for her. Robert Martin had been drifting faster and +faster with the current of his admiration for her, and now seemed to +have been brought up on very definite solid ground. He felt he knew +where he was. And he wanted to know where Ruth was. + +And Ruth found herself in that special quandary reserved for independent +American girls who want to have their cake and eat it, too. + +She wanted Bob Martin, and she wanted to be gratifyingly sure that Bob +Martin wanted her--and then she wanted affairs to stand still at that +pleasant pass, while she played about and invited adventure. + +Life was so desirable as it was . . . especially with Bob Martin in the +scene. But if he were unsatisfied he wouldn't remain there as part of +the adjacent landscape. + +Bob was no pursuing Lochinvar. + +It was very delicate. She couldn't explain all her hesitation +satisfactorily to herself, so she had made rather a poor job of it when +she tried to explain to Bob. + +Part of it was young unreadiness for the decisions and responsibilities +of life, part of it was reprehensible aversion about shutting the door +to other adventures, and part of it was her native energy, as yet +unemployed, aware of a larger world and anxious to play some undivined +part in its destinies. + +She had always been furious that the war had come too soon for her. She +would have loved to have gone over there, and known the mud and +doughnuts and doughboys . . . and the excitement and the officers. . . . + +But Bob wasn't going to dangle much longer. He hadn't a doubt but that +everything was all right and he was in haste to taste the assurance. + +And Ruth wasn't going to lose him. + +These hesitations of hers would convey nothing to his youthful +masculinity but that she didn't care enough. And his was not the age +that appreciates the temporizing half loaf. + +So that trip up the mountain meant for them much youthful discussion, +much searching of wills and hearts and motives, a threatening gloom upon +his part, and a struggling defensiveness upon hers. + +Small wonder that Maria Angelina and her companion were not remembered! + +It was not until she was at the very top of old Baldy, and again a part +of the general group that Ruth had the thought to look about her and +recognize her cousin's absence. + +"They _are_ taking their time," she remarked to Bob. + +"Glad they're enjoying it," he gave back with a disgruntled air that +Ruth determinedly ignored. + +"I guess Ri-Ri's no good at a climb," she said. "This little old +mountain must have got her." + +"Oh, Johnny's strong right arm will do the work," he returned +indifferently. + +"But they ought to be here now. You don't suppose they missed the way?" +Mrs. Blair, overhearing, suggested, and turned to look down the steep +path that they had come. + +Bob scouted the idea of such a mishap. + +"Johnny knows his way about. They'll be along when they feel like it," +he predicted easily, and Mrs. Blair turned to the arrangement of supper +with a slight anxiety which she dissembled beneath casual cheerfulness. + +In her heart she was vexed. Dreadfully noticeable, she thought, that +persistent lagging of theirs. She might have expected it of Johnny +Byrd--he had a way of making new girls conspicuous--but she had looked +for better things from Maria Angelina. + +It was too bad. It showed that as soon as you gave those cloistered +girls an inch they took an ell. + +Outwardly she spoke with praise of her charge. Julia Martin, a youthful +aunt of Bob's, was curious about the girl. + +"She's the loveliest creature," she declared with facile enthusiasm, as +she and Mrs. Blair delved into a hamper that the Martins' chauffeur and +butler had shouldered up before the picnickers. + +"And so naďvely young--I don't see how her mother dared let her come so +far away." + +"Oh--her mother wanted her to see America," Mrs. Blair gave back. + +"She must be having a wonderful time," pursued the young lady. "She was +simply a picture at the dance. . . . Think of giving a mountain climb +the night after the dance," she added in a lower voice. "Bob and his +mother are perfectly mad. I think they want to kill their guests +off--perhaps there's method in their madness. . . . I never saw anything +quite like her," she resumed upon Maria Angelina. "I fancy Johnny Byrd +hasn't either!" + +"Wasn't she pretty?" agreed Mrs. Blair with pleasantness, laying out the +spoons. "Yes, it's very interesting for her to have this," she went on, +"before she really knows Roman society. . . . She will come out as soon +as she returns from America, I suppose. The eldest sister is being +married this fall, and the next sister and Maria Angelina are about of +an age." + +"Little hard on the sister unless she is a raving, tearing beauty," said +the intuitive Miss Martin with a laugh. "Perhaps they are sending Maria +Angelina away to keep her in abeyance!" + +"Perhaps," Mrs. Blair assented. "At any rate, with this preliminary +experience, I fancy that little Ri-Ri will make quite a sensation over +there." + +It was as if she said plainly to the curious young aunt that this +pilgrimage was only a prelude in Maria Angelina's career, and she +certainly did not take its possibilities for any serious finalities. + +But the youthful aunt was not intimidated. + +"She'll make a sensation over _here_ if she carries off the Byrd +millions," she threw out smartly. + +Mrs. Blair smiled with an effect of remote amusement. Inwardly she knew +sharp annoyance. She wished she could smack that loitering child. . . . +Very certainly she would betray no degrading interest in her fortunes. +The Martins were not to think that she was intent on placing _any one_! + +"Johnny Byrd's a child," said she indifferently. + +"He's been of age two years," said the youthful aunt, "and he's out of +college now and very much a catch--all his vacations used to be +hairbreadth escapes. Of course he courts danger," she threw in with a +little laugh and a sidelong look. + +But Mrs. Blair was not laughing. She was blaming herself for the +negligence which had made this situation possible, although--extenuation +made haste to add within her--no one could humanly be expected to be +going up and down a trail all afternoon to gather in the stragglers. And +she had told Ruth to wait. + +"She's probably just tired out," said the stout widower with strong +accents of sympathy. "Climb too much for her, and very sensibly they've +turned back." + +"If I could only be sure. If I could only be sure she wasn't hurt--or +lost," said Mrs. Blair doubtfully. + +"Lost!" Bob Martin derided. "Lost--on a straight trail. Not unless they +jolly wanted to!" + +"Don't spoil the party, mother," was Ruth's edged advice. "Ri-Ri hasn't +broken any legs or necks. And she wasn't alone to get lost. She just +gave up and Johnny Byrd took her home. I know her foot was blistered at +the dance last night and that's probably the matter." + +It was the explanation they decided to adopt. + +Mrs. Blair, recalling that this was not her expedition, made a double +duty of appearing sensibly at ease, although the nervous haste with +which a sudden noise would bring her to alertness, facing the path, +revealed some inner tension. + +The young people were inclined to be hilarious over the affair, +inventing fresh reasons for the absent ones, reasons that ranged from +elopement to wood pussies. + +"There was one around last night," the tennis champion insisted. + +But the hilarity was only a flash in the pan. After its flare the party +dragged. Curiosity preoccupied some; uneasiness communicated itself to +others. And the frank abstraction of Ruth and Bob had a depressing +effect upon the atmosphere. + +And the runaways were missed. Johnny Byrd had an infectious way of +making a party go and Maria Angelina's sweet soprano had become so much +a part of every gathering that its absence now made song a dejection. + +Other things of Maria Angelina than her soprano were missed, also. + +Julia Martin found the popular bachelor decidedly absent-minded. The +crack young polo player thought the scenery disappointing. Decidedly, it +was a dull party. + +And the weather was threatening. + +So after supper had been disposed of and there had been a bonfire and an +effort at singing about it, a dispirited silence spread until a decent +interval was felt to have elapsed and allowed the suggestion of return. + +Once it was suggested everybody seemed ready for the start, even without +the moon, for the path was fairly clear and the men had pocket +flashlights, so down in the dark they started, proceeding cautiously +and gingerly, and accumulating mental reservations about mountains and +mountain climbing until the moon suddenly overtook them and sent a +silvering wash of light into the valley at their feet. + +They had gained the main path before the moon deserted them, and the +first of the gusty showers sent them hurrying along in shivering +impatience for the open fires of homes. + +"We'll find that pair of short sports toasting their toes and giving us +the laugh," predicted Bob, tramping along, a hand on Ruth's arm now. + +Ruth was wearing his huge college sweater over her silk one and felt +indefinably less adventurous and independent than on her upward trip. +Bob seemed very stable, very desirable, as she stumbled wearily on. She +wasn't quite sure what she had wanted to gain time for, that afternoon. +Already the barriers of custom and common-sense were raising their solid +heads. + +And Bob was romance, too. It was silly to be unready for surrender. She +realized that if she lost him. . . . + +At the Lodge she gave him back a quick look that set him astir. + +"Hold on," he called as she broke from him to follow her mother. + +The cars from the Martin house party had been left at the Lodge in +readiness and with perfunctory warmth of farewells the tired +mountaineers were hastening either to the Lodge or the motors. + +"Here's Johnny's car," he sung out. "He's probably inside----" and Bob +swung hastily after Ruth and her mother. + +He was up the steps beside them and opened the door into the wide hall +where a group was lingering about the open fire. + +A glance told them Johnny Byrd was not of the company. Bob and Ruth went +to the door of the music room. It was deserted. Mrs. Blair went swiftly +to the clerk's desk at the side entrance. + +She came back, looking upset. Maria Angelina had not returned, to the +clerk's knowledge. No one had telephoned any news. + +"I'll go up and make sure," offered Ruth, and sped up the stairs only to +return in a few minutes with a face of dawning excitement. + +"They must be lost!" she announced in a voice that drew instant +attention. + +"Did you look to see if her things were there?" said her mother in an +agitated undertone. + +Bob Martin met her glance with swift intelligence. + +"Johnny's car is out there," he told them. "It isn't _that_--they are +simply lost, as Ruth says. Wait--I must tell them before they get away," +and he hurried out into the increasing downpour. + +Mrs. Blair turned on her daughter a face of pale misgiving. + +"I knew it," she said direfully. "I felt it all along. . . . She's +lost." + +"Well, she'll be found," said Ruth lightly, with an indisputable lift +of excitement. "The bears won't eat them." + +Mrs. Blair's eyes shifted uneasily to meet the advancing circle from the +fire. + +"There are worse bites than bears'," she found time to throw out, before +she had to voice the best possible version of Maria Angelina's +disappearance. + +Instantly a babble of facile comfort rose. + +They would be here any moment now. + +Some one had picked them up--they were safe and sound, this instant. + +There wasn't a thing that could happen--it wasn't as though these were +_wilds_. + +Just telephone about--she mustn't worry. As soon as it was light some +one would go out and track them. + +Why, Judge Carney's boys had been lost all night and breakfasted on +blueberries. It wasn't uncommon. + +And nothing could happen to her--with Johnny Byrd along. + +Oh, Johnny would take care of her--by morning everything would be all +right. + +But how in the world had it happened? That was such an _easy_ trail! + +And that was the question that stared, Argus-eyed, at Jane Blair. It was +the question, she knew, that they were all asking themselves--and the +others--in covert curiosity. + +What had happened? And how had it happened? + + + + +CHAPTER X + +FANTASY + + +She awoke to fright--some great hairy beast of the forest was nosing +her. + +Then a light flashed in her eyes, and as she closed them, drifting off +to exhaustion again, she half saw a figure stooping towards her. Then +she felt herself being carried, while a barking seemed to be all about +her. + +The next thing she knew was light forcing its brightness through her +closed lids and a great warmth beating upon her. + +She dragged her eyes open again. She was lying on a black bear skin rug +before a roaring fire, and some one was kneeling beside her, tucking +cushions beneath her head. She had a glimpse of a khaki sleeve and a +lean brown wrist. + +The warmth was delicious. She wanted to put her head back against those +pillows and sleep forever but memory was rousing, too. + +Sleepily, she mumbled, "What time is it?" + +The khaki shirt sleeve had withdrawn from view and the answering voice +came from a corner of the room. + +"It's about two." + +Two o'clock! The night gone--gone past redemption. + +"Oh, Madre mia!" whispered Maria Angelina. + +She struggled up on one elbow, her little face, scratched and stained, +staring wildly out from the dark thicket of hair. "But where am I? Where +is this place? Is it near the Lodge--near Wilderness Lodge?" + +"We're miles from Wilderness," said the voice out of the shadows. "This +is Old Chief Mountain--on the Little Pine River." + +Old Chief Mountain! Vaguely Maria Angelina recalled that stony peak, far +behind Old Baldy. . . . They had climbed the wrong mountain, indeed. +. . . And she had plunged farther away, in her headlong flight. + +She stared about her. She saw a huge fireplace where the flames were +dancing. Above it, on a wide mantel, was a disarray of books, +cigar-boxes, pipes and papers, the papers weighted oddly with a jar of +obviously pickled frogs. + +Upon the log walls several fishing rods were stretched on nails and a +gun, a corn-popper, a rough coat and cap and a fishing net were all hung +on neighboring hooks. + +It was the cabin of some woodsman, and she seemed alone in it with the +woodsman and his dog, a tawny collie--the wild animal of her awakening. +Quietly alert, he lay now beside her, his grave, bright eyes upon her +face. + +The woodsman she could not see. + +"Now see if you can drink all of this." The khaki sleeve had appeared +from the shadows and was holding a steaming cup to her lips. + +It was a huge cup made of granite ware. Obediently Maria Angelina drank. +The contents were scalding hot and while her throat seemed blistered the +warmth penetrated her veins in quick reaction. + +"Lucky I didn't empty my coffeepot," said the voice cheerfully. "There +it was--waiting to be heated. Memorandum--never wash a coffeepot." + +The voice seemed coming to her out of a dream. Thrusting back the +tangled hair from her eyes Maria Angelina lifted them incredulously to +the woodsman's face. + +Was it true? . . . Those clear, sharp-cut features, those bright, keen +eyes with the gay smile! . . . Was it true---or was she dreaming? + +Instinctively she dropped her hand and let her hair like a black curtain +shield her face. The blood seemed to stand still in her veins waiting +that dreadful instant of recognition. + +Confusedly, with some frantic thought of flight, "I must go--Oh, I must +go----" + +She sat up, still hiding, like Godiva, in her hair. + +"You lie down and rest," said the authoritative voice. "If there's any +going to be done I'll do it. Is there some other Babe in the Woods to be +found?" + +"Oh, no--no, but I must go----" + +"You get a good rest. You can tell me all about it and who you are when +you're dry and warm." + +She yielded to the compulsion in his voice and to her own weakness, and +lay very still and inert, her cheek upon her outflung arm, her eyes +watching the red dance of flames through the black strands of her hair. +It was the final irony, she felt, of that dreadful night. To meet Barry +Elder again--like this--after all her dreams---- + +It was too terrible to be true. + +And he did not know her. He had come to that place of his, in the +Adirondacks, of which he had spoken, and had never given her a thought. +He had never come to see her. . . . + +A great wave of mortification surged over Maria Angelina, bearing a +medley of images, of thoughts, of old hopes--like the wash from some +sinking ship. What a fool of hope she had been! How vain and silly and +credulous! . . . She had dreamed of this man, sung to the thought of +him--quickened to absurd expectancy at every stir of the wheels. . . . +And then she had pictured him at the seashore, beneath the spell of that +gold-haired siren--and here he was, quite near and free--utterly +unremembering! + +She had suffered many pangs of mortification this night but now her +poor, shamed spirit bled afresh. + +But perhaps he had just come. And certainly he would remember to come +and see his friends, the Blairs, and possibly he would remember that +foreign cousin of theirs that he had danced with--just remember her with +pleasant friendliness. She would give herself so much of balm. + +And who indeed was she for Barry Elder to remember? Just a very young, +very silly goose of a girl, a little foreigner . . . some one to +nickname and pet carelessly . . . a girl who had been good enough for +Johnny Byrd to make love to but not good enough for him to marry. . . . + +A girl who had thrown her name recklessly to the winds and who, +to-morrow, would be a byword. . . . + +These thoughts ached in her with her bruised flesh. + +Meanwhile Barry Elder had been making quick trips about the room and now +he threw down an armful of garments beside her and knelt at her feet, +tugging at her sopping shoes. + +"Let me get these off--there, that's better. Now the other one. . . . +Lordy, child, those footies. . . . Now you'd better get into these dry +things as quick as you can. Not a perfect fit, but the best I can do. +I'll take a turn in the woods and be back in ten minutes. So you hurry +up." + +He closed the door upon the words that Maria Angelina was beginning to +frame and left her looking helplessly at a pair of corduroy +knickerbockers, a blue flannel shirt, a strange undergarment, plaid golf +stockings and a pair of fringed moccasins. + +They were in an untouched heap when her host returned, letting in a cold +rush of the night with him. + +"What's this?" he flung out in mock severity. "See here, young lady, you +must get into those clothes whether they happen to be the style or not! +Little girls who get wet can't go to sleep in their clothes. Now I'll +give you just ten minutes more and then if you are not a good girl----" + +To her own dismay and to his Maria Angelina burst into tears. + +"Oh, come now," said Barry helplessly. "You poor little dud----" + +The sudden gentleness of his voice undid the last of the girl's control. +She sobbed harder and harder as he sat down beside her and began to pat +her shaking shoulders. + +"You shan't do anything you don't want to," he comforted. "You're tired +out, I know. But you'd be so much more comfy in these dry togs----" + +"Oh, please, Signor, not those things. Do not make me. I will get +dry----" + +"You don't have to if you don't want to," he told her gently, looking +down in a puzzled way at her distress. Her face was buried in a crook of +her arm; her black hair streamed tempestuously over her heaving +shoulders. "Come closer to the fire, then, and dry out." + +He threw more wood upon the flames and piled on brush that shed a swift, +crackling heat. + +"Give that a chance at those wet clothes of yours," he advised. +"Meanwhile we'd better wring this out," and with businesslike despatch +he began gathering that dripping black hair into the folds of a Turkish +towel. Very strenuously he wrung it. + +"That's what I do for my kid sister when she's been in swimming," he +mentioned. "She's at the seashore now--no getting her away from the +water. She's a bigger girl than you are. . . . Now when you feel better +suppose you tell me all about it. Did you say you came from Wilderness +Lodge?" + +"Yes," said Maria Angelina half whisperingly. + +Had he no memory of her at all? Or was she so different in that wet, +muddied blouse, hair streaming, and face scratched--she looked down at +her grimy little hands and wondered dumbly what her face might look +like. + +And then she saw that Barry Elder, having finished with her hair, was +preparing to wash her face, for he brought a granite basin of hot water +and began wetting and soaping the end of a voluminous towel with which +he advanced upon her. + +"I can well wash myself," she cried with promptness, and most thoroughly +she washed and scrubbed, and then hung her head as he took away the +things. + +She felt as if a screening mask had fallen and her only thought now was +to make an escape before discovery should add one more humiliation to +this night of shames. + +"You are very good," she said shyly. "I cannot tell you how I thank you. +And I feel so much better that if you will please let me go----" + +"Go? To Wilderness Lodge? It's miles and miles, child--and it's pouring +cats and dogs again. Don't you hear the drumsticks on the roof?" + +She hesitated. "Then--have you a telephone?" + +"No, thank the Lord!" The remembered laughter flashed in Barry Elder's +tones. "I came here to get away from the devil of invention and all his +works. There isn't a telephone nearer than Peter's place--four miles +away. I'll go over for you as soon as it's light, for I expect your +mother's worrying her head off about you. How did you ever happen to get +lost over here?" + +Helplessly Maria Angelina sought for words. Silence was ungrateful but +there seemed nothing she could say. + +"It was on a picnic--please do not ask me," she whispered foolishly. + +In humorous perplexity the young man stood looking down upon the small +figure that chance had deposited so unexpectedly upon his hearth, a most +forlorn and drooping small figure, with downcast and averted head, then +with that sudden smile that made his young face so brightly persuasive +he dropped beside her and reached towards her. + +"Here, little kiddie, you come and sit with me while I warm those feet +of yours----" + +Swiftly she withdrew from his kindly reaching hands. + +"Signor, it is not fitting that you should hold me, that you should warm +my feet," she gasped. "I am _not_ a child, Signor!" + +Signor . . . The word waked some echo in his mind. . . . The child had +used it before--but what connection was groping----? + +He repeated the word aloud. + +"You do not recall?" said Maria Angelina chokingly. "Though indeed, +there is no reason why you should. It was but for a moment----" + +She glanced up to see recognition leap amazedly into his face. + +"The little Signorina! The Blairs' little Signorina!" + +"Maria Angelina Santonini," she told him soberly. "Yes, that is I." + +"Why of course I remember," he insisted. "A little girl in a white +dress. A big hat which you took off. Your first night in America. We had +a wonderful dance together----" + +"And you said you would come to the mountains," she told him childishly. + +He stared a moment. "Why, so I did. . . . And here I am. And here you +are. To think I did not know you--I've been wondering whom you made me +want to think of! But I took you for a youngster, you know, a regular +ten-year-old runaway. Why, with your hair down like that---- Of course, +it was absurd of me." + +He paused with a smile for the absurdity of it. + +Gallantly she tried to give him back that smile but there was something +so wan and piteous in the curve of her soft lips, something so hurt and +sick in the shadows of her dark eyes, that Barry Elder felt oddly +silenced. + +And then he tried to cover that silence with kind chatter as he moved +about his room once more in hospitable preparation. + +"It was Sandy, here, who really found you," he told her. "He whined at +the door till I let him out and then he came back, barking, for me, so I +had to go. I was really looking for a mink. Sandy's always excited about +minks." + +Maria Angelina put a hand to the dog's head and stroked it. + +"I was so tired," she said. "I think I was asleep." + +"I rather think you were," said Barry in an odd tone. He glanced at her +white cheek with its scarlet scratch of a branch. "And I rather think +you ought to be asleep now but first you must eat this and drink some +more coffee." + +Maria Angelina needed no urging. Like a starveling she fell upon that +plate of crisp bacon and delicately fried eggs and cleaned it to the +last morsel. + +"I had but two bites of sweet chocolate for my dinner," she apologized. + +"So you were lost before dinner--no wonder you were done in." + +Barry filled a very worn-looking little brown pipe with care. "Where +were you going, anyway, for your picnic?" + +"It was to Old Baldy." + +"Old Baldy, eh? Let me see--what trail did you take?" + +"On the river path. Then--then we got separated----" + +"I see. But it's a fairly clear trail. Did you try another?" + +"We--we crossed the river the wrong time, I think, and so got on the +wrong mountain. We----" + +Maria Angelina's voice died away in sudden sick perception of that +betraying pronoun. + +Quite slowly, without looking at her, Barry completed the lighting of +that pipe to his satisfaction and drew a few appreciative puffs. Then he +turned to inquire casually, "And who is 'we'?" + +He saw only the top of the girl's tousled head and the tense grip of her +clasped hands in her lap. + +"If you would not ask, Signor!" she said whisperingly. + +"A dark secret!" He tried to laugh over that but his keen eyes rested on +her with a troubled wonder. + +"And then you got lost--even from your companion?" he prompted quietly. + +"Yes, I--I came away alone for he--he refused to go on," faltered Maria +Angelina painfully, "and then I seemed to go on forever--and I could do +no more. But now I am quite well again," she insisted with a ghost of a +brave smile. "If only--if only my Cousin Jane could know that I'm trying +to get back," she finished in a tone that shook in spite of her. + +"You weren't trying to get lost, were you?" questioned Barry lightly, +groping for a cue. There was no mistaking the flash of Maria Angelina's +repudiation and the candor of her suddenly upraised young face. + +"Oh, no, Signor, no, no! It was only that I was so careless--that I +believed he knew the way." + +"And was he trying to get lost?" + +"Oh, no, Signor, no, it was all a mistake." + +"This is a very easy neck of the woods to get lost in," Barry told her +reassuringly. "Old residents here often miss their way--especially in a +storm. Mrs. Blair will worry, of course, but she is very sensible and +she knows you will come to light with the daylight. Just as soon as it +is clear enough for me to find my way I'll strike over to Peter's place +and phone her that you are safe and sound, and I'll get a horse for you +to ride out on--you won't care for any more walking and the motor can +only come as far as the road." + +"But you must not tell them _you_ have found me," said Maria Angelina, +overwhelmed with tragedy again. She seemed fated, she thought in +dreadful humor, to spend the night with young men! And to have been lost +by one and found by another! + +"It will be so much worse," she said pleadingly. "Could you not just +show me the way and let me go----?" + +"So much worse?" His face was very grave and gentle. "So much worse? I +don't think I understand." + +"So _very_ much worse. To have been found like this--Oh, promise me to +say nothing about it. I know that I can trust you." + +"I think you had better tell me all about it, Signorina." + +He saw that dark misery, like a film, swim blindingly over her wide +eyes. + +"I cannot." + +He considered a moment before he spoke again. + +"If you really do not want any one to know that I found you I am willing +to hold my tongue. But don't you see what a lot of ridiculous deception +that would involve? You would have to make up all sorts of little +things. And then, after all, you'd be sure to say something--one always +does--and let it all out----" + +Maria Angelina looked at him pathetically and a sudden impulse stabbed +him to say hastily, "I'll fall in with any plan you want to make. Only +wait to decide until you feel rested. Then perhaps we can decide +together. . . . And now, if you are really getting dry----" + +"Truly, I am, Signor Elder. I am indeed dry and hot." + +"Then you'd better make up your mind to curl up on that cot over there +and sleep." + +"I couldn't sleep." + +There was truth beneath Maria Angelina's quick disclaimer. Exhausted as +she was, her mind was vividly awake, now, excited with the strangeness +of her presence there. + +Her mortification at his finding her was gone. He was so rarely kind, so +pleasantly matter of fact. He was as gayly undisturbed as if the heavens +rained starving young girls upon him every night! And somehow she had +known he was like this . . . but he was like no one else that she had +known. . . . + +Her mind groped for a comparison. For an instant she vainly tried to +picture Paolo Tosti doing the honors to such a guest--but that picture +was unpaintable. + +This Barry Elder was chivalry itself; he was kindness and comfort--and +he was a strange, stirring excitement that flung a glamour over the +disaster of the hour. + +It was like a little hush before the final storm, a dim dream before the +nightmare enfolded her again. + +Her eyes followed him as he turned out the kerosene lamp, which was +sputtering, and flung fresh logs upon the hearty fire. Overhead the +rain droned, like monotonous fingers upon a keyboard, and beside her +Sandy slept noisily, with sudden whimpers. + +Barry's eyes, meeting the wistful dark ones, smiled responsively, and +Maria Angelina felt a queer tightening within her, as if some one had +tied a band about her heart. + +"You don't have such fires in Italy," he observed, dropping down upon +the rug across from her, and refilling that battered pipe of his. "I +well remember when I ordered a fire and the _cameraria_ came in with a +bunch of twigs." + +Madly Maria Angelina fell upon the revelation. + +"You have been in Italy!" + +"Oh, more than once! But all before the war." + +"And you have been in Rome? Oh, to think of that! But where did you +stay? Whom did you know there, Signor?" + +Barry grinned. "Head waiters!" + +"You knew no Romans, then? Oh, but that was a pity." + +"I can well believe it, Signorina!" + +"Oh, Rome can be very gay--though I am not out in society myself, and +know so little. . . . What did you do, then? I suppose you went to the +Forum and the Vatican and the Via Appia like all the tourists and drove +out to the Coliseum by moonlight?" + +Delightedly she laughed as Barry Elder confirmed her account of his +activities. + +"Me, I have never seen the Coliseum by moonlight," she reported +plaintively, adding with eager wistfulness, "And did you buy violets on +the Spanish Stairs? And throw a penny into the Trevi fountain to ensure +your return? And do you remember the street that turns off left, the Via +Poli? From there you come quick to my house, the Palazzo Santonini----" + +"And do you really live in a palace?" It was Barry's turn to question. +"A really truly palace? And is your father a really truly prince?" + +"Nothing so great! He is a count--but of a very old family, the +Santonini," Maria Angelina explained with becoming pride. + +"And is your mother of a very old----" + +"My mother is American--the cousin of Mrs. Blair. But Mamma has never +been back in America--she is too devoted to us, is Mamma, and she has so +much to look after for Papa. Papa is charming but he does not manage." + +"That makes complications," said Barry gravely. + +"And Francisco, my brother, is just like him. He is always running +bills, now that he is in the army. And he was so brave in the war that +Mamma cannot bear to be cross. He will have to marry an heiress, that +boy," she sighed and Barry Elder's eyes lighted in amusement. + +"How many of you are there?" he wanted interestedly to know, and +vivaciously Maria Angelina informed him of her sisters, her life, her +lessons, the rare excursions, the pension at the seashore, the +engagement of her sister Lucia and Paolo Tosti. + +And absorbedly Barry Elder listened, his eyes on her changing face. When +she paused he flung in some question or some anecdote of his own times +in Italy and Sandy was often roused by unseasonable laughter, and +thudded his tail in sleepy friendliness before dozing off to his dreams +again. + +Then like a flash, as swiftly as it had come, the excited glow of +recollection was an extinguished flame, leaving her shivering before a +nearer memory. + +For Barry Elder asked one question too many. He brought the present down +upon them. + +"And how do you like America?" he asked. "Has it been good fun for you +up here?" + +Only the blind could have missed the change that came over the girl's +face, blotting out its laughter and etching in queer, startled fear. + +"It has been--very gay," she stammered. + +Despairingly she asked herself why she still tried to hide her story +from him since in the morning it must all come out. He would know all +about her then. And what must he be thinking already of her stammered +evasions? + +Oh, if only on that yesterday, which seemed a thousand yesterdays away, +she had stayed closely by her Cousin Jane! If she had not let her folly +wreck all her life! + +Bitterly ironic to know that all the time Barry Elder was here, at hand. +If only she had known! Had he just come? + +She wondered and asked the question. + +And at that Barry's face changed as if he had remembered something he +would have been as glad to forget. + +"Oh--I've been here a few days," he gave back vaguely. + +She glanced about the shadowy room. "So alone?" + +A wry smile touched his mouth. "I came for alone-ness. I had a play to +write--I wanted to work some things out for myself," and indefinably but +certainly Maria Angelina caught the impression that all the things he +wanted to work out for himself in this solitude were not connected with +his play. + +His linked hands had slipped over his knees and he looked ahead of him +very steadily into the fire, and Maria Angelina had a feeling that he +looked that way into the fire many evenings, so oddly, grimly intent, +with oblivious eyes and faintly ironic lips. + +He was quiet so long, without moving, that she felt as if he had +forgotten her. He did not look happy. . . . Something dark had touched +him. . . . + +"Is it something you want that you cannot get, Signor?" she asked him in +a grave little voice. + +He turned his eyes to her, and she saw there was smoldering fire beneath +their surface brightness. + +"No, Signorina, it is something that I want and that I can get." + +"There is no difficulty there," she murmured. + +"No?" His tone held mockery. "The difficulty is in me. . . . I don't +want to want it." + +His eyes continued to rest on her in ironic smiling. + +"Signorina, what would you do if you wanted a cake, oh, such a beautiful +cake, all white icing and lovely sugar outside . . . and within--well, +something that was very, very bad for the digestion? Only the first bite +would be good, you see. But such a first bite! And you wanted +it--because the icing was so marvelous and the sugar so sweet. . . . And +if you had wanted that cake a long time, oh, before you knew what a +cheating thing it was within, and if you had been denied it and suddenly +found it was within your reach----?" + +He broke off with a laugh. + +Slowly she asked, "And would you have to eat the cake if you took the +first bite?" + +His voice was harsh. "To the last crumb." + +"Then I would not bite." + +"But the frosting, Signorina, the pretty pink and white frosting!" + +So bitter was his laugh that the girl grew older in understanding. She +thought of the girl she had seen by his side in the restaurant, the girl +whose eyes had been as blue as the sea and her hair yellow as amber +. . . the girl who had angled for Bob Martin's money. + +She remembered that Barry Elder had of late inherited some money. + +Impulsively she leaned towards him, her eyes dark and pitiful in her +white face. + +"Do not touch it," she whispered. "Do not. I do not want _you_ to be +unhappy----" + +Utterly she understood. His absurd metaphor was no protection against +her. She remembered all Cousin Jane's implications, all the bald +revelations of Johnny Byrd. + +Somehow he had come to know that the heart of Leila Grey was a cheating +thing, yet for the sake of the beauty which had so teased him, for the +glamorous loveliness of those blue eyes and rosy tints, he was almost +ready to let himself be borne on by his inclinations. . . . + +Barry Elder looked startled at that earnest little whisper and his eyes +met hers unguarded a full minute, then a whimsical smile touched his +lips to softness. + +"I'm afraid you have a tender heart, Maria Angelina Santonini," he said. +"You want all the world to have nice wholesome cake, beautifully +frosted--don't you?" + +Her gravity refused his banter. "Not all the world. Only those for whom +realities matter. Only those--those like you, Signor--who could feel +pain and disillusionment." + +"In God's green earth, what do you know of disillusionment, child?" + +"I am no child, Signor." + +"I don't believe that you are." He looked at her with new seriousness. + +"And I am horribly afraid," he continued, "that you have an inkling into +my absurd symbols of speech." + +That brought her eyes back to his and there was something indefinably +touching in their soft, deprecating shyness. . . . Barry's gaze lingered +unconsciously. + +He began to wonder about her. + +He had wondered about her that night at the restaurant, he +remembered--wondered and forgotten. He had been unhappy that night, with +the peculiar unhappiness of a naturally decisive man wretchedly in two +minds, and she had given him a half hour of forgetfulness. + +Afterwards he had concluded that his impressions had played him false, +that no daughter of to-day could possibly be as touchingly young, as +innocently enchanting. + +But she was quite real, it seemed. And she sat there upon his hearth rug +with her eyes like pools of night. . . . What in the world had happened +to her in this America to which she had come in such gay confidence? +What was she trying to hide? + +What in all the sorry, stupid world had put that shadow into her look, +that hurt droop to her lips? + +He could not conceive that real tragedy could so much as brush her with +the tips of its wings, but some trouble was there, some difficulty. + +His pipe was out but he drew on it absently. Maria Angelina snuggled +closer and closer into her pile of cushions and went to sleep. + +After she was asleep he rose and stood looking down at her, and he found +his heart queerly touched by that scratched cheek and the childish way +she tucked her hand under the other cheek as she slept. + +Also he was fascinated by the length of her black lashes. + +Very carefully he covered her with blankets. + +Then he yawned, looked at his watch, smiled to himself and with a +blanket of his own he stretched himself upon the fur rug at her feet. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +MORNING LIGHT + + +Maria Angelina had no difficulty at all in recollecting where she was +when she came to herself next morning, for her dreams had been growing +sharper and sharper with reality. In those dreams she was forever +climbing down mountain sides, tripping, stumbling, down, down, forever +down, until at last there surged through her the warmth of that cabin +fire and the memory of Barry Elder's care. + +She opened her eyes. The warmth of the dream fire was a blaze of +sunlight that fell across it. The fire itself a charred mass of embers +upon a mound of gray ashes. Upon the hearth stood the disreputable +remnants of her sodden shoes. + +For a few moments she lay still, her consciousness invaded with its +rush of memories. She felt very direfully stiff when she thought about +it, but after the first moment she did not think about it. + +She sat up and looked eagerly about. + +There were no shadows now; the sunlight was streaming in through the +cabin's three windows and through the door that stood open into a world +of forest green. She heard birds singing and the sound of running water. +Barry Elder was nowhere to be seen. + +The cabin was one room, an amazing room, its unconcealed simplicities +blazoning themselves cheerfully in the light. There were rustic tables +and comfortable chairs; there was a couch untouched, apparently, save +that it had been denuded of the cushions that lay now about her. There +was a small black stove and pans on it and dishes on a stand. There was +a chest of drawers and along the walls were low open shelves of books, +the shelves topped with a miscellany of pipes and pictures and playing +cards. + +Between two windows stood a large table buried in books and papers with +a typewriter poking its head above the confusion. + +So he really was writing a play--another play. She hoped, remembering +Cousin Jim's remark, that he would not put too much Harvard in. + +She got to her feet--with wincing reluctance for every muscle in her +small person made its lameness felt, and she limped when she began to +walk. The rejected pile of clothing had disappeared from her side, but +the fringed moccasins were left, and very humbly she drew them on. Her +stockings were not those in which a Santonini desires to be discovered! + +Uncertainly she moved towards the door, her stiffly dried white skirt +rattling at each move. It was a battleground of a skirt where black mud +and green grass stains struggled for preëminence, and her poor middy +blouse, she thought, was in little better plight. + +She had a sudden, half hysterical thought of Lucia's face, if Lucia +could see her now, and a queer little gulp of laughter caught in the +lump in her throat! + +"Morning, Signorina! A merry morning to you." + +Up the grassy bank before the cabin Barry Elder came swinging towards +her, a lithe figure in brown knickers and white shirt rolling loosely +open at the throat. His face was flushed and his brown, close-cropped +curls were wet as if he had been ducking them into the cold river water. + +He waved one hand gayly; the other was carrying a pail of water. + +"You look so _clean_!" gave back Maria Angelina impetuously, her +laughter rising to meet his, but her sensitive blood coloring her face +before his gaze. + +"There's the entire river to wash in. I thought you'd like it better out +of doors so I've built you a dressing room. . . . Meanwhile the +commissary will be working. Don't be too long, for breakfast will be +ready," he told her, passing by her into the house, with a gesture of +direction as if it were the most matter of fact thing in the world for +young men to cook breakfast and for young ladies to wash in rivers. + +So Maria Angelina followed his directions and went down into the grove +of young birches that he called her dressing-room. + +Here greenness was all about her, and through the delicate, interlacing +boughs before her even the river was shut out, except one eddying stream +of it that swerved in beneath her feet. There was lovely freshness in +the morning air, a lovely brightness in the sky above her. It was a +dressing-room for a nymph of the woods, for a dryad, for Diana herself. + +Gratefully she stooped to the cold water at her feet. There on the bank, +upon a spread towel, she discovered soap and fresh towels, a comb and a +pair of military brushes, still wet from recent washing. He was very +sweet and thoughtful, that Barry Elder. + +Valiantly she attacked that tangled hair of hers, reducing it to the +old submissive braids which she coroneted about her head, fastening them +with twigs as best she could, and then she washed deliciously in that +cold, running stream. It must be wonderful, she felt, to be a man and to +live like this. One could forget the world in such a place. . . . + +Sandy dashed upon her, scattering the gathering darkness of her +thoughts, and she yielded to the young impulse to splash and romp with +him before returning with him to the cabin. + +She felt shy about reëntering that house . . . and Barry Elder's +presence. + +A rich aroma of coffee greeted her upon the threshold. So did her host's +voice in mock severity. + +"I sent Sandy to bring you in--and I was just coming after the two of +you. . . . Will you sit here? I did have a dressy thought of setting up +a table out of doors but this is handier--nearer the stove, you know. +You've no idea of the convenience of it." + +"But you are getting me so _many_ meals," protested Maria Angelina, +confronted by a small table which he had spread for two before the +fireplace. Within the hearth he had kindled a small and cheerful blaze. + +"I'll agree to keep it up as long as you eat them." + +Swiftly Barry turned the browning ham from the iron spider into a small +platter and deposited it upon the table with a flourish. Then he placed +the granite coffeepot at her right hand. + +"I made it with an egg," he said proudly. "Will you pour, Signorina, +while I cut this? That's genuine canned cream--none of your execrable +Continental hot milk for me! And I like my cream first with three lumps +of sugar, please." + +He smiled blithely upon her as with a deep and delicious constraint her +small hands moved, housewifely, among his cups. + +"These aren't French rolls," he murmured, "but I promise you that they +are cold enough for a true Italian breakfast, and there is honey and +there is jam--and here, Signorina, is ham, milk-fed, smoke-cured, and +browned to make the best chef of Sherry's pale with envy and despair. +. . . I thank you," and he accepted the cup of coffee from her hand with +another direct smile that deepened the confusion of the girl's spirit. + +A dream had succeeded the nightmare, a fairy tale of a dream. It was +unreal . . . it was a bubble that would break . . . but it was a spell, +an enchantment. + +She forgot that she was tired and bruised; she forgot her stained +clothes; she forgot her outrageous past and her terrifying future. + +Oblivious and bewitched, she smiled across the table into Barry Elder's +eyes and poured his coffee and ate his bread and jam. The amazing youth +in her forgot for those moments all that it had suffered and all that it +must meet. She was floating, floating in the web of this beautiful +unreality. + +And Barry Elder himself appeared a very different person from that +bitter young man who had stared desperately into the fire and talked +about cake and disillusionment. In spite of his lack of sleep there was +nothing in the least haggard about his young face; he looked remarkably +alert and interested in life, and his eyes were very gentle and his +smile very sweet. + +Perhaps there was something of a dream to him in the presence of a +fairylike young creature who had blown in with the storm and slept upon +his sheltering hearth. Perhaps there was an enchantment to him in the +exquisite young face across the table, the shy, soft eyes, the delicate +pale contours. + + +Into their absorption came a shattering knock upon the door. Instantly +the nightmare was upon Maria Angelina. She was tense, her eyes wide, her +lips parted. And as the knock was repeated, one hand, wide-fingered in +fright, was raised as if to ward off some palpable blow. + +"Oh, let me hide," she breathed across the table into Barry Elder's +ears. + +Fortunately the latch was on the door. + +"Who's there?" said Barry Elder raising his voice to cover her +reiterated whisper. In negation he gestured her to silence. + +"Hello, hello there, I say!" + +It was the voice of Johnny Byrd and Maria Angelina half rose from her +chair and clutched Barry Elder's arm as he moved towards the summons. + +"Do not let him in," she gasped. "That is the man--last night----" + +The dog's barking was drowning her words. Johnny called again. + +"Anybody in? Here you wake up--anybody here?" + +Barry Elder had stood still at her words. His expression changed. He +turned and pointed to a blanket from the floor flung over a chair. + +She slipped behind it. + +Calling to his dog to behave and keep still, Barry stepped over to the +door and opened it. + +"Oh, Barry Elder! Gee, I thought this was your place but I didn't know +you were here," Johnny Byrd declared in relief. "I saw the smoke and +knew there was somebody about. . . . Gee, have you got any food?" + +Slowly Barry surveyed him. + +Johnny Byrd was not punctiliously turned out; he was streaked and +muddied; his blue eyes were rimmed with red as if his night's rest had +not been wholly soothing; he had no cap and his hair had clearly been +combed back by fingers into its restless roach. + +Barry's eyes appreciated each detail. "Hello, Johnny," he remarked +without affability. "How did you happen to toddle over for breakfast?" + +Johnny was not critical of tones. "Oh, never mind the damned details," +he said bitterly. "Gawd, I could eat a raw cow. . . . Say, you haven't +seen any one pass here lately, have you? I mean has any one been by at +all?" + +"I haven't seen any one pass here at all," said Barry Elder. + +"Sure? But have you been looking out? Say, what other way is there--Oh, +my Lord, is that coffee? Or do I only dream I smell it? I haven't had a +bite since the middle of yesterday. Let me get to it." + +But Barry Elder did not spring to the duties of his hostship. He did not +even move aside to permit Johnny Byrd to spring to his own +assistance--which Johnny showed every symptom of doing. He continued to +stand obstructingly in the middle of his log doorstep, one hand on the +knob of the half closed door behind him, his eyes fixed very curiously +on Johnny's flushed disorder. + +"What kind of an 'any one' are you looking for?" said Barry slowly. + +"Oh--a--well, I guess you've got to help me out on this. You know the +country. There's no use stalling. It's a girl--a foreign-looking girl." + +"And what are you doing at six in the morning looking for a +foreign-looking girl?" + +"It's the darndest luck," Johnny broke out explosively. "We--we got lost +last night going to a picnic on Old Baldy--and then we got +separated----" + +"How?" + +"How?" Johnny stared back at Barry Elder and found something oddly fixed +and challenging in that young man's eyes. + +"Why how--how does any one get separated?" he threw back querulously. + +"I can't imagine--especially when one is responsible for a girl." + +"Gosh, Barry, you're talking like a grandmother. Aren't you going to +give me anything to eat? What's the matter with you, anyway? You act +devilish queer----" + +Again he confronted the coldness of Barry's gaze and his own face +changed suddenly, with swift surmise. + +"Say, has she been here?" he broke out. "You've seen her, haven't you? I +was sure I saw tracks. . . . Has she--has she told you anything?" + +Barry leaned a little nearer the door-frame, drawing the door closer +behind him. Through the crack Sandy's pointed noise and exploring eyes +were fixed inquiringly upon the visitor and he whined eagerly as, +scenting disapprobation in the air, he yearned to meet this trouble +halfway. + +"I think you had better," Barry told him. + +"Better? Better what?" + +"Better tell me--everything." + +"Oh, all right, all right! _I've_ nothing to conceal. I didn't go off my +chump and behave like a darn lunatic in grand opera!" + +Then very quickly Johnny veered from anger into confidence. + +"Here's the whole story--and there's nothing to it. She's crazy--crazy +with her foreign notions, I tell you. At first I thought she was trying +to put something over on me, but I guess she's just genuinely crazy. +It's the way she was brought up. They go mad over there and bite if +you're left alone in a room with a girl." + +Definitely Barry waited. + +"We were up there on the mountain," said Johnny more lucidly. "We'd +lost the others--no fault of ours, Barry--you needn't look like a movie +censor--and we found we'd got to make a night of it. We were just worn +out and going in circles. And she--I give you my word I didn't do one +gosh-darned thing, but that girl just naturally took on and raved about +wanting me to marry her and blew me up when I said I hadn't asked her +and then--then--when I tried to get shelter in a little old shack we'd +stumbled on she just up and bolted. She----" + +His words died away. His eyes dropped before the blaze that met them. + +Very slowly Barry formulated his feelings. + +"You--infernal----" + +"Hold on there, I'm not any such thing." + +Through the bluster of Johnny's rally a really injured innocence made +its outcry. "She had no more reason to bolt than a--a grandmother." +Grandmothers appeared to be Johnny's sole figure of comparison. "You're +getting this dead wrong, Barry. . . . Look here, what do you take me +for?" + +"That's a large question," said Barry slowly. But his tone was milder +though far from reassuring. "But do you tell me that she asked you to +marry her?" + +"I do. She did. Just like that--out of a clear sky." + +"But what was the reason----" + +"There wasn't a reason, I give you my word, Barry." + +"You hadn't been saying anything to her--to suggest it?" + +Johnny Byrd's face changed unhappily. His sunburned warmth deepened to a +brick red. + +"Why, no--not about marrying. Oh, hang it all, Barry, don't act as if +you never kissed a pretty girl! Oh, she pretended she thought _that_ was +proposing to her--just as if a few friendly words and a half kiss meant +anything like that. . . . I'll own I was gone on her," Johnny found +himself suddenly announcing, "but when she was taking marriage for +granted right off it sounded too much like a hold-up and I flared all +over." + +"A hold-up?" + +"Oh, thumb screws, you know--the same old quick-step to the altar. I +hadn't done a thing, I tell you, but it looked as if she thought that +our being there was something she could stage a scene on and so I +thought--you don't know what things have been tried on me before," he +broke off to protest at Barry's expression. + +Mutteringly he offered, "You other fellows may think you know a little +bit about side-stepping girls but when it comes to any kind of a bank +roll--they're like starving Armenians at sight of food. I'd had 'em try +all sorts of things. . . . But I own, now, she was just going according +to her foreign ways. She must have been half scared to death. And +she--she is pretty crazy about me----" + +"I am not pretty crazy about you, Johnny Byrd!" + +The door behind Barry was wrenched from his holding and flung violently +open and Maria Angelina appeared upon the threshold, a defiant little +image of war. Deadly pale, except for that scarlet stain across her +cheek, her eyes blazing, there was something so mortally honest in the +indignant anger that possessed her that Johnny Byrd unconsciously fell +back a step, and Barry Elder stood aside, his own gaze lit with concern +and wonder. + +"I am despising you for a coward and a flirter," said Maria Angelina in +a low but exceedingly penetrative voice, and so intense was her command +of the situation that neither man found humor, then, in the misused +word. + +"You make love to girls when you mean nothing by it--you get them lost +in the woods and then refuse the marriage that any gentleman, even an +indifferent gentleman, would offer! And then you behave like a savage. +You bully and try to force your way into the actual room of shelter with +me!" + +"You see!" Johnny waved his hand helplessly at her and looked +appealingly at Barry for a gleam of masculine right-mindedness. +"She--she wanted me to stay out in the rain, Barry." + +"But as it was, _she_ stayed out in the rain and you slept in the +shelter." + +"She ran, I'm telling you. I couldn't chase her forever, could I? I +tried to track her as soon as it got a little light and I could see +where she'd been sliding and slipping along, and honestly, I've been +nearly bats with worry till I got a trace of her again back in the +woods." + +Barry Elder turned towards the girl. + +"And that's the whole story, Signorina? That's all there is to it?" + +"All?" Maria Angelina echoed bewilderedly. She thought there was enough +and to spare. It seemed to her that she had related the destruction of +her lifetime. + +She stopped. She would not cry again before Johnny Byrd. She called on +all her pride to keep her firm before him. + +A queer change came over Barry Elder's expression. The light that seemed +to be shining in the back of his eyes was bright again. He looked at +Maria Angelina in a thoughtful silence, then he turned to Johnny Byrd. + +"I don't think you know how serious a business this is in Italy," he +told him. "You know, there where a girl cannot even see a man alone----" + +"Well, we don't need to cable it to Italy, do we?" Johnny demanded in +disgust. "It isn't going to spill any beans here. But it would look +fine, wouldn't it, if I came back to the Lodge yelling to marry her?" + +"Right you are. That is it, Signorina," Barry Elder agreed very +promptly. "That's the way it would look in America. Being lost is an +unpleasant accident. Nothing more--between young people of good family. +Not that young people of good families make a practice of being lost," +he supplemented, his eyes dancing in spite of himself at Maria +Angelina's deepening amaze, "but when anything like that happens--as it +has before this in the Adirondacks--people don't start an ugly scandal. +They may talk a little of course, but it won't do you any real harm. +. . . And it wouldn't be quite nice for Johnny to go rushing about +offering you marriage. The occasion doesn't demand it in the least." + +Helplessly she regarded him. . . . She felt utterly astray--astray and +blundering. . . . + +"Would Cousin Jane think so?" she appealed. + +"She would," averred Barry stoutly, over the twinge of an inner qualm. +"And so would your own mother, if she were here." + +But there Maria Angelina was on solid ground. + +"You know little about _that_," she told him with spirit. "If I were +lost in Italy----" + +But it was so impossible, being lost in Italy, that Maria Angelina could +only break off and guard a bewildered silence. + +"Then I expect your mother had better not know," was all the counsel +that Barry Elder could offer, realizing doubtfully that it was far from +a counsel of perfection. "You had better let that depend upon Mrs. +Blair." + +"I tried to tell her all this," Johnny broke in with an accent of +triumph. + +But Maria Angelina was looking only at Barry Elder. + +"Can you tell me that it is nothing?" she said pitifully, her eyes big +and black in her white face. "To have been gone all night with that +young man--to have been found by you--another young man? Even if the +Americans make light of it--is it not what you call an escapade?" + +"I have to admit that it's an escapade--an accidental escapade," Barry +qualified carefully. "But I don't know any way out of it--unless we all +stand together," he said slowly, "and all pretend that you got lost +alone and found alone. That's very simple, really, and I think perhaps +it would make things easier for you." + +"Now you're saying something!" Johnny was jubilant. "Absolute +intelligence--gleam of positive genius. . . . She was lost alone. Right +after the thunder shower. Missed the others and I went to a high place +to look for them and we never found each other. . . . Spent the night +searching for her," Johnny threw in carelessly, marking out a neat +little role for himself. "That's the story--eh, what?" + +"Oh could we--could we do that?" Maria Angelina implored with quivering +lips. + +"Of course we can do that. Only you've got to stick to that story like +grim death--no making any little break about climbing the mountain top +and things like that, you know." + +"You may trust me," said Maria fervently. + +"Leave it to your Uncle Dudley," Johnny reassured him. "But, look here, +Barry, do you want me to die on your doorstep?" he demanded, his hunger +returning as his agitation subsided. + +"Oh, sit down, Johnny, and I'll bring you something," said Barry at +last. "You had better keep your eye on the trail to see if any one else +is coming along. Two in a morning is quite stirring," he said +deliberately. "I'm sure the fire is still burning--unless you'd prefer +to have him perish of starvation?" he paused to inquire politely of the +girl, his twinkling eyes bringing a sudden irrepressible answer to her +lips. + +"Yes, that will be best for everybody's feelings," he rattled on, from +the interior of the cabin, referring not to Johnny's demise but to the +construction of a defensive narrative. "Each of you wandered about all +night alone. . . . Here's some ham, Johnny, and cold toast. There'll be +hot coffee in an instant. . . . Now remember you crossed the river just +after the thunder storm and separated to try different trails. And you +never found each other . . . That's simple, isn't it? And you, Johnny, +climbed the wrong mountain and slept in a shack and came down this +morning and returned to the Lodge. You must show up there, worried as +blazes and tearing your hair," he instructed the devouring Johnny who +merely nodded, tearing wolfishly at the cold toast. + +"But before you reach the Lodge I will ease the anxiety there by +telephoning that I have just found Maria Angelina," went on Barry, using +quite unconsciously the name by which he was thinking of the girl. + +He turned to her, "With your permission, I shall say that I have just +found you, that I have given you something to eat and while you were +resting I went to telephone. Does that make you any happier?" + +Her answering look was radiant. + +"Now, remember--don't change a word of this. . . . Here's your coffee, +Johnny. When you reach the Lodge, don't forget that you haven't seen me +and that you are still unfed----" + +"Unfed is right," said Johnny ungratefully. "Oh, my gosh, I am stiff as +a poker. What do you say, Barry, to our doping this out around that +fire--or have you got some other little thing in there you are keeping +incog as it were?" + +Refreshed and unabashed he grinned at them. + +But Barry did not offer his fire. + +"You'd better cut on before you are discovered," he advised. "It's a +long way to go--like Tipperary. And I'll hurry off to Peter's place. +. . . You strike over that shoulder there and down the trail to the +right and you'll find the main road. It's shorter than the river. +Besides you can't use the river trail or you would have found me. . . . +Now mind--don't change a word of it." + +"Sure, I've got it down. Well, I'll be off then!" + +But Johnny was not off. He hesitated a moment, turning very obviously to +Maria Angelina, who stood silent upon the doorstep, and it was Barry who +took himself suddenly off around the corner of the cabin, with a plate +of scraps for the vociferous Sandy. + +Embarrassedly Johnny muttered, "I say, Ri-Ri, I'm sorry." + +Her expression did not change. She said levelly, "I'm sorry, too. I did +not understand." + +"I didn't understand, either." + +Both stood silent. Then he spoke in a hurried, even a flurried way in a +very low tone indeed. + +"But I--I didn't mean to be a quitter. Look here, I didn't realize that +it was just the look of things you were after and not my--my----" + +"Your money, Signor?" said Ri-Ri clearly. + +He grew red. "I've got some queer experiences," he jerked out. + +"I should think, Signor, that you would." + +"Oh, hang that Signor! I don't blame you for being a frost, Ri-Ri, for I +guess I was pretty rotten to you--but I wasn't throwing you +down--honestly. I was just mulish, I guess, because you were trying to +stampede me. And I was fighting mad over the entire business and had to +take it out on somebody. If you'd just laughed and petted a fellow a +little----" + +He broke off and looked at her hopefully. + +Maria Angelina gave no signs of warmth. Her eyes were enigmatic as black +diamonds; and her mouth was a red bud of scorn. Her dignity was immense +for all that her braids had come down from their coronet and were +hanging childishly about her shoulders; the loose strands fluttering +about her face. + +Johnny wanted to put his hands out and touch them. And he wanted to grip +the small shoulders beneath that middy blouse and shake them out of that +aloof perverseness . . . they had been such soft, nestling shoulders +last night. . . . + +"You know I--I'm really crazy about you," he said quickly. "Of course +you know it--you had a right to know it. I was gone on you from the +moment I first saw you. You were so--different. I thought it was just a +crush--that I could take it or leave it, you know--but you _are_ +different. A man's just _got_ to have you----" + +He waited. He had an idea that he had elucidated something. He felt that +he had raised an issue. But Maria Angelina stood like the bright eternal +snow, unhearing and unheeding and most devilishly cold. + +"Only last night," said Johnny, explaining feverishly again, "you were +so funny and grand opera and all and I was mad and disgusted and grouchy +and I--I didn't know how much I cared myself. Look here, forget it, will +you, and begin again?" + +"Begin what again?" + +"Well, don't begin, then. Let's finish. Let's get married. I do want +you, Ri-Ri--I want you like the very deuce. After you had gone--Gee, it +was an awful night when I got over my mad. And coming down the mountain +this morning--I didn't know _what_ I was going to find! . . . So let's +forget it all--and get married," he repeated. + +There was a pause. "Do you mean this?" said a still voice. + +"Every word. That's what I was planning to tell you when I was running +down the mountain this morning. . . . And last night--if you'd gone at +me differently." + +He looked at her. Something in that young figure made him say quickly, +"Will you, Ri-Ri?" + +"I should like you," said Maria Angelina in a clear implacable little +voice, "to say that again, Signor Byrd, if you are in earnest." + +"Oh, all right. Come on back, Barry. . . . I'm asking Ri-Ri to marry +me--and we'll announce the engagement any time she says. . . . There. +. . . Now I've got that off my chest." + +"Thank you," said Maria Angelina. She looked neither at the embarrassed +Johnny nor the astounded Barry. "I will think about it and I will let +you know, Signor Byrd. Now please go." + +"Well, of all the----" said Johnny blankly. + +Then he looked at her. She was staring before her at something that she +alone could see. Her look was rather extraordinary. It occurred to +Johnny that after all she had a right to tantalize--and this was really +no moment for capitulation. + +To-night, now, after dinner, when every one was fed and warm and comfy. +. . . + +Still she might give a fellow a decent look. Hang it, he wasn't a +drygoods clerk offering himself! + +"Come on, let her alone now," cut in Barry with a certain savage energy +that woke wonder in Johnny before it had time to wake resentment. + +"We must be off," Barry went on. "Come on, the first part of our way +lies together and we'd better hurry or some searching party will find +us. Remember, you've only been here an hour," he called back to Maria +Angelina. He did not look at her, but added, in that same offhand way, +"Better go in and get some sleep and I'll telephone the Lodge from +Peter's and have a motor and a horse sent after you." + +"I'll come with the motor all right," Johnny promised. + +"Don't worry," called back Barry, and waved his hand with an air of +gayety but there was no laughter on his face as he started off over the +hill with Johnny Byrd. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +JOURNEY'S END + + +Over the hills went Johnny Byrd and down the trail and into a grove of +pines. + +Up to the left went Barry Elder, out of sight among the larches. He +walked briskly at first, his face clouded but set. Then he walked +slower, his face still clouded but unsettled. + +Decidedly his pace lagged. Then it stopped. He looked back. . . . He +went a little way back and stopped again. . . . Then he went on going +back without stopping. + +His face was much clearer now. + + +Maria Angelina had climbed a mountain and descended a mountain; she had +wandered and struggled and scrambled for hours till she was faint with +exhaustion; she had been through the extremes of hope and despair and +shame and anger and heart-breaking indignation till it seemed as if her +spirit must break with her body. + +For recovery she had had some scant hours of sleep and a portion of +food. + +And now, instead of succumbing to the mortal weariness that should have +been upon her, instead of closing the big eyes that burned in her head, +she stood at the cabin door with uplifted face listening to the song of +a bird that she did not know. + +Then she reëntered the cabin; but not to sink into a chair, not to +release her bruised feet from the weight of her tiredness. + +She cleared the table and piled the dishes in a huge pan upon the little +stove. Upon the stove she discovered water heated in a kettle and she +poured it, splashing, over the panful. She found three cloths of +incredible blackness drying upon a little string in a corner by the +stove, and after smiling very tenderly upon them she abandoned them in +favor of a clean hand towel. + +She restored the washed dishes to their obvious places upon the shelves +and with a broom she battled with the dust upon the floor and drove it +out the open door. Then she swept up the hearth, singing as she swept, +and tidied the arrangement of books, bait and tobacco upon the mantel, +fingering them with shy curiosity. + +"Maria Angelina!" said a voice at the doorway and Maria Angelina turned +with a catch at her heart. + +It had taken Barry Elder a long time to retrace those steps of his. + +Twice he had stopped in deep thought. Once he had pulled out a +leather folder from his pocket and after regarding its sheaf of +papers had sat down upon a stone and deliberately opened a long, +much-creased-from-handling letter. It was dated a week before and it was +headed York Harbor. It concluded with an invitation--and a question. + +After reading that letter Barry remained sunk in thought for a time +longer than the reading had taken. + +All of his past was in that letter--and a great deal of his future in +that invitation. + +Then he went deeper into his pocketbook and took out a small photograph. +It was the one she had given him when he went to France--when she had +been willing to inspire but not to bless him. For a long time, soberly, +he gazed at the picture it disclosed, at the fair presentment of +delightful youth. + +Never had he looked at that picture in just that way. He had known +longing before it, and he had known bitterness quite as misplaced and +quite as disproportionate. + +It affected him now in neither way. + +It was a beautiful picture--it was the picture of a beautiful young +woman. He acknowledged the beauty with generous appreciation. But he +felt no inclination to go on staring, moonstruck, upon it; neither did +he feel the impulse to thrust it hurriedly out of sight, as something +with power to rend. + +It neither troubled him nor invited--though the girl was beautiful +enough, he continued to admit. So were her pearls--and neither were +genuine, thought Barry with more humor than a former adorer has any +right to feel. + +Then he amended his thought. Something of her was real--the invitation +in that letter--the inclination that he had always known she felt. It +was just because it was a genuine impulse in her that he realized how +strong was the calculation in her that had always been able to keep the +errant inclination in check. + +And even when he was going to war . . . She had envisaged her future so +shrewdly--either as wife or widow, he was certain, that she had given +the photograph and not her hand. + +Later, Bob Martin became unavailable. And he, himself, acquired an +income. + +It was not the income that tempted her, he was clearly aware, and he did +her and himself the justice to perceive that it was the inclination +which prompted the invitation--but the inclination could now feel itself +supported by an approving worldly conscience. + +He wondered now at the long struggle of his senses. He wondered at the +death pangs of infatuation. + +Once more he looked at the picture in a puzzled way as if to make sure +that the thing he felt--and the thing he didn't feel--were indubitably +real, and then he rose with a curious sense of lightness and yet +sobriety, and, straightening his shoulders as if a burden had fallen +from them, he retraced his steps towards the cabin. + +At the doorway he paused, for he heard Maria Angelina singing. Then he +spoke her name. + +The song stopped. Maria Angelina turned towards him a face of flushed +surprise. He discovered her quaintly with a jar of pickled frogs in her +hand. + +"Maria Angelina, what are you doing?" + +"But these, Signor--what are these?" + +"These? Oh--not for food, Maria Angelina--even in my most desperate +moments. . . . Maria Angelina, are you going to marry him?" + +She did not drop the frogs. Very carefully she put them back but with a +shaking hand. All the rosy sparkle was swept out of her. Her eyes were +averted. She looked suddenly harassed, stubborn, almost furtive. + +No quick denial came springing from her. + +"I do not know," she told him painfully. + +"You do not know?" + +There was something in the young man's voice that made her glance rise +to his. + +"Oh, it is not that I care for him!" said Maria Angelina ingenuously. + +"Then why think of marrying him?" + +"It may be--needful." + +"Not after this story," Barry Elder, insisted. + +"It is not that--now." She forced herself to meet his combative look. +"It is because of--Julietta." + +"Julietta! . . . Who the deuce is Julietta?" + +"Oh, she is my sister, my older sister. I told you about her last +night," Maria Angelina reminded him. "She is the one I love so much. +. . . And she is not pretty, at all--she is anything _but_ pretty, +though she is so good and dear--yet she will never marry unless she has +a large dower. And there is nothing in her life if she does not marry. +And there is no money for a large dower, but only for a little bit for +her and a little bit for me. So they sent me on this visit to America, +for here the men do not ask dowers and what was saved on me would help +Julietta--and now----" + +Borne headlong on her flood of revelation Maria Angelina could not stop +to watch the change in Barry Elder's face. And she was utterly +unprepared for the immense vehemence of the exclamation which cut into +her consciousness with such startling effect that she stopped and gasped +and swallowed uncertainly before finishing in an altered key, "And so I +must marry in America--for Julietta's dower----" + +In an odd voice Barry offered, "You think it your duty--because Byrd is +so rich----?" + +"I know it is my duty," she gave back, goaded to desperation, "but--but, +oh, it is like that cake of yours, Signor--of a nothingness to me +within!" + +Very abruptly Barry turned from her; he drove his hands deep into his +pocket and strode across the room and back. He brought up directly in +front of her. + +"Maria Angelina," he said softly, "how old are you?" + +"Eighteen." + +"How many men have you known?" + +"You, first, Signor, then the others here." + +"But you did care for him," he said. "You kissed him." + +Her eyes dropped, her cheeks flamed and he saw her lips quiver--those +soft, sensitive lips of hers which seemed to breathe such tender warmth +and perfume like the warmth and perfume of a flower. But through the +shine of tears her eyes came back to his. + +"No, Signor, it was he who kissed me--and without my consent! I did not +kiss him--never, never, never!" + +"Is there such a difference?" + +"But there is all the difference----" + +"Maria Angelina, you are sure that to kiss a man yourself, to kiss him +deliberately, unmistakably upon the lips, is a final seal and ultimate +surrender, and that if you do not marry a man you have so kissed you +would be no better than a worthless deceiver, an outrageous flirt, an +abandoned trifler----" + +She looked at him amazedly. + +His eyes were oddly dancing, his lips were curved in a boyish smile, +infinitely merry, infinitely tender; the wind was blowing back the curly +locks of hair from his face, giving it the look of a victorious runner, +arrived at some swift goal. + +Back of him, through the open door of the cabin, the green and gold of +the forest shone in translucent brightness. + +"But yes--that is true----" she stammered, not daring to trust that rush +of happiness, that sweet and secret singing of her blood. + +"Then, Maria Angelina," said he gayly yet adoringly, "Maria Angelina, +you little darling of the gods, come here instantly and kiss me. . . . +For I am never going to let you go again." + + +THE END + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: A missing period was added on page 150, after the +words "then shrank back", and a missing quotation mark was added on page +195, at the paragraph beginning "And Francisco". No other corrections +were made to the original text.] + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Innocent Adventuress, by Mary Hastings Bradley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS *** + +***** This file should be named 29278-8.txt or 29278-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/7/29278/ + +Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Innocent Adventuress + +Author: Mary Hastings Bradley + +Release Date: June 30, 2009 [EBook #29278] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS *** + + + + +Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS</h1> + +<h2>BY MARY HASTINGS BRADLEY</h2> + +<p style="text-align: center; margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%;">AUTHOR OF "THE FORTIETH DOOR," "THE PALACE OF DARKENED WINDOWS," "THE +WINE OF ASTONISHMENT," "THE SPLENDID CHANCE," ETC.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;"> +<img src="images/logo.png" width="254" height="300" alt="Publisher's logo" title="Inter Folia Fructus" /> +</div> + +<p class="center">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> +NEW YORK LONDON<br /> +1921<br /> +<br /> +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY<br /> +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> +<br /> +Copyright, 1920, by The McCall Co., Inc.<br /> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> + + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> + +<p style="font-size: 125%; text-align: center;">TO<br /> +MY SISTER<br /> +<br /> +SYLVIA CORWIN FRANCISCO</p> + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum" style="font-size: 60%;">CHAPTER</td> +<td> </td> +<td class="chappage" style="font-size: 60%;">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">I.</td> +<td class="chapname">THE EAVESDROPPER</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">II.</td> +<td class="chapname">UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">21</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">III.</td> +<td class="chapname">LUNCHEON AT THE LODGE</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">47</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">IV.</td> +<td class="chapname">RI-RI SINGS AGAIN</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">V.</td> +<td class="chapname">BETWEEN DANCES</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">88</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VI.</td> +<td class="chapname">TWO--AND A MOUNTAIN</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">106</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VII.</td> +<td class="chapname">JOHNNY BECOMES INEVITABLE</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">127</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">VIII.</td> +<td class="chapname">JOHNNY BECOMES EXPLICIT</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">143</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">IX.</td> +<td class="chapname">MRS. BLAIR REGRETS</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">X.</td> +<td class="chapname">FANTASY</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">173</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XI.</td> +<td class="chapname">MORNING LIGHT</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">204</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="chapnum">XII.</td> +<td class="chapname">JOURNEY'S END</td> +<td class="chappage"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">235</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 40%;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + +<h1><a name="THE_INNOCENT_ADVENTURESS" id="THE_INNOCENT_ADVENTURESS"></a>THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS</h1> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">THE EAVESDROPPER</h3> + + +<p>Maria Angelina was eavesdropping. Not upon her sister Lucia and Paolo +Tosti whom she had been assigned to chaperon by reading a book to +herself in the adjoining room—no, they were safely busy with piano and +violin, and she was heartily bored, anyway, with their inanities. Voices +from another direction had pricked her to alertness.</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina was in the corner room of the Palazzo Santonini, a dim +and beautiful old library with faded furnishings whose west arch of +doorway looked into the pretentious reception room where the fiancés +were amusing themselves with their music and their whisper<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>ings. It was +quite advanced, this allowing them to be so alone, but the Contessa +Santonini was an American and, moreover, the wedding was not far off.</p> + +<p>One can be indulgent when the settlements are signed.</p> + +<p>So only Maria Angelina and her book were stationed for propriety, and, +wanting another book, she had gone to the shelves and through the north +door, ajar, caught the words that held her intent.</p> + +<p>"Three of them!" a masculine voice uttered explosively, and Maria knew +that Papa was speaking of his three daughters, Lucia, Julietta and Maria +Angelina—and she knew, too, that Papa had just come from the last +interview with the Tostis' lawyers.</p> + +<p>The Tostis had been stiff in their demands and Papa had been more +complaisant than he should have been. Altogether that marriage was +costing him dear.</p> + +<p>He had been figuring now with Mamma for a pencil went clattering to the +floor.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>"And something especial," he proclaimed bitterly, "will have to be done +for Julietta!"</p> + +<p>At that the eavesdropper could smile, a faint little smile of shy pride +and self-reliance.</p> + +<p>Nothing especial would have to be done for <i>her</i>! A decent dowry, of +course, as befitting a daughter of the house, but she would need no +more, for Maria was eighteen, as white as a lily and as slender as an +aspen, with big, dark eyes like strange pools of night in her child's +face.</p> + +<p>Whereas poor Julietta——!</p> + +<p>"Madre Dio!" said Papa indignantly. "For what did we name her Julietta? +And born in Verona! A pretty sentiment indeed. But it was of no +inspiration to her—none!"</p> + +<p>Mamma did not laugh although Papa's sudden chuckle after his explosion +was most irresistible.</p> + +<p>"But if Fate went by names," he continued, "then would Maria Angelina be +for the life of religion." And he chuckled again.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>Still Mamma did not laugh. Her pencil was scratching.</p> + +<p>"It's a pity," murmured Papa, "that you did not embrace the faith, my +dear, for then we might arrange this matter. They used to manage these +things in the old days."</p> + +<p>"Send Julietta into a convent?" cried Mamma in a voice of sudden energy.</p> + +<p>Maria could not see but she knew that the Count shrugged.</p> + +<p>"She appears built to coif Saint Catherine," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"Julietta is a dear girl," said the Contessa in a warm voice.</p> + +<p>"When one knows her excellencies."</p> + +<p>"She will do very well—with enough dowry."</p> + +<p>"Enough dowry—that is it! It will take all that is left for the two of +them to push Julietta into a husband's arms!"</p> + +<p>When the Count was annoyed he dealt directly with facts—a proceeding he +preferred to avoid at other moments.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>Behind her curtains Maria drew a troubled breath. She, too, felt the +family responsibility for Julietta—dear Julietta, with her dumpy figure +and ugly face. Julietta was nineteen and now that Lucia was betrothed it +was Julietta's turn.</p> + +<p>If only it could be known that Julietta had a pretty dot!</p> + +<p>Maria stood motionless behind the curtains, her winged imagination +rushing to meet Julietta's future, fronting the indifference, the +neglect, the ridicule before which Julietta's sensitive, shamed spirit +would suffer and bleed. She could see her partnerless at balls, lugged +heavily about to teas and dinners, shrinking eagerly and hopelessly back +into the refuge of the paternal home. . . . Yet Julietta had once +whispered to her that she wanted to die if she could never marry and +have an armful of <i>bambinos</i>!</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina's young heart contracted with sharp anxiety. Things were +in a bad way with her family indeed. There had always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> been +difficulties, for Papa was extravagant and ever since brother Francisco +had been in the army, he, too, had his debts, but Mamma had always +managed so wonderfully! But the war had made things very difficult, and +now peace had made them more difficult still. There had been one awful +time when it had looked as if the carriages and horses would have to go +and they would be reduced to sharing a barouche with some one else in +secret, proud distress—like the Manzios and the Benedettos who took +their airings alternately, each with a different crested door upon the +identical vehicle—but Mamma had overcome that crisis and the social +rite of the daily drive upon the Pincian had been sacredly preserved. +But apparently these settlements were too much, even for Mamma.</p> + +<p>Then her name upon her mother's lips brought the eavesdropper to swift +attention.</p> + +<p>It appeared that the Contessa had a plan.</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina could go to visit Mamma's cousins in America. They were +rich—that is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> understood of Americans; even Mamma had once been rich +when she was a girl, Maria dimly remembered having heard—and they would +give Maria a chance to meet people. . . . Men did not ask settlements in +America. They earned great sums and could please themselves with a +pretty, penniless face. . . . And what was saved on Maria's dowry would +plump out Julietta's.</p> + +<p>Thunderstruck, the Count objected. Maria was his favorite.</p> + +<p>"Send Julietta to America, then," he protested, but swallowed that +foolishness at Mamma's calm, "To what good?"</p> + +<p>To what good, indeed! It would never do to risk the cost of a trip to +America upon Julietta.</p> + +<p>Sulkily Papa argued that the cost in any case was prohibitive. But Mamma +had the figures.</p> + +<p>"One must invest to receive," she insisted; and when he grumbled, "But +to lose the child?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> she broke out, "Am <i>I</i> not losing her?" on a note +that silenced him.</p> + +<p>Then she added cheerfully, "But it will be for her own good."</p> + +<p>"You want her to marry an American? You are not satisfied, then, with +Italians?" said Papa playfully leaning over to ruffle Mamma's soft, +light hair and at his movement Maria Angelina fled swiftly from those +curtains back to her post, and sat very still, a book in front of her, a +haze of romance swimming between it and her startled eyes.</p> + +<p>America. . . . A rich husband. . . . Travel. . . . Adventure. . . . The +unknown. . . .</p> + +<p>It was wonderful. It was unbelievable. . . . It was desperate.</p> + +<p>It was a hazard of the sharpest chance.</p> + +<p>That knowledge brought a chill of gravity into the hot currents of her +beating heart—a chill that was the cold breath of a terrific +responsibility. She felt herself the hope, the sole resource of her +family. She was the die<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> on which their throw of fortune was to be cast.</p> + +<p>Dropping her book she slid down from her chair and crossed to a long +mirror in an old carved frame where a dove was struggling in a falcon's +talons while Cupids drew vain bows, and in the dimmed glass stared in +passionate searching.</p> + +<p>She was so childish, so slight looking. She was white—that was the skin +from Mamma—and now she wondered if it were truly a charm. Certainly +Lucia preferred her own olive tints.</p> + +<p>And her eyes were so big and dark, like caverns in her face, and her +lips were mere scarlet threads. The beauties she had seen were +warm-colored, high-bosomed, full-lipped.</p> + +<p>Her distrust extended even to her coronet of black braids.</p> + +<p>Her uncertain youth had no vision of the purity and pride of that +braid-bound head, of the brilliance of the dark eyes against the satin +skin, of the troubling glamour of the red little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> mouth. In the clear +definition of the delicate features, the arch of the high eyebrows, the +sweep of the shadowy lashes, her childish hope had never dreamed of more +than mere prettiness and now she was torturingly questioning that.</p> + +<p>"Practicing your smiles, my dear?" said a voice from the threshold, +Lucia's voice with the mockery of the successful, and Maria Angelina +turned from her dim glass with a flame of scarlet across her pallor, and +joined, with an angry heart, in the laugh which her sister and young +Tosti raised against her.</p> + +<p>But Maria Angelina had a tongue.</p> + +<p>"But yes—for the better fish are yet uncaught," she retorted with a +flash of the eyes toward the young man, and Paolo, all ardor as he was +for Lucia's olive and rose, shot a glance of tickled humor at her +impudence.</p> + +<p>He promised himself some merry passes with the little sister-in-law.</p> + +<p>Lucia resented the glances.</p> + +<p>"Wait your turn, little one," she scoffed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> "You will be in pinafores +until our poor Julietta is wed," and she laughed, unkindly.</p> + +<p>There were times, Maria felt furiously, when she hated Lucia.</p> + +<p>Her championing heart resolved that Julietta should not be left unwed +and defenseless to that mockery. Julietta should have her chance at +life!</p> + +<p class="section">Not a word of the great plan was breathed officially to the girl, +although the mother's expectancy for mail revealed that a letter had +already been sent, until that expectancy was rewarded by a letter with +the American postmark. Then the drama of revelation was exquisitely +enacted.</p> + +<p>It appeared that the Blairs of New York, Mamma's dear cousins, were +insistent that one of Mamma's daughters should know Mamma's country and +Mamma's relatives. They had a daughter about Maria Angelina's age so +Maria Angelina had been selected for the visit. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> girls would have a +delightful time together. . . . Maria would start in June.</p> + +<p>Vaguely Maria Angelina recalled the Blairs as she had seen them some six +years ago in Rome—a kindly Cousin Jim who had given her sweets and +laughed bewilderingly at her and a Cousin Jane with beautiful blonde +hair and cool white gowns. Their daughter, Ruth, had not been with them, +so Maria had no acquaintance at all with her, but only the recollection +of occasional postcards to keep the name in memory.</p> + +<p>She remembered once that there had been talk of this Cousin Ruth's +coming to school for a winter in Rome and that Mamma had bestirred +herself to discover the correct schools, but nothing had ever come of +it. The war had intervened.</p> + +<p>And now she was to visit them. . . .</p> + +<p>"You are going to America just as I went to Italy at your age," cried +Mamma. "And—who knows?—you too, may meet your fate on the trip!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>Mamma would overdo it, thought Maria Angelina nervously, her eyes +downcast for fear her mother would read their discomfort and her +knowledge of the pitiful duplicity, and her cheeks a quick shamed +scarlet.</p> + +<p>"She will have to—to repair the expense," flashed Lucia with a shrill +laugh. "Such expenditure, when you have just been preaching economy on +my trousseau!"</p> + +<p>"One must economize on the trousseau when the bridegroom has cost the +fortune," Maria found her wicked little tongue to say and Lucia turned +sallow beneath her olive.</p> + +<p>Briskly Mamma intervened. "We are thinking not of one of you but all. +Now no more words, my little ones. There is too much to be done."</p> + +<p>There was indeed, with this trip to be arranged for before the onrush of +Lucia's preparation! Once committed to the great adventure it quickly +took on the outer aspects of reality. There were clothes to be made and +clothes to be bought, there were discussions,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> decisions, debates and +conjectures and consultations. A thousand preparations to be pushed in +haste, and at once the big bedroom of Mamma blossomed with delicate +fabrics, with bright ribbons and frilly laces, and amid the blossoming, +the whir of the machine and the feet and hands of the two-lire-a-day +seamstress went like mad clockwork, while in and out Mamma's friends +came hurrying, at the rumor, to hint of congratulation or suggest a +style, an advice.</p> + +<p>The contagion of excitement seized everyone, so that even Lucia was +inspired to lend her clever fingers from her own preparations for +September.</p> + +<p>"But not to be back by then! Not here for my wedding—that would be too +odd!" she complained with the persistent ill-will she had shown the +expedition.</p> + +<p>Shrewd enough to divine its purpose and practical enough to perceive the +necessity for it, the older girl cherished her instinctive objection to +any pleasure that did not include<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> her in its scope or that threatened +to overcast her own festivities.</p> + +<p>"That will depend," returned Mamma sedately, "upon the circumstance. Our +cousins may not easily find a suitable chaperon for your sister's +return. And they may have plans for her entertainment. We must leave +that to them."</p> + +<p>A little panic-stricken, Maria Angelina perceived that <i>she</i> was being +left to them—until otherwise disposed of!</p> + +<p class="section">So fast had preparations whirled them on, that parting was upon the girl +before she divined the coming pain of it. Then in the last hours her +heart was wrung.</p> + +<p>She stared at the dear familiar rooms, the streets and the houses with a +look of one already lost to her world, and her eyes clung to the figures +of her family as if to relinquish the sight of them would dissolve them +from existence.</p> + +<p>They were tragic, those following, imploring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> eyes, but they were not +wet. Maria understood it was too late to weep. It was necessary to go. +The magnitude of the sums already invested in her affair staggered her. +They were so many pledges, those sums!</p> + +<p>But America was so desolately far.</p> + +<p>She could not sleep, that last night. She lay in the big four-poster +where once heavy draperies had shut in the slumbers of dead and gone +Contessas, and she watched the square of moonlight travel over the +painted cherubs on the ceiling. There was always a lump in her throat to +be swallowed, and often the tears soaked into the big feather pillows, +but there were no sobs to rouse the household.</p> + +<p>Julietta, beside her, slept very comfortably.</p> + +<p>But the most terrible moment of all was that last look of Mamma and that +last clasp of her hands upon the deck of the steamer.</p> + +<p>"You must tell me everything, little one," the Contessa Santonini kept +saying hurriedly. She was constrained and repetitious in the grip<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> of +her emotion, as they stood together, just out of earshot of the Italian +consul's wife who was chaperoning the young girl upon her voyage.</p> + +<p>"Write me all about the people you meet and what they say to you, and +what you do. Remember that I am still Mamma if I am across the ocean and +I shall be waiting to hear. . . . And remember that but few of your +ideas of America may be true. Americans are not all the types you have +read of or the tourists you have met. You must expect a great +difference. . . . I should be strange, myself, now in America."</p> + +<p>Maria's quick sensitiveness divined a note of secret yearning.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mamma," she said obediently, tightening her clasp upon her +mother's hands.</p> + +<p>"You must be on guard against mistakes, Maria Angelina," said the other +insistently—as if she had not said that a dozen times before! "Because +American girls do things it may be not be wise for you to do. You will<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +be of interest because you are different. Be very careful, my little +one."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mamma," said the girl again.</p> + +<p>"As to your money—you understand it must last. There can be little to +pay when you are a guest. But send to Papa and me your accounts as I +have told you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mamma."</p> + +<p>"You will not let the American freedom turn your head. You will be +wise—Oh, I trust you, Maria Angelina, to be very wise!"</p> + +<p>How wise Maria Angelina thought herself! She lifted a face that shone +with confidence and understanding and for all her quivering lips she +smiled.</p> + +<p>"My baby!" said the mother suddenly in English and took that face +between her hands and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"You will be careful," she began again abruptly, and then stopped.</p> + +<p>Too late for more cautions. And the child was so <i>sage</i>.</p> + +<p>But it was such a little figure that stood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> there, such young eyes that +smiled so confidently into hers. . . . And America was a long, long way +off.</p> + +<p>The bugles were blowing for visitors to be away. Just one more hurried +kiss and hasty clasp.</p> + +<p>An overwhelming fright seized upon the girl as the mother went down the +ship's ladder into the small boat that put out so quickly for the shore.</p> + +<p>Suppose she should fail them! After all she was <i>not</i> so wise—and not +so very pretty. And she had no experience—none!</p> + +<p>The sun, dancing on the bright waves, hurt Maria Angelina's eyes. She +had to shut them, they watered so foolishly. And something in her young +breast wanted to cry after that boat, "Take me back—take me back to my +home," but something else in her forbade and would have died of shame +before it uttered such weakness.</p> + +<p>For poor Julietta, for dear anxious Mamma, she knew herself the only +hope.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>So steadily she waved her handkerchief long after she had lost the +responding flutter from the boat.</p> + +<p>She was not crying now. She felt exalted. She pressed closer to the rail +and stared out very solemnly over the blue and gold bay to beautiful +Naples. . . . Suddenly her heart quickened. Vesuvius was moving. The +far-off shores of Italy were slipping by. Above her the black smoke that +had been coming faster and faster from the great funnels streamed +backward like long banners.</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina was on her way.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY</h3> + + +<p>With whatever emotion Jane Blair had received the startling demand upon +her hospitality she rallied nobly to the family call. She left her +daughter in the Adirondacks where they were summering and descended upon +her husband in his New York office to rout him out to meet the girl with +her.</p> + +<p>"An infernal shame—that's what I call it!" Jim Blair grumbled, facing +the steaming heat of the unholy customs shed. "It's an outrage—an +imposition——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not all that, Jim! Lucy—that's the mother—and I used to visit +like this when we were girls. It was done then," his wife replied with +an air of equable amusement.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>She added, "I rather think I did most of the visiting. I was awf'ly fond +of Lucy."</p> + +<p>"That's different. You'll have a total stranger on your hands. . . . Are +you sure she speaks English?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear yes, she speaks English—don't you remember her in Rome? She +was the littlest one. All the children speak English, Lucy wrote, except +Francisco who is 'very Italian,' which means he is a fascinating +spendthrift like the father, I suppose. . . . I imagine," said Mrs. +Blair, "that Lucy has not found life in a palace all a bed of roses."</p> + +<p>"I remember the palace. . . . Warming pans!" said Mr. Blair grimly.</p> + +<p>His ill-humor lasted until the first glimpse of Maria Angelina's slender +figure, and the first glance of Maria Angelina's trustfully appealing +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Welcome to America," he said then very heartily, both his hands closing +over the small fingers. "Welcome—<i>very</i> welcome, my dear."</p> + +<p>And though Maria Angelina never knew it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> and Cousin Jane Blair never +told, that was Maria Angelina's first American triumph.</p> + +<p class="section">Some nine hours afterwards a stoutish gentleman in gray and a thinnish +lady in beige and a fragile looking girl in white wound their way from +the outer to the inner circle of tables next the dancing floor of the +Vandevoort.</p> + +<p>The room was crowded with men in light serge and women in gay summer +frocks; bright lights were shining under pink shades and sprays of pink +flowers on every table were breathing a faint perfume into an air +already impregnated with women's scents and heavy with odors of rich +food. Now and then a saltish breeze stole through the draped windows on +the sound but was instantly scattered by the vigor of the hidden, +whirling fans.</p> + +<p>Behind palms an orchestra clashed out the latest Blues and in the +cleared space couples were speeding up and down to the syncopations, +while between tables agile waiters balanced overloaded trays or whisked +silver cov<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>ers off scarlet lobsters or lit mysterious little lights +below tiny bubbling caldrons.</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina's soft lips were parted with excitement and her dark eyes +round with wondering. This, indeed, was a new world. . . .</p> + +<p>It was gay—gayer than the Hotel Excelsior at Rome! It was a carnival of +a dinner!</p> + +<p>Ever since morning, when the cordiality of the new-found cousins had +dissipated the first forlorn homesickness of arrival, she had been +looking on at scenes that were like a film, ceaselessly unrolling.</p> + +<p>After luncheon, Cousin Jim with impulsive hospitality had carried her +off to see the Big Town—an expedition from which his wife relievedly +withdrew—and he had whirled Maria Angelina about in motors, plunged her +into roaring subways, whisked her up dizzying elevators and brought her +out upon unbelievable heights, all the time expounding and explaining +with that passionate, possessive pride of the New Yorker by adoption, +which left his young guest with the impression that he owned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> at least +half the city and was personally responsible for the other half.</p> + +<p>It had been very wonderful but Maria had expected New York to be +wonderful. And she was not interested, save superficially, in cities. +Life was the stuff her dreams were made on, and life was unfolding +vividly to her eager eyes at this gay dinner, promising her enchanted +senses the incredible richness and excitement for which she had come.</p> + +<p>And though she sat up very sedately, like a well-behaved child in the +midst of blazing carnival, her glowing face, her breathless lips and +wide, shining eyes revealed her innocent ardors and young expectancies.</p> + +<p>She was very proud of herself, in the midst of all the prideful +splendor, proud of her new, absurdly big white hat, of her new, absurdly +small white shoes, and of her new, white mull frock, soft and clinging +and exquisite with the patient embroidery of the needlewoman.</p> + +<p>Its low cut neck left her throat bare and about her throat hung the +string of white coral<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> that her father had given her in parting—white +coral, with a pale, pale pink suffusing it.</p> + +<p>"Like a young girl's dreams," Santonini had said. "Snowy white—with a +blush stealing over them."</p> + +<p>That was so like dear Papa! What dreams did he think his daughter was to +have in this New World upon her golden quest? And yet, though Maria +Angelina's mocking little wit derided, her young heart believed somehow +in the union of all the impossibilities. Dreams and blushes . . . and +good fortune. . . .</p> + +<p>Strange food was set before her; delicious jellied cold soups, and +scarlet lobsters with giant claws; and Maria Angelina discovered that +excitement had not dulled her appetite.</p> + +<p>The music sounded again and Cousin Jim asked her to dance. Shyly she +protested that she did not know the American dances, and then, to her +astonishment, he turned to his wife, and the two hurried out upon the +floor, leaving her alone and unattended at that conspicuous table.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>That was American freedom with a vengeance! She sat demurely, not daring +to raise her lashes before the scrutiny she felt must be beating upon +her, until her cousins returned, warm-faced and breathless.</p> + +<p>"You'll learn all this as soon as you get to the Lodge," Cousin Jim +prophesied, in consolation.</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina smiled absently, her big eyes brilliant. Unconsciously +she was wondering what dancing could mean to these elders of hers. . . . +Dancing was the stir of youth . . . the carnival of the blood . . . the +beat of expectancy and excitement. . . .</p> + +<p>"Why, there's Barry Elder!" Cousin Jane gave a quick cry of pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Barry Elder?"</p> + +<p>Cousin Jim turned to look, and Maria Angelina looked too, and saw a +young man making his way to their table. He was a tall, thin, brown +young man with close-cropped curly brown hair, and very bright, deep-set +eyes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> He was dressed immaculately in white with a gay tie of lavender.</p> + +<p>"Barry? <i>You</i> in town?" Cousin Jane greeted him with an exaggerated +astonishment as he shook her hand.</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina noted that he did not kiss it. She had read that this was +not done openly in America but was a mark of especial tenderness.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he retorted promptly. "You seem to forget, dear lady, that I +am again a wor-rking man, without whom the World's Greatest Daily would +lose half its circulation. Of course I'm here."</p> + +<p>"I thought you might be taking a vacation—in York Harbor," she said, +laughing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, cat!" he derided. "Kitty, kitty, kitty."</p> + +<p>"Don't let her kid you, Barry," advised Cousin Jim, delving into his +lobster.</p> + +<p>"But since you <i>are</i> here," went on Cousin Jane, "you can meet my little +cousin from Italy, which is the reason why we are here. Her boat came in +this morning and she has never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> been away from home before. Mr. Elder, +the Signorina Santonini."</p> + +<p>"Welcome to the city, Signorina," said the young man, with a quick, +bright smile, stooping to gaze under the huge, white hat. He had odd +eyes, not large, but vivid hazel, with yellow lights in them.</p> + +<p>"How do you like New York? What do you think of America? What is your +opinion of prohibition and the uniformity of divorce laws? Have you ever +written <i>vers libre</i>? Are——"</p> + +<p>"Barry, stop bombarding the child!" exclaimed Mrs. Blair. "You are the +first young man she has met in America. Stop making her fear the race."</p> + +<p>"Take him away and dance with him, Jane," said Mr. Blair. "This was +probably prearranged, you know."</p> + +<p>If he believed it, he looked very tranquil, the startled Maria Angelina +thought, surprised into an upward glance. The two men were smiling very +frankly at each other. Mrs. Blair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> did not protest but rose, remarking, +"Come, Barry, since we are discovered. You can have something cool +afterwards."</p> + +<p>"I'll have little Cousin afterwards," said Barry Elder. "I want to be +the first young man she has danced with in America."</p> + +<p>"You won't be the last," Mr. Blair told him with a twinkling glance at +Maria Angelina's lovely little face.</p> + +<p>"One of Jane's youngsters," he added, explanatorily to her. "She always +has a lot around—she says they are the companions her son would have +had if she'd had one."</p> + +<p>Then, before Maria Angelina's polite but bewildered attention, he said +more comprehensibly, "You'll find Jane a lot younger than Ruth . . . +Barry's a clever chap—special work on one of the papers. Was in the +aviation. Did a play that fluked last year. Too much Harvard in it, I +expect. But a clever chap, very clever. Like him," he added decisively.</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina had heard of Harvard. Her mother's father had been a +Harvard man.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> But she did not understand just why too much Harvard would +make a play fluke nor what a play did when it fluked, but she asked no +questions and sat very still, looking out at the dancing couples.</p> + +<p>She saw her Cousin Jane whirling past. She tried to imagine her mother +dancing with young men at the Hotel Excelsior and she could not. Already +she wondered if she had better write everything.</p> + +<p>Then the dancing pair came back to them and the young man sat down and +talked a little to her cousins. But at the music's recommencement he +turned directly to her.</p> + +<p>"Signorina, are you going to do me the honor?"</p> + +<p>He had a merry way with him as if he were laughing ever so little at +her, and Maria Angelina's heart which had been beating quite fast before +began to skip dizzily.</p> + +<p>She thanked Heaven that it was a waltz for, while the new steps were +unknown, Maria could waltz—that was a gift from Papa.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>"With pleasure, Signor," she murmured, rising.</p> + +<p>"But you must take off your hat," Mrs. Blair told her.</p> + +<p>"My hat? Take off?"</p> + +<p>"That brim is too wide, my dear. You couldn't dance."</p> + +<p>"But to go bareheaded—like a peasant?" Maria Angelina faltered and they +laughed.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter—it's much better than that brim," Mrs. Blair +pronounced and obediently Maria's small hands rose and removed the +overshadowing whiteness from the dark little head with its coronet of +heavy braids.</p> + +<p>She did not raise her eyes to see Barry Elder's sudden flash of +astonishment. Shyly she slipped within his clasp and let him swing her +out into the circle of dancers.</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina could waltz, indeed. She was fairy-footed, and for some +moments Barry Elder was content to dance without speaking; then he bent +his head closer to those dark braids.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>"So I am the first young man you have met in America?"</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina looked up through her lashes in quick gayety.</p> + +<p>"It is my first day, Signor!"</p> + +<p>"Your first American—Ah, but on the boat! There must have been young +men on that boat, American young men?"</p> + +<p>"On that boat? Signor!" Maria Angelina laughed mischievously. "One reads +of such in novels—yes? But as to that boat, it was a floating nunnery."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now," he protested amusedly, "there must have been <i>some</i> +men!"</p> + +<p>"Some men, yes—a ship's officer, some married ones, a grandfather or +two—but nothing young and nothing American."</p> + +<p>"It must have been a great disappointment," said Barry enjoying himself.</p> + +<p>"It would not have mattered if there had been a thousand. The Signora +Mariotti would have seen to it that I met no one. She is a <i>very</i> good +chaperon, Signor!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>"I thank her. She has preserved the dew on the rose, the flush on the +dawn—the wax for the record and the—er—niche for the statue. I never +had my statue done," said Barry gayly, "but if you would care for it, in +terra cotta, rather small and neat——"</p> + +<p>Confusedly Maria Angelina laughed.</p> + +<p>"And this is your maiden voyage of discovery!" He was looking down at +her as he swept her about a corner. "Rash young person! Don't you know +what happened to your kinsman, Our First Discoverer?"</p> + +<p>"But what?"</p> + +<p>"He was loaded with fetters," said Barry solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Fetters? But what fetters could I fear?"</p> + +<p>"Have you never heard," he demanded of her upraised eyes, "of the +fetters of matrimony?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Signor!" Actually the color swept into her cheeks and her eyes fled +from his, though she laughed lightly. "That is a golden fetter."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," said he, dryly, "or gilded."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>But Maria Angelina was pursuing his jest. "It was not until Columbus +returned to his Europe that he was fettered. It was not from the—the +natives that he had such ill-treatment to fear."</p> + +<p>"Now, do you think the—the natives"—gayly Barry mimicked her quaint +inflection—"will let you get away with <i>that</i>? Or let you return? . . . +You have a great many discoveries before you, Signorina Santonini!"</p> + +<p>Deftly he circled, smiling down into her upturned face.</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina's eyes were shining, and the smooth oval of her cheeks +had deepened from poppy pink to poppy rose. She was dancing in a dream, +a golden dream . . . incredibly, ecstatically happy. . . . She was in a +confusion of young delight in which the extravagance of his words, the +light of his glances, the thrill of the violins were inextricably +involved in gayety and glamour.</p> + +<p>And then suddenly the dance was over, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> he was returning her to her +cousins. And he was saying good-by.</p> + +<p>"I have a table yonder—although I appear to have forsaken it," he was +explaining. "Don't forget your first American, Signorina—I'm sorry you +are going to-morrow, but perhaps I shall be seeing you in the +Adirondacks before very long."</p> + +<p>He gave Maria Angelina a directly smiling glance whose boldness made her +shiver.</p> + +<p>Then he turned to Mrs. Blair. "You know my uncle had a little shack +built on Old Chief Mountain—not so far from you at Wilderness. I always +like to run up there——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, you won't, Barry," said Mrs. Blair, laughing incomprehensibly. +"You'll be running where the breaking waves dash high, on a stern and +rock-bound coast."</p> + +<p>He met the sally with answering laughter a trifle forced.</p> + +<p>"I'm flattered you think me so constant! But you underestimate the +charms of novelty. . . . If I should meet, say, a <i>petite brune</i>, done<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +in cotton wool and dewy with innocence——"</p> + +<p>"You're incorrigible," vowed the lady. "I have no faith in you!"</p> + +<p>"Not even in my incorrigibility?"</p> + +<p>"I'll believe it when I see you again. . . . Love to Leila."</p> + +<p>He made a mocking grimace at her.</p> + +<p>Then he stooped to clasp Maria Angelina's hand. "<i>A rivederci</i>, +Signorina," he insisted. "Don't you believe a thing she tells you about +me. . . . I'm a poor, misunderstood young man in a world of women. +<i>Addio</i>, Signorina—<i>a rivederci</i>."</p> + +<p>And then he was gone, so gay and brown and smiling.</p> + +<p>Sudden anguish swept down upon Maria Angelina, like the cold mistral +upon the southlands.</p> + +<p>He was gone. . . . Would she really see him again? . . . Would he come +to those mountains?</p> + +<p>But why would he not? He had spoken of it, all of himself . . . he had +that place he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> called a shack. That was beautiful good fortune—all of a +part of the amazing fairy story of the New World. . . . And he had +looked so at her. He had made such jokes. He had pressed her hands . . . +ever so lightly but without mistake. . . .</p> + +<p>And his eyes, that shining brightness of his eyes. . . .</p> + +<p class="section">"Why rub it in about York Harbor?"</p> + +<p>Cousin Jim was speaking and Maria Angelina came out of her dream with +sudden, painful intensity. Instinctively she divined that here was +something vital to her hope, and while her young face held the schooled, +unstirred detachment of the <i>jeune fille</i>, her senses were straining +nervously for any flicker of enlightenment.</p> + +<p>"Why not rub it in?" countered Cousin Jane briskly. "He'll go there +before long, and he might as well know that he isn't throwing any sand +in our eyes. . . . This sulking here in town is simply to punish her."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>"Perhaps he isn't sulking. Perhaps he doesn't care to run after her any +more. He may not be as keen about Leila Grey as you women think."</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina's involuntary glance at Mrs. Blair caught the superior +assurance of her smile.</p> + +<p>"My dear Jim! He was simply mad about her. That last leave, before he +went to France, he only went places to meet her."</p> + +<p>"Well, he may have got over it. Men do," argued Cousin Jim stubbornly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," echoed Maria Angelina's beating heart in hope, "men do!"</p> + +<p>Cousin Jane laughed. "Men don't get over Leila Grey—not if Leila Grey +wants to keep them."</p> + +<p>"If she wanted so darn much to keep him why didn't she take him then?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say she wanted to keep him <i>then</i>." Mrs. Blair's tones were +mysteriously, ironically significant. "Leila wasn't throwing herself +away on any young officer—with nothing but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> his insurance. It was Bobby +Martin that <i>she</i> was after——"</p> + +<p>"Gad! Was she?" Cousin Jim was patently struck by this. "Why, Bobby's +just a kid and she——"</p> + +<p>"There's not two years' difference between them—in <i>years</i>. But Leila +came out very young—and she's the most thoroughly calculating——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, Jane—just because the girl didn't succumb to the +impecunious Barry and did like the endowed Bobby——! She may really +have liked him, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now, yourself, Jim," retorted his wife good-humoredly. "Just +because she has blue eyes! No, if Leila really liked anybody I always +had the notion it was Barry—but she <i>wanted</i> Bobby."</p> + +<p>For a long moment Cousin Jim was silent, turning the thing over with his +cigar. Maria Angelina sat still as a mouse, fearful to breathe lest the +bewildering revelations cease. Cousin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> Jane, over her second cup of +coffee, had the air of a humorous and superior oracle.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Blair said slowly, "And Bobby couldn't see her?"</p> + +<p>He had an air of asking if Bobby were indeed of adamant and Mrs. Blair +hesitated imperceptibly over the sweeping negative. Equally slowly, "Oh, +Bobby <i>liked</i> her, of course—she may have turned his head," she threw +out, "but I don't believe he ever lost it for a moment. And after he met +Ruth that summer at Plattsburg——"</p> + +<p>The implication floated there, tenuous, iridescent. Even to Maria +Angelina's eyes it was an arch of promise.</p> + +<p>Ruth was their daughter, the cousin of her own age. And the unknown +Bobby was some one who liked Ruth. And he was some one whom this Leila +Grey had tried to ensnare—although all the time Mrs. Blair suspected +her of liking more the Signor Barry Elder.</p> + +<p>Hotly Maria Angelina's precipitous intuitions endorsed that supposition. +Of course<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> this Leila liked that Barry Elder. Of course. . . . But she +had not taken him. He was an officer, then—without fortune. Maria +Angelina was familiar enough with <i>that</i> story. But she had supposed +that here, in America, where dowries were not exigent and the young +people were free, there was more romance. And now it was not even +Leila's parents who had interfered, apparently, but Leila herself.</p> + +<p>What was it Mrs. Blair had said? Thoroughly calculating. . . . +Thoroughly calculating—and blue eyes. . . .</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina felt a quick little inrush of fear. If it should be +blue eyes that Americans—that is, to say now, that Barry +Elder—preferred——!</p> + +<p>And then she wondered why, if this Leila with the blue eyes had not +taken Barry Elder before, Cousin Jane now regarded it as a foregone +conclusion between them? Was it because she could not get that Signor +Bobby Martin? Or was Barry Elder more successful now that he had left +the army?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>She puzzled away at it, like a very still little cat at an +indestructible mouse, but dared say not a word. And while she worried +away her surface attention was caught by the glance of candid humor +exchanged between Mr. Blair and his wife.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Jane, Jane," he was saying, in mock deprecation, "is that why we +are spending the summer at Wilderness, not two miles from the Martin +place——?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blair was smiling, but her eyes were serious. "I preferred that to +having Ruth at a house party at the Martins," she said quietly.</p> + +<p>At that Maria Angelina ceased to attend. She would know soon enough +about her Cousin Ruth and Bobby Martin. But as for Barry Elder and Leila +Grey——! Had he cared? Had she? . . . Unconsciously her young heart +repudiated her cousin's reading of the affair. As if Barry Elder would +be unsuccessful with any woman that he wanted! That was unbelievable. He +had not wanted her—enough.</p> + +<p>He could not want Leila now or he would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> not have spoken so of coming to +the mountains to see <i>her</i>—his direct glance had been a promise, his +eyes a prophecy.</p> + +<p>Dared she believe him? Dared she trust? But he was no deceiver, no +flirt, like the lady-killers who used to come to the Palazzo to bow over +Lucia's hand and eye each other with that half hostile, half knowing +swagger. She had watched them. . . . But this was America.</p> + +<p>And Barry Elder was—different.</p> + +<p>She was lost to the world about her now. Its color and motion and hot +counterfeit of life beat insensibly upon her; she was aware of it only +as an imposition, a denial to that something within her which wanted to +relax into quiet and dreaming, which wanted to live over and over again +the intoxicating excitement, the looks, the words. . . .</p> + +<p>She was grateful when Cousin Jane declared for an early return. She +could hardly wait to be alone.</p> + +<p>"<i>What did I tell you?</i>" Jane Blair stopped suddenly in their progress +to the door and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> turned to her husband in low-toned triumph. "She's with +him. Leila's with him."</p> + +<p>"Huh?" said Cousin Jim unexcitedly.</p> + +<p>"She's pretended some errand in town—she's come in to get hold of him +again," went on Cousin Jane hurriedly, as one who tells the story of the +act to the unobservant. "She's afraid to leave him alone. . . . And he +never mentioned her. I wonder——"</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina's eyes had followed theirs. She saw a group about a +table, she saw Barry Elder's white-clad shoulders and curly brown head. +She saw, unregardfully, a man and woman with him, but all her eagerness, +all her straining vision was on the young girl with him—a girl so +blonde, so beautiful that a pang went to Maria Angelina's heart. She +learned pain in a single throb.</p> + +<p>She heard Cousin Jim quoting oddly in undertone, "'And Beauty drew him, +by a single hair,'" and the words entered her consciousness hauntingly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>If Leila Grey looked like that—why then——</p> + +<p>Yet he had said that he would come!</p> + +<p class="section">Maria Angelina's first night in America, like that last night in Italy, +was of sleepless watching through the dark. But now there were no +child's tears at leaving home. There was no anxious planning for poor +Julietta. Already Julietta and Lucia and the Palazzo, even Papa and +dear, dear Mamma, appeared strangely unreal—like a vanished spell—and +only this night was real and this strange expectant stir in her.</p> + +<p>And then she fell asleep and dreamed that Barry Elder was advancing to +her across the long drawing-room of the Palazzo Santonini and as she +turned to receive him Lucia stepped between, saying, "He is for me, +instead of Paolo Tosti," and behold! Lucia's eyes were as blue as the +sea and Lucia's hair was as golden as amber and her face was the face of +the girl in the restaurant.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">LUNCHEON AT THE LODGE</h3> + + +<p>Wilderness Lodge, Cousin Jane had said, was a simple little place in the +mountains, not a hotel but rather a club house where only certain people +could go, and Maria Angelina had pictured a white stucco pension-hotel +set against some background like the bare, bright hills of Italy.</p> + +<p>She found a green smother of forest, an ocean of greenness with emerald +crests rising higher and higher like giant waves, and at the end of the +long motor trip the Lodge at last disclosed itself as a low, dark, +rambling building, set in a clearing behind a blue bend of sudden river.</p> + +<p>And built of logs! Did people of position live yet in logs in America? +demanded the girl's secret astonishment as the motor whirled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> across the +rustic bridge and stopped before the wide steps of a veranda full of +people.</p> + +<p>Springing down the steps, two at a time, came a tall, short-skirted girl +in white.</p> + +<p>"Dad—you came, too!" she cried. "Oh, that's bully. You must enter the +tournament—Mother, did you remember about the cup and the—you know? +What we talked of for the booby?"</p> + +<p>She had a loud, gay voice like a boy's and as Maria was drawn into the +commotion of greetings, she opened wide, half-intimidated eyes at the +bigness and brownness of this Cousin Ruth.</p> + +<p>She had expected Heaven knows what of incredible charm in the girl who +had detached the Signor Bobby Martin from the siren Leila. Her instant +wonder was succeeded by a sensation of gay relief. After all, these +things went by chance and favor. . . . And if Bobby Martin could prefer +this brown young girl to that vision at the restaurant why then—then +perhaps there was also a chance for—what was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> it the young Signor Elder +had called her? A <i>petite brune</i> wrapped in cotton wool.</p> + +<p>These thoughts flashed through her as one thought as she followed her +three cousins across the wide verandas, full of interested eyes, into +the Lodge and up the stairs to their rooms, where Ruth directed the men +in placing the big trunk and the bags and hospitably explained the +geography of the suite.</p> + +<p>"My room's on that side and Dad's and Mother's is just across—and we +all have to use this one bath—stupid, isn't it, but Dad is hardly ever +here and there's running water in the rooms. You'll survive, won't you?"</p> + +<p>Hastily Maria Angelina assured her that she would.</p> + +<p>Glimpsing the white-tiled splendors of this bath she wondered how Ruth +would survive the tin tub, set absurdly in a red plush room of the +Palazzo. . . .</p> + +<p>"Now you know your way about," the American girl rattled on, her tone +negligent, her eyes colored with a little warmer interest as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> her glance +swept her foreign little cousin. "Frightfully hot, wasn't it? I'll clear +out so you can pop into the tub. You'll just have time before luncheon," +she assured her and was off.</p> + +<p>The next instant, from closed doors beyond, her voice rose in unguarded +exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you baby doll! Mother, did you ever——"</p> + +<p>The voices sank from hearing and Maria Angelina was left with the +feeling that a baby doll was not a desirable being in America. This +Cousin Ruth intimidated her and her breezy indifference and lack of +affectionate interest shot the visitor with the troubled suspicion that +her own presence was entirely superfluous to her cousin's scheme of +things. She felt more at home with the elders.</p> + +<p>Uncertainly she crossed to her big trunk and stood looking down on the +bold labels.</p> + +<p>How long since she and Mamma had packed it, with dear Julietta smoothing +the folds in place! And how far away they all were. . . . It was not the +old Palazzo now that was un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>real—it was this new, bright world and all +the strange faces.</p> + +<p>The chintz-decked room with its view of alien mountains seemed suddenly +remote and lonely.</p> + +<p>Her hands shook a little as she unpacked a tray of pretty dresses and +laid them carefully across the bed. . . . Unconsciously she had +anticipated a warmer welcome from this young cousin. . . . She winked +away the tears that threatened to stain the bright ribbons, and stole +into the splendor of the white bathroom, marveling at its luxurious +contrast to the logs without.</p> + +<p>The water refreshed her. She felt more cheerful, and when she came to a +choice of frocks, decidedly a new current of interest was stealing +through life again.</p> + +<p>First impressions were so terribly important! She wanted to do honor to +the Blairs—to justify the hopes of Mamma. This was not enough of an +occasion for the white mull. The silks look hot and citified. Hesitantly +she se<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>lected the apricot organdie with a deeper-shaded sash; it was +simple for all its glowing color, though the short frilled sleeves +struck her as perhaps too chic. It had been a copy of one of Lucia's +frocks, that one bought to such advantage of Madame Revenant.</p> + +<p>With it went a golden-strawed hat—but Maria Angelina was uncertain +about the hat.</p> + +<p>Did you wear one at a hotel—when you lived at a hotel? Mamma's +admonitions did not cover that. She put the hat on; she took the hat +off. She rather liked it on—but she dropped it on the bed at Ruth's +sudden knock and felt a sense of escape for Ruth was hatless.</p> + +<p>And Ruth still wore the same short white skirt and white blouse, open at +the throat, in which she had greeted them. . . . Was the apricot too +much then of a toilette? Ruth's eyes were frankly on it; her expression +was odd.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Blair had changed. She appeared now in blue linen, very smart +and trim.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>Worriedly Maria Angelina's dark eyes went from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"Is this—is this what I should wear?" she asked timidly. "Am I not—as +you wish?"</p> + +<p>It would have taken a hard heart to wish her otherwise.</p> + +<p>"It's very pretty," said Cousin Jane in quick reassurance.</p> + +<p>"Too pretty, s'all," said Cousin Ruth. "But it won't be wasted. . . . +Bobby Martin is staying to luncheon," she flung casually at her parents. +"Has a guest with him. You remember Johnny Byrd."</p> + +<p>American freedom, indeed! thought Maria Angelina following down the +slippery stairs into the wide hall below where, in a boulder fireplace +that was surmounted by a stag's head, a small blaze was flickering +despite the warmth of the day.</p> + +<p>Wasteful, thought Maria Angelina reprovingly. One could see that the +Americans had never suffered for fuel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>. . . .</p> + +<p>Upon a huge, black fur rug before the fire two young men were waiting.</p> + +<p>Demurely Maria thought of the letter she would write home that +night—one young man the first evening in New York, two young men the +first luncheon at the Lodge. Decidedly, America brimmed with young men!</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Ruth was presenting them. The big dark youth, heavy and lazy +moving, was the Signor Bob Martin.</p> + +<p>The other, Johnny Byrd, was shorter and broad of shoulder; he had +reddish blonde hair slightly parted and brushed straight back; he had a +short nose with freckles and blue eyes with light lashes. When he +laughed—and he seemed always laughing—he showed splendid teeth.</p> + +<p>Both young men stared—but staring was a man's prerogative in Italy and +Maria Angelina was unperturbed. At table she sat serenely, her dark +lashes shading the oval of her cheeks, while the young men's eyes—and +one pair of them, especially—took in the black, braid-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>bound head and +the small, Madonna-like face, faintly flushed by sun and wind, above the +golden glow of the sheer frock.</p> + +<p>Then Johnny Byrd leaned across the table towards her.</p> + +<p>"I say, Signorina," he began abruptly, "what's the Italian for peach?" +and as Maria Angelina looked up and started very innocently to explain, +he leaned back and burst into a shout of amusement in which the others +more moderately joined.</p> + +<p>"Don't let him get you," was Ruth's unintelligible advice, and Bobby +Martin turned to his friend to admonish, "Now, Johnny, don't start +anything. . . . Johnny's such a good little starter!"</p> + +<p>"And a poor finisher," added Ruth smartly and both young men laughed +again as at a very good joke.</p> + +<p>"A starter—but not a beginner, eh?" chuckled Cousin Jim, and Mrs. Blair +smiled at both young men even as she protested, "This is the noisiest +table in the room!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>It <i>was</i> a noisy table. Maria Angelina was astounded at the hilarity of +that meal. Already she began censoring her report to Mamma. Certainly +Mamma would never understand Ruth's elbows on the table, her shouts of +laughter—or the pellets of bread she flipped.</p> + +<p>And the words they used! Maria could only feel that the language of +Mamma must be singularly antiquated. So much she did not understand +. . . had never heard. . . . What, indeed, was a simp, a boob, a nut? +What a poor fish? . . . She held her peace, and listened, confused by +the astounding vocabulary and the even more astounding intimacy. What +things they said to each other in jest!</p> + +<p>And whatever Maria Angelina said they took in jest. She evoked an +appreciative peal when she ventured that the Lodge must be very old +because she had read that the first settlers made their homes of logs.</p> + +<p>"I'll take you up and show you <i>our</i> ancestral hut," declared Bob +Martin. "Where Granddad used to stretch the Red Skins to dry by the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +back door—before tanning 'em for raincoats."</p> + +<p>"Really?" said Maria Angelina ingenuously, then at sight of his +expression, "But how shall I know what you tell me is true or not?" she +appealed. "It all sounds so strange to me—the truth as well."</p> + +<p>"You look at <i>me</i>," said Johnny Byrd leaning forward. "When I shut this +eye, so, you shake your head at them. When I nod—you can believe."</p> + +<p>"But you will not always be there——"</p> + +<p>"I'll say you're wrong," he retorted. "I'm going to be there so usually, +like the weather—did you say you wanted me to stay a month, Bob?"</p> + +<p>Color stole into the young girl's cheeks even while she laughed with +them. She was conscious of a faint and confused half-distress beneath +her mounting confidence. They were so <i>very</i> jocular. . . .</p> + +<p>Of course this was but chaff, she understood, and she began to wonder if +that other, that young Signor Elder, had been but joking.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> It might be +the American way. . . . And yet this was all flattering chaff and so +perhaps she could trust the flattery of her secret hope.</p> + +<p>Surely, surely, it was all going to happen. He would come—she would see +him again.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile she shook her young braids at Johnny Byrd.</p> + +<p>"But you are so sudden! I think he is a flirter, yes?" she said gayly to +Mr. Blair who smiled back appreciatively and a trifle protectively at +her.</p> + +<p>But Bobby Martin drawled, "Oh, no, he's not. He's too careful," and more +laughter ensued.</p> + +<p>After luncheon they went back into the hall where the three men drifted +out into a side room where cigars and cigarettes were sold, and began +filling their cases, while Mrs. Blair stepped out on the verandas and +joined a group there. Ruth remained by the fireplace, and Maria Angelina +waited by her.</p> + +<p>"Your friends are very nice," she began<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> with a certain diffidence, as +her cousin had nothing to say. "That Johnny Byrd—he is very funny——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Johnny's funny," said Ruth in an odd voice. She added, "Regular +spoiled baby—had everything his way. Only an old guardian to boss him."</p> + +<p>"You mean he is an orphan?"</p> + +<p>"Completely."</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina did not smile. "But that is very sad," she said soberly. +"No home life——"</p> + +<p>"Don't get it into your head that Johnny Byrd wants any <i>home life</i>," +said her cousin dryly, and with a hint of hard warning in her negligent +voice. "He's been dodging home life ever since he wore long trousers."</p> + +<p>"He must then," Maria Angelina deduced, very simply, "be rich."</p> + +<p>"He's one of the Long Island Byrds."</p> + +<p>It sounded to Maria like a flock of ducks, but she perceived that it was +given for affirmation. She followed Ruth's glance to where the backs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> of +the young men's heads were visible, bending over some coins they were +apparently matching. . . . Johnny Byrd's head was flaming in the +sunshine. . . .</p> + +<p>"He's a bird from a hard-boiled egg," Ruth said with a smile of inner +amusement.</p> + +<p>But whatever cryptic signal she flashed slipped unseen from Maria +Angelina's vision. Johnny Byrd was nice, but it was a gay, cheery, +everyday sort of niceness, she thought, with none of the quicksilver +charm of the young man at the dinner dance. . . . And she was +unimpressed by Johnny's money. She took the millionaires in America as +for granted as fish in the sea.</p> + +<p>She merely felt cheerfully that Fate was galloping along the expected +course.</p> + +<p>Subconsciously, perhaps, she recorded a possible second string to her +bow.</p> + +<p>With tact, she thought, she turned the talk to Ruth's young man.</p> + +<p>"And the Signor Bob Martin—I suppose he,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> too, is a millionaire," she +smiled, and was astonished at Ruth's derisive laugh.</p> + +<p>"Not unless he murders his father," said that barbaric young woman.</p> + +<p>She added, relenting towards her cousin's ignorance, "Oh, Bob hasn't +anything of his own, you know. . . . But his father's taking him into +business this fall."</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina was bewildered. Distinctly she had understood, from the +Leila Grey conversation, that Bobby Martin was a very eligible young man +and yet here was her cousin flouting any financial congratulation.</p> + +<p>Hesitantly, "Is his father—in a good business?" she offered, and won +from Ruth more merriment as inexplicable as her speech.</p> + +<p>"He's in Steel," she murmured, which was no enlightenment to Maria.</p> + +<p>She ventured to more familiar ground.</p> + +<p>"He is very handsome."</p> + +<p>To her astonishment Ruth snorted. . . . Now Lucia always bridled +consciously when one praised Paolo Tosti.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>"Don't let him hear you say so," she scoffed. "He's too fat. He needs a +lot more tennis."</p> + +<p>And then to Maria's horror she raised her voice and confided this +conviction to the approaching young men.</p> + +<p>"You're getting fat, Bob. I just got your profile—and you need a lot of +tennis for that tummy!"</p> + +<p>And young Martin laughed—the indolent, submissive laughter with which +he appeared to accept all things at the hands of this audacious, +brown-cheeked, gray-eyed young girl.</p> + +<p>She must be very sure of him, thought the little Italian sagely. Then, +not so sagely, she wondered if Ruth was exhibiting her power to warn off +all newcomers. . . . Was <i>that</i> why she refused to admit his wealth or +his good looks—she wanted to invite no competition?</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina believed she saw the light.</p> + +<p>She would reassure Ruth, she thought eagerly. She was a young person of +honor. Never would she attempt to divert a glance from her cousin's +admirer.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>Meanwhile a debate was carried on between golf and tennis, and was +carried in favor of golf by Cousin Jim. There was unintelligible talk of +hazards and bunkers and handicaps for the tournament, of records and of +bogey, and then as Johnny turned to her with a casual, "Like the game?" +a shadow of misgiving crept into her confidence.</p> + +<p>She could not golf. Nor could she play tennis. Nor could she follow the +golfers—as Johnny Byrd suggested—for Cousin Jane declared her frock +and slippers too delicate. She must get into something more appropriate.</p> + +<p>And in Maria Angelina the worried suspicion woke that she had nothing +more appropriate.</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Cousin Jane confirmed that suspicion as she paused +by the trunk the young girl was hastily unpacking.</p> + +<p>"I'll send to town for some plain little things for you to play in," she +said cheerfully. "You must have some low-heeled white shoes and short +white skirts and a batting hat. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> won't come to much," she added as +if carelessly, going down to her bridge game on the veranda.</p> + +<p>But Maria Angelina's small hands clenched tightly at her sides in a +panic out of all proportion to the idea.</p> + +<p>More expense, she was thinking quiveringly. More investment!</p> + +<p>Oh, she must not fail—she dared not fail. She must find some one—the +right some one——</p> + +<p>She dropped beside her trunk of pretty things in a passion of frightened +tears.</p> + +<p class="section">But the night swung her back to triumph again.</p> + +<p>For although she could not golf, and her hands could not wield a tennis +racket, Maria Angelina could play a guitar and she could sing to it like +the angels she had been named for. And the young people at the Lodge had +a way of gathering in the dark upon the wide steps and strumming chords +and warbling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> strange strains about intimate emotions. And as Maria +Angelina's voice rose with the rest her gift was discovered.</p> + +<p>"Gosh, the little Wop's a Galli-Curci," was John Byrd's aside to Bob.</p> + +<p>So presently with Johnny Byrd's guitar in her hands Maria Angelina was +singing the songs of Italy, sometimes in English, when she knew the +words, that all might join in the choruses, but more often in their own +Italian.</p> + +<p>A crescent moon edged over the shadowy dark of the mountains before her +. . . the same moon whose silver thread of light slipped down those far +Apennine hills of home and touched the dome of old Saint Peter's. She +felt far away and lonely . . . and deliciously sad and subtly expectant. +. . .</p> + +<p>"'O Sole mio——"</p> + +<p>And as she sang, with her eyes on the far hills, her ears caught the +whir of wheels on the road below, and all her nerves tightened like +wires and hummed with the charged currents.</p> + +<p>Out of the dark she conjured a tall young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> figure advancing . . . a +figure topped by short-cut curly brown hair . . . a figure with eyes of +incredible brightness. . . .</p> + +<p>If he would only come now and find her like this, singing. . . .</p> + +<p>It was so exquisite a hope that her heart pleaded for it.</p> + +<p>But the wheels went on.</p> + +<p>"But he will come," she thought swiftly, to cover the pang of that +expiring hope. "He will come soon. He said so. And perhaps again it will +be like this and he will find me here——"</p> + +<p>"'O Sole mio——"</p> + +<p>And only Johnny Byrd, staring steadily through the dusk, discerned that +there were tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">RI-RI SINGS AGAIN</h3> + + +<p>She told herself that she was foolish to hope for him so soon. Of course +he could not follow at once. He could not leave New York. He had work to +be done. She must not begin to hope until the week-end at least.</p> + +<p>But though she talked to herself so wisely, she hoped with every breath +she drew. She was accustomed to Italian precipitancy—and nothing in +Barry Elder suggested delay. If he came, he would come while his memory +of her was fresh.</p> + +<p>It would be either here or York Harbor. Either herself or that girl with +the blue eyes. If he really wanted to see her at all, if he had any +memory of their dance, any interest in the newness of her, then he would +come soon.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>And so through Maria Angelina's days ran a fever of expectancy.</p> + +<p>At first it ran high. The honk of a motor horn, the reverberation of +wheels upon the bridge, the slam of a door and the flurry of steps in +the hall set up that instant, tumultuous commotion.</p> + +<p>At any moment, she felt, Barry Elder might arrive. Every morning her +pulses confessed that he might come that day; every night her courage +insisted that the next morning would bring him.</p> + +<p>And as the days passed the expectancy increased. It grew acute. It grew +painful. The feeling, at every arrival, that he might be there gave her +a tight pinch of suspense, a hammering racket of pulse-beats—succeeded +by an empty, sickening, sliding-down-to-nothingness sensation when she +realized that he was not there, when her despair proclaimed that he +would never be there—and then, stoutly, she told herself that he would +come the next time.</p> + +<p>They were days of dreams for her—dreams<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> of the restaurant, of color, +light and music, of that tall, slim figure . . . dreams of the dance, of +the gay, half-teasing voice, the bright eyes, the direct smile. . . . +Every word he had uttered became precious, infinitely significant.</p> + +<p>"<i>A rivederci</i>, Signorina. . . . Don't forget me."</p> + +<p>She had not forgotten him. Like the wax he had named she had guarded his +image. Through all the swiftly developing experiences of those strange +days she retained that first vivid impression.</p> + +<p>She saw him in every group. She pictured him in every excursion. Above +Johnny Byrd's light, straight hair she saw those close-cropped brown +curls. . . . She held long conversations with him. She confided her +impressions. She read him Italian poems.</p> + +<p>But still he did not come.</p> + +<p>And sharply she went from hope to despair. She told herself that he +would never come.</p> + +<p>She did not believe herself. Beneath a set<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> little pretense of +indifference she listened intently for the sound of arrivals; her heart +turned over at an approaching car.</p> + +<p>But she did not admit it. She said that she was through with hope. She +said that she did not care whether he came or not. She said she did not +want him to come.</p> + +<p>He was with Leila Grey, of course.</p> + +<p>Well—she was with Johnny Byrd.</p> + +<p>She was with him every day, for with that amazing American freedom, +Bobby Martin came down to see Ruth every day and the four young people +with other couples from the Lodge were always involved in some game, +some drive, some expedition.</p> + +<p>But it was not accident nor a lazy concurrence with propinquity that +kept Johnny Byrd at Maria Angelina's side.</p> + +<p>Openly he announced himself as tied hand and foot. His admiration was as +vivid as his red roadster. It was as unabashed and clamant as his motor +horn. He reveled in her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> He monopolized her. In his own words, he +lapped her up.</p> + +<p>With amazing simplicity Maria Angelina accepted this miracle. It was +only a second-rate miracle to her, for it was not the desire of her +heart, and she was uneasy about it. She did not want to be involved with +Johnny Byrd if Barry Elder should arrive. . . . Of course, if she had +never met Barry Elder. . . .</p> + +<p>Johnny Byrd was a very nice, merry boy. And he was rich . . . +independent. . . . If one has never tasted <i>Asti Spumante</i>, then one can +easily be pleased with <i>Chianti</i>.</p> + +<p>Her secret dream was the young girl's protection against over-eagerness.</p> + +<p>To her young hostess this indifference came as an enormous relief.</p> + +<p>"She's all right," Ruth reported to her mother, upon an afternoon that +Maria Angelina had taken herself downstairs to the piano and to a +prospective call from Johnny Byrd while Ruth herself, in riding togs, +awaited Bob Martin and his horses.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>"She isn't jumping down Johnny's throat at all," the girl went on. "I +was afraid, that first day, when she asked such nutty questions. . . . +But she seems to take it all for granted. That ought to hold Johnny for +a while—long enough so he won't get tired and throw her down for +somebody else before he goes."</p> + +<p>"You think, then, there isn't a chance of——?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blair left the hypothesis in midair, convicted of ancient sentiment +by the frank amusement of her young daughter's look.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, there isn't a chance of," Ruth so competently informed her +that Mrs. Blair, in revolt, was moved to murmur, "After all, Ruth, +people do fall in love and get married in this world."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>Patiently Ruth gave this thought her consideration and in +fair-mindedness turned her scrutiny upon past days to evoke some sign +that should contradict her own conclusions.</p> + +<p>"She's got something—it's something dif<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>ferent from the rest of us—but +it would take more than that to do for Johnny Byrd."</p> + +<p>Definitely, Ruth shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You don't suppose she's beginning to think——?" hazarded Mrs. Blair.</p> + +<p>Better than her daughter, she envisaged the circumstances which might +have led, in her Cousin Lucy's mind, to this young girl's visit. Lucy, +herself, had been taken abroad in those early days by a competent aunt. +Now Lucy, in the turn of the tide, was sending her daughter to America.</p> + +<p>Jane Blair would have liked to play fairy godmother, to make a +benevolent gesture, to scatter largess. . . .</p> + +<p>But she was not going to have it said that she was a fortune hunter. She +was not going to alarm Johnny Byrd and implicate Bob Martin and disturb +the delicate balance between him and Ruth.</p> + +<p>Lucy's daughter must take her chances. This wasn't Europe.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've said enough to her," Ruth stated<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> briskly, in answer to her +mother's supposition. "I don't know how much she believes. . . . You +know Ri-Ri is seething with Old World sentiment and she may be such a +little nut as to think—but she doesn't act as if she really cared about +it. It isn't just a pose. . . . Do you imagine," said Ruth, suddenly +lapsing into a little Old World sentiment herself, "that she's gone on +some one in Italy and they sent her over to forget him? That might +account——"</p> + +<p>"Lucy's letter didn't sound like it. She was very emphatic about Maria +Angelina's knowing nothing of the world or young men. I rather +gathered," Mrs. Blair made out, "that the family had a plain daughter to +marry off and wanted the pretty one in ambush for a while—they take +care of those things, you know."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose if she copped a millionaire in the ambush they wouldn't +howl bloody murder," said the girl, with admirable intuition.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well——" She yawned and looked out of the window. "She's probably +having the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> time of her life. . . . I'm grateful she turned out such a +little peach. . . . When she goes back and marries some fat spaghetti it +will give her something to moon about to remember how she and Johnny +Byrd used to sit out and strum to the stars—— There he is now."</p> + +<p>"Bob?" said Mrs. Blair absently, her mind occupied by her young +daughter's large sophistication.</p> + +<p>"Johnny," said Ruth.</p> + +<p>She leaned half out the window as the red roadster shot thunderously +across the rustic bridge and brought up sharply on the driveway below. +With a shouted greeting she brought the driver's red-blonde head to +attention.</p> + +<p>"Hullo—where's the Bob?"</p> + +<p>Johnny grinned. "Trying to ride one horse and lead another. Sweet mount +he's bringing you, Ruth. Didn't like the way I passed him. Bet you he +throws you."</p> + +<p>"Bet you he doesn't."</p> + +<p>"You lose. . . . Where's the little Wop?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>"You mean Maria Angelina Santonini?"</p> + +<p>"Gosh, is that all? Well, you scoot across to her room and tell Maria +Angelina Santonini that she has a perfectly good date with me."</p> + +<p>"She powdered her nose and went down stairs an hour ago," Ruth sang +down, just as a small figure emerged from the music room upon the +veranda and approached the rail.</p> + +<p>"The little Wop is here, Signor," said Maria Angelina lightly.</p> + +<p>Unabashed Johnny Byrd beamed at her. It was a perfectly good sensation, +each time, to see her. One grew to suspect, between times, that anything +so enchanting didn't really exist—and then, suddenly, there she was, +like a conjurer's trick, every lovely young line of her.</p> + +<p>Johnny knew girls. He knew them, he would have informed you, backwards +and forwards. And he liked girls—devilish cunning games, with the same +old trumps up their sleeves—when they wore 'em—but this girl<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> was just +puzzlingly different enough to evoke a curiously haunting wonder.</p> + +<p>Was it the difference in environment? Or in herself? He couldn't quite +make her out.</p> + +<p>He seemed to be groping for some clew, some familiar sign that would +resolve all the unfamiliarities to old acquaintance.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile he continued to smile cheerily at the young person he had so +rudely designated as a little Wop and gestured to the seat beside him.</p> + +<p>"Hop in," he admonished. "Let us be off before that horse comes and +steps on me. That's a dear girl."</p> + +<p>But Maria Angelina shook her dark head.</p> + +<p>"I told you, no, Signor, I could not go. In my country one does not ride +with young men."</p> + +<p>"But you are in my country now. And in my country one jolly well rides +with young men."</p> + +<p>"In your country—but for a time, yes." Unconvinced Maria Angelina stood +by her rail, like the boy upon the burning deck.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>"But your aunt—cousin, I mean—would let you," he argued. "I'll shout +up now and see——"</p> + +<p>Unrelentingly, "It is not my cousin, but my mother who would object," +she informed him.</p> + +<p>"Holy Saint Cecilia! You're worse than boarding school. Come on, Maria +Angelina—I'll promise not to kiss you."</p> + +<p>That was one of Johnny's best lines. It always had a deal of effect—one +way or another. It startled Maria Angelina. Her eyes opened as if he had +set off a rocket—and something very bright and light, like the impish +reflections of that rocket, danced a moment in her look.</p> + +<p>"I will write that promise to my mother and see if it persuades her," +she informed him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right, all right."</p> + +<p>With the sigh of the defeated Johnny Byrd turned off the gas and climbed +out of his car.</p> + +<p>"Just for that the promise is off," he announced. "Do you think your +mother would mind letting you sit in the same room with me and teach me +that song you promised?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>"She would mind very much in Italy." Over her shoulder Maria cast a +laughing look at him as she stepped back into the music room. "There I +would never be alone like this."</p> + +<p>Incredulously Johnny stared past her into the music room. Through the +windows upon the other side came the voices of bridge players upon the +veranda without. Through those same windows were visible the bridge +players' heads. Other windows opened upon the veranda in the front of +the Lodge from which they had just come. An arch of doorway gave upon +the wide hall where a guest was shuffling the mail.</p> + +<p>"<i>Alone!</i>" ejaculated Johnny.</p> + +<p>"My mother allows this when my sister Lucia and her fiancé, Paolo Tosti, +are together," said Maria Angelina. "I am in the next room with a book. +And that is very advanced. It is because Mamma is American."</p> + +<p>"I'll say it's advanced," Johnny muttered. "You mean—you mean your +sister and that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>—that toasted one she's engaged to have never really +seen each other——?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they have <i>seen</i> each other——"</p> + +<p>"The poor fish," said Johnny heavily. He glanced with increasing +curiosity at the young girl by his side. . . . After all, this <i>jeune +fille</i> thing might be true. . . .</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm glad your mother was American," he declared, beginning to +strum upon the piano and inviting her to a seat beside him.</p> + +<p>But Maria Angelina remained looking through her music.</p> + +<p>"Then I am only half a Wop," said she. She added, bright mischief +between her long lashes, "What is it then—a Wop?"</p> + +<p>Johnny Byrd, striking random chords, looked up at her.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he repeated. "I'll say that depends. . . . Sometimes it's +dark and greasy and throws bombs. . . . Sometimes it's bad and glad and +sings Carmen. . . . And sometimes it's—it's——"</p> + +<p>Deliberately he stared at the small braid-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>bound head, the shadowy dark +of the eyes, the scarlet curve of the small mouth.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes it's just the prettiest, youngest——"</p> + +<p>"I am <i>not</i> so young," said Maria Angelina indignantly.</p> + +<p>"Lordy, you're a babe in arms."</p> + +<p>"I am <i>not</i>." Her defiance was furious. It had a twinge of +terror—terror lest they treat her everlastingly as child.</p> + +<p>"I am eighteen. I am but a year and three months younger than Ruth."</p> + +<p>"She's a kid," grinned Johnny.</p> + +<p>"The Signor Bob Martin does not think so!"</p> + +<p>"The Signor Bob Martin is nuts on that particular kid. And he's a kid +himself."</p> + +<p>"And do you think that you are——?"</p> + +<p>"Sure. We're all kids together. Why not? I like it," declared young +Byrd.</p> + +<p>But Maria Angelina was not appeased. She had half glimpsed that +indefinite irresponsibility of these strangers which treated youth as a +toy, an experiment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>. . . .</p> + +<p>"And is the Signorina Leila Grey," said she suddenly, "is she, also, a +kid?"</p> + +<p>Roundly Johnny opened his eyes. His face presented a curious stolidity +of look, as if a protection against some unforeseen attack. At the same +time it was streaked with humor.</p> + +<p>"Now where," said he, "did you get that?"</p> + +<p>"Is she," the girl persisted, "is she also a kid?"</p> + +<p>"The Signorina Leila Grey? No," conceded Johnny, "the Signorina Leila +Grey was born with her wisdom teeth cut. . . . At that she hasn't found +so much to chew on," he murmured cheerily.</p> + +<p>The girl's eyes were bright with divinations. "You mean that she did +not—did not find your friend Bob something to chew upon?"</p> + +<p>Johnny's laugh was a guffaw. It rang startlingly in that quiet room. +"You're there, Ri-Ri—absolutely there," he vowed. "But where, I +wonder——" He broke off. His look held both surmise and a shrewd +suspicion.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>"I—guessed," said Maria Angelina hastily. "And I saw her the first +evening in New York. . . . She is very beautiful."</p> + +<p>"She's a wonder," he admitted heartily. "Yes—and I'll say Bob nearly +fell for her. If she'd been expert enough she could have gathered him +in. He just dodged in time—and now he's busy forgetting he ever knew +her."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," slowly puzzled out Maria Angelina, "perhaps the reason that +she was not—not expert, as you say—was because her attention was just +a little—wandering."</p> + +<p>Johnny yawned. "Often happens." He struck a few chords. "Where's that +little song of yours—the one you were going to teach me? I could do +something with that at the next show at the club."</p> + +<p>"If you will let me sit down, Signor——"</p> + +<p>"I'm not crabbing the bench."</p> + +<p>"But I wish the place in the center."</p> + +<p>"What you 'fraid of, Ri-Ri?" Obligingly Johnny moved over. "Why, you +have me tied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> hand and foot. I'm afraid to move a muscle for fear you'll +tell me it isn't done—in Italy."</p> + +<p>But Ri-Ri gave this an absent smile. For long, now, she had been leading +up to this talk and she felt herself upon the brink of revelations. +. . . Perhaps this Johnny Byrd knew where Barry Elder was. Perhaps they +were friends. . . .</p> + +<p>"In New York," she told him, "that Leila Grey was at the restaurant with +a young man—with the Signor Barry Elder."</p> + +<p>"Huh? Barry Elder?"</p> + +<p>"Are you,"—she was proud of the splendid indifference of her +voice,—"are you a friend of his?"</p> + +<p>Uninterestedly, "Oh, I know Barry," Johnny told her. "Bright boy—Barry. +Awful high-brow, though. Wrote a play or something. Not a darn bed in +it. Oh, well," said Johnny hastily, with a glance at the girl's young +face, "I say, how does this go? Ta <i>tump</i> ti tum ti <i>tump tump</i>—what do +those words of yours mean?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>"Perhaps this Barry Elder," said Ri-Ri with averted eyes, her hands +fluttering the pages, "perhaps he is the one that Leila Grey's attention +was upon. Did you not hear that?"</p> + +<p>"Who? Barry?"</p> + +<p>"Has he not," said the girl desperately, "become recently more desirable +to her—more rich, perhaps——"</p> + +<p>"That play didn't make him anything, that's sure," the young man +meditated. "But seems to me I did hear—something about an uncle +shuffling off and leaving him a few thous. . . . Maybe he left enough to +buy Leila a supper."</p> + +<p>"Here are the English words." Maria Angelina spread the music open +before them. "Mrs. Blair was joking with him," she reverted, "because he +was not going to that York Harbor this summer where this Leila Grey was. +But perhaps he has gone, after all?"</p> + +<p>"Search me," said Johnny negligently. "I'm not his keeper."</p> + +<p>"But you would know if he is coming to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> the dance at the Martins—that +dance next week——?"</p> + +<p>"He isn't coming to the house party, he's not invited. He and Bob aren't +anything chummy at all. Barry trains in an older crowd. . . . Seems to +me," said Johnny, turning to look at her out of bright blue eyes, +"you're awf'ly interested in this Barry Elder thing. Did you say you met +him in New York?"</p> + +<p>"I met him—yes," said Maria Angelina, in a steady little voice, +beginning suddenly to play. "And I thought it was so romantic—about him +and this Leila Grey. She was so beautiful and he had been so brave in +the war. And so I wondered——"</p> + +<p>"Well, don't you wonder about who's coming to that dance. That dance is +<i>mine</i>," said Johnny definitely. "I want you to look your darndest—put +it all over those flappers. Show them what you got," admonished Johnny +with the simple directness in such vogue.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>"And now come on, Ri-Ri—let's get into this together.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'I cannot now forget you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you think not of me!'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><i>Come</i> on, Maria Angelina!"</p> + +<p>And Maria Angelina, her face lifted, her eyes strangely bright, sang, +while Johnny Byrd stared fixedly down at her, angrily, defiantly, sang +to that unseen young man—back in the shadows——</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I cannot now forget you<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And you think not of me!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And then she told herself that she would forget him very well indeed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">BETWEEN DANCES</h3> + + +<p>There had been distinct proprietorship in Johnny's reference to the +dance, a hint of possessive admonition, a shade of anxiety to which +Maria Angelina was not insensitive.</p> + +<p>He wanted her to excel. His pride was calling, unconsciously, upon her, +to justify his choice. The dance was an exhibition . . . competition. It +was the open market . . . appraisal. . . .</p> + +<p>No matter how charming she might be in the motor rides with the four, +how pretty and piquant in the afternoon at the piano, how melodious in +the evenings upon the steps, the full measure of his admiration was not +exacted.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>Sagely she surmised this. Anxiously she awaited the event.</p> + +<p>It was her first real dance. It was her first American affair. Casually, +in the evenings at the Lodge, they had danced to the phonograph and she +had been initiated into new steps and amazed at the manner of them, but +there had been nothing of the slightest formality.</p> + +<p>Now the Martins were entertaining over the week-end, and giving a dance +to which the neighborhood—meaning the neighborhood of the Martins' +acquaintance—was assembling.</p> + +<p>And again Maria Angelina felt the inrush of fear, the overwhelming +timidity of inexperience held at bay by pride alone . . . again she knew +the tormenting question which she had confronted in that dim old glass +at the Palazzo Santonini on the day when she had heard of the adventure +before her.</p> + +<p>She asked it that night of a different glass, the big, built-in mirror +of the dressing-room at the Martins given over to the ladies—a mirror +that was a dissolving kaleidoscope of color and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> motion, of bright +silks, bare shoulders and white arms, of pink cheeks, red lips and +shining hair.</p> + +<p>Advancing shyly among the young girls, filled with divided wonder at +their self-possession and their extreme décolletage, Ri-Ri gazed at the +glass timidly, determinedly, fatefully, as one approaches an oracle, and +out from the glittering surface was flung back to her a radiant image of +reassurance—a vision of a slim figure in filmiest white, slender arms +and shoulders bare, dark hair not braided now, but piled high upon her +head—a revelation of a nape of neck as young and kissable as a baby's +and yet an addition of bewildering years to her immaturity.</p> + +<p>To-night she was glad of the white skin, that was a gift from Mamma. The +white coral string, against the satin softness of her throat, revealed +its opalescent flush. She was immaculate, exquisite, like some figurine +of fancy—an image of youth as sweet and innocently troubling as a May +night.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>"You're a love," said Ruth heartily, appearing at her side, very +stunning herself in jade green, with her smooth hair a miracle of +shining perfection.</p> + +<p>"And you're—different," added Ruth in a slightly puzzled voice, looking +her small cousin over with the thoroughness of an inventory. "It must be +the hair, Ri-Ri. . . . You've lost that little Saint Susy air."</p> + +<p>"But there is no Saint Susy," Ri-Ri interposed gayly, lightly fingering +the dark curves of her hair.</p> + +<p>Truly—for Johnny—she had done her darndest! Surely he would be +pleased.</p> + +<p>"If you'd only let me cut that lower—you're simply swaddled in +tulle——"</p> + +<p>Startled, Maria glanced down at the hollows of her young bosom, at the +scantiness of her bodice suspended only by bands of sheerest gauze. She +wondered what Mamma would say, if she could see her so, without that +drape of net<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>. . . .</p> + +<p>"You have the duckiest shoulder blades," said Ruth.</p> + +<p>"Oh—do <i>they</i> show?" cried Maria Angelina in dismay. She twisted for a +view and the movement drew Ruth's glance along her lithe figure.</p> + +<p>"We ought to have cut two inches more off," she declared, and now +Ri-Ri's glance fled down to the satin slippers with their crossed +ribbons, to the narrow, silken ankles, to the slender legs above the +ankles. It seemed to her an utterly limitless exhibition. And Ruth was +proposing two more inches!</p> + +<p>Apprehensively she glanced about to make sure that no scissors were in +prospect.</p> + +<p>"But you'll do," Ruth pronounced, and in relief Maria Angelina +relinquished the center of the mirror, and slipped out into the gallery +that ran around three sides of the house.</p> + +<p>It was built like a chalet, but Maria Angelina had seen no such chalet +in her childish summers in Switzerland. Over the edge of the rail she +gazed into the huge hall, cleared now for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> dancing. The furniture had +been pushed back beneath the gallery where it was arranged in intimate +little groups for future tête-à-têtes, except a few lounging chairs left +on the black bear-skins by the chimney-piece. In one corner a screen of +pine boughs and daisies shut off the musicians from the streets, and in +the opposite corner an English man-servant was presiding over a huge +silver punch bowl.</p> + +<p>To Maria Angelina, accustomed to Italian interiors, the note was +buoyantly informal. And the luxury of service in this informality was a +piquant contrast. . . . No one seemed to care what anything cost. . . . +They gave dances in a log chalet and sent to New York for the favors and +to California for the fruit. . . . Into the huge punch-bowl they poured +wine of a value now incredible, since the supply could never be +replenished. . . .</p> + +<p>Very different would be Lucia's wedding party in the Palazzo Santonini, +on that marvelous old service that Pietro polished but three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> times a +year, with every morsel of refreshment arranged and calculated +beforehand.</p> + +<p>What miracles of economy would be performed in that stone-flagged +kitchen, many of them by Mamma's own hands! Suddenly Maria Angelina +found a moment to wonder afresh at that mother . . . and with a new +vision. . . . For Mamma had come from this profusion.</p> + +<p>"They have a regular place at Newport." Ruth was concluding some unheard +speech behind her. "But they like this better. . . . This is the life," +and with a just faintly discernible note of proprietorship in her air +she was off down the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Didn't they find Newport rather chilly?" murmured the girl to whom she +had been talking. "Wasn't Mrs. M. a Smith or a Brown-Jones or +something——?"</p> + +<p>"It was something in butterine," said another guest negligently and +swore, softly and intensely, at a shoulder strap. "Oh, <i>damn</i> the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +thing! . . . Well—flop if you want to. I've got nothing to hide."</p> + +<p>"You know why girls hide their ears, don't you?" said the other voice, +and the second girl flung wearily back, "Oh, so they can have something +to show their husbands—I heard that in my cradle!"</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> rather old," its sponsor acknowledged wittily, and the pair +went clattering on.</p> + +<p>Had America, Maria Angelina wondered, been like this in her mother's +youth? Was it from such speeches that her mother had turned, in +helplessness or distaste, to the delicate implications, the finished +innuendo of the Italian world?</p> + +<p>Or had times changed? Were these girls truly different from their +mothers? Was it a new society?</p> + +<p>That was it, she concluded, and she, in her old-world seclusion, was of +another era from these assured ones. . . . Again, for a moment the doubt +of her capacity to cope with these times assailed her, but only for a +moment, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> next instant she caught Johnny Byrd's upturned glance from +the floor below and in its flash of admiration, as unstinted as a sun +bath, her confidence drew reanimation.</p> + +<p>Later, she found that same warmth in other men's eyes and in the +eagerness with which they kept cutting in.</p> + +<p>That cutting in, itself, was strange to her. It filled her with a +terrifying perspective of what would happen if she were <i>not</i> cut in +upon—if she were left to gyrate endlessly in the arms of some luckless +one, eternally stuck. . . .</p> + +<p>At home, at a ball, she knew that there were fixed dances, and programs, +in which engagements were jotted definitely down, and at each dance's +end a girl was returned respectfully to her chaperon where the next +partner called for her. Often she had scanned Lucia's scrawled programs +for the names there.</p> + +<p>But none of that now.</p> + +<p>Up and down the hall she sped in some man's arms, round and round, up +and down, until another man, agile, dexterous, shot between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> the couples +and claimed her. And then up and down again until some other man. . . . +And sometimes they went back to rest in the intimately arranged chairs +beneath the balcony, and sometimes stepped out of doors to saunter along +a wide terrace.</p> + +<p>It was incredibly independent. It was intoxicatingly free. It was also +terrifyingly responsible.</p> + +<p>And Maria Angelina, in her young fear of unpopularity, smiled so +ingenuously upon each arrival, with a shy, backward deprecatory glance +at her lost partner, that she stirred something new and wondering in +each seasoned breast, and each dancer came again and again.</p> + +<p>But all of them, the new young men from town, the tennis champion from +Yale, the polo player from England, the lawyer from Washington, the +stout widower, the professional bachelor, all were only moving shapes +that came and went and came again and by their tribute made her +successful in Johnny's eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>Indeed, so well did they do their work that Johnny was moved to brusque +expostulation.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Ri-Ri, I told you this was to be <i>my</i> dance! With all those +outsiders cutting in—Freeze them, Ri-Ri. Try a long, hard level look on +the next one you see making your way. . . . Don't you <i>want</i> to dance +with me, any more? Huh? Where's that stand-in of mine? Is it a little, +old last year's model?"</p> + +<p>"But what am I to do——?"</p> + +<p>"Fight 'em off. Bite 'em. Kick their shins. . . . Oh, Lord," groaned +Johnny, dexterously whirling her about, "there's another coming. . . . +Here's where we go. This way out."</p> + +<p>Speedily he piloted her through the throng. Masterfully he caught her +arm and drew her out of doors.</p> + +<p>She was glad to be out of the dance. His clasp had been growing too +personal . . . too tight. . . . Perhaps she was only oddly +self-conscious . . . incapable of the serene detachment of those other +dancers, who, yielding and intertwined, revolved in intimate harmony.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>There was a moon. It shone soft and bright upon them, making a world of +enchantment. The long lines of the mountains melted together like a +violet cloud and above them a round top floated, pale and dreamy, as the +dome of Saint Peter's at twilight.</p> + +<p>From the terrace stretched a grassy path where other couples were +strolling and Johnny Byrd guided her past them. They walked in silence. +He kept his hand on her arm and from time to time glanced about at her +in a half-constraint that was no part of his usual air.</p> + +<p>At a curve of the path the girl drew definitely back.</p> + +<p>"Ah no——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, why not? Isn't it the custom?" He laughed over the often-cited +phrase but absently. His eyes had a warm, hurrying look in them that +rooted her feet the more stubbornly to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Decidedly not." She turned a merriment lighted face to him. "To walk +alone with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> young man—between dances—beneath the moon!"</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina shuddered and cast impish eyes at heaven.</p> + +<p>"Honestly?" Johnny demanded. "Do you mean to tell me you've never walked +between dances with young men?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you that I have never even danced with a young man until——" +She flashed away from that memory. "Until I came to America. I am not +yet in Italian society. I have never been presented. It is not yet my +time."</p> + +<p>"But—but don't the sub debs have any good times over there? Don't you +have dances of your own? Don't you meet fellows? Don't you know +anybody?" Johnny demanded with increasing amazement at each new shake of +her head.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come," he protested. "You can't put that over me. I'll bet you've +got a bagful of fellows crazy about you. Don't you ever slip<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> out on an +errand, you know, and find some one waiting round the corner——?"</p> + +<p>"You are speaking of the customs of my maid, perhaps," said Maria +Angelina with becoming young haughtiness. "For myself, I do not go upon +errands. I have never been upon the streets alone."</p> + +<p>Johnny Byrd stared. With a supreme effort of credulity he envisaged the +fact. Perhaps it was really so. Perhaps she was just as sequestered and +guileless and inexperienced as that. It was ridiculous. It was amusing. +It was—somehow—intriguing.</p> + +<p>With his hand upon her bare arm he drew her closer.</p> + +<p>"Ri-Ri—honest now—is this the first——?"</p> + +<p>She drew away instinctively before the suppressed excitement of him. Her +heart beat fast; her hands were very cold. She knew elation . . . and +panic . . . and dread and hope.</p> + +<p>It was for this she had come. Young and rich and free! What more would +Mamma<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> ask? What greater triumph could be hers?</p> + +<p>"I'd like to make a lot of other things the first, too," muttered +Johnny.</p> + +<p>To Ri-Ri it seemed irrevocable things were being said. But she still +held lightly away from him, resisting the clumsy pull of his arm. He +hesitated—laughed oddly.</p> + +<p>"It ought to be against the law for any girl to look the way you do, +Ri-Ri." He laughed again. "I wonder if you know how the deuce you <i>do</i> +look?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it is the moonlight, Signor."</p> + +<p>"Moonlight—you look as if you were made of it. . . . I could eat you +up, Ri-Ri." His eyes on her red little mouth, on her white, beating +throat. His voice had an odd, husky note.</p> + +<p>"Don't be such a little frost, Ri-Ri. Don't you like me at all?"</p> + +<p>It was the dream coming true. It was the fairy prince—not the false +figure she had set in the prince's place, but a proud revenge upon him. +This was reality, fulfillment.</p> + +<p>She saw herself already married to Johnny,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> returning proudly with him +to Italy. She saw them driving in a victoria, openly as man and wife—or +no, Johnny would have a wonderful car, all metal and bright color. They +would be magnificently touring, with their luggage strapped on the side, +as she had seen Americans.</p> + +<p>She saw them turning into the sombre courtway of the old Palazzo +Santonini and, so surely had she been attuned to the American note, she +could presage Johnny's blunt disparagement. He would be astonished that +they were living upon the third floor—with the lower apartment let. He +would be amused at the servants toiling up the stairs from the kitchens +to the dining hall. He would be entertained at the solitary tub. He +would be disgusted, undoubtedly, at the candles. . . .</p> + +<p>But of course Mamma would have everything very beautiful. There would be +no lack of candles. . . . The chandeliers would be sparkling for that +dinner. There would be delicious food, delicate wines, an abundant +gleam<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> of shining plate and crystal and embroidered linens.</p> + +<p>And how Lucia would stare, how dear Julietta would smile! She would buy +Julietta the prettiest clothes, the cleverest hats. . . . She would give +dear Mamma gold—something that neither dear Papa nor Francisco knew +about—and to dear Papa and Francisco she would give, too, a little +gold—something that dear Mamma did not know about.</p> + +<p>For once Papa could have something for his play that was not a roast +from his kitchen nor clothes from his daughters' backs nor oats from his +horses!</p> + +<p>Probably they would be married at once. Johnny was free and rich—and +impatient. She did not suspect him of interest in a long wooing or +betrothal. . . . And while she must appear to be in favor of a return +home, first, and a marriage from her home, the American ceremony would +cut many knots for her—save much expense at home. . . .</p> + +<p>She saw herself proudly exhibiting Johnny,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> delighting in his youth, his +blonde Americanism, his smartly cut clothes, his conqueror's assurance.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Maria Angelina was still standing there in the moonlight, like +a little wraith of silver, smiling with absent eyes at Johnny's muttered +words, withdrawing, in childish panic, from Johnny's close pressing +ardor. She knew that if he persisted . . . but before her soft +detachment, her half laughing evasiveness of his mood, he did not +persist. He seemed oddly struggling with some withholding uncertainties +of his own.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, if that's all you like me," said Johnny grumpily.</p> + +<p>It was reprieve . . . reprieve to the irrevocable things. Her heart +danced . . . and yet a piqued resentment pinched her.</p> + +<p>He had been able to resist.</p> + +<p>She knew subtly that she could have overcome that irresolution. . . . +But she was not going to make things too easy for him—her Santonini +pride forbade!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>"We must go back," she told him and exulted in his moodiness.</p> + +<p>And for the rest of the evening his arm pressed her, his eyes smiled +down significantly upon her, and when she confronted the great mirror +again it was to glimpse a girl with darkly shining eyes and cheeks like +scarlet poppies, a girl in white, like a bride, and with a bride's high +pride and assured heart.</p> + +<p>She slept, that night, composing the letter to dear Mamma.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">TWO—AND A MOUNTAIN</h3> + + +<p>The next morning was given to recovery from the dance. In the afternoon +the Martins had planned a mountain climb. It was not a really bad +mountain, at all, and the arrangement was to start in the late +afternoon, have dinner upon the top, and descend by moonlight.</p> + +<p>It was the plan of the younger inexhaustibles among the group, but in +spite of faint protests from some of the elders all the Martin +house-party was in line for the climb, and with the addition of the +Blair party and several other couples from the Lodge, quite a procession +was formed upon the path by the river.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely day—a shade too hot, if anything was to be urged +against it. The sun struck great shafts of golden light amid the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> rich +green of the forest, splashing the great tree boles with bold light and +shade. The air was fragrant with spruce and pine and faint, aromatic +wintergreen. A hot little wind rocked the reflections in the river and +blew its wimpling surface into crinkled, lace-paper fantasies.</p> + +<p>Overhead the sky burned blue through the white-cottonballs of cloud.</p> + +<p>Bob Martin headed the procession, Ruth at his side, and the stout +widower concluded it, squiring a rather heavy-footed Mrs. Martin. Midway +in the line came Mrs. Blair, and beside her, abandoning the line of +young people behind the immediate leaders was a small figure in short +white skirt and middy, pressing closely to her Cousin Jane's side.</p> + +<p>It was Maria Angelina, her dark hair braided as usual about her head, +her eyes a shade downcast and self-conscious, withdrawn and +tight-wrapped as any prudish young bud.</p> + +<p>But if virginal pride had urged her to flee all appearance of +expectation, an equally sharp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> masculine reaction was withholding Johnny +Byrd from any appearance of pursuit.</p> + +<p>He went from group to group, clowning it with jokes and laughter, and +only from the corners of his eyes perceiving that small figure, like a +child's in its white play clothes.</p> + +<p>For half an hour that separation endured—a half hour in which Cousin +Jane told Maria Angelina all about her first mountain climb, when a +girl, and the storm that had driven herself and her sister and her +father and the guide to sleep in the only shelter, and of the guide's +snores that were louder than the thunder—and Maria Angelina laughed +somehow in the right places without taking in a word, for all the time +apprehension was tightening, tightening like a violin string about to +snap.</p> + +<p>And then, when it was drawn so tight that it did not seem possible to +endure any more, Johnny Byrd appeared at Ri-Ri's side, conscious-eyed +and boyishly embarrassed, but managing an offhand smile.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>"And is this the very first mountain you've ever climbed?" he demanded +banteringly.</p> + +<p>Gladness rushed back into the girl. She raised a face that sparkled.</p> + +<p>"The very first," she affirmed, very much out of breath. "That is, upon +the feet. In Italy we go up by diligence and there is always a hotel at +the top for tea."</p> + +<p>"We'll have a little old bonfire at the top for tea. . . . Don't take it +so fast and you'll be all right," he advised, and, laying a restraining +hand upon her arm he held her back while Cousin Jane, with her casual, +careless smile, passed ahead to join one of the Martin party.</p> + +<p>It was an act of masterful significance. Maria Angelina accepted it +meekly.</p> + +<p>"Like this?" asked Johnny of her smiling face.</p> + +<p>"I love it," she told him, and looked happily at the green woods about +them, and across the river, rushing now, to where the forest was +clinging to sharply rising mountain flanks. Her eyes followed till they +found the bare,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> shouldering peaks outlined against the blue and white +of the cumulous sky.</p> + +<p>The beauty about her flooded the springs of happiness. It was a +wonderful world, a radiant world, a world of dream and delights. It was +a world more real than the fantasy of moonlight. She felt more real. She +was herself, too, not some strange, diaphanous image conjured out of +tulle and gauze, she was her own true flesh-and-blood self, living in a +dream that was true.</p> + +<p>She looked away from the mountains and smiled up at Johnny Byrd very +much as the young princess in the fairy tale must have smiled at the +all-conquering prince, and Johnny Byrd's blue eyes grew bluer and +brighter and his voice dropped into intimate possessiveness.</p> + +<p>It didn't matter in the least what they talked about. They were absurdly +merry, loitering behind the procession.</p> + +<p>Suddenly it occurred to Maria Angelina that it had been some time since +he had drawn her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> back from Cousin Jane's casual but comprehending +smile, some time since they had even heard the echo of voices ahead.</p> + +<p>Her conscience woke guiltily.</p> + +<p>"We must hurry," she declared, quickening her own small steps.</p> + +<p>Teasingly Johnny Byrd hung back. "'Fraid cat, 'fraid cat—what you +'fraid of, Maria Angelina?"</p> + +<p>He added, "I'm not going to eat you—though I'd like to," he finished in +lower tone.</p> + +<p>"But it is getting dark! There are clouds," said the girl, gazing up in +frank surprise at the changed sky. She had not noticed when the sunlight +fled. It was still visible across the river, slipping over a hill's +shoulder, but from their woods it was withdrawn and a dark shadow was +stretching across them.</p> + +<p>"Clouds—what do you care for clouds?" scoffed Johnny gayly, and in his +rollicking tenor, "Just roll dem clouds along," sang he.</p> + +<p>Politely Maria Angelina waited until he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> finished the song, but she +waited with an uneasy mind.</p> + +<p>She cared very much for clouds. They looked very threatening, blowing so +suddenly over the mountain top, overcasting the brightness of the way. +And behind the scattered white were blowing gray ones, their edges +frayed like torn clothes on a line, and after the gray ones loomed a +dark, black one, rushing nearer.</p> + +<p>And suddenly the woods at their right began to thresh about, with a +surprised rustling, and a low mutter, as of smothered warning, ran over +the shoulder of the mountain.</p> + +<p>"Rain! As sure as the Lord made little rain drops," said Johnny +unconcerned. "There's going to be a cloudful spilled on us," he told the +troubled girl, "but it won't last a moment. Come into the wood and find +the dry side of a tree."</p> + +<p>He caught at her hand and brought her crashing through the underbrush, +pushing through thickets till they were in the center of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> a great group +of maples, their heavy boughs spread protectingly above.</p> + +<p>A giant tree trunk protected her upon one side; upon the other Johnny +drew close, spreading his sweater across her shoulders. Looking upwards, +Maria Angelina could not see the sky; above and about her was soft +greenness, like a fairy bower. And when the rain came pouring like hail +upon the leaves scarcely a drop won through to her.</p> + +<p>They stood very still, unmoving, unspeaking while the shower fell. There +was an unreal dreamlike quality about the happening to the girl. Then, +almost intrusively, she became deeply aware of his presence there beside +her—and conscious that he was aware of hers.</p> + +<p>She shivered.</p> + +<p>"Cold," said Johnny, in a jumpy voice, and put a hand on her shoulders, +guarded by his sweater.</p> + +<p>"N-no," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Feel dry?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>His hand moved upward to her bared head, lingered there upon the heavy +braids.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she told him, faintly as before.</p> + +<p>"But you're shivering."</p> + +<p>"I don't like t-thunder," she told him absurdly, as a muttering roll +shook the air above them.</p> + +<p>His hand, still hovering over her hair, went down against her cheek and +pressed her to him. She could hear his heart beating. It sounded as +loudly in his breast as her own. She had a sense of sudden, +unpremeditated emotion.</p> + +<p>She felt his lips upon the back of her neck.</p> + +<p>She tried to draw away, and suddenly he let her go and gave a short, +unsteady laugh.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Ri-Ri—you're my little pal, aren't you?" he murmured.</p> + +<p>Unseeingly she nodded, drawing a long, shaken breath. Then as he started +to draw her nearer again she moved away, putting up her arms to her hair +in a gesture that instinctively shielded the confusion of her face.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>"No? . . . All right, Ri-Ri, I won't crowd you," he murmured. "But oh, +you little Beauty Girl, you ought to be in a cage with bars about. . . . +You ought to wear a mask—a regular diving outfit——"</p> + +<p>Unexpectedly Ri-Ri recovered her self-possession. Again she fled from +the consummation of the scene.</p> + +<p>"I shall wear nothing so unbecoming," she flung lightly back. "And it +has not been raining for ever so long. Unless you wish to build a nest +in the forest, like a new fashion of oriole, Signor Byrd, you had better +hurry and catch up with the others."</p> + +<p>Johnny did not speak as they came out of the woods and in silence they +hurried along the path on the river's edge.</p> + +<p>The sun came out again to light them; on the green leaves about them the +wetness glittered and dried and the ephemeral shower seemed as unreal as +the memory it evoked.</p> + +<p>With her head bent Maria Angelina pressed on in a haste that grew into +anxiety. Not a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> sound came back to them from those others ahead. Not a +voice. Not a footstep.</p> + +<p>And presently the path appeared dying under their feet.</p> + +<p>Green moss overspread it. Brambles linked arms across it.</p> + +<p>"They are not here. We are on the wrong way," cried Maria Angelina and +turned startled eyes on the young man.</p> + +<p>Johnny Byrd refused to take alarm.</p> + +<p>"They must have crossed the river farther back—that's the answer," he +said easily. "We went past the right crossing—probably just after the +storm. You know you were speeding like a two-year-old on the home +stretch."</p> + +<p>But Ri-Ri refused to shoulder all that blame.</p> + +<p>"It might have been before the storm—while we were lingering so," she +urged distressfully. "You know that for so long we had heard nothing—we +ought to go back quickly—very quickly and find that crossing."</p> + +<p>Johnny did not look back. He looked across the river, which ran more +deeply here between<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> narrowed banks, and then glanced on ahead.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we'll go ahead and cross the next chance we get," he informed her. +"We can strike in from there to old Baldy. I know the way. . . . Trust +your Uncle Leatherstocking," he told her genially.</p> + +<p>But no geniality appeased Maria Angelina's deepening sense of +foreboding.</p> + +<p>She quickened her steps after him as he strode on ahead, gallantly +holding back brambles for her and helping her scramble over fallen logs, +and she assented, with the eagerness of anxiety, when he announced a +place as safe for crossing.</p> + +<p>It was at the head of a mild rush of rapids, and an outcropping of large +rocks made possible, though slippery, stepping-stones.</p> + +<p>But Ri-Ri's heelless shoes were rubber soled, and she was both fearless +and alert. And though the last leap was too long for her, for she landed +in the shallows with splashing ankles, she had scarcely a down glance +for them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> Her worried eyes were searching the green uplands before +them.</p> + +<p>Secretly she was troubled at Johnny's instant choice of way. Her own +instinct was to go back along the river and then strike in towards old +Baldy, but men, she knew from Papa, did not like objections to their +wisdom, so she reminded herself that she was a stranger and ignorant of +this country and that Johnny Byrd knew his mountains.</p> + +<p>He told her, as they went along, how well he knew them.</p> + +<p>Steadily their path climbed.</p> + +<p>"Should we not wind back a little?" she ventured once.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we're on another path—we'll dip back and meet the other path a +little higher up," the young man told her.</p> + +<p>But still the path did not dip back. It reached straight up. But Johnny +would not abandon it. He seemed to feel it inextricably united with his +own rightness of decision, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> since he was inevitably right, so +inevitably the path must disclose its desired character.</p> + +<p>But once or twice he paused and looked out over the way. Then, +hopefully, Ri-Ri hung upon his expression, longing for reconsideration. +But he never faltered, always on her approach he charged ahead again.</p> + +<p>No holding back of brambles, now. No helping over logs. Johnny was the +pathfinder, oblivious, intent, and Ri-Ri, the pioneer woman, enduring as +best she might.</p> + +<p>Up he drove, straight up the mountain side, and after him scrambled the +girl, her fears voiceless in her throat, her heart pounding with +exertion and anxiety like a ship's engine in her side.</p> + +<p>Time seemed interminable. There was no sun now. The gray and white +clouds were spread thinly over the sky and only a diffused brightness +gave the suggestion of the west.</p> + +<p>When the path wound through woods it seemed already night. On barren +slopes the day was clear again.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>Hours passed. Endless hours to the tired-footed girl. They had left the +last woods behind them now and reached a clearing of bracken among the +granite, and here Johnny Byrd stopped, and stared out with an +unconcealed bewilderment that turned her hopes to lead.</p> + +<p>With him, she stared out at the great gray peaks closing in about them +without recognizing a friend among them. Dim and unfamiliar they loomed, +shrouded in clouds, like chilly giants in gray mufflers against the +damp.</p> + +<p>It was not old Baldy. It could not be old Baldy. One looked up at old +Baldy from the Lodge and she had heard that from old Baldy one looked +down upon the Lodge and the river and the opening valley. She had been +told that from old Baldy the Martin chalet resembled a cuckoo clock. +. . .</p> + +<p>No cuckoo clocks in those vague sweeps below.</p> + +<p>"Can we not go down a little bit?" said Maria Angelina gently. "Farther +down again<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> we might find the right path. . . . Up here—I think we are +on the wrong mountain."</p> + +<p>Turning, Johnny looked about. Ahead of him were overhanging slabs of +rock.</p> + +<p>Irresolution vanished. "That's the top now," he declared. "We are just +coming up the wrong side, that's all. I'll say it's wrong—but here we +are. I'll bet the others are up there now—lapping up that food. Come +on, Ri-Ri, we haven't far now to go."</p> + +<p>In a gust of optimism he held out his hand and Maria Angelina clutched +it with a weariness courage could not conceal.</p> + +<p>It seemed to her that her breath was gone utterly, that her feet were +leaden weights and her muscles limply effortless. But after him she +plunged, panting and scrambling up the rocks, and then, very suddenly, +they found themselves to be on only a plateau and the real mountain head +reared high and aloof above.</p> + +<p>Under his breath—and not particularly under it, either—Johnny Byrd +uttered a distinct blasphemy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>And in her heart Maria Angelina awfully seconded it.</p> + +<p>Then with decidedly assumed nonchalance, "Gosh! All that way to supper!" +said the young man. "Well, come on, then—we got to make a dent in +this."</p> + +<p>"Oh, are you sure—are you <i>sure</i> that this is the right mountain?" +Maria Angelina begged of him.</p> + +<p>"Don't I know Baldy?" he retorted. "We're just on another side of it +from the others, I told you. Come on, Ri-Ri—we'll soon smell the coffee +boiling."</p> + +<p>She wished he had not mentioned coffee. It put a name to that gnawing, +indefinite feeling she had been too intent to own.</p> + +<p>Coffee . . . Fragrant and steaming, with bread and butter . . . +sandwiches filled with minced ham, with cream cheese, with olive +paste—sandwiches filled with anything at all! Cold chicken . . . salad +. . . fruit. Food in any form! <i>Food!!</i></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>She felt empty. Utterly empty and disconsolate.</p> + +<p>And she was tired. She had never known such tiredness—her feet ached, +her legs ached, her back ached, her arms ached. She could have dropped +with the achingness of her. Each effort was a punishment.</p> + +<p>Yet she went on with a feverish haste. She was driven by a compulsion to +which fatigue was nothing.</p> + +<p>It had become terrible not to be reunited with the others. She thought +of the hours, the long hours, that she and Johnny Byrd had been alone +and she flinched, shivering under the whiplash of fear.</p> + +<p>What were they saying of her, those others? What were they thinking?</p> + +<p>She knew how unwarrantable, how inexcusable a thing she had done.</p> + +<p>It had begun with deliberate loitering. For that—for a little of +that—she had the sanction of the new American freedom, the permission +of Cousin Jane's casual, understanding smile.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>"It's all right," that smile had seemed to say to her, "it's all right +as long as it's Johnny Byrd—but be careful, Ri-Ri."</p> + +<p>And she had loitered shamefully, she had plunged into the woods with +Johnny in that thunder storm, she had let him take her on the wrong +path.</p> + +<p>And now it was growing dark and they were far from the others—and she +was not sure, even, that they were upon the right way.</p> + +<p>But they <i>must</i> be. They could not be so hideously, so finally wrong.</p> + +<p>Panic routed her exhaustion and she toiled furiously on.</p> + +<p>"You're a pretty good scout—for a little Wop," said Johnny Byrd with a +sudden grin and a moment's brightness was lighted within her.</p> + +<p>She did not speak—she could only breathe hard and smile.</p> + +<p>Nearer and nearer they gained the top, rough climbing but not dangerous. +The top<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> was not far now. Johnny shouted and listened, then shouted +again.</p> + +<p>Once they thought they heard voices but it was only the echoes of their +own, borne hollowly back.</p> + +<p>"The wind is the other way," said Johnny, and on they went, charging up +a steep, gravelly slope over more rocks and into a scrub group of firs. +. . .</p> + +<p>Surely this was as near the top as one could go! Nothing above but +barren, tilted rock. Nothing beyond but more boulders and stunted trees. +The place lay bare before their eyes.</p> + +<p>Round and round they went, calling, holding their breath to listen. +Then, with a common impulse, they turned and stared at each other.</p> + +<p>That moment told Maria Angelina what panic was.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">JOHNNY BECOMES INEVITABLE</h3> + + +<p>She did not speak. She was afraid she was going to burst into tears. Her +knees were trembling and she sat down with the effect of collapse and +looked mutely up at Johnny.</p> + +<p>"Judas," said Johnny bitterly.</p> + +<p>He stared around once more, evading her eyes now, and then he moved over +and sat down beside her, drawing out his cigarettes.</p> + +<p>Slowly he took one, tapped its end upon a rock, and lighted it. Then, +the case still open, he looked inquiringly at her.</p> + +<p>"Smoke, Ri-Ri?" he questioned. "Ought to—never too late to learn."</p> + +<p>She shook her head, smiling faintly. She knew his own perturbation must +be immense.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> She did not want to add to it; she wanted to be brave and +conceal her own agony.</p> + +<p>He put the cigarettes away and from an inner pocket drew out a cake of +chocolate.</p> + +<p>"Supper," he announced.</p> + +<p>She broke the cake in two even halves, giving him back one. He took but +half of that. With the cigarette between his lips he felt better. Slowly +he relaxed.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to teach you how to smoke," he said, blowing rings. "When +we're rested we'll get some wood and build a fire. The others will see +that and signal back and we'll make connections."</p> + +<p>At that she stared, round-eyed. "Wait for a fire?" Incredulously she +straightened. Her voice grew breathless. "Oh, no, we must go—we must +go," she said with a hint of wildness in her urgency.</p> + +<p>Deliberately Johnny leaned back. "Go? Go where?"</p> + +<p>"Go down. Go to where the others are. We must find them."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>"Nothing doing." Johnny rubbed a stout leg. "Your Uncle Dudley is all +in. So are you."</p> + +<p>"But I can go, I am able to go on," she insisted. "And I would +rather—Oh, if you please, I would so much rather go on at once. We +cannot wait like this."</p> + +<p>"I'll say we can wait like this. Watch me."</p> + +<p>"But we cannot stay——"</p> + +<p>"Well, we cannot go," said Johnny mimicking. "We'd get nowhere if we did +try. We'd just go round and round. Our best bet is to stay on this peak +and signal. Believe me, I'm not going to stir for one long while."</p> + +<p>Again the fear of tears choked back the words that rushed upon her. She +told herself that she must not be weak and frantic and make a scene. +. . . Men abhorred scenes. And it would not help. It would only anger +him. He was tired now. He was not thinking of her. He had not realized +the situation.</p> + +<p>Presently he would realize. . . . And, anyway, he was there with her, he +would take care<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> of her, protect her from the tongues of gossip.</p> + +<p>Slowly Johnny smoked two cigarettes, then he rose and gathered sticks +for a fire. It burned briskly, its swift flame throwing a glowing circle +about them and extinguishing the rest of the world.</p> + +<p>There had been no sunset. A bank of clouds had swallowed the last +vestige of ruddy light. The mountain peaks darkened. It was growing +night.</p> + +<p>"We'll wait for moonlight," said Johnny Byrd.</p> + +<p>But at that Maria Angelina's eyes came away from those mountains which +she was unremittingly watching for an answering fire and fixed +themselves upon his face in startled horror.</p> + +<p>"Moonlight!" she gasped. "But no—no! We must not wait any more. It is +too late now. We must get down as soon as we can."</p> + +<p>"Why, you little baby!" Johnny Byrd moved nearer to her. "What you +'fraid of, Ri-Ri? We can't help how late it is, can we?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>He put an arm about her and drew her gently close, and because she was +so tired and frightened and upset Maria Angelina could no longer resist +the tears that came blinding her eyes.</p> + +<p>"You little baby!" said Johnny again softly, and suddenly she felt his +kiss upon her cheek.</p> + +<p>"Poor little Ri-Ri! Poor tired little girl!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you must not. Signor, you must not."</p> + +<p>"Signor," he said reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"J-Johnny," she choked.</p> + +<p>"That's better. . . . All right, I'll be good, Ri-Ri. Just sit still. +And I'll be good."</p> + +<p>But firmly he kept his arm about her and soon her tense little figure +relaxed in that strong clasp. She was not frightened, as last night at +the dance, she felt utterly forlorn and comforted by his strength.</p> + +<p>They sat very still, unspeaking in that silent embrace, and about them +it grew colder and darker while the sky seemed to grow thinner and +grayer and clear. And at last against the pallor of the sky, mountain +after mountain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> lifted itself out of the shadowy cloud mass, and peak +after peak defined itself, stretching on and on like an army of giants.</p> + +<p>Then the ridges grew blacker again, and back of one edge a sharp flare +of light flamed, and a blood red disc of a moon came pushing furiously +up into the sky, flinging down a transforming radiance.</p> + +<p>In the valley the silvery birches gleamed like wood nymphs against the +ebony firs.</p> + +<p>Beauty had touched the world again. A long breath came fluttering from +the girl's lips; she felt strangely solaced and comforted. After all, it +was Johnny with her . . . the fairy prince. Her dreams were coming true +. . . even under the shadow of this tragedy.</p> + +<p>Again she felt his lips upon her cheek and now he was trying to turn her +head towards him. Mutely she resisted, drawing away, but his force +increased. She closed her eyes; she felt his kiss upon her hair, her +cheek, the corner of her unstirring mouth.</p> + +<p>And she thought that it was his right—if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> she turned from him she would +seem strangely refusing. An American, she knew, kissed his fiancée +freely.</p> + +<p>But it was a tremendous freedom. . . .</p> + +<p>It would have been—knightlier, she thought quiveringly, if he had not +done that, if he had revealed a more respectful homage.</p> + +<p>But these were American ways . . . and he was a man and he loved her and +he wanted to feel that she belonged to him utterly. It was comfort for +her troubled spirit.</p> + +<p>But when she felt his hand trying to turn up her chin, so that her young +lips might meet his, she slipped decidedly away.</p> + +<p>"No? All right." Johnny gave a short, uncertain laugh. "All right, +little girl, I'll be good."</p> + +<p>She had risen to her feet and he rose now and his voice changed to a +heartier note.</p> + +<p>"Ready for the going? We'll have to make a start, I suppose. I don't see +any rescue expeditions starting this way. . . . Lordy, I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> a starved +man! I could eat the side of a house."</p> + +<p>"I could eat the other side," said Maria Angelina smiling shakily.</p> + +<p>Johnny put out the fire, ground out its embers beneath his heels, and +started down upon the trail that they had come. Closely after him came +the girl. The moonlight flooded the mountain side with vague, uncertain +light and the descent was a difficult and dangerous matter.</p> + +<p>They tripped over rocks; they stumbled through underbrush. The moon was +their only clue to direction and the moon seemed to be slipping past the +peaks at a confusing speed.</p> + +<p>"We're going down anyway," said Johnny Byrd grimly.</p> + +<p>Sharply they were stopped. The ledge on which they found themselves +ended abruptly, like a bluff, and peering over its edge they looked down +into the dark tops of tall fir trees.</p> + +<p>No more descent there.</p> + +<p>In disgusted rage Johnny strode up and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> down the length of that ledge +but it was a clear shelf, with no way out from it except the way that +they had come. There was no approach from below.</p> + +<p>"And some fools go in for mountaineering!" said Johnny Byrd bitterly.</p> + +<p>It was the last gust of humor in him. He was furious—and he grew more +furious unrestrainedly. He exploded in muttered oaths and exclamations.</p> + +<p>In her troubled little heart Maria Angelina felt for him. She knew that +he was tired and hungry, and men, when they were hungry, were very +unhappy. But she was tired and hungry, too—and her reputation, the +reputation that was her very existence, was in jeopardy.</p> + +<p>Up they scrambled, from the ledge again, and once back upon the mountain +side, they circled farther back around the mountain before starting down +again.</p> + +<p>Blindly Maria Angelina followed Johnny's lead. She tripped over roots; +she caught upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> brambles. With her last shreds of vanity she was +grateful that he could not see her streaming hair and scratched and +dirty face.</p> + +<p>It had grown darker and darker and the moon had vanished utterly behind +the clouds. The air was damp and cold. A wind was rising.</p> + +<p>Suddenly their feet struck into the faint line of a path. Eagerly they +followed. It wound on back across the mountain side and rounded a wooded +spur.</p> + +<p>"It will lead somewhere, anyway," declared Johnny, hope returning good +nature to his tone.</p> + +<p>"But it is not the right way," Maria Angelina combated in distress. +"See, we are not going down any more. Oh, let us keep on going down +until we find that river below, and then we can return to the Lodge——"</p> + +<p>"You come on," said Johnny firmly, striding on ahead, and unhappily she +followed, her anxiety warring with her weariness.</p> + +<p>What time could it be? She felt as if it were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> the middle of the night. +The picnickers must all be home by now, looking for her, organizing +searching parties perhaps. . . . What must they think? What must they +not think?</p> + +<p>She saw her Cousin Jane's distress. . . . Ruth's disgust. Would they +imagine that she had eloped?</p> + +<p>She knew but little of American conventions and that little told her +that the ceremonies were easy of accomplishment. Young people were +always eloping. . . . The consent of guardians was not necessary. . . . +How terrible, if they imagined her gone on a romantic elopement, to have +her return, mud plastered, after a night with a young man upon the +mountain!</p> + +<p>A night upon the mountain with a young man . . . a young man in love +with her.</p> + +<p>Scandal. . . . Unbelievable shame.</p> + +<p>She felt as if they were in the grip of a nightmare.</p> + +<p>They must hurry, hurry. Somehow they must gain upon that night, they +must return to the Lodge before it was too late.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>A cold sprinkle of rain fell, plastering her middy shiveringly to her, +but the rain soon stopped and the path grew clearer and more and more +defined as they stumbled along it to its end.</p> + +<p>It was not a house they found. It was not really a cabin. It was just +three walls of logs built against the rocky face of the mountain.</p> + +<p>But it was a hut, a shelter, with a door that swung open on leather +hinges at Johnny's tug.</p> + +<p>He called, then peered within. Finally he struck a match and stared +about and Maria Angelina came to look, too. The place was so tiny that a +bed of boughs and blankets on the floor covered most of the space, save +for a few boxes. Outside the doors were the ashes of old fires.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's <i>something</i>," said Johnny in glum resignation. "Hasn't the +fool that built it any food?"</p> + +<p>Vigorously he poked about the tiny place, then emerged to report in +disgust, "Not a darn thing. . . . Oh, well, it's a shelter, anyway."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>The incredible idea pierced Maria Angelina that he was going to pause +there for rest.</p> + +<p>"Oh, we must go on," she insisted.</p> + +<p>"Go on?" He turned to stare in indignation at the girl who had gasped +that at him. "Go on? In this dark? When it's going to rain? Why, you're +nearly all in, now."</p> + +<p>"Indeed—indeed, I am not all in," she protested. "It is not necessary +for me to rest—not necessary at all. I am quite strong. I want only to +go on—to go to the Lodge——"</p> + +<p>"We'll never make the Lodge to-night. We'll have to camp here the best +way we can."</p> + +<p>It seemed to her that she could hardly have heard him. It was so +incredible a thought—so overwhelming——</p> + +<p>A queer gulping sound came from her throat. Her words fell without her +volition, like spent breaths.</p> + +<p>"But that is wrong. We cannot stay. We cannot stay like that——"</p> + +<p>"Why can't we stay?"</p> + +<p>"It—it is impossible! The scandal——"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>Angrily he wheeled about. "Scandal?" he said sharply. "What the hell +scandal is there?"</p> + +<p>His indignation at the words could not dispel her terror. But it was +something to have him so hot her champion.</p> + +<p>"You know, they will all talk——"</p> + +<p>"Let 'em talk," he said curtly. "We can't help it."</p> + +<p>She put a hand to her throat as if to still that throbbing pulse there +that impeded speech.</p> + +<p>"I know we cannot help it. But we cannot—not give them so much to talk +of. We can be trying to return——"</p> + +<p>"Don't be a goose, Ri-Ri!" he broke in sharply.</p> + +<p>He was a man. He did not understand the full agony. . . . Desperately +Maria Angelina wondered as to her reception. She had no parallel in +Italian society. The thing could not happen in Italian society. A girl, +a well born girl, rambling the woods all night with her fiancé!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>She wondered if the announcement of their engagement instantly upon +their return would appease the world. Of course, there would always be +the story. As long as she lived there would be the story. But as +Johnny's wife, triumphant, assured, she could afford to ignore it.</p> + +<p>At her stillness Johnny had looked about, and something infinitely +drooping and forlorn in the vague outlines of her small figure made its +softening appeal.</p> + +<p>His voice changed. "Don't you worry, little girl," he told her +soothingly, "I'll take care of you."</p> + +<p>Her heart leaped.</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," she said faintly, "but what can we do? Had it better be at +once——?"</p> + +<p>"At once——?"</p> + +<p>"The marriage," she choked out.</p> + +<p>"Marriage?" Even in the dimness she saw that he raised his head, his +chin stiffening, his whole outline hardening.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>"What are you talking about?" he said very roughly.</p> + +<p>"About—about our marriage," she repeated trembling, and then, at +something in his hardness and his grimness, "Why, what did you mean——? +Must it not be soon?"</p> + +<p>A dreadful, deliberate silence engulfed her words.</p> + +<p>Coldly Johnny's slow voice broke it.</p> + +<p>"Who said anything about marriage?" defiantly he demanded. "I never +asked you to marry me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">JOHNNY BECOMES EXPLICIT</h3> + + +<p>"I never asked you to marry me," he repeated very stiffly.</p> + +<p>The crash of all her worlds sounded in Maria Angelina's ears. An aghast +bewilderment flooded her soul.</p> + +<p>Pitiably she stammered, "Why it—it was understood, was it not? You +cared—you—you——"</p> + +<p>She could not put into words the memories that beset her stricken +consciousness. But the cheeks that had felt his kiss flamed with a +sudden burning scarlet.</p> + +<p>"What was understood?" said Johnny Byrd. "That I was going to marry +you—because I kissed you?" And with that dreadful hostile grimness he +insisted, "You knew darned well I wasn't proposing to you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>What did he mean? Had not every action of his been an affirmation of +their relation? Did he believe she was one to whom men acted lightly? +Had he never meant to propose to her, never meant to marry?</p> + +<p>Last night at the dance—this afternoon in the woods—what had he meant +by all his admiration and his boldness?</p> + +<p>And that evening on the mountain, when, with his arm around her, he had +murmured that he would take care of her. . . . Had he meant nothing by +it, nothing, except the casual insolent intimacy which a man would grant +a <i>ballerina</i>?</p> + +<p>Or was he now turning from her in dreadful abandonment because after +this scandal she would be too conspicuous to make it agreeable to carry +out the intentions—perhaps only the vaguely realized intentions—of the +past?</p> + +<p>But why then, why had he kissed her on the mountain?</p> + +<p>Utter terror beset her. Her voice shook so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> that the words dropped +almost incoherently from the quivering lips.</p> + +<p>"But if not—if not—Oh, you must know that now—now it is imperative!"</p> + +<p>Shameful beseeching—shameful that she should have to beseech. Where was +his manhood, his chivalry—where his compassion?</p> + +<p>"Imperative <i>nuts</i>! You don't mean to say you're trying to make me marry +you because we got lost in the woods?"</p> + +<p>Desperately the girl struggled for dignity.</p> + +<p>"It is the least you could do, Signor. Even if—if you had not +cared——"</p> + +<p>Her voice broke again.</p> + +<p>"You little nut." Johnny's tones had altered. More mildly he went on, "I +don't quite get you, Ri-Ri, and I don't think you get me. It isn't up to +me to do any marrying, if that's honestly what's worrying you. And I'm +not going to be stampeded, if that's what you're trying to do. . . . Our +reputations will have to stand it."</p> + +<p>And this, Maria Angelina despairingly re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>called, was the man who had +kissed her, had watched the moon rise with his arm about her, promising +her his protection. . . . Wildly she wished that she had died before she +had come to this—a thing lightly regarded and repudiated.</p> + +<p>It was horrible to plead to him but the panic of her plight drove her +on.</p> + +<p>"Reputations!" she said chokingly. "Yours can stand it, perhaps—but +what of me? You cannot be serious, you cannot! Why, it is my name, my +life, my everything! . . . You made me come this way. Always I wanted +you to go another way, but no, you were sure, you told me to trust to +you. And then you pretended to care for me—do you think I would have +tolerated your arm about me for one instant if I had not believed it was +forever? Oh, if my father were here you would talk differently! Have you +no honor? None? . . . Every one knew there was an—an affair of the +heart growing between us, and then for us two to disappear—this night +alone——"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>Her voice kept breaking off. She could not control it or the tears that +ran down her face in the darkness. She was a choking, crying wild thing.</p> + +<p>Desperately she forced one last insistence, "Oh, you must, you must!"</p> + +<p>"Must nothing," Byrd answered her savagely. "What kind of scheme is +this, anyhow? I've had a few things tried before but this beats the +Dutch. I don't know how much of this talk you mean but I'll tell you +right now, young lady, nobody can tie me up for life with any such +stuff. Father! Honor! Scandal! Believe me, little one, you've got the +wrong number."</p> + +<p>"You mean—you dare refuse?"</p> + +<p>"You bet I dare refuse. There's no sense to all this. Nobody's going to +think the worse of you because you got lost with me—and if you're +trying to put anything over, you might as well stop now."</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina stopped. It seemed to her that she should die of shame.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>Dazedly she stood and looked at him through the darkness out of which a +few drops of rain were again falling.</p> + +<p>"You just forget it and get a bit of rest," Johnny Byrd advised +brusquely. "Hurry in out of the wet. That thing's going to leak again," +and he nodded jerkily up at the sky.</p> + +<p>He tugged open the door, and stricken as a wounded creature crawling to +shelter Maria Angelina bent her head and stumbled across the threshold.</p> + +<p>"In you go," he said with a more cheerful air. "Wrap yourself up as warm +as you can and I'll follow——"</p> + +<p>She was within the doorway when these words came. She turned and saw +that he was stooping to enter.</p> + +<p>"I shall do quite well, Signor," she found her voice quickly to say. +"You need not come in."</p> + +<p>"Need not——?" He appeared caught with fresh amazement. "Judas, where +do you think I'm going to stay? Out in the rain?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>"Certainly not in here, Signor."</p> + +<p>Desperation lent Maria Angelina sudden fire. "You must be mad, Signor!" +she told him fiercely.</p> + +<p>"And you madder. You don't think I'm going to stay"—he jerked his head +backward—"out in the wet?"</p> + +<p>"But naturally. You are a man. It is your place."</p> + +<p>"My place—you little Wop! A man! I'd be a dead one." The words of a +humorous lecturer smote his memory and with harsh merriment he quoted, +"'Good-night, Miss Middleton, said I, as I buttoned her carefully into +her tent and went out to sleep upon a cactus.' . . . None of that stuff +for mine," and without more ado Johnny Byrd lowered his head to pass +under the doorway.</p> + +<p>There was a gasp from the interior.</p> + +<p>"Ri-Ri, listen to me!" he demanded upon the threshold. "You're +raving—loco—nuts! There's no harm in my huddling under the same roof +with you—it's a damn necessity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> I'm not going to hold hands and I'm +not going to kiss you. If you've got any drawn swords you can lay their +blades between us. You turn your face to the wall and forget all about +it and I'll do the same."</p> + +<p>"Signor, stay without!"</p> + +<p>"Got a dagger in your garter? . . . Ri-Ri, listen to me. You're +absolutely wrong in the head. Be sensible. Have a heart. I'm going to +get some rest."</p> + +<p>"It does not matter what you say or what you intend. You do not need to +reassure me that you will not kiss me, Signor. That will not happen +again." Maria Angelina's voice was like ice. "But you are not coming +within this place."</p> + +<p>Tensely she confronted him. He loomed before her as a wolfish brute, +seeking his comfort at this last cost of her pride. . . . But no man, +she thought tragically, should ever say that he had spent the night +within the same four walls.</p> + +<p>She sprang forward, her hands outstretched, then shrank back.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>She could not touch him. Not only the perception of the ludicrous folly +of matching her strength against his withheld her, but some flaming fury +against putting a hand upon a man who had so repudiated her.</p> + +<p>Her brain grew alert. Suddenly very intent and collected she stepped +aside and Johnny Byrd came in.</p> + +<p>Close to the wall she pressed, edging nearer and nearer the door, and as +he stumbled and fumbled with the blankets she gave a quick spring and +flashed out.</p> + +<p>Like mad she ran across the clearing, through a thicket, and out again +and away.</p> + +<p>On the instant he was after her; she heard his steps crashing behind her +but she had the start of her swiftness and the speed of her desperation. +Brambles meant nothing to her, nor the thickets nor branches. She flew +on and on, lost in the darkness, his shouts growing fainter and fainter +in her ears.</p> + +<p>At last, in a shrub, she stopped to listen. She could hear nothing. Then +came a call<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>—very faint. It came from the wrong direction. She had +turned and doubled like a hare and Johnny was pursuing, if he still +pursued, a mistaken way.</p> + +<p>She was safe . . . and she stood still for a few minutes to quiet her +pounding heart and catch her gasping breath, and then she stole out, +cautiously, anxiously hurrying, to make her own way down.</p> + +<p>She had no idea of time or of distance. Vaguely she felt that it was the +middle of the night but that if she were quick, very quick, she might +reach the Lodge before it was too disastrously late. She might meet a +searching party out for them—there would be searching parties if people +were truly worried at their absence.</p> + +<p>Of course if they thought it an elopement, they might not take that +trouble. They might be merely waiting and conjecturing.</p> + +<p>If only Cousin Jim had not returned to New York! He was so kind and +concerned that he would be searching. There would be a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> chance of his +understanding. But Cousin Jane—what would she believe?</p> + +<p>Cousin Jane had seen Johnny draw her significantly back.</p> + +<p>At her folly of the afternoon she looked back with horror. How bold she +had been in that new American freedom! Mamma had warned her—dear Mamma +so far away, so innocent of this terrible disgrace. . . .</p> + +<p>Wildly she plunged on through the dark, hoping always for a path but +finding nothing but rough wilderness. She knew no landmarks to guide +her, but down she went determinedly, down, down continually.</p> + +<p>An hour had passed. Perhaps two hours. The sky had grown blacker and +blacker. There were occasional gusts of rain. The wind that had been +threshing the tree tops blew with increasing fury.</p> + +<p>Jagged tridents of lightning flashed before her eyes. Thunder followed +almost instantly, great crashing peals that seemed to be rending the +heavens.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>Maria Angelina felt as if the splinters must fall upon her. It was like +the voice of judgment.</p> + +<p>On she went, down, down, through a darkness that was chaos lit by +lightning. Rain came, in a torrent of water, heavy as lead, drenching +her to the skin. Her hair had streamed loose and was plastered about her +face, her throat, her arms. A strand like a wet rope wound about her +wrist and delayed her. Often she slipped and fell.</p> + +<p>Still down. But if she should find the Lodge, what then? What would they +think of her, wet, torn, disheveled, an outcast of the night?</p> + +<p>She sobbed aloud as she went. She, who had come to America so proudly, +so confidently of glad fortune, who had thought the world a fairy tale +and believed that she had found its prince—what place on earth would +there be for her after this, disgraced and ashamed?</p> + +<p>They would ship her back to Mamma at once. And the scandal would travel +with her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> whispered by tourists, blazoned by newspapers.</p> + +<p>And her family had so counted upon her! They had looked for such great +things!</p> + +<p>Now she had utterly blackened their name, tarnished them all forever +with her disrepute. Poor Julietta's hopes would be ruined. . . . No one +would want a Santonini. . . . Lucia would be furious. The Tostis might +even repudiate her—certainly they would inflict their condescension.</p> + +<p>She could only disappear, hide in some nursing sisterhood.</p> + +<p>So ran her wild thoughts as she scrambled down these endless mountain +sides. All the black fears that she had fought off earlier in the +evening by her belief in Johnny's devotion were upon her now like a pack +of wolves. She wished that she could die at once and be out of it, yet +when she heard the sudden wash of water, almost under her feet, she +jumped aside and screamed.</p> + +<p>A river! In the night it looked wider than<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> that one they had followed +that afternoon but it might only be another part of it.</p> + +<p>Very wearily she made her way along the bank, so mortally tired that it +seemed as if every step must be her last. There was no underbrush to +struggle with now, for she had come to a grove of pines and their fallen +needles made a carpet for her lagging feet.</p> + +<p>The rain was nearly over, but she was too wet and too cold to take +comfort in that.</p> + +<p>More and more laggingly she went and at last, when a hidden root tripped +her, she made no effort to rise, but lay prostrate, her cheek upon her +outflung arm, and yielded to the dark, drowsy oblivion that stole +numbingly over her.</p> + +<p>She would be glad, she thought, never to wake.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">MRS. BLAIR REGRETS</h3> + + +<p>It had taken a long time for concern to spread among the picnickers.</p> + +<p>The sudden shower had sent them all scurrying for shelter, and when the +climb was resumed, they crossed the river on those wide, flat +stepping-stones that Johnny Byrd had missed, and re-formed in +self-absorbed little twos and threes that failed to take note of the +absence of the laggards.</p> + +<p>When Ruth remembered to call back, "Where's Ri-Ri?" to her mother, Mrs. +Blair only glanced over her shoulder and answered, "She's coming," with +no thought of anxiety.</p> + +<p>It did occur to her, however, somewhat later, that the girl was +loitering a little too significantly with young Byrd, and she made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> a +point of suggesting to Ruth, when she passed her in a short time, that +she wait for her cousin who was probably finding the climb too +strenuous.</p> + +<p>"Who? Me?" said Ruth amazedly. "Gee, what do you want me to do—fan her? +Let Johnny do it," and cheerfully she went on photographing a group upon +a fallen log, and Mrs. Blair went on with the lawyer from Washington who +was a rapid walker.</p> + +<p>And Ruth, with the casual thought that neither Ri-Ri nor Johnny Byrd +would relish such attendance, promptly let the thought of them dissolve +from her memory.</p> + +<p>She was immersed in her own particular world that afternoon.</p> + +<p>Life was at a crisis for her. Robert Martin had been drifting faster and +faster with the current of his admiration for her, and now seemed to +have been brought up on very definite solid ground. He felt he knew +where he was. And he wanted to know where Ruth was.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>And Ruth found herself in that special quandary reserved for independent +American girls who want to have their cake and eat it, too.</p> + +<p>She wanted Bob Martin, and she wanted to be gratifyingly sure that Bob +Martin wanted her—and then she wanted affairs to stand still at that +pleasant pass, while she played about and invited adventure.</p> + +<p>Life was so desirable as it was . . . especially with Bob Martin in the +scene. But if he were unsatisfied he wouldn't remain there as part of +the adjacent landscape.</p> + +<p>Bob was no pursuing Lochinvar.</p> + +<p>It was very delicate. She couldn't explain all her hesitation +satisfactorily to herself, so she had made rather a poor job of it when +she tried to explain to Bob.</p> + +<p>Part of it was young unreadiness for the decisions and responsibilities +of life, part of it was reprehensible aversion about shutting the door +to other adventures, and part of it was her native energy, as yet +unemployed, aware<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> of a larger world and anxious to play some undivined +part in its destinies.</p> + +<p>She had always been furious that the war had come too soon for her. She +would have loved to have gone over there, and known the mud and +doughnuts and doughboys . . . and the excitement and the officers. . . .</p> + +<p>But Bob wasn't going to dangle much longer. He hadn't a doubt but that +everything was all right and he was in haste to taste the assurance.</p> + +<p>And Ruth wasn't going to lose him.</p> + +<p>These hesitations of hers would convey nothing to his youthful +masculinity but that she didn't care enough. And his was not the age +that appreciates the temporizing half loaf.</p> + +<p>So that trip up the mountain meant for them much youthful discussion, +much searching of wills and hearts and motives, a threatening gloom upon +his part, and a struggling defensiveness upon hers.</p> + +<p>Small wonder that Maria Angelina and her companion were not remembered!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>It was not until she was at the very top of old Baldy, and again a part +of the general group that Ruth had the thought to look about her and +recognize her cousin's absence.</p> + +<p>"They <i>are</i> taking their time," she remarked to Bob.</p> + +<p>"Glad they're enjoying it," he gave back with a disgruntled air that +Ruth determinedly ignored.</p> + +<p>"I guess Ri-Ri's no good at a climb," she said. "This little old +mountain must have got her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Johnny's strong right arm will do the work," he returned +indifferently.</p> + +<p>"But they ought to be here now. You don't suppose they missed the way?" +Mrs. Blair, overhearing, suggested, and turned to look down the steep +path that they had come.</p> + +<p>Bob scouted the idea of such a mishap.</p> + +<p>"Johnny knows his way about. They'll be along when they feel like it," +he predicted easily, and Mrs. Blair turned to the arrange<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>ment of supper +with a slight anxiety which she dissembled beneath casual cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>In her heart she was vexed. Dreadfully noticeable, she thought, that +persistent lagging of theirs. She might have expected it of Johnny +Byrd—he had a way of making new girls conspicuous—but she had looked +for better things from Maria Angelina.</p> + +<p>It was too bad. It showed that as soon as you gave those cloistered +girls an inch they took an ell.</p> + +<p>Outwardly she spoke with praise of her charge. Julia Martin, a youthful +aunt of Bob's, was curious about the girl.</p> + +<p>"She's the loveliest creature," she declared with facile enthusiasm, as +she and Mrs. Blair delved into a hamper that the Martins' chauffeur and +butler had shouldered up before the picnickers.</p> + +<p>"And so naïvely young—I don't see how her mother dared let her come so +far away."</p> + +<p>"Oh—her mother wanted her to see America," Mrs. Blair gave back.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>"She must be having a wonderful time," pursued the young lady. "She was +simply a picture at the dance. . . . Think of giving a mountain climb +the night after the dance," she added in a lower voice. "Bob and his +mother are perfectly mad. I think they want to kill their guests +off—perhaps there's method in their madness. . . . I never saw anything +quite like her," she resumed upon Maria Angelina. "I fancy Johnny Byrd +hasn't either!"</p> + +<p>"Wasn't she pretty?" agreed Mrs. Blair with pleasantness, laying out the +spoons. "Yes, it's very interesting for her to have this," she went on, +"before she really knows Roman society. . . . She will come out as soon +as she returns from America, I suppose. The eldest sister is being +married this fall, and the next sister and Maria Angelina are about of +an age."</p> + +<p>"Little hard on the sister unless she is a raving, tearing beauty," said +the intuitive Miss Martin with a laugh. "Perhaps they are sending Maria +Angelina away to keep her in abeyance!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>"Perhaps," Mrs. Blair assented. "At any rate, with this preliminary +experience, I fancy that little Ri-Ri will make quite a sensation over +there."</p> + +<p>It was as if she said plainly to the curious young aunt that this +pilgrimage was only a prelude in Maria Angelina's career, and she +certainly did not take its possibilities for any serious finalities.</p> + +<p>But the youthful aunt was not intimidated.</p> + +<p>"She'll make a sensation over <i>here</i> if she carries off the Byrd +millions," she threw out smartly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blair smiled with an effect of remote amusement. Inwardly she knew +sharp annoyance. She wished she could smack that loitering child. . . . +Very certainly she would betray no degrading interest in her fortunes. +The Martins were not to think that she was intent on placing <i>any one</i>!</p> + +<p>"Johnny Byrd's a child," said she indifferently.</p> + +<p>"He's been of age two years," said the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> youthful aunt, "and he's out of +college now and very much a catch—all his vacations used to be +hairbreadth escapes. Of course he courts danger," she threw in with a +little laugh and a sidelong look.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Blair was not laughing. She was blaming herself for the +negligence which had made this situation possible, although—extenuation +made haste to add within her—no one could humanly be expected to be +going up and down a trail all afternoon to gather in the stragglers. And +she had told Ruth to wait.</p> + +<p>"She's probably just tired out," said the stout widower with strong +accents of sympathy. "Climb too much for her, and very sensibly they've +turned back."</p> + +<p>"If I could only be sure. If I could only be sure she wasn't hurt—or +lost," said Mrs. Blair doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Lost!" Bob Martin derided. "Lost—on a straight trail. Not unless they +jolly wanted to!"</p> + +<p>"Don't spoil the party, mother," was Ruth's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> edged advice. "Ri-Ri hasn't +broken any legs or necks. And she wasn't alone to get lost. She just +gave up and Johnny Byrd took her home. I know her foot was blistered at +the dance last night and that's probably the matter."</p> + +<p>It was the explanation they decided to adopt.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blair, recalling that this was not her expedition, made a double +duty of appearing sensibly at ease, although the nervous haste with +which a sudden noise would bring her to alertness, facing the path, +revealed some inner tension.</p> + +<p>The young people were inclined to be hilarious over the affair, +inventing fresh reasons for the absent ones, reasons that ranged from +elopement to wood pussies.</p> + +<p>"There was one around last night," the tennis champion insisted.</p> + +<p>But the hilarity was only a flash in the pan. After its flare the party +dragged. Curiosity preoccupied some; uneasiness communicated itself to +others. And the frank abstraction of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> Ruth and Bob had a depressing +effect upon the atmosphere.</p> + +<p>And the runaways were missed. Johnny Byrd had an infectious way of +making a party go and Maria Angelina's sweet soprano had become so much +a part of every gathering that its absence now made song a dejection.</p> + +<p>Other things of Maria Angelina than her soprano were missed, also.</p> + +<p>Julia Martin found the popular bachelor decidedly absent-minded. The +crack young polo player thought the scenery disappointing. Decidedly, it +was a dull party.</p> + +<p>And the weather was threatening.</p> + +<p>So after supper had been disposed of and there had been a bonfire and an +effort at singing about it, a dispirited silence spread until a decent +interval was felt to have elapsed and allowed the suggestion of return.</p> + +<p>Once it was suggested everybody seemed ready for the start, even without +the moon, for the path was fairly clear and the men had pocket +flashlights, so down in the dark they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> started, proceeding cautiously +and gingerly, and accumulating mental reservations about mountains and +mountain climbing until the moon suddenly overtook them and sent a +silvering wash of light into the valley at their feet.</p> + +<p>They had gained the main path before the moon deserted them, and the +first of the gusty showers sent them hurrying along in shivering +impatience for the open fires of homes.</p> + +<p>"We'll find that pair of short sports toasting their toes and giving us +the laugh," predicted Bob, tramping along, a hand on Ruth's arm now.</p> + +<p>Ruth was wearing his huge college sweater over her silk one and felt +indefinably less adventurous and independent than on her upward trip. +Bob seemed very stable, very desirable, as she stumbled wearily on. She +wasn't quite sure what she had wanted to gain time for, that afternoon. +Already the barriers of custom and common-sense were raising their solid +heads.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>And Bob was romance, too. It was silly to be unready for surrender. She +realized that if she lost him. . . .</p> + +<p>At the Lodge she gave him back a quick look that set him astir.</p> + +<p>"Hold on," he called as she broke from him to follow her mother.</p> + +<p>The cars from the Martin house party had been left at the Lodge in +readiness and with perfunctory warmth of farewells the tired +mountaineers were hastening either to the Lodge or the motors.</p> + +<p>"Here's Johnny's car," he sung out. "He's probably inside——" and Bob +swung hastily after Ruth and her mother.</p> + +<p>He was up the steps beside them and opened the door into the wide hall +where a group was lingering about the open fire.</p> + +<p>A glance told them Johnny Byrd was not of the company. Bob and Ruth went +to the door of the music room. It was deserted. Mrs. Blair went swiftly +to the clerk's desk at the side entrance.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>She came back, looking upset. Maria Angelina had not returned, to the +clerk's knowledge. No one had telephoned any news.</p> + +<p>"I'll go up and make sure," offered Ruth, and sped up the stairs only to +return in a few minutes with a face of dawning excitement.</p> + +<p>"They must be lost!" she announced in a voice that drew instant +attention.</p> + +<p>"Did you look to see if her things were there?" said her mother in an +agitated undertone.</p> + +<p>Bob Martin met her glance with swift intelligence.</p> + +<p>"Johnny's car is out there," he told them. "It isn't <i>that</i>—they are +simply lost, as Ruth says. Wait—I must tell them before they get away," +and he hurried out into the increasing downpour.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blair turned on her daughter a face of pale misgiving.</p> + +<p>"I knew it," she said direfully. "I felt it all along. . . . She's +lost."</p> + +<p>"Well, she'll be found," said Ruth lightly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> with an indisputable lift +of excitement. "The bears won't eat them."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blair's eyes shifted uneasily to meet the advancing circle from the +fire.</p> + +<p>"There are worse bites than bears'," she found time to throw out, before +she had to voice the best possible version of Maria Angelina's +disappearance.</p> + +<p>Instantly a babble of facile comfort rose.</p> + +<p>They would be here any moment now.</p> + +<p>Some one had picked them up—they were safe and sound, this instant.</p> + +<p>There wasn't a thing that could happen—it wasn't as though these were +<i>wilds</i>.</p> + +<p>Just telephone about—she mustn't worry. As soon as it was light some +one would go out and track them.</p> + +<p>Why, Judge Carney's boys had been lost all night and breakfasted on +blueberries. It wasn't uncommon.</p> + +<p>And nothing could happen to her—with Johnny Byrd along.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>Oh, Johnny would take care of her—by morning everything would be all +right.</p> + +<p>But how in the world had it happened? That was such an <i>easy</i> trail!</p> + +<p>And that was the question that stared, Argus-eyed, at Jane Blair. It was +the question, she knew, that they were all asking themselves—and the +others—in covert curiosity.</p> + +<p>What had happened? And how had it happened?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">FANTASY</h3> + + +<p>She awoke to fright—some great hairy beast of the forest was nosing +her.</p> + +<p>Then a light flashed in her eyes, and as she closed them, drifting off +to exhaustion again, she half saw a figure stooping towards her. Then +she felt herself being carried, while a barking seemed to be all about +her.</p> + +<p>The next thing she knew was light forcing its brightness through her +closed lids and a great warmth beating upon her.</p> + +<p>She dragged her eyes open again. She was lying on a black bear skin rug +before a roaring fire, and some one was kneeling beside her, tucking +cushions beneath her head. She had a glimpse of a khaki sleeve and a +lean brown wrist.</p> + +<p>The warmth was delicious. She wanted to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> put her head back against those +pillows and sleep forever but memory was rousing, too.</p> + +<p>Sleepily, she mumbled, "What time is it?"</p> + +<p>The khaki shirt sleeve had withdrawn from view and the answering voice +came from a corner of the room.</p> + +<p>"It's about two."</p> + +<p>Two o'clock! The night gone—gone past redemption.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Madre mia!" whispered Maria Angelina.</p> + +<p>She struggled up on one elbow, her little face, scratched and stained, +staring wildly out from the dark thicket of hair. "But where am I? Where +is this place? Is it near the Lodge—near Wilderness Lodge?"</p> + +<p>"We're miles from Wilderness," said the voice out of the shadows. "This +is Old Chief Mountain—on the Little Pine River."</p> + +<p>Old Chief Mountain! Vaguely Maria Angelina recalled that stony peak, far +behind Old Baldy. . . . They had climbed the wrong<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> mountain, indeed. +. . . And she had plunged farther away, in her headlong flight.</p> + +<p>She stared about her. She saw a huge fireplace where the flames were +dancing. Above it, on a wide mantel, was a disarray of books, +cigar-boxes, pipes and papers, the papers weighted oddly with a jar of +obviously pickled frogs.</p> + +<p>Upon the log walls several fishing rods were stretched on nails and a +gun, a corn-popper, a rough coat and cap and a fishing net were all hung +on neighboring hooks.</p> + +<p>It was the cabin of some woodsman, and she seemed alone in it with the +woodsman and his dog, a tawny collie—the wild animal of her awakening. +Quietly alert, he lay now beside her, his grave, bright eyes upon her +face.</p> + +<p>The woodsman she could not see.</p> + +<p>"Now see if you can drink all of this." The khaki sleeve had appeared +from the shadows and was holding a steaming cup to her lips.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>It was a huge cup made of granite ware. Obediently Maria Angelina drank. +The contents were scalding hot and while her throat seemed blistered the +warmth penetrated her veins in quick reaction.</p> + +<p>"Lucky I didn't empty my coffeepot," said the voice cheerfully. "There +it was—waiting to be heated. Memorandum—never wash a coffeepot."</p> + +<p>The voice seemed coming to her out of a dream. Thrusting back the +tangled hair from her eyes Maria Angelina lifted them incredulously to +the woodsman's face.</p> + +<p>Was it true? . . . Those clear, sharp-cut features, those bright, keen +eyes with the gay smile! . . . Was it true—-or was she dreaming?</p> + +<p>Instinctively she dropped her hand and let her hair like a black curtain +shield her face. The blood seemed to stand still in her veins waiting +that dreadful instant of recognition.</p> + +<p>Confusedly, with some frantic thought of flight, "I must go—Oh, I must +go——"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>She sat up, still hiding, like Godiva, in her hair.</p> + +<p>"You lie down and rest," said the authoritative voice. "If there's any +going to be done I'll do it. Is there some other Babe in the Woods to be +found?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—no, but I must go——"</p> + +<p>"You get a good rest. You can tell me all about it and who you are when +you're dry and warm."</p> + +<p>She yielded to the compulsion in his voice and to her own weakness, and +lay very still and inert, her cheek upon her outflung arm, her eyes +watching the red dance of flames through the black strands of her hair. +It was the final irony, she felt, of that dreadful night. To meet Barry +Elder again—like this—after all her dreams——</p> + +<p>It was too terrible to be true.</p> + +<p>And he did not know her. He had come to that place of his, in the +Adirondacks, of which he had spoken, and had never given her a thought. +He had never come to see her. . . .</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>A great wave of mortification surged over Maria Angelina, bearing a +medley of images, of thoughts, of old hopes—like the wash from some +sinking ship. What a fool of hope she had been! How vain and silly and +credulous! . . . She had dreamed of this man, sung to the thought of +him—quickened to absurd expectancy at every stir of the wheels. . . . +And then she had pictured him at the seashore, beneath the spell of that +gold-haired siren—and here he was, quite near and free—utterly +unremembering!</p> + +<p>She had suffered many pangs of mortification this night but now her +poor, shamed spirit bled afresh.</p> + +<p>But perhaps he had just come. And certainly he would remember to come +and see his friends, the Blairs, and possibly he would remember that +foreign cousin of theirs that he had danced with—just remember her with +pleasant friendliness. She would give herself so much of balm.</p> + +<p>And who indeed was she for Barry Elder to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> remember? Just a very young, +very silly goose of a girl, a little foreigner . . . some one to +nickname and pet carelessly . . . a girl who had been good enough for +Johnny Byrd to make love to but not good enough for him to marry. . . .</p> + +<p>A girl who had thrown her name recklessly to the winds and who, +to-morrow, would be a byword. . . .</p> + +<p>These thoughts ached in her with her bruised flesh.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Barry Elder had been making quick trips about the room and now +he threw down an armful of garments beside her and knelt at her feet, +tugging at her sopping shoes.</p> + +<p>"Let me get these off—there, that's better. Now the other one. . . . +Lordy, child, those footies. . . . Now you'd better get into these dry +things as quick as you can. Not a perfect fit, but the best I can do. +I'll take a turn in the woods and be back in ten minutes. So you hurry +up."</p> + +<p>He closed the door upon the words that Ma<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>ria Angelina was beginning to +frame and left her looking helplessly at a pair of corduroy +knickerbockers, a blue flannel shirt, a strange undergarment, plaid golf +stockings and a pair of fringed moccasins.</p> + +<p>They were in an untouched heap when her host returned, letting in a cold +rush of the night with him.</p> + +<p>"What's this?" he flung out in mock severity. "See here, young lady, you +must get into those clothes whether they happen to be the style or not! +Little girls who get wet can't go to sleep in their clothes. Now I'll +give you just ten minutes more and then if you are not a good girl——"</p> + +<p>To her own dismay and to his Maria Angelina burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, come now," said Barry helplessly. "You poor little dud——"</p> + +<p>The sudden gentleness of his voice undid the last of the girl's control. +She sobbed harder and harder as he sat down beside her and began to pat +her shaking shoulders.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>"You shan't do anything you don't want to," he comforted. "You're tired +out, I know. But you'd be so much more comfy in these dry togs——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please, Signor, not those things. Do not make me. I will get +dry——"</p> + +<p>"You don't have to if you don't want to," he told her gently, looking +down in a puzzled way at her distress. Her face was buried in a crook of +her arm; her black hair streamed tempestuously over her heaving +shoulders. "Come closer to the fire, then, and dry out."</p> + +<p>He threw more wood upon the flames and piled on brush that shed a swift, +crackling heat.</p> + +<p>"Give that a chance at those wet clothes of yours," he advised. +"Meanwhile we'd better wring this out," and with businesslike despatch +he began gathering that dripping black hair into the folds of a Turkish +towel. Very strenuously he wrung it.</p> + +<p>"That's what I do for my kid sister when she's been in swimming," he +mentioned. "She's at the seashore now—no getting her away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> from the +water. She's a bigger girl than you are. . . . Now when you feel better +suppose you tell me all about it. Did you say you came from Wilderness +Lodge?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Maria Angelina half whisperingly.</p> + +<p>Had he no memory of her at all? Or was she so different in that wet, +muddied blouse, hair streaming, and face scratched—she looked down at +her grimy little hands and wondered dumbly what her face might look +like.</p> + +<p>And then she saw that Barry Elder, having finished with her hair, was +preparing to wash her face, for he brought a granite basin of hot water +and began wetting and soaping the end of a voluminous towel with which +he advanced upon her.</p> + +<p>"I can well wash myself," she cried with promptness, and most thoroughly +she washed and scrubbed, and then hung her head as he took away the +things.</p> + +<p>She felt as if a screening mask had fallen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> and her only thought now was +to make an escape before discovery should add one more humiliation to +this night of shames.</p> + +<p>"You are very good," she said shyly. "I cannot tell you how I thank you. +And I feel so much better that if you will please let me go——"</p> + +<p>"Go? To Wilderness Lodge? It's miles and miles, child—and it's pouring +cats and dogs again. Don't you hear the drumsticks on the roof?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated. "Then—have you a telephone?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank the Lord!" The remembered laughter flashed in Barry Elder's +tones. "I came here to get away from the devil of invention and all his +works. There isn't a telephone nearer than Peter's place—four miles +away. I'll go over for you as soon as it's light, for I expect your +mother's worrying her head off about you. How did you ever happen to get +lost over here?"</p> + +<p>Helplessly Maria Angelina sought for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> words. Silence was ungrateful but +there seemed nothing she could say.</p> + +<p>"It was on a picnic—please do not ask me," she whispered foolishly.</p> + +<p>In humorous perplexity the young man stood looking down upon the small +figure that chance had deposited so unexpectedly upon his hearth, a most +forlorn and drooping small figure, with downcast and averted head, then +with that sudden smile that made his young face so brightly persuasive +he dropped beside her and reached towards her.</p> + +<p>"Here, little kiddie, you come and sit with me while I warm those feet +of yours——"</p> + +<p>Swiftly she withdrew from his kindly reaching hands.</p> + +<p>"Signor, it is not fitting that you should hold me, that you should warm +my feet," she gasped. "I am <i>not</i> a child, Signor!"</p> + +<p>Signor . . . The word waked some echo in his mind. . . . The child had +used it before—but what connection was groping——?</p> + +<p>He repeated the word aloud.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>"You do not recall?" said Maria Angelina chokingly. "Though indeed, +there is no reason why you should. It was but for a moment——"</p> + +<p>She glanced up to see recognition leap amazedly into his face.</p> + +<p>"The little Signorina! The Blairs' little Signorina!"</p> + +<p>"Maria Angelina Santonini," she told him soberly. "Yes, that is I."</p> + +<p>"Why of course I remember," he insisted. "A little girl in a white +dress. A big hat which you took off. Your first night in America. We had +a wonderful dance together——"</p> + +<p>"And you said you would come to the mountains," she told him childishly.</p> + +<p>He stared a moment. "Why, so I did. . . . And here I am. And here you +are. To think I did not know you—I've been wondering whom you made me +want to think of! But I took you for a youngster, you know, a regular +ten-year-old runaway. Why, with your hair<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> down like that—— Of course, +it was absurd of me."</p> + +<p>He paused with a smile for the absurdity of it.</p> + +<p>Gallantly she tried to give him back that smile but there was something +so wan and piteous in the curve of her soft lips, something so hurt and +sick in the shadows of her dark eyes, that Barry Elder felt oddly +silenced.</p> + +<p>And then he tried to cover that silence with kind chatter as he moved +about his room once more in hospitable preparation.</p> + +<p>"It was Sandy, here, who really found you," he told her. "He whined at +the door till I let him out and then he came back, barking, for me, so I +had to go. I was really looking for a mink. Sandy's always excited about +minks."</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina put a hand to the dog's head and stroked it.</p> + +<p>"I was so tired," she said. "I think I was asleep."</p> + +<p>"I rather think you were," said Barry in an odd tone. He glanced at her +white cheek<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> with its scarlet scratch of a branch. "And I rather think +you ought to be asleep now but first you must eat this and drink some +more coffee."</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina needed no urging. Like a starveling she fell upon that +plate of crisp bacon and delicately fried eggs and cleaned it to the +last morsel.</p> + +<p>"I had but two bites of sweet chocolate for my dinner," she apologized.</p> + +<p>"So you were lost before dinner—no wonder you were done in."</p> + +<p>Barry filled a very worn-looking little brown pipe with care. "Where +were you going, anyway, for your picnic?"</p> + +<p>"It was to Old Baldy."</p> + +<p>"Old Baldy, eh? Let me see—what trail did you take?"</p> + +<p>"On the river path. Then—then we got separated——"</p> + +<p>"I see. But it's a fairly clear trail. Did you try another?"</p> + +<p>"We—we crossed the river the wrong time,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> I think, and so got on the +wrong mountain. We——"</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina's voice died away in sudden sick perception of that +betraying pronoun.</p> + +<p>Quite slowly, without looking at her, Barry completed the lighting of +that pipe to his satisfaction and drew a few appreciative puffs. Then he +turned to inquire casually, "And who is 'we'?"</p> + +<p>He saw only the top of the girl's tousled head and the tense grip of her +clasped hands in her lap.</p> + +<p>"If you would not ask, Signor!" she said whisperingly.</p> + +<p>"A dark secret!" He tried to laugh over that but his keen eyes rested on +her with a troubled wonder.</p> + +<p>"And then you got lost—even from your companion?" he prompted quietly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I—I came away alone for he—he refused to go on," faltered Maria +Angelina painfully, "and then I seemed to go on forever—and I could do +no more. But now I am quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> well again," she insisted with a ghost of a +brave smile. "If only—if only my Cousin Jane could know that I'm trying +to get back," she finished in a tone that shook in spite of her.</p> + +<p>"You weren't trying to get lost, were you?" questioned Barry lightly, +groping for a cue. There was no mistaking the flash of Maria Angelina's +repudiation and the candor of her suddenly upraised young face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Signor, no, no! It was only that I was so careless—that I +believed he knew the way."</p> + +<p>"And was he trying to get lost?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Signor, no, it was all a mistake."</p> + +<p>"This is a very easy neck of the woods to get lost in," Barry told her +reassuringly. "Old residents here often miss their way—especially in a +storm. Mrs. Blair will worry, of course, but she is very sensible and +she knows you will come to light with the daylight. Just as soon as it +is clear enough for me to find my way I'll strike over to Peter's place +and phone her that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> you are safe and sound, and I'll get a horse for you +to ride out on—you won't care for any more walking and the motor can +only come as far as the road."</p> + +<p>"But you must not tell them <i>you</i> have found me," said Maria Angelina, +overwhelmed with tragedy again. She seemed fated, she thought in +dreadful humor, to spend the night with young men! And to have been lost +by one and found by another!</p> + +<p>"It will be so much worse," she said pleadingly. "Could you not just +show me the way and let me go——?"</p> + +<p>"So much worse?" His face was very grave and gentle. "So much worse? I +don't think I understand."</p> + +<p>"So <i>very</i> much worse. To have been found like this—Oh, promise me to +say nothing about it. I know that I can trust you."</p> + +<p>"I think you had better tell me all about it, Signorina."</p> + +<p>He saw that dark misery, like a film, swim blindingly over her wide +eyes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>"I cannot."</p> + +<p>He considered a moment before he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"If you really do not want any one to know that I found you I am willing +to hold my tongue. But don't you see what a lot of ridiculous deception +that would involve? You would have to make up all sorts of little +things. And then, after all, you'd be sure to say something—one always +does—and let it all out——"</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina looked at him pathetically and a sudden impulse stabbed +him to say hastily, "I'll fall in with any plan you want to make. Only +wait to decide until you feel rested. Then perhaps we can decide +together. . . . And now, if you are really getting dry——"</p> + +<p>"Truly, I am, Signor Elder. I am indeed dry and hot."</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better make up your mind to curl up on that cot over there +and sleep."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't sleep."</p> + +<p>There was truth beneath Maria Angelina's quick disclaimer. Exhausted as +she was, her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> mind was vividly awake, now, excited with the strangeness +of her presence there.</p> + +<p>Her mortification at his finding her was gone. He was so rarely kind, so +pleasantly matter of fact. He was as gayly undisturbed as if the heavens +rained starving young girls upon him every night! And somehow she had +known he was like this . . . but he was like no one else that she had +known. . . .</p> + +<p>Her mind groped for a comparison. For an instant she vainly tried to +picture Paolo Tosti doing the honors to such a guest—but that picture +was unpaintable.</p> + +<p>This Barry Elder was chivalry itself; he was kindness and comfort—and +he was a strange, stirring excitement that flung a glamour over the +disaster of the hour.</p> + +<p>It was like a little hush before the final storm, a dim dream before the +nightmare enfolded her again.</p> + +<p>Her eyes followed him as he turned out the kerosene lamp, which was +sputtering, and flung fresh logs upon the hearty fire. Over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>head the +rain droned, like monotonous fingers upon a keyboard, and beside her +Sandy slept noisily, with sudden whimpers.</p> + +<p>Barry's eyes, meeting the wistful dark ones, smiled responsively, and +Maria Angelina felt a queer tightening within her, as if some one had +tied a band about her heart.</p> + +<p>"You don't have such fires in Italy," he observed, dropping down upon +the rug across from her, and refilling that battered pipe of his. "I +well remember when I ordered a fire and the <i>cameraria</i> came in with a +bunch of twigs."</p> + +<p>Madly Maria Angelina fell upon the revelation.</p> + +<p>"You have been in Italy!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, more than once! But all before the war."</p> + +<p>"And you have been in Rome? Oh, to think of that! But where did you +stay? Whom did you know there, Signor?"</p> + +<p>Barry grinned. "Head waiters!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>"You knew no Romans, then? Oh, but that was a pity."</p> + +<p>"I can well believe it, Signorina!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rome can be very gay—though I am not out in society myself, and +know so little. . . . What did you do, then? I suppose you went to the +Forum and the Vatican and the Via Appia like all the tourists and drove +out to the Coliseum by moonlight?"</p> + +<p>Delightedly she laughed as Barry Elder confirmed her account of his +activities.</p> + +<p>"Me, I have never seen the Coliseum by moonlight," she reported +plaintively, adding with eager wistfulness, "And did you buy violets on +the Spanish Stairs? And throw a penny into the Trevi fountain to ensure +your return? And do you remember the street that turns off left, the Via +Poli? From there you come quick to my house, the Palazzo Santonini——"</p> + +<p>"And do you really live in a palace?" It was Barry's turn to question. +"A really truly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> palace? And is your father a really truly prince?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing so great! He is a count—but of a very old family, the +Santonini," Maria Angelina explained with becoming pride.</p> + +<p>"And is your mother of a very old——"</p> + +<p>"My mother is American—the cousin of Mrs. Blair. But Mamma has never +been back in America—she is too devoted to us, is Mamma, and she has so +much to look after for Papa. Papa is charming but he does not manage."</p> + +<p>"That makes complications," said Barry gravely.</p> + +<p>"And Francisco, my brother, is just like him. He is always running +bills, now that he is in the army. And he was so brave in the war that +Mamma cannot bear to be cross. He will have to marry an heiress, that +boy," she sighed and Barry Elder's eyes lighted in amusement.</p> + +<p>"How many of you are there?" he wanted interestedly to know, and +vivaciously Maria<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> Angelina informed him of her sisters, her life, her +lessons, the rare excursions, the pension at the seashore, the +engagement of her sister Lucia and Paolo Tosti.</p> + +<p>And absorbedly Barry Elder listened, his eyes on her changing face. When +she paused he flung in some question or some anecdote of his own times +in Italy and Sandy was often roused by unseasonable laughter, and +thudded his tail in sleepy friendliness before dozing off to his dreams +again.</p> + +<p>Then like a flash, as swiftly as it had come, the excited glow of +recollection was an extinguished flame, leaving her shivering before a +nearer memory.</p> + +<p>For Barry Elder asked one question too many. He brought the present down +upon them.</p> + +<p>"And how do you like America?" he asked. "Has it been good fun for you +up here?"</p> + +<p>Only the blind could have missed the change that came over the girl's +face, blotting out its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> laughter and etching in queer, startled fear.</p> + +<p>"It has been—very gay," she stammered.</p> + +<p>Despairingly she asked herself why she still tried to hide her story +from him since in the morning it must all come out. He would know all +about her then. And what must he be thinking already of her stammered +evasions?</p> + +<p>Oh, if only on that yesterday, which seemed a thousand yesterdays away, +she had stayed closely by her Cousin Jane! If she had not let her folly +wreck all her life!</p> + +<p>Bitterly ironic to know that all the time Barry Elder was here, at hand. +If only she had known! Had he just come?</p> + +<p>She wondered and asked the question.</p> + +<p>And at that Barry's face changed as if he had remembered something he +would have been as glad to forget.</p> + +<p>"Oh—I've been here a few days," he gave back vaguely.</p> + +<p>She glanced about the shadowy room. "So alone?"</p> + +<p>A wry smile touched his mouth. "I came for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> alone-ness. I had a play to +write—I wanted to work some things out for myself," and indefinably but +certainly Maria Angelina caught the impression that all the things he +wanted to work out for himself in this solitude were not connected with +his play.</p> + +<p>His linked hands had slipped over his knees and he looked ahead of him +very steadily into the fire, and Maria Angelina had a feeling that he +looked that way into the fire many evenings, so oddly, grimly intent, +with oblivious eyes and faintly ironic lips.</p> + +<p>He was quiet so long, without moving, that she felt as if he had +forgotten her. He did not look happy. . . . Something dark had touched +him. . . .</p> + +<p>"Is it something you want that you cannot get, Signor?" she asked him in +a grave little voice.</p> + +<p>He turned his eyes to her, and she saw there was smoldering fire beneath +their surface brightness.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>"No, Signorina, it is something that I want and that I can get."</p> + +<p>"There is no difficulty there," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"No?" His tone held mockery. "The difficulty is in me. . . . I don't +want to want it."</p> + +<p>His eyes continued to rest on her in ironic smiling.</p> + +<p>"Signorina, what would you do if you wanted a cake, oh, such a beautiful +cake, all white icing and lovely sugar outside . . . and within—well, +something that was very, very bad for the digestion? Only the first bite +would be good, you see. But such a first bite! And you wanted +it—because the icing was so marvelous and the sugar so sweet. . . . And +if you had wanted that cake a long time, oh, before you knew what a +cheating thing it was within, and if you had been denied it and suddenly +found it was within your reach——?"</p> + +<p>He broke off with a laugh.</p> + +<p>Slowly she asked, "And would you have to eat the cake if you took the +first bite?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>His voice was harsh. "To the last crumb."</p> + +<p>"Then I would not bite."</p> + +<p>"But the frosting, Signorina, the pretty pink and white frosting!"</p> + +<p>So bitter was his laugh that the girl grew older in understanding. She +thought of the girl she had seen by his side in the restaurant, the girl +whose eyes had been as blue as the sea and her hair yellow as amber +. . . the girl who had angled for Bob Martin's money.</p> + +<p>She remembered that Barry Elder had of late inherited some money.</p> + +<p>Impulsively she leaned towards him, her eyes dark and pitiful in her +white face.</p> + +<p>"Do not touch it," she whispered. "Do not. I do not want <i>you</i> to be +unhappy——"</p> + +<p>Utterly she understood. His absurd metaphor was no protection against +her. She remembered all Cousin Jane's implications, all the bald +revelations of Johnny Byrd.</p> + +<p>Somehow he had come to know that the heart of Leila Grey was a cheating +thing, yet for the sake of the beauty which had so teased<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> him, for the +glamorous loveliness of those blue eyes and rosy tints, he was almost +ready to let himself be borne on by his inclinations. . . .</p> + +<p>Barry Elder looked startled at that earnest little whisper and his eyes +met hers unguarded a full minute, then a whimsical smile touched his +lips to softness.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you have a tender heart, Maria Angelina Santonini," he said. +"You want all the world to have nice wholesome cake, beautifully +frosted—don't you?"</p> + +<p>Her gravity refused his banter. "Not all the world. Only those for whom +realities matter. Only those—those like you, Signor—who could feel +pain and disillusionment."</p> + +<p>"In God's green earth, what do you know of disillusionment, child?"</p> + +<p>"I am no child, Signor."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe that you are." He looked at her with new seriousness.</p> + +<p>"And I am horribly afraid," he continued, "that you have an inkling into +my absurd symbols of speech."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>That brought her eyes back to his and there was something indefinably +touching in their soft, deprecating shyness. . . . Barry's gaze lingered +unconsciously.</p> + +<p>He began to wonder about her.</p> + +<p>He had wondered about her that night at the restaurant, he +remembered—wondered and forgotten. He had been unhappy that night, with +the peculiar unhappiness of a naturally decisive man wretchedly in two +minds, and she had given him a half hour of forgetfulness.</p> + +<p>Afterwards he had concluded that his impressions had played him false, +that no daughter of to-day could possibly be as touchingly young, as +innocently enchanting.</p> + +<p>But she was quite real, it seemed. And she sat there upon his hearth rug +with her eyes like pools of night. . . . What in the world had happened +to her in this America to which she had come in such gay confidence? +What was she trying to hide?</p> + +<p>What in all the sorry, stupid world had put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> that shadow into her look, +that hurt droop to her lips?</p> + +<p>He could not conceive that real tragedy could so much as brush her with +the tips of its wings, but some trouble was there, some difficulty.</p> + +<p>His pipe was out but he drew on it absently. Maria Angelina snuggled +closer and closer into her pile of cushions and went to sleep.</p> + +<p>After she was asleep he rose and stood looking down at her, and he found +his heart queerly touched by that scratched cheek and the childish way +she tucked her hand under the other cheek as she slept.</p> + +<p>Also he was fascinated by the length of her black lashes.</p> + +<p>Very carefully he covered her with blankets.</p> + +<p>Then he yawned, looked at his watch, smiled to himself and with a +blanket of his own he stretched himself upon the fur rug at her feet.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">MORNING LIGHT</h3> + + +<p>Maria Angelina had no difficulty at all in recollecting where she was +when she came to herself next morning, for her dreams had been growing +sharper and sharper with reality. In those dreams she was forever +climbing down mountain sides, tripping, stumbling, down, down, forever +down, until at last there surged through her the warmth of that cabin +fire and the memory of Barry Elder's care.</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes. The warmth of the dream fire was a blaze of +sunlight that fell across it. The fire itself a charred mass of embers +upon a mound of gray ashes. Upon the hearth stood the disreputable +remnants of her sodden shoes.</p> + +<p>For a few moments she lay still, her con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>sciousness invaded with its +rush of memories. She felt very direfully stiff when she thought about +it, but after the first moment she did not think about it.</p> + +<p>She sat up and looked eagerly about.</p> + +<p>There were no shadows now; the sunlight was streaming in through the +cabin's three windows and through the door that stood open into a world +of forest green. She heard birds singing and the sound of running water. +Barry Elder was nowhere to be seen.</p> + +<p>The cabin was one room, an amazing room, its unconcealed simplicities +blazoning themselves cheerfully in the light. There were rustic tables +and comfortable chairs; there was a couch untouched, apparently, save +that it had been denuded of the cushions that lay now about her. There +was a small black stove and pans on it and dishes on a stand. There was +a chest of drawers and along the walls were low open shelves of books, +the shelves topped with a miscellany of pipes and pictures and playing +cards.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>Between two windows stood a large table buried in books and papers with +a typewriter poking its head above the confusion.</p> + +<p>So he really was writing a play—another play. She hoped, remembering +Cousin Jim's remark, that he would not put too much Harvard in.</p> + +<p>She got to her feet—with wincing reluctance for every muscle in her +small person made its lameness felt, and she limped when she began to +walk. The rejected pile of clothing had disappeared from her side, but +the fringed moccasins were left, and very humbly she drew them on. Her +stockings were not those in which a Santonini desires to be discovered!</p> + +<p>Uncertainly she moved towards the door, her stiffly dried white skirt +rattling at each move. It was a battleground of a skirt where black mud +and green grass stains struggled for preëminence, and her poor middy +blouse, she thought, was in little better plight.</p> + +<p>She had a sudden, half hysterical thought of Lucia's face, if Lucia +could see her now, and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> queer little gulp of laughter caught in the +lump in her throat!</p> + +<p>"Morning, Signorina! A merry morning to you."</p> + +<p>Up the grassy bank before the cabin Barry Elder came swinging towards +her, a lithe figure in brown knickers and white shirt rolling loosely +open at the throat. His face was flushed and his brown, close-cropped +curls were wet as if he had been ducking them into the cold river water.</p> + +<p>He waved one hand gayly; the other was carrying a pail of water.</p> + +<p>"You look so <i>clean</i>!" gave back Maria Angelina impetuously, her +laughter rising to meet his, but her sensitive blood coloring her face +before his gaze.</p> + +<p>"There's the entire river to wash in. I thought you'd like it better out +of doors so I've built you a dressing room. . . . Meanwhile the +commissary will be working. Don't be too long, for breakfast will be +ready," he told her, passing by her into the house, with a gesture<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> of +direction as if it were the most matter of fact thing in the world for +young men to cook breakfast and for young ladies to wash in rivers.</p> + +<p>So Maria Angelina followed his directions and went down into the grove +of young birches that he called her dressing-room.</p> + +<p>Here greenness was all about her, and through the delicate, interlacing +boughs before her even the river was shut out, except one eddying stream +of it that swerved in beneath her feet. There was lovely freshness in +the morning air, a lovely brightness in the sky above her. It was a +dressing-room for a nymph of the woods, for a dryad, for Diana herself.</p> + +<p>Gratefully she stooped to the cold water at her feet. There on the bank, +upon a spread towel, she discovered soap and fresh towels, a comb and a +pair of military brushes, still wet from recent washing. He was very +sweet and thoughtful, that Barry Elder.</p> + +<p>Valiantly she attacked that tangled hair of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> hers, reducing it to the +old submissive braids which she coroneted about her head, fastening them +with twigs as best she could, and then she washed deliciously in that +cold, running stream. It must be wonderful, she felt, to be a man and to +live like this. One could forget the world in such a place. . . .</p> + +<p>Sandy dashed upon her, scattering the gathering darkness of her +thoughts, and she yielded to the young impulse to splash and romp with +him before returning with him to the cabin.</p> + +<p>She felt shy about reëntering that house . . . and Barry Elder's +presence.</p> + +<p>A rich aroma of coffee greeted her upon the threshold. So did her host's +voice in mock severity.</p> + +<p>"I sent Sandy to bring you in—and I was just coming after the two of +you. . . . Will you sit here? I did have a dressy thought of setting up +a table out of doors but this is handier—nearer the stove, you know. +You've no idea of the convenience of it."</p> + +<p>"But you are getting me so <i>many</i> meals,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> protested Maria Angelina, +confronted by a small table which he had spread for two before the +fireplace. Within the hearth he had kindled a small and cheerful blaze.</p> + +<p>"I'll agree to keep it up as long as you eat them."</p> + +<p>Swiftly Barry turned the browning ham from the iron spider into a small +platter and deposited it upon the table with a flourish. Then he placed +the granite coffeepot at her right hand.</p> + +<p>"I made it with an egg," he said proudly. "Will you pour, Signorina, +while I cut this? That's genuine canned cream—none of your execrable +Continental hot milk for me! And I like my cream first with three lumps +of sugar, please."</p> + +<p>He smiled blithely upon her as with a deep and delicious constraint her +small hands moved, housewifely, among his cups.</p> + +<p>"These aren't French rolls," he murmured, "but I promise you that they +are cold enough for a true Italian breakfast, and there is honey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> and +there is jam—and here, Signorina, is ham, milk-fed, smoke-cured, and +browned to make the best chef of Sherry's pale with envy and despair. +. . . I thank you," and he accepted the cup of coffee from her hand with +another direct smile that deepened the confusion of the girl's spirit.</p> + +<p>A dream had succeeded the nightmare, a fairy tale of a dream. It was +unreal . . . it was a bubble that would break . . . but it was a spell, +an enchantment.</p> + +<p>She forgot that she was tired and bruised; she forgot her stained +clothes; she forgot her outrageous past and her terrifying future.</p> + +<p>Oblivious and bewitched, she smiled across the table into Barry Elder's +eyes and poured his coffee and ate his bread and jam. The amazing youth +in her forgot for those moments all that it had suffered and all that it +must meet. She was floating, floating in the web of this beautiful +unreality.</p> + +<p>And Barry Elder himself appeared a very different person from that +bitter young man<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> who had stared desperately into the fire and talked +about cake and disillusionment. In spite of his lack of sleep there was +nothing in the least haggard about his young face; he looked remarkably +alert and interested in life, and his eyes were very gentle and his +smile very sweet.</p> + +<p>Perhaps there was something of a dream to him in the presence of a +fairylike young creature who had blown in with the storm and slept upon +his sheltering hearth. Perhaps there was an enchantment to him in the +exquisite young face across the table, the shy, soft eyes, the delicate +pale contours.</p> + +<p class="section">Into their absorption came a shattering knock upon the door. Instantly +the nightmare was upon Maria Angelina. She was tense, her eyes wide, her +lips parted. And as the knock was repeated, one hand, wide-fingered in +fright, was raised as if to ward off some palpable blow.</p> + +<p>"Oh, let me hide," she breathed across the table into Barry Elder's +ears.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>Fortunately the latch was on the door.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" said Barry Elder raising his voice to cover her +reiterated whisper. In negation he gestured her to silence.</p> + +<p>"Hello, hello there, I say!"</p> + +<p>It was the voice of Johnny Byrd and Maria Angelina half rose from her +chair and clutched Barry Elder's arm as he moved towards the summons.</p> + +<p>"Do not let him in," she gasped. "That is the man—last night——"</p> + +<p>The dog's barking was drowning her words. Johnny called again.</p> + +<p>"Anybody in? Here you wake up—anybody here?"</p> + +<p>Barry Elder had stood still at her words. His expression changed. He +turned and pointed to a blanket from the floor flung over a chair.</p> + +<p>She slipped behind it.</p> + +<p>Calling to his dog to behave and keep still, Barry stepped over to the +door and opened it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Barry Elder! Gee, I thought this was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> your place but I didn't know +you were here," Johnny Byrd declared in relief. "I saw the smoke and +knew there was somebody about. . . . Gee, have you got any food?"</p> + +<p>Slowly Barry surveyed him.</p> + +<p>Johnny Byrd was not punctiliously turned out; he was streaked and +muddied; his blue eyes were rimmed with red as if his night's rest had +not been wholly soothing; he had no cap and his hair had clearly been +combed back by fingers into its restless roach.</p> + +<p>Barry's eyes appreciated each detail. "Hello, Johnny," he remarked +without affability. "How did you happen to toddle over for breakfast?"</p> + +<p>Johnny was not critical of tones. "Oh, never mind the damned details," +he said bitterly. "Gawd, I could eat a raw cow. . . . Say, you haven't +seen any one pass here lately, have you? I mean has any one been by at +all?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen any one pass here at all," said Barry Elder.</p> + +<p>"Sure? But have you been looking out?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> Say, what other way is there—Oh, +my Lord, is that coffee? Or do I only dream I smell it? I haven't had a +bite since the middle of yesterday. Let me get to it."</p> + +<p>But Barry Elder did not spring to the duties of his hostship. He did not +even move aside to permit Johnny Byrd to spring to his own +assistance—which Johnny showed every symptom of doing. He continued to +stand obstructingly in the middle of his log doorstep, one hand on the +knob of the half closed door behind him, his eyes fixed very curiously +on Johnny's flushed disorder.</p> + +<p>"What kind of an 'any one' are you looking for?" said Barry slowly.</p> + +<p>"Oh—a—well, I guess you've got to help me out on this. You know the +country. There's no use stalling. It's a girl—a foreign-looking girl."</p> + +<p>"And what are you doing at six in the morning looking for a +foreign-looking girl?"</p> + +<p>"It's the darndest luck," Johnny broke out explosively. "We—we got lost +last night go<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>ing to a picnic on Old Baldy—and then we got +separated——"</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"How?" Johnny stared back at Barry Elder and found something oddly fixed +and challenging in that young man's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why how—how does any one get separated?" he threw back querulously.</p> + +<p>"I can't imagine—especially when one is responsible for a girl."</p> + +<p>"Gosh, Barry, you're talking like a grandmother. Aren't you going to +give me anything to eat? What's the matter with you, anyway? You act +devilish queer——"</p> + +<p>Again he confronted the coldness of Barry's gaze and his own face +changed suddenly, with swift surmise.</p> + +<p>"Say, has she been here?" he broke out. "You've seen her, haven't you? I +was sure I saw tracks. . . . Has she—has she told you anything?"</p> + +<p>Barry leaned a little nearer the door-frame, drawing the door closer +behind him. Through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> the crack Sandy's pointed noise and exploring eyes +were fixed inquiringly upon the visitor and he whined eagerly as, +scenting disapprobation in the air, he yearned to meet this trouble +halfway.</p> + +<p>"I think you had better," Barry told him.</p> + +<p>"Better? Better what?"</p> + +<p>"Better tell me—everything."</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right, all right! <i>I've</i> nothing to conceal. I didn't go off my +chump and behave like a darn lunatic in grand opera!"</p> + +<p>Then very quickly Johnny veered from anger into confidence.</p> + +<p>"Here's the whole story—and there's nothing to it. She's crazy—crazy +with her foreign notions, I tell you. At first I thought she was trying +to put something over on me, but I guess she's just genuinely crazy. +It's the way she was brought up. They go mad over there and bite if +you're left alone in a room with a girl."</p> + +<p>Definitely Barry waited.</p> + +<p>"We were up there on the mountain," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> Johnny more lucidly. "We'd +lost the others—no fault of ours, Barry—you needn't look like a movie +censor—and we found we'd got to make a night of it. We were just worn +out and going in circles. And she—I give you my word I didn't do one +gosh-darned thing, but that girl just naturally took on and raved about +wanting me to marry her and blew me up when I said I hadn't asked her +and then—then—when I tried to get shelter in a little old shack we'd +stumbled on she just up and bolted. She——"</p> + +<p>His words died away. His eyes dropped before the blaze that met them.</p> + +<p>Very slowly Barry formulated his feelings.</p> + +<p>"You—infernal——"</p> + +<p>"Hold on there, I'm not any such thing."</p> + +<p>Through the bluster of Johnny's rally a really injured innocence made +its outcry. "She had no more reason to bolt than a—a grandmother." +Grandmothers appeared to be Johnny's sole figure of comparison. "You're +get<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>ting this dead wrong, Barry. . . . Look here, what do you take me +for?"</p> + +<p>"That's a large question," said Barry slowly. But his tone was milder +though far from reassuring. "But do you tell me that she asked you to +marry her?"</p> + +<p>"I do. She did. Just like that—out of a clear sky."</p> + +<p>"But what was the reason——"</p> + +<p>"There wasn't a reason, I give you my word, Barry."</p> + +<p>"You hadn't been saying anything to her—to suggest it?"</p> + +<p>Johnny Byrd's face changed unhappily. His sunburned warmth deepened to a +brick red.</p> + +<p>"Why, no—not about marrying. Oh, hang it all, Barry, don't act as if +you never kissed a pretty girl! Oh, she pretended she thought <i>that</i> was +proposing to her—just as if a few friendly words and a half kiss meant +anything like that. . . . I'll own I was gone on her," Johnny found +himself suddenly announcing, "but when she was taking marriage for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +granted right off it sounded too much like a hold-up and I flared all +over."</p> + +<p>"A hold-up?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, thumb screws, you know—the same old quick-step to the altar. I +hadn't done a thing, I tell you, but it looked as if she thought that +our being there was something she could stage a scene on and so I +thought—you don't know what things have been tried on me before," he +broke off to protest at Barry's expression.</p> + +<p>Mutteringly he offered, "You other fellows may think you know a little +bit about side-stepping girls but when it comes to any kind of a bank +roll—they're like starving Armenians at sight of food. I'd had 'em try +all sorts of things. . . . But I own, now, she was just going according +to her foreign ways. She must have been half scared to death. And +she—she is pretty crazy about me——"</p> + +<p>"I am not pretty crazy about you, Johnny Byrd!"</p> + +<p>The door behind Barry was wrenched from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> his holding and flung violently +open and Maria Angelina appeared upon the threshold, a defiant little +image of war. Deadly pale, except for that scarlet stain across her +cheek, her eyes blazing, there was something so mortally honest in the +indignant anger that possessed her that Johnny Byrd unconsciously fell +back a step, and Barry Elder stood aside, his own gaze lit with concern +and wonder.</p> + +<p>"I am despising you for a coward and a flirter," said Maria Angelina in +a low but exceedingly penetrative voice, and so intense was her command +of the situation that neither man found humor, then, in the misused +word.</p> + +<p>"You make love to girls when you mean nothing by it—you get them lost +in the woods and then refuse the marriage that any gentleman, even an +indifferent gentleman, would offer! And then you behave like a savage. +You bully and try to force your way into the actual room of shelter with +me!"</p> + +<p>"You see!" Johnny waved his hand helplessly at her and looked +appealingly at Barry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> for a gleam of masculine right-mindedness. +"She—she wanted me to stay out in the rain, Barry."</p> + +<p>"But as it was, <i>she</i> stayed out in the rain and you slept in the +shelter."</p> + +<p>"She ran, I'm telling you. I couldn't chase her forever, could I? I +tried to track her as soon as it got a little light and I could see +where she'd been sliding and slipping along, and honestly, I've been +nearly bats with worry till I got a trace of her again back in the +woods."</p> + +<p>Barry Elder turned towards the girl.</p> + +<p>"And that's the whole story, Signorina? That's all there is to it?"</p> + +<p>"All?" Maria Angelina echoed bewilderedly. She thought there was enough +and to spare. It seemed to her that she had related the destruction of +her lifetime.</p> + +<p>She stopped. She would not cry again before Johnny Byrd. She called on +all her pride to keep her firm before him.</p> + +<p>A queer change came over Barry Elder's expression. The light that seemed +to be shin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>ing in the back of his eyes was bright again. He looked at +Maria Angelina in a thoughtful silence, then he turned to Johnny Byrd.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you know how serious a business this is in Italy," he +told him. "You know, there where a girl cannot even see a man alone——"</p> + +<p>"Well, we don't need to cable it to Italy, do we?" Johnny demanded in +disgust. "It isn't going to spill any beans here. But it would look +fine, wouldn't it, if I came back to the Lodge yelling to marry her?"</p> + +<p>"Right you are. That is it, Signorina," Barry Elder agreed very +promptly. "That's the way it would look in America. Being lost is an +unpleasant accident. Nothing more—between young people of good family. +Not that young people of good families make a practice of being lost," +he supplemented, his eyes dancing in spite of himself at Maria +Angelina's deepening amaze, "but when anything like that happens—as it +has before this in the Adirondacks—people don't start an ugly scan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>dal. +They may talk a little of course, but it won't do you any real harm. +. . . And it wouldn't be quite nice for Johnny to go rushing about +offering you marriage. The occasion doesn't demand it in the least."</p> + +<p>Helplessly she regarded him. . . . She felt utterly astray—astray and +blundering. . . .</p> + +<p>"Would Cousin Jane think so?" she appealed.</p> + +<p>"She would," averred Barry stoutly, over the twinge of an inner qualm. +"And so would your own mother, if she were here."</p> + +<p>But there Maria Angelina was on solid ground.</p> + +<p>"You know little about <i>that</i>," she told him with spirit. "If I were +lost in Italy——"</p> + +<p>But it was so impossible, being lost in Italy, that Maria Angelina could +only break off and guard a bewildered silence.</p> + +<p>"Then I expect your mother had better not know," was all the counsel +that Barry Elder could offer, realizing doubtfully that it was far from +a counsel of perfection. "You had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> better let that depend upon Mrs. +Blair."</p> + +<p>"I tried to tell her all this," Johnny broke in with an accent of +triumph.</p> + +<p>But Maria Angelina was looking only at Barry Elder.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me that it is nothing?" she said pitifully, her eyes big +and black in her white face. "To have been gone all night with that +young man—to have been found by you—another young man? Even if the +Americans make light of it—is it not what you call an escapade?"</p> + +<p>"I have to admit that it's an escapade—an accidental escapade," Barry +qualified carefully. "But I don't know any way out of it—unless we all +stand together," he said slowly, "and all pretend that you got lost +alone and found alone. That's very simple, really, and I think perhaps +it would make things easier for you."</p> + +<p>"Now you're saying something!" Johnny was jubilant. "Absolute +intelligence—gleam of positive genius. . . . She was lost alone. Right +after the thunder shower. Missed the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> others and I went to a high place +to look for them and we never found each other. . . . Spent the night +searching for her," Johnny threw in carelessly, marking out a neat +little role for himself. "That's the story—eh, what?"</p> + +<p>"Oh could we—could we do that?" Maria Angelina implored with quivering +lips.</p> + +<p>"Of course we can do that. Only you've got to stick to that story like +grim death—no making any little break about climbing the mountain top +and things like that, you know."</p> + +<p>"You may trust me," said Maria fervently.</p> + +<p>"Leave it to your Uncle Dudley," Johnny reassured him. "But, look here, +Barry, do you want me to die on your doorstep?" he demanded, his hunger +returning as his agitation subsided.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sit down, Johnny, and I'll bring you something," said Barry at +last. "You had better keep your eye on the trail to see if any one else +is coming along. Two in a morning is quite stirring," he said +deliberately. "I'm sure<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> the fire is still burning—unless you'd prefer +to have him perish of starvation?" he paused to inquire politely of the +girl, his twinkling eyes bringing a sudden irrepressible answer to her +lips.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that will be best for everybody's feelings," he rattled on, from +the interior of the cabin, referring not to Johnny's demise but to the +construction of a defensive narrative. "Each of you wandered about all +night alone. . . . Here's some ham, Johnny, and cold toast. There'll be +hot coffee in an instant. . . . Now remember you crossed the river just +after the thunder storm and separated to try different trails. And you +never found each other . . . That's simple, isn't it? And you, Johnny, +climbed the wrong mountain and slept in a shack and came down this +morning and returned to the Lodge. You must show up there, worried as +blazes and tearing your hair," he instructed the devouring Johnny who +merely nodded, tearing wolfishly at the cold toast.</p> + +<p>"But before you reach the Lodge I will ease<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> the anxiety there by +telephoning that I have just found Maria Angelina," went on Barry, using +quite unconsciously the name by which he was thinking of the girl.</p> + +<p>He turned to her, "With your permission, I shall say that I have just +found you, that I have given you something to eat and while you were +resting I went to telephone. Does that make you any happier?"</p> + +<p>Her answering look was radiant.</p> + +<p>"Now, remember—don't change a word of this. . . . Here's your coffee, +Johnny. When you reach the Lodge, don't forget that you haven't seen me +and that you are still unfed——"</p> + +<p>"Unfed is right," said Johnny ungratefully. "Oh, my gosh, I am stiff as +a poker. What do you say, Barry, to our doping this out around that +fire—or have you got some other little thing in there you are keeping +incog as it were?"</p> + +<p>Refreshed and unabashed he grinned at them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>But Barry did not offer his fire.</p> + +<p>"You'd better cut on before you are discovered," he advised. "It's a +long way to go—like Tipperary. And I'll hurry off to Peter's place. +. . . You strike over that shoulder there and down the trail to the +right and you'll find the main road. It's shorter than the river. +Besides you can't use the river trail or you would have found me. . . . +Now mind—don't change a word of it."</p> + +<p>"Sure, I've got it down. Well, I'll be off then!"</p> + +<p>But Johnny was not off. He hesitated a moment, turning very obviously to +Maria Angelina, who stood silent upon the doorstep, and it was Barry who +took himself suddenly off around the corner of the cabin, with a plate +of scraps for the vociferous Sandy.</p> + +<p>Embarrassedly Johnny muttered, "I say, Ri-Ri, I'm sorry."</p> + +<p>Her expression did not change. She said levelly, "I'm sorry, too. I did +not understand."</p> + +<p>"I didn't understand, either."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>Both stood silent. Then he spoke in a hurried, even a flurried way in a +very low tone indeed.</p> + +<p>"But I—I didn't mean to be a quitter. Look here, I didn't realize that +it was just the look of things you were after and not my—my——"</p> + +<p>"Your money, Signor?" said Ri-Ri clearly.</p> + +<p>He grew red. "I've got some queer experiences," he jerked out.</p> + +<p>"I should think, Signor, that you would."</p> + +<p>"Oh, hang that Signor! I don't blame you for being a frost, Ri-Ri, for I +guess I was pretty rotten to you—but I wasn't throwing you +down—honestly. I was just mulish, I guess, because you were trying to +stampede me. And I was fighting mad over the entire business and had to +take it out on somebody. If you'd just laughed and petted a fellow a +little——"</p> + +<p>He broke off and looked at her hopefully.</p> + +<p>Maria Angelina gave no signs of warmth. Her eyes were enigmatic as black +diamonds; and her mouth was a red bud of scorn. Her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> dignity was immense +for all that her braids had come down from their coronet and were +hanging childishly about her shoulders; the loose strands fluttering +about her face.</p> + +<p>Johnny wanted to put his hands out and touch them. And he wanted to grip +the small shoulders beneath that middy blouse and shake them out of that +aloof perverseness . . . they had been such soft, nestling shoulders +last night. . . .</p> + +<p>"You know I—I'm really crazy about you," he said quickly. "Of course +you know it—you had a right to know it. I was gone on you from the +moment I first saw you. You were so—different. I thought it was just a +crush—that I could take it or leave it, you know—but you <i>are</i> +different. A man's just <i>got</i> to have you——"</p> + +<p>He waited. He had an idea that he had elucidated something. He felt that +he had raised an issue. But Maria Angelina stood like the bright eternal +snow, unhearing and unheeding and most devilishly cold.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>"Only last night," said Johnny, explaining feverishly again, "you were +so funny and grand opera and all and I was mad and disgusted and grouchy +and I—I didn't know how much I cared myself. Look here, forget it, will +you, and begin again?"</p> + +<p>"Begin what again?"</p> + +<p>"Well, don't begin, then. Let's finish. Let's get married. I do want +you, Ri-Ri—I want you like the very deuce. After you had gone—Gee, it +was an awful night when I got over my mad. And coming down the mountain +this morning—I didn't know <i>what</i> I was going to find! . . . So let's +forget it all—and get married," he repeated.</p> + +<p>There was a pause. "Do you mean this?" said a still voice.</p> + +<p>"Every word. That's what I was planning to tell you when I was running +down the mountain this morning. . . . And last night—if you'd gone at +me differently."</p> + +<p>He looked at her. Something in that young<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> figure made him say quickly, +"Will you, Ri-Ri?"</p> + +<p>"I should like you," said Maria Angelina in a clear implacable little +voice, "to say that again, Signor Byrd, if you are in earnest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, all right. Come on back, Barry. . . . I'm asking Ri-Ri to marry +me—and we'll announce the engagement any time she says. . . . There. +. . . Now I've got that off my chest."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Maria Angelina. She looked neither at the embarrassed +Johnny nor the astounded Barry. "I will think about it and I will let +you know, Signor Byrd. Now please go."</p> + +<p>"Well, of all the——" said Johnny blankly.</p> + +<p>Then he looked at her. She was staring before her at something that she +alone could see. Her look was rather extraordinary. It occurred to +Johnny that after all she had a right to tantalize—and this was really +no moment for capitulation.</p> + +<p>To-night, now, after dinner, when every one was fed and warm and comfy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>. +. . .</p> + +<p>Still she might give a fellow a decent look. Hang it, he wasn't a +drygoods clerk offering himself!</p> + +<p>"Come on, let her alone now," cut in Barry with a certain savage energy +that woke wonder in Johnny before it had time to wake resentment.</p> + +<p>"We must be off," Barry went on. "Come on, the first part of our way +lies together and we'd better hurry or some searching party will find +us. Remember, you've only been here an hour," he called back to Maria +Angelina. He did not look at her, but added, in that same offhand way, +"Better go in and get some sleep and I'll telephone the Lodge from +Peter's and have a motor and a horse sent after you."</p> + +<p>"I'll come with the motor all right," Johnny promised.</p> + +<p>"Don't worry," called back Barry, and waved his hand with an air of +gayety but there was no laughter on his face as he started off over the +hill with Johnny Byrd.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="chapter"><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3 class="subchapter">JOURNEY'S END</h3> + + +<p>Over the hills went Johnny Byrd and down the trail and into a grove of +pines.</p> + +<p>Up to the left went Barry Elder, out of sight among the larches. He +walked briskly at first, his face clouded but set. Then he walked +slower, his face still clouded but unsettled.</p> + +<p>Decidedly his pace lagged. Then it stopped. He looked back. . . . He +went a little way back and stopped again. . . . Then he went on going +back without stopping.</p> + +<p>His face was much clearer now.</p> + +<p class="section">Maria Angelina had climbed a mountain and descended a mountain; she had +wandered and struggled and scrambled for hours till she was faint with +exhaustion; she had been through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> the extremes of hope and despair and +shame and anger and heart-breaking indignation till it seemed as if her +spirit must break with her body.</p> + +<p>For recovery she had had some scant hours of sleep and a portion of +food.</p> + +<p>And now, instead of succumbing to the mortal weariness that should have +been upon her, instead of closing the big eyes that burned in her head, +she stood at the cabin door with uplifted face listening to the song of +a bird that she did not know.</p> + +<p>Then she reëntered the cabin; but not to sink into a chair, not to +release her bruised feet from the weight of her tiredness.</p> + +<p>She cleared the table and piled the dishes in a huge pan upon the little +stove. Upon the stove she discovered water heated in a kettle and she +poured it, splashing, over the panful. She found three cloths of +incredible blackness drying upon a little string in a corner by the +stove, and after smiling very tenderly upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> them she abandoned them in +favor of a clean hand towel.</p> + +<p>She restored the washed dishes to their obvious places upon the shelves +and with a broom she battled with the dust upon the floor and drove it +out the open door. Then she swept up the hearth, singing as she swept, +and tidied the arrangement of books, bait and tobacco upon the mantel, +fingering them with shy curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Maria Angelina!" said a voice at the doorway and Maria Angelina turned +with a catch at her heart.</p> + +<p>It had taken Barry Elder a long time to retrace those steps of his.</p> + +<p>Twice he had stopped in deep thought. Once he had pulled out a +leather folder from his pocket and after regarding its sheaf of +papers had sat down upon a stone and deliberately opened a long, +much-creased-from-handling letter. It was dated a week before and it was +headed York Harbor. It concluded with an invitation—and a question.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>After reading that letter Barry remained sunk in thought for a time +longer than the reading had taken.</p> + +<p>All of his past was in that letter—and a great deal of his future in +that invitation.</p> + +<p>Then he went deeper into his pocketbook and took out a small photograph. +It was the one she had given him when he went to France—when she had +been willing to inspire but not to bless him. For a long time, soberly, +he gazed at the picture it disclosed, at the fair presentment of +delightful youth.</p> + +<p>Never had he looked at that picture in just that way. He had known +longing before it, and he had known bitterness quite as misplaced and +quite as disproportionate.</p> + +<p>It affected him now in neither way.</p> + +<p>It was a beautiful picture—it was the picture of a beautiful young +woman. He acknowledged the beauty with generous appreciation. But he +felt no inclination to go on staring, moonstruck, upon it; neither did +he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> feel the impulse to thrust it hurriedly out of sight, as something +with power to rend.</p> + +<p>It neither troubled him nor invited—though the girl was beautiful +enough, he continued to admit. So were her pearls—and neither were +genuine, thought Barry with more humor than a former adorer has any +right to feel.</p> + +<p>Then he amended his thought. Something of her was real—the invitation +in that letter—the inclination that he had always known she felt. It +was just because it was a genuine impulse in her that he realized how +strong was the calculation in her that had always been able to keep the +errant inclination in check.</p> + +<p>And even when he was going to war . . . She had envisaged her future so +shrewdly—either as wife or widow, he was certain, that she had given +the photograph and not her hand.</p> + +<p>Later, Bob Martin became unavailable. And he, himself, acquired an +income.</p> + +<p>It was not the income that tempted her, he was clearly aware, and he did +her and himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> the justice to perceive that it was the inclination +which prompted the invitation—but the inclination could now feel itself +supported by an approving worldly conscience.</p> + +<p>He wondered now at the long struggle of his senses. He wondered at the +death pangs of infatuation.</p> + +<p>Once more he looked at the picture in a puzzled way as if to make sure +that the thing he felt—and the thing he didn't feel—were indubitably +real, and then he rose with a curious sense of lightness and yet +sobriety, and, straightening his shoulders as if a burden had fallen +from them, he retraced his steps towards the cabin.</p> + +<p>At the doorway he paused, for he heard Maria Angelina singing. Then he +spoke her name.</p> + +<p>The song stopped. Maria Angelina turned towards him a face of flushed +surprise. He discovered her quaintly with a jar of pickled frogs in her +hand.</p> + +<p>"Maria Angelina, what are you doing?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>"But these, Signor—what are these?"</p> + +<p>"These? Oh—not for food, Maria Angelina—even in my most desperate +moments. . . . Maria Angelina, are you going to marry him?"</p> + +<p>She did not drop the frogs. Very carefully she put them back but with a +shaking hand. All the rosy sparkle was swept out of her. Her eyes were +averted. She looked suddenly harassed, stubborn, almost furtive.</p> + +<p>No quick denial came springing from her.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," she told him painfully.</p> + +<p>"You do not know?"</p> + +<p>There was something in the young man's voice that made her glance rise +to his.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is not that I care for him!" said Maria Angelina ingenuously.</p> + +<p>"Then why think of marrying him?"</p> + +<p>"It may be—needful."</p> + +<p>"Not after this story," Barry Elder, insisted.</p> + +<p>"It is not that—now." She forced herself to meet his combative look. +"It is because of—Julietta."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>"Julietta! . . . Who the deuce is Julietta?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she is my sister, my older sister. I told you about her last +night," Maria Angelina reminded him. "She is the one I love so much. +. . . And she is not pretty, at all—she is anything <i>but</i> pretty, +though she is so good and dear—yet she will never marry unless she has +a large dower. And there is nothing in her life if she does not marry. +And there is no money for a large dower, but only for a little bit for +her and a little bit for me. So they sent me on this visit to America, +for here the men do not ask dowers and what was saved on me would help +Julietta—and now——"</p> + +<p>Borne headlong on her flood of revelation Maria Angelina could not stop +to watch the change in Barry Elder's face. And she was utterly +unprepared for the immense vehemence of the exclamation which cut into +her consciousness with such startling effect that she stopped and gasped +and swallowed uncertainly before finishing in an altered key, "And so I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +must marry in America—for Julietta's dower——"</p> + +<p>In an odd voice Barry offered, "You think it your duty—because Byrd is +so rich——?"</p> + +<p>"I know it is my duty," she gave back, goaded to desperation, "but—but, +oh, it is like that cake of yours, Signor—of a nothingness to me +within!"</p> + +<p>Very abruptly Barry turned from her; he drove his hands deep into his +pocket and strode across the room and back. He brought up directly in +front of her.</p> + +<p>"Maria Angelina," he said softly, "how old are you?"</p> + +<p>"Eighteen."</p> + +<p>"How many men have you known?"</p> + +<p>"You, first, Signor, then the others here."</p> + +<p>"But you did care for him," he said. "You kissed him."</p> + +<p>Her eyes dropped, her cheeks flamed and he saw her lips quiver—those +soft, sensitive lips of hers which seemed to breathe such tender warmth +and perfume like the warmth and per<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>fume of a flower. But through the +shine of tears her eyes came back to his.</p> + +<p>"No, Signor, it was he who kissed me—and without my consent! I did not +kiss him—never, never, never!"</p> + +<p>"Is there such a difference?"</p> + +<p>"But there is all the difference——"</p> + +<p>"Maria Angelina, you are sure that to kiss a man yourself, to kiss him +deliberately, unmistakably upon the lips, is a final seal and ultimate +surrender, and that if you do not marry a man you have so kissed you +would be no better than a worthless deceiver, an outrageous flirt, an +abandoned trifler——"</p> + +<p>She looked at him amazedly.</p> + +<p>His eyes were oddly dancing, his lips were curved in a boyish smile, +infinitely merry, infinitely tender; the wind was blowing back the curly +locks of hair from his face, giving it the look of a victorious runner, +arrived at some swift goal.</p> + +<p>Back of him, through the open door of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> cabin, the green and gold of +the forest shone in translucent brightness.</p> + +<p>"But yes—that is true——" she stammered, not daring to trust that rush +of happiness, that sweet and secret singing of her blood.</p> + +<p>"Then, Maria Angelina," said he gayly yet adoringly, "Maria Angelina, +you little darling of the gods, come here instantly and kiss me. . . . +For I am never going to let you go again."</p> + +<p class="center" style="margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 3em; font-size: 120%;">THE END</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>[Transcriber's Note: A missing period was added on page 150, after the +words "then shrank back", and a missing quotation mark was added on page +195, at the paragraph beginning "And Francisco". No other corrections +were made to the original text.]</p></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Innocent Adventuress, by Mary Hastings Bradley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS *** + +***** This file should be named 29278-h.htm or 29278-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/7/29278/ + +Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Innocent Adventuress + +Author: Mary Hastings Bradley + +Release Date: June 30, 2009 [EBook #29278] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS *** + + + + +Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS + +BY MARY HASTINGS BRADLEY + +AUTHOR OF "THE FORTIETH DOOR," "THE PALACE OF DARKENED WINDOWS," "THE +WINE OF ASTONISHMENT," "THE SPLENDID CHANCE," ETC. + +[Illustration: D. A. & Co., INTER FOLIA FRUCTIS] + + +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY +NEW YORK LONDON +1921 + +COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY +D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + +Copyright, 1920, by The McCall Co., Inc. +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + +TO MY SISTER + +SYLVIA CORWIN FRANCISCO + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE +I. THE EAVESDROPPER 7 +II. UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY 21 +III. LUNCHEON AT THE LODGE 47 +IV. RI-RI SINGS AGAIN 67 +V. BETWEEN DANCES 88 +VI. TWO--AND A MOUNTAIN 106 +VII. JOHNNY BECOMES INEVITABLE 127 +VIII. JOHNNY BECOMES EXPLICIT 143 +IX. MRS. BLAIR REGRETS 157 +X. FANTASY 173 +XI. MORNING LIGHT 204 +XII. JOURNEY'S END 235 + + + + +THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS + +CHAPTER I + +THE EAVESDROPPER + + +Maria Angelina was eavesdropping. Not upon her sister Lucia and Paolo +Tosti whom she had been assigned to chaperon by reading a book to +herself in the adjoining room--no, they were safely busy with piano and +violin, and she was heartily bored, anyway, with their inanities. Voices +from another direction had pricked her to alertness. + +Maria Angelina was in the corner room of the Palazzo Santonini, a dim +and beautiful old library with faded furnishings whose west arch of +doorway looked into the pretentious reception room where the fiances +were amusing themselves with their music and their whisperings. It was +quite advanced, this allowing them to be so alone, but the Contessa +Santonini was an American and, moreover, the wedding was not far off. + +One can be indulgent when the settlements are signed. + +So only Maria Angelina and her book were stationed for propriety, and, +wanting another book, she had gone to the shelves and through the north +door, ajar, caught the words that held her intent. + +"Three of them!" a masculine voice uttered explosively, and Maria knew +that Papa was speaking of his three daughters, Lucia, Julietta and Maria +Angelina--and she knew, too, that Papa had just come from the last +interview with the Tostis' lawyers. + +The Tostis had been stiff in their demands and Papa had been more +complaisant than he should have been. Altogether that marriage was +costing him dear. + +He had been figuring now with Mamma for a pencil went clattering to the +floor. + +"And something especial," he proclaimed bitterly, "will have to be done +for Julietta!" + +At that the eavesdropper could smile, a faint little smile of shy pride +and self-reliance. + +Nothing especial would have to be done for _her_! A decent dowry, of +course, as befitting a daughter of the house, but she would need no +more, for Maria was eighteen, as white as a lily and as slender as an +aspen, with big, dark eyes like strange pools of night in her child's +face. + +Whereas poor Julietta----! + +"Madre Dio!" said Papa indignantly. "For what did we name her Julietta? +And born in Verona! A pretty sentiment indeed. But it was of no +inspiration to her--none!" + +Mamma did not laugh although Papa's sudden chuckle after his explosion +was most irresistible. + +"But if Fate went by names," he continued, "then would Maria Angelina be +for the life of religion." And he chuckled again. + +Still Mamma did not laugh. Her pencil was scratching. + +"It's a pity," murmured Papa, "that you did not embrace the faith, my +dear, for then we might arrange this matter. They used to manage these +things in the old days." + +"Send Julietta into a convent?" cried Mamma in a voice of sudden energy. + +Maria could not see but she knew that the Count shrugged. + +"She appears built to coif Saint Catherine," he murmured. + +"Julietta is a dear girl," said the Contessa in a warm voice. + +"When one knows her excellencies." + +"She will do very well--with enough dowry." + +"Enough dowry--that is it! It will take all that is left for the two of +them to push Julietta into a husband's arms!" + +When the Count was annoyed he dealt directly with facts--a proceeding he +preferred to avoid at other moments. + +Behind her curtains Maria drew a troubled breath. She, too, felt the +family responsibility for Julietta--dear Julietta, with her dumpy figure +and ugly face. Julietta was nineteen and now that Lucia was betrothed it +was Julietta's turn. + +If only it could be known that Julietta had a pretty dot! + +Maria stood motionless behind the curtains, her winged imagination +rushing to meet Julietta's future, fronting the indifference, the +neglect, the ridicule before which Julietta's sensitive, shamed spirit +would suffer and bleed. She could see her partnerless at balls, lugged +heavily about to teas and dinners, shrinking eagerly and hopelessly back +into the refuge of the paternal home. . . . Yet Julietta had once +whispered to her that she wanted to die if she could never marry and +have an armful of _bambinos_! + +Maria Angelina's young heart contracted with sharp anxiety. Things were +in a bad way with her family indeed. There had always been +difficulties, for Papa was extravagant and ever since brother Francisco +had been in the army, he, too, had his debts, but Mamma had always +managed so wonderfully! But the war had made things very difficult, and +now peace had made them more difficult still. There had been one awful +time when it had looked as if the carriages and horses would have to go +and they would be reduced to sharing a barouche with some one else in +secret, proud distress--like the Manzios and the Benedettos who took +their airings alternately, each with a different crested door upon the +identical vehicle--but Mamma had overcome that crisis and the social +rite of the daily drive upon the Pincian had been sacredly preserved. +But apparently these settlements were too much, even for Mamma. + +Then her name upon her mother's lips brought the eavesdropper to swift +attention. + +It appeared that the Contessa had a plan. + +Maria Angelina could go to visit Mamma's cousins in America. They were +rich--that is understood of Americans; even Mamma had once been rich +when she was a girl, Maria dimly remembered having heard--and they would +give Maria a chance to meet people. . . . Men did not ask settlements in +America. They earned great sums and could please themselves with a +pretty, penniless face. . . . And what was saved on Maria's dowry would +plump out Julietta's. + +Thunderstruck, the Count objected. Maria was his favorite. + +"Send Julietta to America, then," he protested, but swallowed that +foolishness at Mamma's calm, "To what good?" + +To what good, indeed! It would never do to risk the cost of a trip to +America upon Julietta. + +Sulkily Papa argued that the cost in any case was prohibitive. But Mamma +had the figures. + +"One must invest to receive," she insisted; and when he grumbled, "But +to lose the child?" she broke out, "Am _I_ not losing her?" on a note +that silenced him. + +Then she added cheerfully, "But it will be for her own good." + +"You want her to marry an American? You are not satisfied, then, with +Italians?" said Papa playfully leaning over to ruffle Mamma's soft, +light hair and at his movement Maria Angelina fled swiftly from those +curtains back to her post, and sat very still, a book in front of her, a +haze of romance swimming between it and her startled eyes. + +America. . . . A rich husband. . . . Travel. . . . Adventure. . . . The +unknown. . . . + +It was wonderful. It was unbelievable. . . . It was desperate. + +It was a hazard of the sharpest chance. + +That knowledge brought a chill of gravity into the hot currents of her +beating heart--a chill that was the cold breath of a terrific +responsibility. She felt herself the hope, the sole resource of her +family. She was the die on which their throw of fortune was to be cast. + +Dropping her book she slid down from her chair and crossed to a long +mirror in an old carved frame where a dove was struggling in a falcon's +talons while Cupids drew vain bows, and in the dimmed glass stared in +passionate searching. + +She was so childish, so slight looking. She was white--that was the skin +from Mamma--and now she wondered if it were truly a charm. Certainly +Lucia preferred her own olive tints. + +And her eyes were so big and dark, like caverns in her face, and her +lips were mere scarlet threads. The beauties she had seen were +warm-colored, high-bosomed, full-lipped. + +Her distrust extended even to her coronet of black braids. + +Her uncertain youth had no vision of the purity and pride of that +braid-bound head, of the brilliance of the dark eyes against the satin +skin, of the troubling glamour of the red little mouth. In the clear +definition of the delicate features, the arch of the high eyebrows, the +sweep of the shadowy lashes, her childish hope had never dreamed of more +than mere prettiness and now she was torturingly questioning that. + +"Practicing your smiles, my dear?" said a voice from the threshold, +Lucia's voice with the mockery of the successful, and Maria Angelina +turned from her dim glass with a flame of scarlet across her pallor, and +joined, with an angry heart, in the laugh which her sister and young +Tosti raised against her. + +But Maria Angelina had a tongue. + +"But yes--for the better fish are yet uncaught," she retorted with a +flash of the eyes toward the young man, and Paolo, all ardor as he was +for Lucia's olive and rose, shot a glance of tickled humor at her +impudence. + +He promised himself some merry passes with the little sister-in-law. + +Lucia resented the glances. + +"Wait your turn, little one," she scoffed. "You will be in pinafores +until our poor Julietta is wed," and she laughed, unkindly. + +There were times, Maria felt furiously, when she hated Lucia. + +Her championing heart resolved that Julietta should not be left unwed +and defenseless to that mockery. Julietta should have her chance at +life! + + +Not a word of the great plan was breathed officially to the girl, +although the mother's expectancy for mail revealed that a letter had +already been sent, until that expectancy was rewarded by a letter with +the American postmark. Then the drama of revelation was exquisitely +enacted. + +It appeared that the Blairs of New York, Mamma's dear cousins, were +insistent that one of Mamma's daughters should know Mamma's country and +Mamma's relatives. They had a daughter about Maria Angelina's age so +Maria Angelina had been selected for the visit. The girls would have a +delightful time together. . . . Maria would start in June. + +Vaguely Maria Angelina recalled the Blairs as she had seen them some six +years ago in Rome--a kindly Cousin Jim who had given her sweets and +laughed bewilderingly at her and a Cousin Jane with beautiful blonde +hair and cool white gowns. Their daughter, Ruth, had not been with them, +so Maria had no acquaintance at all with her, but only the recollection +of occasional postcards to keep the name in memory. + +She remembered once that there had been talk of this Cousin Ruth's +coming to school for a winter in Rome and that Mamma had bestirred +herself to discover the correct schools, but nothing had ever come of +it. The war had intervened. + +And now she was to visit them. . . . + +"You are going to America just as I went to Italy at your age," cried +Mamma. "And--who knows?--you too, may meet your fate on the trip!" + +Mamma would overdo it, thought Maria Angelina nervously, her eyes +downcast for fear her mother would read their discomfort and her +knowledge of the pitiful duplicity, and her cheeks a quick shamed +scarlet. + +"She will have to--to repair the expense," flashed Lucia with a shrill +laugh. "Such expenditure, when you have just been preaching economy on +my trousseau!" + +"One must economize on the trousseau when the bridegroom has cost the +fortune," Maria found her wicked little tongue to say and Lucia turned +sallow beneath her olive. + +Briskly Mamma intervened. "We are thinking not of one of you but all. +Now no more words, my little ones. There is too much to be done." + +There was indeed, with this trip to be arranged for before the onrush of +Lucia's preparation! Once committed to the great adventure it quickly +took on the outer aspects of reality. There were clothes to be made and +clothes to be bought, there were discussions, decisions, debates and +conjectures and consultations. A thousand preparations to be pushed in +haste, and at once the big bedroom of Mamma blossomed with delicate +fabrics, with bright ribbons and frilly laces, and amid the blossoming, +the whir of the machine and the feet and hands of the two-lire-a-day +seamstress went like mad clockwork, while in and out Mamma's friends +came hurrying, at the rumor, to hint of congratulation or suggest a +style, an advice. + +The contagion of excitement seized everyone, so that even Lucia was +inspired to lend her clever fingers from her own preparations for +September. + +"But not to be back by then! Not here for my wedding--that would be too +odd!" she complained with the persistent ill-will she had shown the +expedition. + +Shrewd enough to divine its purpose and practical enough to perceive the +necessity for it, the older girl cherished her instinctive objection to +any pleasure that did not include her in its scope or that threatened +to overcast her own festivities. + +"That will depend," returned Mamma sedately, "upon the circumstance. Our +cousins may not easily find a suitable chaperon for your sister's +return. And they may have plans for her entertainment. We must leave +that to them." + +A little panic-stricken, Maria Angelina perceived that _she_ was being +left to them--until otherwise disposed of! + + +So fast had preparations whirled them on, that parting was upon the girl +before she divined the coming pain of it. Then in the last hours her +heart was wrung. + +She stared at the dear familiar rooms, the streets and the houses with a +look of one already lost to her world, and her eyes clung to the figures +of her family as if to relinquish the sight of them would dissolve them +from existence. + +They were tragic, those following, imploring eyes, but they were not +wet. Maria understood it was too late to weep. It was necessary to go. +The magnitude of the sums already invested in her affair staggered her. +They were so many pledges, those sums! + +But America was so desolately far. + +She could not sleep, that last night. She lay in the big four-poster +where once heavy draperies had shut in the slumbers of dead and gone +Contessas, and she watched the square of moonlight travel over the +painted cherubs on the ceiling. There was always a lump in her throat to +be swallowed, and often the tears soaked into the big feather pillows, +but there were no sobs to rouse the household. + +Julietta, beside her, slept very comfortably. + +But the most terrible moment of all was that last look of Mamma and that +last clasp of her hands upon the deck of the steamer. + +"You must tell me everything, little one," the Contessa Santonini kept +saying hurriedly. She was constrained and repetitious in the grip of +her emotion, as they stood together, just out of earshot of the Italian +consul's wife who was chaperoning the young girl upon her voyage. + +"Write me all about the people you meet and what they say to you, and +what you do. Remember that I am still Mamma if I am across the ocean and +I shall be waiting to hear. . . . And remember that but few of your +ideas of America may be true. Americans are not all the types you have +read of or the tourists you have met. You must expect a great +difference. . . . I should be strange, myself, now in America." + +Maria's quick sensitiveness divined a note of secret yearning. + +"Yes, Mamma," she said obediently, tightening her clasp upon her +mother's hands. + +"You must be on guard against mistakes, Maria Angelina," said the other +insistently--as if she had not said that a dozen times before! "Because +American girls do things it may be not be wise for you to do. You will +be of interest because you are different. Be very careful, my little +one." + +"Yes, Mamma," said the girl again. + +"As to your money--you understand it must last. There can be little to +pay when you are a guest. But send to Papa and me your accounts as I +have told you." + +"Yes, Mamma." + +"You will not let the American freedom turn your head. You will be +wise--Oh, I trust you, Maria Angelina, to be very wise!" + +How wise Maria Angelina thought herself! She lifted a face that shone +with confidence and understanding and for all her quivering lips she +smiled. + +"My baby!" said the mother suddenly in English and took that face +between her hands and kissed it. + +"You will be careful," she began again abruptly, and then stopped. + +Too late for more cautions. And the child was so _sage_. + +But it was such a little figure that stood there, such young eyes that +smiled so confidently into hers. . . . And America was a long, long way +off. + +The bugles were blowing for visitors to be away. Just one more hurried +kiss and hasty clasp. + +An overwhelming fright seized upon the girl as the mother went down the +ship's ladder into the small boat that put out so quickly for the shore. + +Suppose she should fail them! After all she was _not_ so wise--and not +so very pretty. And she had no experience--none! + +The sun, dancing on the bright waves, hurt Maria Angelina's eyes. She +had to shut them, they watered so foolishly. And something in her young +breast wanted to cry after that boat, "Take me back--take me back to my +home," but something else in her forbade and would have died of shame +before it uttered such weakness. + +For poor Julietta, for dear anxious Mamma, she knew herself the only +hope. + +So steadily she waved her handkerchief long after she had lost the +responding flutter from the boat. + +She was not crying now. She felt exalted. She pressed closer to the rail +and stared out very solemnly over the blue and gold bay to beautiful +Naples. . . . Suddenly her heart quickened. Vesuvius was moving. The +far-off shores of Italy were slipping by. Above her the black smoke that +had been coming faster and faster from the great funnels streamed +backward like long banners. + +Maria Angelina was on her way. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +UNDISCOVERED COUNTRY + + +With whatever emotion Jane Blair had received the startling demand upon +her hospitality she rallied nobly to the family call. She left her +daughter in the Adirondacks where they were summering and descended upon +her husband in his New York office to rout him out to meet the girl with +her. + +"An infernal shame--that's what I call it!" Jim Blair grumbled, facing +the steaming heat of the unholy customs shed. "It's an outrage--an +imposition----" + +"Oh, not all that, Jim! Lucy--that's the mother--and I used to visit +like this when we were girls. It was done then," his wife replied with +an air of equable amusement. + +She added, "I rather think I did most of the visiting. I was awf'ly fond +of Lucy." + +"That's different. You'll have a total stranger on your hands. . . . Are +you sure she speaks English?" + +"Oh, dear yes, she speaks English--don't you remember her in Rome? She +was the littlest one. All the children speak English, Lucy wrote, except +Francisco who is 'very Italian,' which means he is a fascinating +spendthrift like the father, I suppose. . . . I imagine," said Mrs. +Blair, "that Lucy has not found life in a palace all a bed of roses." + +"I remember the palace. . . . Warming pans!" said Mr. Blair grimly. + +His ill-humor lasted until the first glimpse of Maria Angelina's slender +figure, and the first glance of Maria Angelina's trustfully appealing +eyes. + +"Welcome to America," he said then very heartily, both his hands closing +over the small fingers. "Welcome--_very_ welcome, my dear." + +And though Maria Angelina never knew it and Cousin Jane Blair never +told, that was Maria Angelina's first American triumph. + + +Some nine hours afterwards a stoutish gentleman in gray and a thinnish +lady in beige and a fragile looking girl in white wound their way from +the outer to the inner circle of tables next the dancing floor of the +Vandevoort. + +The room was crowded with men in light serge and women in gay summer +frocks; bright lights were shining under pink shades and sprays of pink +flowers on every table were breathing a faint perfume into an air +already impregnated with women's scents and heavy with odors of rich +food. Now and then a saltish breeze stole through the draped windows on +the sound but was instantly scattered by the vigor of the hidden, +whirling fans. + +Behind palms an orchestra clashed out the latest Blues and in the +cleared space couples were speeding up and down to the syncopations, +while between tables agile waiters balanced overloaded trays or whisked +silver covers off scarlet lobsters or lit mysterious little lights +below tiny bubbling caldrons. + +Maria Angelina's soft lips were parted with excitement and her dark eyes +round with wondering. This, indeed, was a new world. . . . + +It was gay--gayer than the Hotel Excelsior at Rome! It was a carnival of +a dinner! + +Ever since morning, when the cordiality of the new-found cousins had +dissipated the first forlorn homesickness of arrival, she had been +looking on at scenes that were like a film, ceaselessly unrolling. + +After luncheon, Cousin Jim with impulsive hospitality had carried her +off to see the Big Town--an expedition from which his wife relievedly +withdrew--and he had whirled Maria Angelina about in motors, plunged her +into roaring subways, whisked her up dizzying elevators and brought her +out upon unbelievable heights, all the time expounding and explaining +with that passionate, possessive pride of the New Yorker by adoption, +which left his young guest with the impression that he owned at least +half the city and was personally responsible for the other half. + +It had been very wonderful but Maria had expected New York to be +wonderful. And she was not interested, save superficially, in cities. +Life was the stuff her dreams were made on, and life was unfolding +vividly to her eager eyes at this gay dinner, promising her enchanted +senses the incredible richness and excitement for which she had come. + +And though she sat up very sedately, like a well-behaved child in the +midst of blazing carnival, her glowing face, her breathless lips and +wide, shining eyes revealed her innocent ardors and young expectancies. + +She was very proud of herself, in the midst of all the prideful +splendor, proud of her new, absurdly big white hat, of her new, absurdly +small white shoes, and of her new, white mull frock, soft and clinging +and exquisite with the patient embroidery of the needlewoman. + +Its low cut neck left her throat bare and about her throat hung the +string of white coral that her father had given her in parting--white +coral, with a pale, pale pink suffusing it. + +"Like a young girl's dreams," Santonini had said. "Snowy white--with a +blush stealing over them." + +That was so like dear Papa! What dreams did he think his daughter was to +have in this New World upon her golden quest? And yet, though Maria +Angelina's mocking little wit derided, her young heart believed somehow +in the union of all the impossibilities. Dreams and blushes . . . and +good fortune. . . . + +Strange food was set before her; delicious jellied cold soups, and +scarlet lobsters with giant claws; and Maria Angelina discovered that +excitement had not dulled her appetite. + +The music sounded again and Cousin Jim asked her to dance. Shyly she +protested that she did not know the American dances, and then, to her +astonishment, he turned to his wife, and the two hurried out upon the +floor, leaving her alone and unattended at that conspicuous table. + +That was American freedom with a vengeance! She sat demurely, not daring +to raise her lashes before the scrutiny she felt must be beating upon +her, until her cousins returned, warm-faced and breathless. + +"You'll learn all this as soon as you get to the Lodge," Cousin Jim +prophesied, in consolation. + +Maria Angelina smiled absently, her big eyes brilliant. Unconsciously +she was wondering what dancing could mean to these elders of hers. . . . +Dancing was the stir of youth . . . the carnival of the blood . . . the +beat of expectancy and excitement. . . . + +"Why, there's Barry Elder!" Cousin Jane gave a quick cry of pleasure. + +"Barry Elder?" + +Cousin Jim turned to look, and Maria Angelina looked too, and saw a +young man making his way to their table. He was a tall, thin, brown +young man with close-cropped curly brown hair, and very bright, deep-set +eyes. He was dressed immaculately in white with a gay tie of lavender. + +"Barry? _You_ in town?" Cousin Jane greeted him with an exaggerated +astonishment as he shook her hand. + +Maria Angelina noted that he did not kiss it. She had read that this was +not done openly in America but was a mark of especial tenderness. + +"Why not?" he retorted promptly. "You seem to forget, dear lady, that I +am again a wor-rking man, without whom the World's Greatest Daily would +lose half its circulation. Of course I'm here." + +"I thought you might be taking a vacation--in York Harbor," she said, +laughing. + +"Oh, cat!" he derided. "Kitty, kitty, kitty." + +"Don't let her kid you, Barry," advised Cousin Jim, delving into his +lobster. + +"But since you _are_ here," went on Cousin Jane, "you can meet my little +cousin from Italy, which is the reason why we are here. Her boat came in +this morning and she has never been away from home before. Mr. Elder, +the Signorina Santonini." + +"Welcome to the city, Signorina," said the young man, with a quick, +bright smile, stooping to gaze under the huge, white hat. He had odd +eyes, not large, but vivid hazel, with yellow lights in them. + +"How do you like New York? What do you think of America? What is your +opinion of prohibition and the uniformity of divorce laws? Have you ever +written _vers libre_? Are----" + +"Barry, stop bombarding the child!" exclaimed Mrs. Blair. "You are the +first young man she has met in America. Stop making her fear the race." + +"Take him away and dance with him, Jane," said Mr. Blair. "This was +probably prearranged, you know." + +If he believed it, he looked very tranquil, the startled Maria Angelina +thought, surprised into an upward glance. The two men were smiling very +frankly at each other. Mrs. Blair did not protest but rose, remarking, +"Come, Barry, since we are discovered. You can have something cool +afterwards." + +"I'll have little Cousin afterwards," said Barry Elder. "I want to be +the first young man she has danced with in America." + +"You won't be the last," Mr. Blair told him with a twinkling glance at +Maria Angelina's lovely little face. + +"One of Jane's youngsters," he added, explanatorily to her. "She always +has a lot around--she says they are the companions her son would have +had if she'd had one." + +Then, before Maria Angelina's polite but bewildered attention, he said +more comprehensibly, "You'll find Jane a lot younger than Ruth . . . +Barry's a clever chap--special work on one of the papers. Was in the +aviation. Did a play that fluked last year. Too much Harvard in it, I +expect. But a clever chap, very clever. Like him," he added decisively. + +Maria Angelina had heard of Harvard. Her mother's father had been a +Harvard man. But she did not understand just why too much Harvard would +make a play fluke nor what a play did when it fluked, but she asked no +questions and sat very still, looking out at the dancing couples. + +She saw her Cousin Jane whirling past. She tried to imagine her mother +dancing with young men at the Hotel Excelsior and she could not. Already +she wondered if she had better write everything. + +Then the dancing pair came back to them and the young man sat down and +talked a little to her cousins. But at the music's recommencement he +turned directly to her. + +"Signorina, are you going to do me the honor?" + +He had a merry way with him as if he were laughing ever so little at +her, and Maria Angelina's heart which had been beating quite fast before +began to skip dizzily. + +She thanked Heaven that it was a waltz for, while the new steps were +unknown, Maria could waltz--that was a gift from Papa. + +"With pleasure, Signor," she murmured, rising. + +"But you must take off your hat," Mrs. Blair told her. + +"My hat? Take off?" + +"That brim is too wide, my dear. You couldn't dance." + +"But to go bareheaded--like a peasant?" Maria Angelina faltered and they +laughed. + +"It doesn't matter--it's much better than that brim," Mrs. Blair +pronounced and obediently Maria's small hands rose and removed the +overshadowing whiteness from the dark little head with its coronet of +heavy braids. + +She did not raise her eyes to see Barry Elder's sudden flash of +astonishment. Shyly she slipped within his clasp and let him swing her +out into the circle of dancers. + +Maria Angelina could waltz, indeed. She was fairy-footed, and for some +moments Barry Elder was content to dance without speaking; then he bent +his head closer to those dark braids. + +"So I am the first young man you have met in America?" + +Maria Angelina looked up through her lashes in quick gayety. + +"It is my first day, Signor!" + +"Your first American--Ah, but on the boat! There must have been young +men on that boat, American young men?" + +"On that boat? Signor!" Maria Angelina laughed mischievously. "One reads +of such in novels--yes? But as to that boat, it was a floating nunnery." + +"Oh, come now," he protested amusedly, "there must have been _some_ +men!" + +"Some men, yes--a ship's officer, some married ones, a grandfather or +two--but nothing young and nothing American." + +"It must have been a great disappointment," said Barry enjoying himself. + +"It would not have mattered if there had been a thousand. The Signora +Mariotti would have seen to it that I met no one. She is a _very_ good +chaperon, Signor!" + +"I thank her. She has preserved the dew on the rose, the flush on the +dawn--the wax for the record and the--er--niche for the statue. I never +had my statue done," said Barry gayly, "but if you would care for it, in +terra cotta, rather small and neat----" + +Confusedly Maria Angelina laughed. + +"And this is your maiden voyage of discovery!" He was looking down at +her as he swept her about a corner. "Rash young person! Don't you know +what happened to your kinsman, Our First Discoverer?" + +"But what?" + +"He was loaded with fetters," said Barry solemnly. + +"Fetters? But what fetters could I fear?" + +"Have you never heard," he demanded of her upraised eyes, "of the +fetters of matrimony?" + +"Oh, Signor!" Actually the color swept into her cheeks and her eyes fled +from his, though she laughed lightly. "That is a golden fetter." + +"Sometimes," said he, dryly, "or gilded." + +But Maria Angelina was pursuing his jest. "It was not until Columbus +returned to his Europe that he was fettered. It was not from the--the +natives that he had such ill-treatment to fear." + +"Now, do you think the--the natives"--gayly Barry mimicked her quaint +inflection--"will let you get away with _that_? Or let you return? . . . +You have a great many discoveries before you, Signorina Santonini!" + +Deftly he circled, smiling down into her upturned face. + +Maria Angelina's eyes were shining, and the smooth oval of her cheeks +had deepened from poppy pink to poppy rose. She was dancing in a dream, +a golden dream . . . incredibly, ecstatically happy. . . . She was in a +confusion of young delight in which the extravagance of his words, the +light of his glances, the thrill of the violins were inextricably +involved in gayety and glamour. + +And then suddenly the dance was over, and he was returning her to her +cousins. And he was saying good-by. + +"I have a table yonder--although I appear to have forsaken it," he was +explaining. "Don't forget your first American, Signorina--I'm sorry you +are going to-morrow, but perhaps I shall be seeing you in the +Adirondacks before very long." + +He gave Maria Angelina a directly smiling glance whose boldness made her +shiver. + +Then he turned to Mrs. Blair. "You know my uncle had a little shack +built on Old Chief Mountain--not so far from you at Wilderness. I always +like to run up there----" + +"Oh, no, you won't, Barry," said Mrs. Blair, laughing incomprehensibly. +"You'll be running where the breaking waves dash high, on a stern and +rock-bound coast." + +He met the sally with answering laughter a trifle forced. + +"I'm flattered you think me so constant! But you underestimate the +charms of novelty. . . . If I should meet, say, a _petite brune_, done +in cotton wool and dewy with innocence----" + +"You're incorrigible," vowed the lady. "I have no faith in you!" + +"Not even in my incorrigibility?" + +"I'll believe it when I see you again. . . . Love to Leila." + +He made a mocking grimace at her. + +Then he stooped to clasp Maria Angelina's hand. "_A rivederci_, +Signorina," he insisted. "Don't you believe a thing she tells you about +me. . . . I'm a poor, misunderstood young man in a world of women. +_Addio_, Signorina--_a rivederci_." + +And then he was gone, so gay and brown and smiling. + +Sudden anguish swept down upon Maria Angelina, like the cold mistral +upon the southlands. + +He was gone. . . . Would she really see him again? . . . Would he come +to those mountains? + +But why would he not? He had spoken of it, all of himself . . . he had +that place he called a shack. That was beautiful good fortune--all of a +part of the amazing fairy story of the New World. . . . And he had +looked so at her. He had made such jokes. He had pressed her hands . . . +ever so lightly but without mistake. . . . + +And his eyes, that shining brightness of his eyes. . . . + + +"Why rub it in about York Harbor?" + +Cousin Jim was speaking and Maria Angelina came out of her dream with +sudden, painful intensity. Instinctively she divined that here was +something vital to her hope, and while her young face held the schooled, +unstirred detachment of the _jeune fille_, her senses were straining +nervously for any flicker of enlightenment. + +"Why not rub it in?" countered Cousin Jane briskly. "He'll go there +before long, and he might as well know that he isn't throwing any sand +in our eyes. . . . This sulking here in town is simply to punish her." + +"Perhaps he isn't sulking. Perhaps he doesn't care to run after her any +more. He may not be as keen about Leila Grey as you women think." + +Maria Angelina's involuntary glance at Mrs. Blair caught the superior +assurance of her smile. + +"My dear Jim! He was simply mad about her. That last leave, before he +went to France, he only went places to meet her." + +"Well, he may have got over it. Men do," argued Cousin Jim stubbornly. + +"Yes," echoed Maria Angelina's beating heart in hope, "men do!" + +Cousin Jane laughed. "Men don't get over Leila Grey--not if Leila Grey +wants to keep them." + +"If she wanted so darn much to keep him why didn't she take him then?" + +"I didn't say she wanted to keep him _then_." Mrs. Blair's tones were +mysteriously, ironically significant. "Leila wasn't throwing herself +away on any young officer--with nothing but his insurance. It was Bobby +Martin that _she_ was after----" + +"Gad! Was she?" Cousin Jim was patently struck by this. "Why, Bobby's +just a kid and she----" + +"There's not two years' difference between them--in _years_. But Leila +came out very young--and she's the most thoroughly calculating----" + +"Oh, come now, Jane--just because the girl didn't succumb to the +impecunious Barry and did like the endowed Bobby----! She may really +have liked him, you know." + +"Oh, come now, yourself, Jim," retorted his wife good-humoredly. "Just +because she has blue eyes! No, if Leila really liked anybody I always +had the notion it was Barry--but she _wanted_ Bobby." + +For a long moment Cousin Jim was silent, turning the thing over with his +cigar. Maria Angelina sat still as a mouse, fearful to breathe lest the +bewildering revelations cease. Cousin Jane, over her second cup of +coffee, had the air of a humorous and superior oracle. + +Then Mr. Blair said slowly, "And Bobby couldn't see her?" + +He had an air of asking if Bobby were indeed of adamant and Mrs. Blair +hesitated imperceptibly over the sweeping negative. Equally slowly, "Oh, +Bobby _liked_ her, of course--she may have turned his head," she threw +out, "but I don't believe he ever lost it for a moment. And after he met +Ruth that summer at Plattsburg----" + +The implication floated there, tenuous, iridescent. Even to Maria +Angelina's eyes it was an arch of promise. + +Ruth was their daughter, the cousin of her own age. And the unknown +Bobby was some one who liked Ruth. And he was some one whom this Leila +Grey had tried to ensnare--although all the time Mrs. Blair suspected +her of liking more the Signor Barry Elder. + +Hotly Maria Angelina's precipitous intuitions endorsed that supposition. +Of course this Leila liked that Barry Elder. Of course. . . . But she +had not taken him. He was an officer, then--without fortune. Maria +Angelina was familiar enough with _that_ story. But she had supposed +that here, in America, where dowries were not exigent and the young +people were free, there was more romance. And now it was not even +Leila's parents who had interfered, apparently, but Leila herself. + +What was it Mrs. Blair had said? Thoroughly calculating. . . . +Thoroughly calculating--and blue eyes. . . . + +Maria Angelina felt a quick little inrush of fear. If it should be +blue eyes that Americans--that is, to say now, that Barry +Elder--preferred----! + +And then she wondered why, if this Leila with the blue eyes had not +taken Barry Elder before, Cousin Jane now regarded it as a foregone +conclusion between them? Was it because she could not get that Signor +Bobby Martin? Or was Barry Elder more successful now that he had left +the army? + +She puzzled away at it, like a very still little cat at an +indestructible mouse, but dared say not a word. And while she worried +away her surface attention was caught by the glance of candid humor +exchanged between Mr. Blair and his wife. + +"Ah, Jane, Jane," he was saying, in mock deprecation, "is that why we +are spending the summer at Wilderness, not two miles from the Martin +place----?" + +Mrs. Blair was smiling, but her eyes were serious. "I preferred that to +having Ruth at a house party at the Martins," she said quietly. + +At that Maria Angelina ceased to attend. She would know soon enough +about her Cousin Ruth and Bobby Martin. But as for Barry Elder and Leila +Grey----! Had he cared? Had she? . . . Unconsciously her young heart +repudiated her cousin's reading of the affair. As if Barry Elder would +be unsuccessful with any woman that he wanted! That was unbelievable. He +had not wanted her--enough. + +He could not want Leila now or he would not have spoken so of coming to +the mountains to see _her_--his direct glance had been a promise, his +eyes a prophecy. + +Dared she believe him? Dared she trust? But he was no deceiver, no +flirt, like the lady-killers who used to come to the Palazzo to bow over +Lucia's hand and eye each other with that half hostile, half knowing +swagger. She had watched them. . . . But this was America. + +And Barry Elder was--different. + +She was lost to the world about her now. Its color and motion and hot +counterfeit of life beat insensibly upon her; she was aware of it only +as an imposition, a denial to that something within her which wanted to +relax into quiet and dreaming, which wanted to live over and over again +the intoxicating excitement, the looks, the words. . . . + +She was grateful when Cousin Jane declared for an early return. She +could hardly wait to be alone. + +"_What did I tell you?_" Jane Blair stopped suddenly in their progress +to the door and turned to her husband in low-toned triumph. "She's with +him. Leila's with him." + +"Huh?" said Cousin Jim unexcitedly. + +"She's pretended some errand in town--she's come in to get hold of him +again," went on Cousin Jane hurriedly, as one who tells the story of the +act to the unobservant. "She's afraid to leave him alone. . . . And he +never mentioned her. I wonder----" + +Maria Angelina's eyes had followed theirs. She saw a group about a +table, she saw Barry Elder's white-clad shoulders and curly brown head. +She saw, unregardfully, a man and woman with him, but all her eagerness, +all her straining vision was on the young girl with him--a girl so +blonde, so beautiful that a pang went to Maria Angelina's heart. She +learned pain in a single throb. + +She heard Cousin Jim quoting oddly in undertone, "'And Beauty drew him, +by a single hair,'" and the words entered her consciousness hauntingly. + +If Leila Grey looked like that--why then---- + +Yet he had said that he would come! + + +Maria Angelina's first night in America, like that last night in Italy, +was of sleepless watching through the dark. But now there were no +child's tears at leaving home. There was no anxious planning for poor +Julietta. Already Julietta and Lucia and the Palazzo, even Papa and +dear, dear Mamma, appeared strangely unreal--like a vanished spell--and +only this night was real and this strange expectant stir in her. + +And then she fell asleep and dreamed that Barry Elder was advancing to +her across the long drawing-room of the Palazzo Santonini and as she +turned to receive him Lucia stepped between, saying, "He is for me, +instead of Paolo Tosti," and behold! Lucia's eyes were as blue as the +sea and Lucia's hair was as golden as amber and her face was the face of +the girl in the restaurant. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +LUNCHEON AT THE LODGE + + +Wilderness Lodge, Cousin Jane had said, was a simple little place in the +mountains, not a hotel but rather a club house where only certain people +could go, and Maria Angelina had pictured a white stucco pension-hotel +set against some background like the bare, bright hills of Italy. + +She found a green smother of forest, an ocean of greenness with emerald +crests rising higher and higher like giant waves, and at the end of the +long motor trip the Lodge at last disclosed itself as a low, dark, +rambling building, set in a clearing behind a blue bend of sudden river. + +And built of logs! Did people of position live yet in logs in America? +demanded the girl's secret astonishment as the motor whirled across the +rustic bridge and stopped before the wide steps of a veranda full of +people. + +Springing down the steps, two at a time, came a tall, short-skirted girl +in white. + +"Dad--you came, too!" she cried. "Oh, that's bully. You must enter the +tournament--Mother, did you remember about the cup and the--you know? +What we talked of for the booby?" + +She had a loud, gay voice like a boy's and as Maria was drawn into the +commotion of greetings, she opened wide, half-intimidated eyes at the +bigness and brownness of this Cousin Ruth. + +She had expected Heaven knows what of incredible charm in the girl who +had detached the Signor Bobby Martin from the siren Leila. Her instant +wonder was succeeded by a sensation of gay relief. After all, these +things went by chance and favor. . . . And if Bobby Martin could prefer +this brown young girl to that vision at the restaurant why then--then +perhaps there was also a chance for--what was it the young Signor Elder +had called her? A _petite brune_ wrapped in cotton wool. + +These thoughts flashed through her as one thought as she followed her +three cousins across the wide verandas, full of interested eyes, into +the Lodge and up the stairs to their rooms, where Ruth directed the men +in placing the big trunk and the bags and hospitably explained the +geography of the suite. + +"My room's on that side and Dad's and Mother's is just across--and we +all have to use this one bath--stupid, isn't it, but Dad is hardly ever +here and there's running water in the rooms. You'll survive, won't you?" + +Hastily Maria Angelina assured her that she would. + +Glimpsing the white-tiled splendors of this bath she wondered how Ruth +would survive the tin tub, set absurdly in a red plush room of the +Palazzo. . . . + +"Now you know your way about," the American girl rattled on, her tone +negligent, her eyes colored with a little warmer interest as her glance +swept her foreign little cousin. "Frightfully hot, wasn't it? I'll clear +out so you can pop into the tub. You'll just have time before luncheon," +she assured her and was off. + +The next instant, from closed doors beyond, her voice rose in unguarded +exclamation. + +"Oh, you baby doll! Mother, did you ever----" + +The voices sank from hearing and Maria Angelina was left with the +feeling that a baby doll was not a desirable being in America. This +Cousin Ruth intimidated her and her breezy indifference and lack of +affectionate interest shot the visitor with the troubled suspicion that +her own presence was entirely superfluous to her cousin's scheme of +things. She felt more at home with the elders. + +Uncertainly she crossed to her big trunk and stood looking down on the +bold labels. + +How long since she and Mamma had packed it, with dear Julietta smoothing +the folds in place! And how far away they all were. . . . It was not the +old Palazzo now that was unreal--it was this new, bright world and all +the strange faces. + +The chintz-decked room with its view of alien mountains seemed suddenly +remote and lonely. + +Her hands shook a little as she unpacked a tray of pretty dresses and +laid them carefully across the bed. . . . Unconsciously she had +anticipated a warmer welcome from this young cousin. . . . She winked +away the tears that threatened to stain the bright ribbons, and stole +into the splendor of the white bathroom, marveling at its luxurious +contrast to the logs without. + +The water refreshed her. She felt more cheerful, and when she came to a +choice of frocks, decidedly a new current of interest was stealing +through life again. + +First impressions were so terribly important! She wanted to do honor to +the Blairs--to justify the hopes of Mamma. This was not enough of an +occasion for the white mull. The silks look hot and citified. Hesitantly +she selected the apricot organdie with a deeper-shaded sash; it was +simple for all its glowing color, though the short frilled sleeves +struck her as perhaps too chic. It had been a copy of one of Lucia's +frocks, that one bought to such advantage of Madame Revenant. + +With it went a golden-strawed hat--but Maria Angelina was uncertain +about the hat. + +Did you wear one at a hotel--when you lived at a hotel? Mamma's +admonitions did not cover that. She put the hat on; she took the hat +off. She rather liked it on--but she dropped it on the bed at Ruth's +sudden knock and felt a sense of escape for Ruth was hatless. + +And Ruth still wore the same short white skirt and white blouse, open at +the throat, in which she had greeted them. . . . Was the apricot too +much then of a toilette? Ruth's eyes were frankly on it; her expression +was odd. + +But Mrs. Blair had changed. She appeared now in blue linen, very smart +and trim. + +Worriedly Maria Angelina's dark eyes went from one to the other. + +"Is this--is this what I should wear?" she asked timidly. "Am I not--as +you wish?" + +It would have taken a hard heart to wish her otherwise. + +"It's very pretty," said Cousin Jane in quick reassurance. + +"Too pretty, s'all," said Cousin Ruth. "But it won't be wasted. . . . +Bobby Martin is staying to luncheon," she flung casually at her parents. +"Has a guest with him. You remember Johnny Byrd." + +American freedom, indeed! thought Maria Angelina following down the +slippery stairs into the wide hall below where, in a boulder fireplace +that was surmounted by a stag's head, a small blaze was flickering +despite the warmth of the day. + +Wasteful, thought Maria Angelina reprovingly. One could see that the +Americans had never suffered for fuel. . . . + +Upon a huge, black fur rug before the fire two young men were waiting. + +Demurely Maria thought of the letter she would write home that +night--one young man the first evening in New York, two young men the +first luncheon at the Lodge. Decidedly, America brimmed with young men! + +Meanwhile, Ruth was presenting them. The big dark youth, heavy and lazy +moving, was the Signor Bob Martin. + +The other, Johnny Byrd, was shorter and broad of shoulder; he had +reddish blonde hair slightly parted and brushed straight back; he had a +short nose with freckles and blue eyes with light lashes. When he +laughed--and he seemed always laughing--he showed splendid teeth. + +Both young men stared--but staring was a man's prerogative in Italy and +Maria Angelina was unperturbed. At table she sat serenely, her dark +lashes shading the oval of her cheeks, while the young men's eyes--and +one pair of them, especially--took in the black, braid-bound head and +the small, Madonna-like face, faintly flushed by sun and wind, above the +golden glow of the sheer frock. + +Then Johnny Byrd leaned across the table towards her. + +"I say, Signorina," he began abruptly, "what's the Italian for peach?" +and as Maria Angelina looked up and started very innocently to explain, +he leaned back and burst into a shout of amusement in which the others +more moderately joined. + +"Don't let him get you," was Ruth's unintelligible advice, and Bobby +Martin turned to his friend to admonish, "Now, Johnny, don't start +anything. . . . Johnny's such a good little starter!" + +"And a poor finisher," added Ruth smartly and both young men laughed +again as at a very good joke. + +"A starter--but not a beginner, eh?" chuckled Cousin Jim, and Mrs. Blair +smiled at both young men even as she protested, "This is the noisiest +table in the room!" + +It _was_ a noisy table. Maria Angelina was astounded at the hilarity of +that meal. Already she began censoring her report to Mamma. Certainly +Mamma would never understand Ruth's elbows on the table, her shouts of +laughter--or the pellets of bread she flipped. + +And the words they used! Maria could only feel that the language of +Mamma must be singularly antiquated. So much she did not understand +. . . had never heard. . . . What, indeed, was a simp, a boob, a nut? +What a poor fish? . . . She held her peace, and listened, confused by +the astounding vocabulary and the even more astounding intimacy. What +things they said to each other in jest! + +And whatever Maria Angelina said they took in jest. She evoked an +appreciative peal when she ventured that the Lodge must be very old +because she had read that the first settlers made their homes of logs. + +"I'll take you up and show you _our_ ancestral hut," declared Bob +Martin. "Where Granddad used to stretch the Red Skins to dry by the +back door--before tanning 'em for raincoats." + +"Really?" said Maria Angelina ingenuously, then at sight of his +expression, "But how shall I know what you tell me is true or not?" she +appealed. "It all sounds so strange to me--the truth as well." + +"You look at _me_," said Johnny Byrd leaning forward. "When I shut this +eye, so, you shake your head at them. When I nod--you can believe." + +"But you will not always be there----" + +"I'll say you're wrong," he retorted. "I'm going to be there so usually, +like the weather--did you say you wanted me to stay a month, Bob?" + +Color stole into the young girl's cheeks even while she laughed with +them. She was conscious of a faint and confused half-distress beneath +her mounting confidence. They were so _very_ jocular. . . . + +Of course this was but chaff, she understood, and she began to wonder if +that other, that young Signor Elder, had been but joking. It might be +the American way. . . . And yet this was all flattering chaff and so +perhaps she could trust the flattery of her secret hope. + +Surely, surely, it was all going to happen. He would come--she would see +him again. + +Meanwhile she shook her young braids at Johnny Byrd. + +"But you are so sudden! I think he is a flirter, yes?" she said gayly to +Mr. Blair who smiled back appreciatively and a trifle protectively at +her. + +But Bobby Martin drawled, "Oh, no, he's not. He's too careful," and more +laughter ensued. + +After luncheon they went back into the hall where the three men drifted +out into a side room where cigars and cigarettes were sold, and began +filling their cases, while Mrs. Blair stepped out on the verandas and +joined a group there. Ruth remained by the fireplace, and Maria Angelina +waited by her. + +"Your friends are very nice," she began with a certain diffidence, as +her cousin had nothing to say. "That Johnny Byrd--he is very funny----" + +"Oh, Johnny's funny," said Ruth in an odd voice. She added, "Regular +spoiled baby--had everything his way. Only an old guardian to boss him." + +"You mean he is an orphan?" + +"Completely." + +Maria Angelina did not smile. "But that is very sad," she said soberly. +"No home life----" + +"Don't get it into your head that Johnny Byrd wants any _home life_," +said her cousin dryly, and with a hint of hard warning in her negligent +voice. "He's been dodging home life ever since he wore long trousers." + +"He must then," Maria Angelina deduced, very simply, "be rich." + +"He's one of the Long Island Byrds." + +It sounded to Maria like a flock of ducks, but she perceived that it was +given for affirmation. She followed Ruth's glance to where the backs of +the young men's heads were visible, bending over some coins they were +apparently matching. . . . Johnny Byrd's head was flaming in the +sunshine. . . . + +"He's a bird from a hard-boiled egg," Ruth said with a smile of inner +amusement. + +But whatever cryptic signal she flashed slipped unseen from Maria +Angelina's vision. Johnny Byrd was nice, but it was a gay, cheery, +everyday sort of niceness, she thought, with none of the quicksilver +charm of the young man at the dinner dance. . . . And she was +unimpressed by Johnny's money. She took the millionaires in America as +for granted as fish in the sea. + +She merely felt cheerfully that Fate was galloping along the expected +course. + +Subconsciously, perhaps, she recorded a possible second string to her +bow. + +With tact, she thought, she turned the talk to Ruth's young man. + +"And the Signor Bob Martin--I suppose he, too, is a millionaire," she +smiled, and was astonished at Ruth's derisive laugh. + +"Not unless he murders his father," said that barbaric young woman. + +She added, relenting towards her cousin's ignorance, "Oh, Bob hasn't +anything of his own, you know. . . . But his father's taking him into +business this fall." + +Maria Angelina was bewildered. Distinctly she had understood, from the +Leila Grey conversation, that Bobby Martin was a very eligible young man +and yet here was her cousin flouting any financial congratulation. + +Hesitantly, "Is his father--in a good business?" she offered, and won +from Ruth more merriment as inexplicable as her speech. + +"He's in Steel," she murmured, which was no enlightenment to Maria. + +She ventured to more familiar ground. + +"He is very handsome." + +To her astonishment Ruth snorted. . . . Now Lucia always bridled +consciously when one praised Paolo Tosti. + +"Don't let him hear you say so," she scoffed. "He's too fat. He needs a +lot more tennis." + +And then to Maria's horror she raised her voice and confided this +conviction to the approaching young men. + +"You're getting fat, Bob. I just got your profile--and you need a lot of +tennis for that tummy!" + +And young Martin laughed--the indolent, submissive laughter with which +he appeared to accept all things at the hands of this audacious, +brown-cheeked, gray-eyed young girl. + +She must be very sure of him, thought the little Italian sagely. Then, +not so sagely, she wondered if Ruth was exhibiting her power to warn off +all newcomers. . . . Was _that_ why she refused to admit his wealth or +his good looks--she wanted to invite no competition? + +Maria Angelina believed she saw the light. + +She would reassure Ruth, she thought eagerly. She was a young person of +honor. Never would she attempt to divert a glance from her cousin's +admirer. + +Meanwhile a debate was carried on between golf and tennis, and was +carried in favor of golf by Cousin Jim. There was unintelligible talk of +hazards and bunkers and handicaps for the tournament, of records and of +bogey, and then as Johnny turned to her with a casual, "Like the game?" +a shadow of misgiving crept into her confidence. + +She could not golf. Nor could she play tennis. Nor could she follow the +golfers--as Johnny Byrd suggested--for Cousin Jane declared her frock +and slippers too delicate. She must get into something more appropriate. + +And in Maria Angelina the worried suspicion woke that she had nothing +more appropriate. + +A few minutes later Cousin Jane confirmed that suspicion as she paused +by the trunk the young girl was hastily unpacking. + +"I'll send to town for some plain little things for you to play in," she +said cheerfully. "You must have some low-heeled white shoes and short +white skirts and a batting hat. They won't come to much," she added as +if carelessly, going down to her bridge game on the veranda. + +But Maria Angelina's small hands clenched tightly at her sides in a +panic out of all proportion to the idea. + +More expense, she was thinking quiveringly. More investment! + +Oh, she must not fail--she dared not fail. She must find some one--the +right some one---- + +She dropped beside her trunk of pretty things in a passion of frightened +tears. + + +But the night swung her back to triumph again. + +For although she could not golf, and her hands could not wield a tennis +racket, Maria Angelina could play a guitar and she could sing to it like +the angels she had been named for. And the young people at the Lodge had +a way of gathering in the dark upon the wide steps and strumming chords +and warbling strange strains about intimate emotions. And as Maria +Angelina's voice rose with the rest her gift was discovered. + +"Gosh, the little Wop's a Galli-Curci," was John Byrd's aside to Bob. + +So presently with Johnny Byrd's guitar in her hands Maria Angelina was +singing the songs of Italy, sometimes in English, when she knew the +words, that all might join in the choruses, but more often in their own +Italian. + +A crescent moon edged over the shadowy dark of the mountains before her +. . . the same moon whose silver thread of light slipped down those far +Apennine hills of home and touched the dome of old Saint Peter's. She +felt far away and lonely . . . and deliciously sad and subtly expectant. +. . . + +"'O Sole mio----" + +And as she sang, with her eyes on the far hills, her ears caught the +whir of wheels on the road below, and all her nerves tightened like +wires and hummed with the charged currents. + +Out of the dark she conjured a tall young figure advancing . . . a +figure topped by short-cut curly brown hair . . . a figure with eyes of +incredible brightness. . . . + +If he would only come now and find her like this, singing. . . . + +It was so exquisite a hope that her heart pleaded for it. + +But the wheels went on. + +"But he will come," she thought swiftly, to cover the pang of that +expiring hope. "He will come soon. He said so. And perhaps again it will +be like this and he will find me here----" + +"'O Sole mio----" + +And only Johnny Byrd, staring steadily through the dusk, discerned that +there were tears in her eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +RI-RI SINGS AGAIN + + +She told herself that she was foolish to hope for him so soon. Of course +he could not follow at once. He could not leave New York. He had work to +be done. She must not begin to hope until the week-end at least. + +But though she talked to herself so wisely, she hoped with every breath +she drew. She was accustomed to Italian precipitancy--and nothing in +Barry Elder suggested delay. If he came, he would come while his memory +of her was fresh. + +It would be either here or York Harbor. Either herself or that girl with +the blue eyes. If he really wanted to see her at all, if he had any +memory of their dance, any interest in the newness of her, then he would +come soon. + +And so through Maria Angelina's days ran a fever of expectancy. + +At first it ran high. The honk of a motor horn, the reverberation of +wheels upon the bridge, the slam of a door and the flurry of steps in +the hall set up that instant, tumultuous commotion. + +At any moment, she felt, Barry Elder might arrive. Every morning her +pulses confessed that he might come that day; every night her courage +insisted that the next morning would bring him. + +And as the days passed the expectancy increased. It grew acute. It grew +painful. The feeling, at every arrival, that he might be there gave her +a tight pinch of suspense, a hammering racket of pulse-beats--succeeded +by an empty, sickening, sliding-down-to-nothingness sensation when she +realized that he was not there, when her despair proclaimed that he +would never be there--and then, stoutly, she told herself that he would +come the next time. + +They were days of dreams for her--dreams of the restaurant, of color, +light and music, of that tall, slim figure . . . dreams of the dance, of +the gay, half-teasing voice, the bright eyes, the direct smile. . . . +Every word he had uttered became precious, infinitely significant. + +"_A rivederci_, Signorina. . . . Don't forget me." + +She had not forgotten him. Like the wax he had named she had guarded his +image. Through all the swiftly developing experiences of those strange +days she retained that first vivid impression. + +She saw him in every group. She pictured him in every excursion. Above +Johnny Byrd's light, straight hair she saw those close-cropped brown +curls. . . . She held long conversations with him. She confided her +impressions. She read him Italian poems. + +But still he did not come. + +And sharply she went from hope to despair. She told herself that he +would never come. + +She did not believe herself. Beneath a set little pretense of +indifference she listened intently for the sound of arrivals; her heart +turned over at an approaching car. + +But she did not admit it. She said that she was through with hope. She +said that she did not care whether he came or not. She said she did not +want him to come. + +He was with Leila Grey, of course. + +Well--she was with Johnny Byrd. + +She was with him every day, for with that amazing American freedom, +Bobby Martin came down to see Ruth every day and the four young people +with other couples from the Lodge were always involved in some game, +some drive, some expedition. + +But it was not accident nor a lazy concurrence with propinquity that +kept Johnny Byrd at Maria Angelina's side. + +Openly he announced himself as tied hand and foot. His admiration was as +vivid as his red roadster. It was as unabashed and clamant as his motor +horn. He reveled in her. He monopolized her. In his own words, he +lapped her up. + +With amazing simplicity Maria Angelina accepted this miracle. It was +only a second-rate miracle to her, for it was not the desire of her +heart, and she was uneasy about it. She did not want to be involved with +Johnny Byrd if Barry Elder should arrive. . . . Of course, if she had +never met Barry Elder. . . . + +Johnny Byrd was a very nice, merry boy. And he was rich . . . +independent. . . . If one has never tasted _Asti Spumante_, then one can +easily be pleased with _Chianti_. + +Her secret dream was the young girl's protection against over-eagerness. + +To her young hostess this indifference came as an enormous relief. + +"She's all right," Ruth reported to her mother, upon an afternoon that +Maria Angelina had taken herself downstairs to the piano and to a +prospective call from Johnny Byrd while Ruth herself, in riding togs, +awaited Bob Martin and his horses. + +"She isn't jumping down Johnny's throat at all," the girl went on. "I +was afraid, that first day, when she asked such nutty questions. . . . +But she seems to take it all for granted. That ought to hold Johnny for +a while--long enough so he won't get tired and throw her down for +somebody else before he goes." + +"You think, then, there isn't a chance of----?" + +Mrs. Blair left the hypothesis in midair, convicted of ancient sentiment +by the frank amusement of her young daughter's look. + +"No, my dear, there isn't a chance of," Ruth so competently informed her +that Mrs. Blair, in revolt, was moved to murmur, "After all, Ruth, +people do fall in love and get married in this world." + +"Oh, yes." + +Patiently Ruth gave this thought her consideration and in +fair-mindedness turned her scrutiny upon past days to evoke some sign +that should contradict her own conclusions. + +"She's got something--it's something different from the rest of us--but +it would take more than that to do for Johnny Byrd." + +Definitely, Ruth shook her head. + +"You don't suppose she's beginning to think----?" hazarded Mrs. Blair. + +Better than her daughter, she envisaged the circumstances which might +have led, in her Cousin Lucy's mind, to this young girl's visit. Lucy, +herself, had been taken abroad in those early days by a competent aunt. +Now Lucy, in the turn of the tide, was sending her daughter to America. + +Jane Blair would have liked to play fairy godmother, to make a +benevolent gesture, to scatter largess. . . . + +But she was not going to have it said that she was a fortune hunter. She +was not going to alarm Johnny Byrd and implicate Bob Martin and disturb +the delicate balance between him and Ruth. + +Lucy's daughter must take her chances. This wasn't Europe. + +"Well, I've said enough to her," Ruth stated briskly, in answer to her +mother's supposition. "I don't know how much she believes. . . . You +know Ri-Ri is seething with Old World sentiment and she may be such a +little nut as to think--but she doesn't act as if she really cared about +it. It isn't just a pose. . . . Do you imagine," said Ruth, suddenly +lapsing into a little Old World sentiment herself, "that she's gone on +some one in Italy and they sent her over to forget him? That might +account----" + +"Lucy's letter didn't sound like it. She was very emphatic about Maria +Angelina's knowing nothing of the world or young men. I rather +gathered," Mrs. Blair made out, "that the family had a plain daughter to +marry off and wanted the pretty one in ambush for a while--they take +care of those things, you know." + +"And I suppose if she copped a millionaire in the ambush they wouldn't +howl bloody murder," said the girl, with admirable intuition. + +"Oh, well----" She yawned and looked out of the window. "She's probably +having the time of her life. . . . I'm grateful she turned out such a +little peach. . . . When she goes back and marries some fat spaghetti it +will give her something to moon about to remember how she and Johnny +Byrd used to sit out and strum to the stars---- There he is now." + +"Bob?" said Mrs. Blair absently, her mind occupied by her young +daughter's large sophistication. + +"Johnny," said Ruth. + +She leaned half out the window as the red roadster shot thunderously +across the rustic bridge and brought up sharply on the driveway below. +With a shouted greeting she brought the driver's red-blonde head to +attention. + +"Hullo--where's the Bob?" + +Johnny grinned. "Trying to ride one horse and lead another. Sweet mount +he's bringing you, Ruth. Didn't like the way I passed him. Bet you he +throws you." + +"Bet you he doesn't." + +"You lose. . . . Where's the little Wop?" + +"You mean Maria Angelina Santonini?" + +"Gosh, is that all? Well, you scoot across to her room and tell Maria +Angelina Santonini that she has a perfectly good date with me." + +"She powdered her nose and went down stairs an hour ago," Ruth sang +down, just as a small figure emerged from the music room upon the +veranda and approached the rail. + +"The little Wop is here, Signor," said Maria Angelina lightly. + +Unabashed Johnny Byrd beamed at her. It was a perfectly good sensation, +each time, to see her. One grew to suspect, between times, that anything +so enchanting didn't really exist--and then, suddenly, there she was, +like a conjurer's trick, every lovely young line of her. + +Johnny knew girls. He knew them, he would have informed you, backwards +and forwards. And he liked girls--devilish cunning games, with the same +old trumps up their sleeves--when they wore 'em--but this girl was just +puzzlingly different enough to evoke a curiously haunting wonder. + +Was it the difference in environment? Or in herself? He couldn't quite +make her out. + +He seemed to be groping for some clew, some familiar sign that would +resolve all the unfamiliarities to old acquaintance. + +Meanwhile he continued to smile cheerily at the young person he had so +rudely designated as a little Wop and gestured to the seat beside him. + +"Hop in," he admonished. "Let us be off before that horse comes and +steps on me. That's a dear girl." + +But Maria Angelina shook her dark head. + +"I told you, no, Signor, I could not go. In my country one does not ride +with young men." + +"But you are in my country now. And in my country one jolly well rides +with young men." + +"In your country--but for a time, yes." Unconvinced Maria Angelina stood +by her rail, like the boy upon the burning deck. + +"But your aunt--cousin, I mean--would let you," he argued. "I'll shout +up now and see----" + +Unrelentingly, "It is not my cousin, but my mother who would object," +she informed him. + +"Holy Saint Cecilia! You're worse than boarding school. Come on, Maria +Angelina--I'll promise not to kiss you." + +That was one of Johnny's best lines. It always had a deal of effect--one +way or another. It startled Maria Angelina. Her eyes opened as if he had +set off a rocket--and something very bright and light, like the impish +reflections of that rocket, danced a moment in her look. + +"I will write that promise to my mother and see if it persuades her," +she informed him. + +"Oh, all right, all right." + +With the sigh of the defeated Johnny Byrd turned off the gas and climbed +out of his car. + +"Just for that the promise is off," he announced. "Do you think your +mother would mind letting you sit in the same room with me and teach me +that song you promised?" + +"She would mind very much in Italy." Over her shoulder Maria cast a +laughing look at him as she stepped back into the music room. "There I +would never be alone like this." + +Incredulously Johnny stared past her into the music room. Through the +windows upon the other side came the voices of bridge players upon the +veranda without. Through those same windows were visible the bridge +players' heads. Other windows opened upon the veranda in the front of +the Lodge from which they had just come. An arch of doorway gave upon +the wide hall where a guest was shuffling the mail. + +"_Alone!_" ejaculated Johnny. + +"My mother allows this when my sister Lucia and her fiance, Paolo Tosti, +are together," said Maria Angelina. "I am in the next room with a book. +And that is very advanced. It is because Mamma is American." + +"I'll say it's advanced," Johnny muttered. "You mean--you mean your +sister and that--that toasted one she's engaged to have never really +seen each other----?" + +"Oh, they have _seen_ each other----" + +"The poor fish," said Johnny heavily. He glanced with increasing +curiosity at the young girl by his side. . . . After all, this _jeune +fille_ thing might be true. . . . + +"Well, I'm glad your mother was American," he declared, beginning to +strum upon the piano and inviting her to a seat beside him. + +But Maria Angelina remained looking through her music. + +"Then I am only half a Wop," said she. She added, bright mischief +between her long lashes, "What is it then--a Wop?" + +Johnny Byrd, striking random chords, looked up at her. + +"What is it?" he repeated. "I'll say that depends. . . . Sometimes it's +dark and greasy and throws bombs. . . . Sometimes it's bad and glad and +sings Carmen. . . . And sometimes it's--it's----" + +Deliberately he stared at the small braid-bound head, the shadowy dark +of the eyes, the scarlet curve of the small mouth. + +"Sometimes it's just the prettiest, youngest----" + +"I am _not_ so young," said Maria Angelina indignantly. + +"Lordy, you're a babe in arms." + +"I am _not_." Her defiance was furious. It had a twinge of +terror--terror lest they treat her everlastingly as child. + +"I am eighteen. I am but a year and three months younger than Ruth." + +"She's a kid," grinned Johnny. + +"The Signor Bob Martin does not think so!" + +"The Signor Bob Martin is nuts on that particular kid. And he's a kid +himself." + +"And do you think that you are----?" + +"Sure. We're all kids together. Why not? I like it," declared young +Byrd. + +But Maria Angelina was not appeased. She had half glimpsed that +indefinite irresponsibility of these strangers which treated youth as a +toy, an experiment. . . . + +"And is the Signorina Leila Grey," said she suddenly, "is she, also, a +kid?" + +Roundly Johnny opened his eyes. His face presented a curious stolidity +of look, as if a protection against some unforeseen attack. At the same +time it was streaked with humor. + +"Now where," said he, "did you get that?" + +"Is she," the girl persisted, "is she also a kid?" + +"The Signorina Leila Grey? No," conceded Johnny, "the Signorina Leila +Grey was born with her wisdom teeth cut. . . . At that she hasn't found +so much to chew on," he murmured cheerily. + +The girl's eyes were bright with divinations. "You mean that she did +not--did not find your friend Bob something to chew upon?" + +Johnny's laugh was a guffaw. It rang startlingly in that quiet room. +"You're there, Ri-Ri--absolutely there," he vowed. "But where, I +wonder----" He broke off. His look held both surmise and a shrewd +suspicion. + +"I--guessed," said Maria Angelina hastily. "And I saw her the first +evening in New York. . . . She is very beautiful." + +"She's a wonder," he admitted heartily. "Yes--and I'll say Bob nearly +fell for her. If she'd been expert enough she could have gathered him +in. He just dodged in time--and now he's busy forgetting he ever knew +her." + +"Perhaps," slowly puzzled out Maria Angelina, "perhaps the reason that +she was not--not expert, as you say--was because her attention was just +a little--wandering." + +Johnny yawned. "Often happens." He struck a few chords. "Where's that +little song of yours--the one you were going to teach me? I could do +something with that at the next show at the club." + +"If you will let me sit down, Signor----" + +"I'm not crabbing the bench." + +"But I wish the place in the center." + +"What you 'fraid of, Ri-Ri?" Obligingly Johnny moved over. "Why, you +have me tied hand and foot. I'm afraid to move a muscle for fear you'll +tell me it isn't done--in Italy." + +But Ri-Ri gave this an absent smile. For long, now, she had been leading +up to this talk and she felt herself upon the brink of revelations. +. . . Perhaps this Johnny Byrd knew where Barry Elder was. Perhaps they +were friends. . . . + +"In New York," she told him, "that Leila Grey was at the restaurant with +a young man--with the Signor Barry Elder." + +"Huh? Barry Elder?" + +"Are you,"--she was proud of the splendid indifference of her +voice,--"are you a friend of his?" + +Uninterestedly, "Oh, I know Barry," Johnny told her. "Bright boy--Barry. +Awful high-brow, though. Wrote a play or something. Not a darn bed in +it. Oh, well," said Johnny hastily, with a glance at the girl's young +face, "I say, how does this go? Ta _tump_ ti tum ti _tump tump_--what do +those words of yours mean?" + +"Perhaps this Barry Elder," said Ri-Ri with averted eyes, her hands +fluttering the pages, "perhaps he is the one that Leila Grey's attention +was upon. Did you not hear that?" + +"Who? Barry?" + +"Has he not," said the girl desperately, "become recently more desirable +to her--more rich, perhaps----" + +"That play didn't make him anything, that's sure," the young man +meditated. "But seems to me I did hear--something about an uncle +shuffling off and leaving him a few thous. . . . Maybe he left enough to +buy Leila a supper." + +"Here are the English words." Maria Angelina spread the music open +before them. "Mrs. Blair was joking with him," she reverted, "because he +was not going to that York Harbor this summer where this Leila Grey was. +But perhaps he has gone, after all?" + +"Search me," said Johnny negligently. "I'm not his keeper." + +"But you would know if he is coming to the dance at the Martins--that +dance next week----?" + +"He isn't coming to the house party, he's not invited. He and Bob aren't +anything chummy at all. Barry trains in an older crowd. . . . Seems to +me," said Johnny, turning to look at her out of bright blue eyes, +"you're awf'ly interested in this Barry Elder thing. Did you say you met +him in New York?" + +"I met him--yes," said Maria Angelina, in a steady little voice, +beginning suddenly to play. "And I thought it was so romantic--about him +and this Leila Grey. She was so beautiful and he had been so brave in +the war. And so I wondered----" + +"Well, don't you wonder about who's coming to that dance. That dance is +_mine_," said Johnny definitely. "I want you to look your darndest--put +it all over those flappers. Show them what you got," admonished Johnny +with the simple directness in such vogue. + +"And now come on, Ri-Ri--let's get into this together. + + 'I cannot now forget you + And you think not of me!' + +_Come_ on, Maria Angelina!" + +And Maria Angelina, her face lifted, her eyes strangely bright, sang, +while Johnny Byrd stared fixedly down at her, angrily, defiantly, sang +to that unseen young man--back in the shadows---- + + "I cannot now forget you + And you think not of me!" + +And then she told herself that she would forget him very well indeed. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BETWEEN DANCES + + +There had been distinct proprietorship in Johnny's reference to the +dance, a hint of possessive admonition, a shade of anxiety to which +Maria Angelina was not insensitive. + +He wanted her to excel. His pride was calling, unconsciously, upon her, +to justify his choice. The dance was an exhibition . . . competition. It +was the open market . . . appraisal. . . . + +No matter how charming she might be in the motor rides with the four, +how pretty and piquant in the afternoon at the piano, how melodious in +the evenings upon the steps, the full measure of his admiration was not +exacted. + +Sagely she surmised this. Anxiously she awaited the event. + +It was her first real dance. It was her first American affair. Casually, +in the evenings at the Lodge, they had danced to the phonograph and she +had been initiated into new steps and amazed at the manner of them, but +there had been nothing of the slightest formality. + +Now the Martins were entertaining over the week-end, and giving a dance +to which the neighborhood--meaning the neighborhood of the Martins' +acquaintance--was assembling. + +And again Maria Angelina felt the inrush of fear, the overwhelming +timidity of inexperience held at bay by pride alone . . . again she knew +the tormenting question which she had confronted in that dim old glass +at the Palazzo Santonini on the day when she had heard of the adventure +before her. + +She asked it that night of a different glass, the big, built-in mirror +of the dressing-room at the Martins given over to the ladies--a mirror +that was a dissolving kaleidoscope of color and motion, of bright +silks, bare shoulders and white arms, of pink cheeks, red lips and +shining hair. + +Advancing shyly among the young girls, filled with divided wonder at +their self-possession and their extreme decolletage, Ri-Ri gazed at the +glass timidly, determinedly, fatefully, as one approaches an oracle, and +out from the glittering surface was flung back to her a radiant image of +reassurance--a vision of a slim figure in filmiest white, slender arms +and shoulders bare, dark hair not braided now, but piled high upon her +head--a revelation of a nape of neck as young and kissable as a baby's +and yet an addition of bewildering years to her immaturity. + +To-night she was glad of the white skin, that was a gift from Mamma. The +white coral string, against the satin softness of her throat, revealed +its opalescent flush. She was immaculate, exquisite, like some figurine +of fancy--an image of youth as sweet and innocently troubling as a May +night. + +"You're a love," said Ruth heartily, appearing at her side, very +stunning herself in jade green, with her smooth hair a miracle of +shining perfection. + +"And you're--different," added Ruth in a slightly puzzled voice, looking +her small cousin over with the thoroughness of an inventory. "It must be +the hair, Ri-Ri. . . . You've lost that little Saint Susy air." + +"But there is no Saint Susy," Ri-Ri interposed gayly, lightly fingering +the dark curves of her hair. + +Truly--for Johnny--she had done her darndest! Surely he would be +pleased. + +"If you'd only let me cut that lower--you're simply swaddled in +tulle----" + +Startled, Maria glanced down at the hollows of her young bosom, at the +scantiness of her bodice suspended only by bands of sheerest gauze. She +wondered what Mamma would say, if she could see her so, without that +drape of net. . . . + +"You have the duckiest shoulder blades," said Ruth. + +"Oh--do _they_ show?" cried Maria Angelina in dismay. She twisted for a +view and the movement drew Ruth's glance along her lithe figure. + +"We ought to have cut two inches more off," she declared, and now +Ri-Ri's glance fled down to the satin slippers with their crossed +ribbons, to the narrow, silken ankles, to the slender legs above the +ankles. It seemed to her an utterly limitless exhibition. And Ruth was +proposing two more inches! + +Apprehensively she glanced about to make sure that no scissors were in +prospect. + +"But you'll do," Ruth pronounced, and in relief Maria Angelina +relinquished the center of the mirror, and slipped out into the gallery +that ran around three sides of the house. + +It was built like a chalet, but Maria Angelina had seen no such chalet +in her childish summers in Switzerland. Over the edge of the rail she +gazed into the huge hall, cleared now for dancing. The furniture had +been pushed back beneath the gallery where it was arranged in intimate +little groups for future tete-a-tetes, except a few lounging chairs left +on the black bear-skins by the chimney-piece. In one corner a screen of +pine boughs and daisies shut off the musicians from the streets, and in +the opposite corner an English man-servant was presiding over a huge +silver punch bowl. + +To Maria Angelina, accustomed to Italian interiors, the note was +buoyantly informal. And the luxury of service in this informality was a +piquant contrast. . . . No one seemed to care what anything cost. . . . +They gave dances in a log chalet and sent to New York for the favors and +to California for the fruit. . . . Into the huge punch-bowl they poured +wine of a value now incredible, since the supply could never be +replenished. . . . + +Very different would be Lucia's wedding party in the Palazzo Santonini, +on that marvelous old service that Pietro polished but three times a +year, with every morsel of refreshment arranged and calculated +beforehand. + +What miracles of economy would be performed in that stone-flagged +kitchen, many of them by Mamma's own hands! Suddenly Maria Angelina +found a moment to wonder afresh at that mother . . . and with a new +vision. . . . For Mamma had come from this profusion. + +"They have a regular place at Newport." Ruth was concluding some unheard +speech behind her. "But they like this better. . . . This is the life," +and with a just faintly discernible note of proprietorship in her air +she was off down the stairs. + +"Didn't they find Newport rather chilly?" murmured the girl to whom she +had been talking. "Wasn't Mrs. M. a Smith or a Brown-Jones or +something----?" + +"It was something in butterine," said another guest negligently and +swore, softly and intensely, at a shoulder strap. "Oh, _damn_ the +thing! . . . Well--flop if you want to. I've got nothing to hide." + +"You know why girls hide their ears, don't you?" said the other voice, +and the second girl flung wearily back, "Oh, so they can have something +to show their husbands--I heard that in my cradle!" + +"It _is_ rather old," its sponsor acknowledged wittily, and the pair +went clattering on. + +Had America, Maria Angelina wondered, been like this in her mother's +youth? Was it from such speeches that her mother had turned, in +helplessness or distaste, to the delicate implications, the finished +innuendo of the Italian world? + +Or had times changed? Were these girls truly different from their +mothers? Was it a new society? + +That was it, she concluded, and she, in her old-world seclusion, was of +another era from these assured ones. . . . Again, for a moment the doubt +of her capacity to cope with these times assailed her, but only for a +moment, for next instant she caught Johnny Byrd's upturned glance from +the floor below and in its flash of admiration, as unstinted as a sun +bath, her confidence drew reanimation. + +Later, she found that same warmth in other men's eyes and in the +eagerness with which they kept cutting in. + +That cutting in, itself, was strange to her. It filled her with a +terrifying perspective of what would happen if she were _not_ cut in +upon--if she were left to gyrate endlessly in the arms of some luckless +one, eternally stuck. . . . + +At home, at a ball, she knew that there were fixed dances, and programs, +in which engagements were jotted definitely down, and at each dance's +end a girl was returned respectfully to her chaperon where the next +partner called for her. Often she had scanned Lucia's scrawled programs +for the names there. + +But none of that now. + +Up and down the hall she sped in some man's arms, round and round, up +and down, until another man, agile, dexterous, shot between the couples +and claimed her. And then up and down again until some other man. . . . +And sometimes they went back to rest in the intimately arranged chairs +beneath the balcony, and sometimes stepped out of doors to saunter along +a wide terrace. + +It was incredibly independent. It was intoxicatingly free. It was also +terrifyingly responsible. + +And Maria Angelina, in her young fear of unpopularity, smiled so +ingenuously upon each arrival, with a shy, backward deprecatory glance +at her lost partner, that she stirred something new and wondering in +each seasoned breast, and each dancer came again and again. + +But all of them, the new young men from town, the tennis champion from +Yale, the polo player from England, the lawyer from Washington, the +stout widower, the professional bachelor, all were only moving shapes +that came and went and came again and by their tribute made her +successful in Johnny's eyes. + +Indeed, so well did they do their work that Johnny was moved to brusque +expostulation. + +"Look here, Ri-Ri, I told you this was to be _my_ dance! With all those +outsiders cutting in--Freeze them, Ri-Ri. Try a long, hard level look on +the next one you see making your way. . . . Don't you _want_ to dance +with me, any more? Huh? Where's that stand-in of mine? Is it a little, +old last year's model?" + +"But what am I to do----?" + +"Fight 'em off. Bite 'em. Kick their shins. . . . Oh, Lord," groaned +Johnny, dexterously whirling her about, "there's another coming. . . . +Here's where we go. This way out." + +Speedily he piloted her through the throng. Masterfully he caught her +arm and drew her out of doors. + +She was glad to be out of the dance. His clasp had been growing too +personal . . . too tight. . . . Perhaps she was only oddly +self-conscious . . . incapable of the serene detachment of those other +dancers, who, yielding and intertwined, revolved in intimate harmony. + +There was a moon. It shone soft and bright upon them, making a world of +enchantment. The long lines of the mountains melted together like a +violet cloud and above them a round top floated, pale and dreamy, as the +dome of Saint Peter's at twilight. + +From the terrace stretched a grassy path where other couples were +strolling and Johnny Byrd guided her past them. They walked in silence. +He kept his hand on her arm and from time to time glanced about at her +in a half-constraint that was no part of his usual air. + +At a curve of the path the girl drew definitely back. + +"Ah no----" + +"Oh, why not? Isn't it the custom?" He laughed over the often-cited +phrase but absently. His eyes had a warm, hurrying look in them that +rooted her feet the more stubbornly to the ground. + +"Decidedly not." She turned a merriment lighted face to him. "To walk +alone with a young man--between dances--beneath the moon!" + +Maria Angelina shuddered and cast impish eyes at heaven. + +"Honestly?" Johnny demanded. "Do you mean to tell me you've never walked +between dances with young men?" + +"I tell you that I have never even danced with a young man until----" +She flashed away from that memory. "Until I came to America. I am not +yet in Italian society. I have never been presented. It is not yet my +time." + +"But--but don't the sub debs have any good times over there? Don't you +have dances of your own? Don't you meet fellows? Don't you know +anybody?" Johnny demanded with increasing amazement at each new shake of +her head. + +"Oh, come," he protested. "You can't put that over me. I'll bet you've +got a bagful of fellows crazy about you. Don't you ever slip out on an +errand, you know, and find some one waiting round the corner----?" + +"You are speaking of the customs of my maid, perhaps," said Maria +Angelina with becoming young haughtiness. "For myself, I do not go upon +errands. I have never been upon the streets alone." + +Johnny Byrd stared. With a supreme effort of credulity he envisaged the +fact. Perhaps it was really so. Perhaps she was just as sequestered and +guileless and inexperienced as that. It was ridiculous. It was amusing. +It was--somehow--intriguing. + +With his hand upon her bare arm he drew her closer. + +"Ri-Ri--honest now--is this the first----?" + +She drew away instinctively before the suppressed excitement of him. Her +heart beat fast; her hands were very cold. She knew elation . . . and +panic . . . and dread and hope. + +It was for this she had come. Young and rich and free! What more would +Mamma ask? What greater triumph could be hers? + +"I'd like to make a lot of other things the first, too," muttered +Johnny. + +To Ri-Ri it seemed irrevocable things were being said. But she still +held lightly away from him, resisting the clumsy pull of his arm. He +hesitated--laughed oddly. + +"It ought to be against the law for any girl to look the way you do, +Ri-Ri." He laughed again. "I wonder if you know how the deuce you _do_ +look?" + +"Perhaps it is the moonlight, Signor." + +"Moonlight--you look as if you were made of it. . . . I could eat you +up, Ri-Ri." His eyes on her red little mouth, on her white, beating +throat. His voice had an odd, husky note. + +"Don't be such a little frost, Ri-Ri. Don't you like me at all?" + +It was the dream coming true. It was the fairy prince--not the false +figure she had set in the prince's place, but a proud revenge upon him. +This was reality, fulfillment. + +She saw herself already married to Johnny, returning proudly with him +to Italy. She saw them driving in a victoria, openly as man and wife--or +no, Johnny would have a wonderful car, all metal and bright color. They +would be magnificently touring, with their luggage strapped on the side, +as she had seen Americans. + +She saw them turning into the sombre courtway of the old Palazzo +Santonini and, so surely had she been attuned to the American note, she +could presage Johnny's blunt disparagement. He would be astonished that +they were living upon the third floor--with the lower apartment let. He +would be amused at the servants toiling up the stairs from the kitchens +to the dining hall. He would be entertained at the solitary tub. He +would be disgusted, undoubtedly, at the candles. . . . + +But of course Mamma would have everything very beautiful. There would be +no lack of candles. . . . The chandeliers would be sparkling for that +dinner. There would be delicious food, delicate wines, an abundant +gleam of shining plate and crystal and embroidered linens. + +And how Lucia would stare, how dear Julietta would smile! She would buy +Julietta the prettiest clothes, the cleverest hats. . . . She would give +dear Mamma gold--something that neither dear Papa nor Francisco knew +about--and to dear Papa and Francisco she would give, too, a little +gold--something that dear Mamma did not know about. + +For once Papa could have something for his play that was not a roast +from his kitchen nor clothes from his daughters' backs nor oats from his +horses! + +Probably they would be married at once. Johnny was free and rich--and +impatient. She did not suspect him of interest in a long wooing or +betrothal. . . . And while she must appear to be in favor of a return +home, first, and a marriage from her home, the American ceremony would +cut many knots for her--save much expense at home. . . . + +She saw herself proudly exhibiting Johnny, delighting in his youth, his +blonde Americanism, his smartly cut clothes, his conqueror's assurance. + +Meanwhile Maria Angelina was still standing there in the moonlight, like +a little wraith of silver, smiling with absent eyes at Johnny's muttered +words, withdrawing, in childish panic, from Johnny's close pressing +ardor. She knew that if he persisted . . . but before her soft +detachment, her half laughing evasiveness of his mood, he did not +persist. He seemed oddly struggling with some withholding uncertainties +of his own. + +"Oh, well, if that's all you like me," said Johnny grumpily. + +It was reprieve . . . reprieve to the irrevocable things. Her heart +danced . . . and yet a piqued resentment pinched her. + +He had been able to resist. + +She knew subtly that she could have overcome that irresolution. . . . +But she was not going to make things too easy for him--her Santonini +pride forbade! + +"We must go back," she told him and exulted in his moodiness. + +And for the rest of the evening his arm pressed her, his eyes smiled +down significantly upon her, and when she confronted the great mirror +again it was to glimpse a girl with darkly shining eyes and cheeks like +scarlet poppies, a girl in white, like a bride, and with a bride's high +pride and assured heart. + +She slept, that night, composing the letter to dear Mamma. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +TWO--AND A MOUNTAIN + + +The next morning was given to recovery from the dance. In the afternoon +the Martins had planned a mountain climb. It was not a really bad +mountain, at all, and the arrangement was to start in the late +afternoon, have dinner upon the top, and descend by moonlight. + +It was the plan of the younger inexhaustibles among the group, but in +spite of faint protests from some of the elders all the Martin +house-party was in line for the climb, and with the addition of the +Blair party and several other couples from the Lodge, quite a procession +was formed upon the path by the river. + +It was a lovely day--a shade too hot, if anything was to be urged +against it. The sun struck great shafts of golden light amid the rich +green of the forest, splashing the great tree boles with bold light and +shade. The air was fragrant with spruce and pine and faint, aromatic +wintergreen. A hot little wind rocked the reflections in the river and +blew its wimpling surface into crinkled, lace-paper fantasies. + +Overhead the sky burned blue through the white-cottonballs of cloud. + +Bob Martin headed the procession, Ruth at his side, and the stout +widower concluded it, squiring a rather heavy-footed Mrs. Martin. Midway +in the line came Mrs. Blair, and beside her, abandoning the line of +young people behind the immediate leaders was a small figure in short +white skirt and middy, pressing closely to her Cousin Jane's side. + +It was Maria Angelina, her dark hair braided as usual about her head, +her eyes a shade downcast and self-conscious, withdrawn and +tight-wrapped as any prudish young bud. + +But if virginal pride had urged her to flee all appearance of +expectation, an equally sharp masculine reaction was withholding Johnny +Byrd from any appearance of pursuit. + +He went from group to group, clowning it with jokes and laughter, and +only from the corners of his eyes perceiving that small figure, like a +child's in its white play clothes. + +For half an hour that separation endured--a half hour in which Cousin +Jane told Maria Angelina all about her first mountain climb, when a +girl, and the storm that had driven herself and her sister and her +father and the guide to sleep in the only shelter, and of the guide's +snores that were louder than the thunder--and Maria Angelina laughed +somehow in the right places without taking in a word, for all the time +apprehension was tightening, tightening like a violin string about to +snap. + +And then, when it was drawn so tight that it did not seem possible to +endure any more, Johnny Byrd appeared at Ri-Ri's side, conscious-eyed +and boyishly embarrassed, but managing an offhand smile. + +"And is this the very first mountain you've ever climbed?" he demanded +banteringly. + +Gladness rushed back into the girl. She raised a face that sparkled. + +"The very first," she affirmed, very much out of breath. "That is, upon +the feet. In Italy we go up by diligence and there is always a hotel at +the top for tea." + +"We'll have a little old bonfire at the top for tea. . . . Don't take it +so fast and you'll be all right," he advised, and, laying a restraining +hand upon her arm he held her back while Cousin Jane, with her casual, +careless smile, passed ahead to join one of the Martin party. + +It was an act of masterful significance. Maria Angelina accepted it +meekly. + +"Like this?" asked Johnny of her smiling face. + +"I love it," she told him, and looked happily at the green woods about +them, and across the river, rushing now, to where the forest was +clinging to sharply rising mountain flanks. Her eyes followed till they +found the bare, shouldering peaks outlined against the blue and white +of the cumulous sky. + +The beauty about her flooded the springs of happiness. It was a +wonderful world, a radiant world, a world of dream and delights. It was +a world more real than the fantasy of moonlight. She felt more real. She +was herself, too, not some strange, diaphanous image conjured out of +tulle and gauze, she was her own true flesh-and-blood self, living in a +dream that was true. + +She looked away from the mountains and smiled up at Johnny Byrd very +much as the young princess in the fairy tale must have smiled at the +all-conquering prince, and Johnny Byrd's blue eyes grew bluer and +brighter and his voice dropped into intimate possessiveness. + +It didn't matter in the least what they talked about. They were absurdly +merry, loitering behind the procession. + +Suddenly it occurred to Maria Angelina that it had been some time since +he had drawn her back from Cousin Jane's casual but comprehending +smile, some time since they had even heard the echo of voices ahead. + +Her conscience woke guiltily. + +"We must hurry," she declared, quickening her own small steps. + +Teasingly Johnny Byrd hung back. "'Fraid cat, 'fraid cat--what you +'fraid of, Maria Angelina?" + +He added, "I'm not going to eat you--though I'd like to," he finished in +lower tone. + +"But it is getting dark! There are clouds," said the girl, gazing up in +frank surprise at the changed sky. She had not noticed when the sunlight +fled. It was still visible across the river, slipping over a hill's +shoulder, but from their woods it was withdrawn and a dark shadow was +stretching across them. + +"Clouds--what do you care for clouds?" scoffed Johnny gayly, and in his +rollicking tenor, "Just roll dem clouds along," sang he. + +Politely Maria Angelina waited until he had finished the song, but she +waited with an uneasy mind. + +She cared very much for clouds. They looked very threatening, blowing so +suddenly over the mountain top, overcasting the brightness of the way. +And behind the scattered white were blowing gray ones, their edges +frayed like torn clothes on a line, and after the gray ones loomed a +dark, black one, rushing nearer. + +And suddenly the woods at their right began to thresh about, with a +surprised rustling, and a low mutter, as of smothered warning, ran over +the shoulder of the mountain. + +"Rain! As sure as the Lord made little rain drops," said Johnny +unconcerned. "There's going to be a cloudful spilled on us," he told the +troubled girl, "but it won't last a moment. Come into the wood and find +the dry side of a tree." + +He caught at her hand and brought her crashing through the underbrush, +pushing through thickets till they were in the center of a great group +of maples, their heavy boughs spread protectingly above. + +A giant tree trunk protected her upon one side; upon the other Johnny +drew close, spreading his sweater across her shoulders. Looking upwards, +Maria Angelina could not see the sky; above and about her was soft +greenness, like a fairy bower. And when the rain came pouring like hail +upon the leaves scarcely a drop won through to her. + +They stood very still, unmoving, unspeaking while the shower fell. There +was an unreal dreamlike quality about the happening to the girl. Then, +almost intrusively, she became deeply aware of his presence there beside +her--and conscious that he was aware of hers. + +She shivered. + +"Cold," said Johnny, in a jumpy voice, and put a hand on her shoulders, +guarded by his sweater. + +"N-no," she whispered. + +"Feel dry?" + +His hand moved upward to her bared head, lingered there upon the heavy +braids. + +"Yes," she told him, faintly as before. + +"But you're shivering." + +"I don't like t-thunder," she told him absurdly, as a muttering roll +shook the air above them. + +His hand, still hovering over her hair, went down against her cheek and +pressed her to him. She could hear his heart beating. It sounded as +loudly in his breast as her own. She had a sense of sudden, +unpremeditated emotion. + +She felt his lips upon the back of her neck. + +She tried to draw away, and suddenly he let her go and gave a short, +unsteady laugh. + +"It's all right, Ri-Ri--you're my little pal, aren't you?" he murmured. + +Unseeingly she nodded, drawing a long, shaken breath. Then as he started +to draw her nearer again she moved away, putting up her arms to her hair +in a gesture that instinctively shielded the confusion of her face. + +"No? . . . All right, Ri-Ri, I won't crowd you," he murmured. "But oh, +you little Beauty Girl, you ought to be in a cage with bars about. . . . +You ought to wear a mask--a regular diving outfit----" + +Unexpectedly Ri-Ri recovered her self-possession. Again she fled from +the consummation of the scene. + +"I shall wear nothing so unbecoming," she flung lightly back. "And it +has not been raining for ever so long. Unless you wish to build a nest +in the forest, like a new fashion of oriole, Signor Byrd, you had better +hurry and catch up with the others." + +Johnny did not speak as they came out of the woods and in silence they +hurried along the path on the river's edge. + +The sun came out again to light them; on the green leaves about them the +wetness glittered and dried and the ephemeral shower seemed as unreal as +the memory it evoked. + +With her head bent Maria Angelina pressed on in a haste that grew into +anxiety. Not a sound came back to them from those others ahead. Not a +voice. Not a footstep. + +And presently the path appeared dying under their feet. + +Green moss overspread it. Brambles linked arms across it. + +"They are not here. We are on the wrong way," cried Maria Angelina and +turned startled eyes on the young man. + +Johnny Byrd refused to take alarm. + +"They must have crossed the river farther back--that's the answer," he +said easily. "We went past the right crossing--probably just after the +storm. You know you were speeding like a two-year-old on the home +stretch." + +But Ri-Ri refused to shoulder all that blame. + +"It might have been before the storm--while we were lingering so," she +urged distressfully. "You know that for so long we had heard nothing--we +ought to go back quickly--very quickly and find that crossing." + +Johnny did not look back. He looked across the river, which ran more +deeply here between narrowed banks, and then glanced on ahead. + +"Oh, we'll go ahead and cross the next chance we get," he informed her. +"We can strike in from there to old Baldy. I know the way. . . . Trust +your Uncle Leatherstocking," he told her genially. + +But no geniality appeased Maria Angelina's deepening sense of +foreboding. + +She quickened her steps after him as he strode on ahead, gallantly +holding back brambles for her and helping her scramble over fallen logs, +and she assented, with the eagerness of anxiety, when he announced a +place as safe for crossing. + +It was at the head of a mild rush of rapids, and an outcropping of large +rocks made possible, though slippery, stepping-stones. + +But Ri-Ri's heelless shoes were rubber soled, and she was both fearless +and alert. And though the last leap was too long for her, for she landed +in the shallows with splashing ankles, she had scarcely a down glance +for them. Her worried eyes were searching the green uplands before +them. + +Secretly she was troubled at Johnny's instant choice of way. Her own +instinct was to go back along the river and then strike in towards old +Baldy, but men, she knew from Papa, did not like objections to their +wisdom, so she reminded herself that she was a stranger and ignorant of +this country and that Johnny Byrd knew his mountains. + +He told her, as they went along, how well he knew them. + +Steadily their path climbed. + +"Should we not wind back a little?" she ventured once. + +"Oh, we're on another path--we'll dip back and meet the other path a +little higher up," the young man told her. + +But still the path did not dip back. It reached straight up. But Johnny +would not abandon it. He seemed to feel it inextricably united with his +own rightness of decision, and since he was inevitably right, so +inevitably the path must disclose its desired character. + +But once or twice he paused and looked out over the way. Then, +hopefully, Ri-Ri hung upon his expression, longing for reconsideration. +But he never faltered, always on her approach he charged ahead again. + +No holding back of brambles, now. No helping over logs. Johnny was the +pathfinder, oblivious, intent, and Ri-Ri, the pioneer woman, enduring as +best she might. + +Up he drove, straight up the mountain side, and after him scrambled the +girl, her fears voiceless in her throat, her heart pounding with +exertion and anxiety like a ship's engine in her side. + +Time seemed interminable. There was no sun now. The gray and white +clouds were spread thinly over the sky and only a diffused brightness +gave the suggestion of the west. + +When the path wound through woods it seemed already night. On barren +slopes the day was clear again. + +Hours passed. Endless hours to the tired-footed girl. They had left the +last woods behind them now and reached a clearing of bracken among the +granite, and here Johnny Byrd stopped, and stared out with an +unconcealed bewilderment that turned her hopes to lead. + +With him, she stared out at the great gray peaks closing in about them +without recognizing a friend among them. Dim and unfamiliar they loomed, +shrouded in clouds, like chilly giants in gray mufflers against the +damp. + +It was not old Baldy. It could not be old Baldy. One looked up at old +Baldy from the Lodge and she had heard that from old Baldy one looked +down upon the Lodge and the river and the opening valley. She had been +told that from old Baldy the Martin chalet resembled a cuckoo clock. +. . . + +No cuckoo clocks in those vague sweeps below. + +"Can we not go down a little bit?" said Maria Angelina gently. "Farther +down again we might find the right path. . . . Up here--I think we are +on the wrong mountain." + +Turning, Johnny looked about. Ahead of him were overhanging slabs of +rock. + +Irresolution vanished. "That's the top now," he declared. "We are just +coming up the wrong side, that's all. I'll say it's wrong--but here we +are. I'll bet the others are up there now--lapping up that food. Come +on, Ri-Ri, we haven't far now to go." + +In a gust of optimism he held out his hand and Maria Angelina clutched +it with a weariness courage could not conceal. + +It seemed to her that her breath was gone utterly, that her feet were +leaden weights and her muscles limply effortless. But after him she +plunged, panting and scrambling up the rocks, and then, very suddenly, +they found themselves to be on only a plateau and the real mountain head +reared high and aloof above. + +Under his breath--and not particularly under it, either--Johnny Byrd +uttered a distinct blasphemy. + +And in her heart Maria Angelina awfully seconded it. + +Then with decidedly assumed nonchalance, "Gosh! All that way to supper!" +said the young man. "Well, come on, then--we got to make a dent in +this." + +"Oh, are you sure--are you _sure_ that this is the right mountain?" +Maria Angelina begged of him. + +"Don't I know Baldy?" he retorted. "We're just on another side of it +from the others, I told you. Come on, Ri-Ri--we'll soon smell the coffee +boiling." + +She wished he had not mentioned coffee. It put a name to that gnawing, +indefinite feeling she had been too intent to own. + +Coffee . . . Fragrant and steaming, with bread and butter . . . +sandwiches filled with minced ham, with cream cheese, with olive +paste--sandwiches filled with anything at all! Cold chicken . . . salad +. . . fruit. Food in any form! _Food!!_ + +She felt empty. Utterly empty and disconsolate. + +And she was tired. She had never known such tiredness--her feet ached, +her legs ached, her back ached, her arms ached. She could have dropped +with the achingness of her. Each effort was a punishment. + +Yet she went on with a feverish haste. She was driven by a compulsion to +which fatigue was nothing. + +It had become terrible not to be reunited with the others. She thought +of the hours, the long hours, that she and Johnny Byrd had been alone +and she flinched, shivering under the whiplash of fear. + +What were they saying of her, those others? What were they thinking? + +She knew how unwarrantable, how inexcusable a thing she had done. + +It had begun with deliberate loitering. For that--for a little of +that--she had the sanction of the new American freedom, the permission +of Cousin Jane's casual, understanding smile. + +"It's all right," that smile had seemed to say to her, "it's all right +as long as it's Johnny Byrd--but be careful, Ri-Ri." + +And she had loitered shamefully, she had plunged into the woods with +Johnny in that thunder storm, she had let him take her on the wrong +path. + +And now it was growing dark and they were far from the others--and she +was not sure, even, that they were upon the right way. + +But they _must_ be. They could not be so hideously, so finally wrong. + +Panic routed her exhaustion and she toiled furiously on. + +"You're a pretty good scout--for a little Wop," said Johnny Byrd with a +sudden grin and a moment's brightness was lighted within her. + +She did not speak--she could only breathe hard and smile. + +Nearer and nearer they gained the top, rough climbing but not dangerous. +The top was not far now. Johnny shouted and listened, then shouted +again. + +Once they thought they heard voices but it was only the echoes of their +own, borne hollowly back. + +"The wind is the other way," said Johnny, and on they went, charging up +a steep, gravelly slope over more rocks and into a scrub group of firs. +. . . + +Surely this was as near the top as one could go! Nothing above but +barren, tilted rock. Nothing beyond but more boulders and stunted trees. +The place lay bare before their eyes. + +Round and round they went, calling, holding their breath to listen. +Then, with a common impulse, they turned and stared at each other. + +That moment told Maria Angelina what panic was. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +JOHNNY BECOMES INEVITABLE + + +She did not speak. She was afraid she was going to burst into tears. Her +knees were trembling and she sat down with the effect of collapse and +looked mutely up at Johnny. + +"Judas," said Johnny bitterly. + +He stared around once more, evading her eyes now, and then he moved over +and sat down beside her, drawing out his cigarettes. + +Slowly he took one, tapped its end upon a rock, and lighted it. Then, +the case still open, he looked inquiringly at her. + +"Smoke, Ri-Ri?" he questioned. "Ought to--never too late to learn." + +She shook her head, smiling faintly. She knew his own perturbation must +be immense. She did not want to add to it; she wanted to be brave and +conceal her own agony. + +He put the cigarettes away and from an inner pocket drew out a cake of +chocolate. + +"Supper," he announced. + +She broke the cake in two even halves, giving him back one. He took but +half of that. With the cigarette between his lips he felt better. Slowly +he relaxed. + +"I'll have to teach you how to smoke," he said, blowing rings. "When +we're rested we'll get some wood and build a fire. The others will see +that and signal back and we'll make connections." + +At that she stared, round-eyed. "Wait for a fire?" Incredulously she +straightened. Her voice grew breathless. "Oh, no, we must go--we must +go," she said with a hint of wildness in her urgency. + +Deliberately Johnny leaned back. "Go? Go where?" + +"Go down. Go to where the others are. We must find them." + +"Nothing doing." Johnny rubbed a stout leg. "Your Uncle Dudley is all +in. So are you." + +"But I can go, I am able to go on," she insisted. "And I would +rather--Oh, if you please, I would so much rather go on at once. We +cannot wait like this." + +"I'll say we can wait like this. Watch me." + +"But we cannot stay----" + +"Well, we cannot go," said Johnny mimicking. "We'd get nowhere if we did +try. We'd just go round and round. Our best bet is to stay on this peak +and signal. Believe me, I'm not going to stir for one long while." + +Again the fear of tears choked back the words that rushed upon her. She +told herself that she must not be weak and frantic and make a scene. +. . . Men abhorred scenes. And it would not help. It would only anger +him. He was tired now. He was not thinking of her. He had not realized +the situation. + +Presently he would realize. . . . And, anyway, he was there with her, he +would take care of her, protect her from the tongues of gossip. + +Slowly Johnny smoked two cigarettes, then he rose and gathered sticks +for a fire. It burned briskly, its swift flame throwing a glowing circle +about them and extinguishing the rest of the world. + +There had been no sunset. A bank of clouds had swallowed the last +vestige of ruddy light. The mountain peaks darkened. It was growing +night. + +"We'll wait for moonlight," said Johnny Byrd. + +But at that Maria Angelina's eyes came away from those mountains which +she was unremittingly watching for an answering fire and fixed +themselves upon his face in startled horror. + +"Moonlight!" she gasped. "But no--no! We must not wait any more. It is +too late now. We must get down as soon as we can." + +"Why, you little baby!" Johnny Byrd moved nearer to her. "What you +'fraid of, Ri-Ri? We can't help how late it is, can we?" + +He put an arm about her and drew her gently close, and because she was +so tired and frightened and upset Maria Angelina could no longer resist +the tears that came blinding her eyes. + +"You little baby!" said Johnny again softly, and suddenly she felt his +kiss upon her cheek. + +"Poor little Ri-Ri! Poor tired little girl!" + +"Oh, you must not. Signor, you must not." + +"Signor," he said reproachfully. + +"J-Johnny," she choked. + +"That's better. . . . All right, I'll be good, Ri-Ri. Just sit still. +And I'll be good." + +But firmly he kept his arm about her and soon her tense little figure +relaxed in that strong clasp. She was not frightened, as last night at +the dance, she felt utterly forlorn and comforted by his strength. + +They sat very still, unspeaking in that silent embrace, and about them +it grew colder and darker while the sky seemed to grow thinner and +grayer and clear. And at last against the pallor of the sky, mountain +after mountain lifted itself out of the shadowy cloud mass, and peak +after peak defined itself, stretching on and on like an army of giants. + +Then the ridges grew blacker again, and back of one edge a sharp flare +of light flamed, and a blood red disc of a moon came pushing furiously +up into the sky, flinging down a transforming radiance. + +In the valley the silvery birches gleamed like wood nymphs against the +ebony firs. + +Beauty had touched the world again. A long breath came fluttering from +the girl's lips; she felt strangely solaced and comforted. After all, it +was Johnny with her . . . the fairy prince. Her dreams were coming true +. . . even under the shadow of this tragedy. + +Again she felt his lips upon her cheek and now he was trying to turn her +head towards him. Mutely she resisted, drawing away, but his force +increased. She closed her eyes; she felt his kiss upon her hair, her +cheek, the corner of her unstirring mouth. + +And she thought that it was his right--if she turned from him she would +seem strangely refusing. An American, she knew, kissed his fiancee +freely. + +But it was a tremendous freedom. . . . + +It would have been--knightlier, she thought quiveringly, if he had not +done that, if he had revealed a more respectful homage. + +But these were American ways . . . and he was a man and he loved her and +he wanted to feel that she belonged to him utterly. It was comfort for +her troubled spirit. + +But when she felt his hand trying to turn up her chin, so that her young +lips might meet his, she slipped decidedly away. + +"No? All right." Johnny gave a short, uncertain laugh. "All right, +little girl, I'll be good." + +She had risen to her feet and he rose now and his voice changed to a +heartier note. + +"Ready for the going? We'll have to make a start, I suppose. I don't see +any rescue expeditions starting this way. . . . Lordy, I'm a starved +man! I could eat the side of a house." + +"I could eat the other side," said Maria Angelina smiling shakily. + +Johnny put out the fire, ground out its embers beneath his heels, and +started down upon the trail that they had come. Closely after him came +the girl. The moonlight flooded the mountain side with vague, uncertain +light and the descent was a difficult and dangerous matter. + +They tripped over rocks; they stumbled through underbrush. The moon was +their only clue to direction and the moon seemed to be slipping past the +peaks at a confusing speed. + +"We're going down anyway," said Johnny Byrd grimly. + +Sharply they were stopped. The ledge on which they found themselves +ended abruptly, like a bluff, and peering over its edge they looked down +into the dark tops of tall fir trees. + +No more descent there. + +In disgusted rage Johnny strode up and down the length of that ledge +but it was a clear shelf, with no way out from it except the way that +they had come. There was no approach from below. + +"And some fools go in for mountaineering!" said Johnny Byrd bitterly. + +It was the last gust of humor in him. He was furious--and he grew more +furious unrestrainedly. He exploded in muttered oaths and exclamations. + +In her troubled little heart Maria Angelina felt for him. She knew that +he was tired and hungry, and men, when they were hungry, were very +unhappy. But she was tired and hungry, too--and her reputation, the +reputation that was her very existence, was in jeopardy. + +Up they scrambled, from the ledge again, and once back upon the mountain +side, they circled farther back around the mountain before starting down +again. + +Blindly Maria Angelina followed Johnny's lead. She tripped over roots; +she caught upon brambles. With her last shreds of vanity she was +grateful that he could not see her streaming hair and scratched and +dirty face. + +It had grown darker and darker and the moon had vanished utterly behind +the clouds. The air was damp and cold. A wind was rising. + +Suddenly their feet struck into the faint line of a path. Eagerly they +followed. It wound on back across the mountain side and rounded a wooded +spur. + +"It will lead somewhere, anyway," declared Johnny, hope returning good +nature to his tone. + +"But it is not the right way," Maria Angelina combated in distress. +"See, we are not going down any more. Oh, let us keep on going down +until we find that river below, and then we can return to the Lodge----" + +"You come on," said Johnny firmly, striding on ahead, and unhappily she +followed, her anxiety warring with her weariness. + +What time could it be? She felt as if it were the middle of the night. +The picnickers must all be home by now, looking for her, organizing +searching parties perhaps. . . . What must they think? What must they +not think? + +She saw her Cousin Jane's distress. . . . Ruth's disgust. Would they +imagine that she had eloped? + +She knew but little of American conventions and that little told her +that the ceremonies were easy of accomplishment. Young people were +always eloping. . . . The consent of guardians was not necessary. . . . +How terrible, if they imagined her gone on a romantic elopement, to have +her return, mud plastered, after a night with a young man upon the +mountain! + +A night upon the mountain with a young man . . . a young man in love +with her. + +Scandal. . . . Unbelievable shame. + +She felt as if they were in the grip of a nightmare. + +They must hurry, hurry. Somehow they must gain upon that night, they +must return to the Lodge before it was too late. + +A cold sprinkle of rain fell, plastering her middy shiveringly to her, +but the rain soon stopped and the path grew clearer and more and more +defined as they stumbled along it to its end. + +It was not a house they found. It was not really a cabin. It was just +three walls of logs built against the rocky face of the mountain. + +But it was a hut, a shelter, with a door that swung open on leather +hinges at Johnny's tug. + +He called, then peered within. Finally he struck a match and stared +about and Maria Angelina came to look, too. The place was so tiny that a +bed of boughs and blankets on the floor covered most of the space, save +for a few boxes. Outside the doors were the ashes of old fires. + +"Well, it's _something_," said Johnny in glum resignation. "Hasn't the +fool that built it any food?" + +Vigorously he poked about the tiny place, then emerged to report in +disgust, "Not a darn thing. . . . Oh, well, it's a shelter, anyway." + +The incredible idea pierced Maria Angelina that he was going to pause +there for rest. + +"Oh, we must go on," she insisted. + +"Go on?" He turned to stare in indignation at the girl who had gasped +that at him. "Go on? In this dark? When it's going to rain? Why, you're +nearly all in, now." + +"Indeed--indeed, I am not all in," she protested. "It is not necessary +for me to rest--not necessary at all. I am quite strong. I want only to +go on--to go to the Lodge----" + +"We'll never make the Lodge to-night. We'll have to camp here the best +way we can." + +It seemed to her that she could hardly have heard him. It was so +incredible a thought--so overwhelming---- + +A queer gulping sound came from her throat. Her words fell without her +volition, like spent breaths. + +"But that is wrong. We cannot stay. We cannot stay like that----" + +"Why can't we stay?" + +"It--it is impossible! The scandal----" + +Angrily he wheeled about. "Scandal?" he said sharply. "What the hell +scandal is there?" + +His indignation at the words could not dispel her terror. But it was +something to have him so hot her champion. + +"You know, they will all talk----" + +"Let 'em talk," he said curtly. "We can't help it." + +She put a hand to her throat as if to still that throbbing pulse there +that impeded speech. + +"I know we cannot help it. But we cannot--not give them so much to talk +of. We can be trying to return----" + +"Don't be a goose, Ri-Ri!" he broke in sharply. + +He was a man. He did not understand the full agony. . . . Desperately +Maria Angelina wondered as to her reception. She had no parallel in +Italian society. The thing could not happen in Italian society. A girl, +a well born girl, rambling the woods all night with her fiance! + +She wondered if the announcement of their engagement instantly upon +their return would appease the world. Of course, there would always be +the story. As long as she lived there would be the story. But as +Johnny's wife, triumphant, assured, she could afford to ignore it. + +At her stillness Johnny had looked about, and something infinitely +drooping and forlorn in the vague outlines of her small figure made its +softening appeal. + +His voice changed. "Don't you worry, little girl," he told her +soothingly, "I'll take care of you." + +Her heart leaped. + +"Ah, yes," she said faintly, "but what can we do? Had it better be at +once----?" + +"At once----?" + +"The marriage," she choked out. + +"Marriage?" Even in the dimness she saw that he raised his head, his +chin stiffening, his whole outline hardening. + +"What are you talking about?" he said very roughly. + +"About--about our marriage," she repeated trembling, and then, at +something in his hardness and his grimness, "Why, what did you mean----? +Must it not be soon?" + +A dreadful, deliberate silence engulfed her words. + +Coldly Johnny's slow voice broke it. + +"Who said anything about marriage?" defiantly he demanded. "I never +asked you to marry me." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +JOHNNY BECOMES EXPLICIT + + +"I never asked you to marry me," he repeated very stiffly. + +The crash of all her worlds sounded in Maria Angelina's ears. An aghast +bewilderment flooded her soul. + +Pitiably she stammered, "Why it--it was understood, was it not? You +cared--you--you----" + +She could not put into words the memories that beset her stricken +consciousness. But the cheeks that had felt his kiss flamed with a +sudden burning scarlet. + +"What was understood?" said Johnny Byrd. "That I was going to marry +you--because I kissed you?" And with that dreadful hostile grimness he +insisted, "You knew darned well I wasn't proposing to you." + +What did he mean? Had not every action of his been an affirmation of +their relation? Did he believe she was one to whom men acted lightly? +Had he never meant to propose to her, never meant to marry? + +Last night at the dance--this afternoon in the woods--what had he meant +by all his admiration and his boldness? + +And that evening on the mountain, when, with his arm around her, he had +murmured that he would take care of her. . . . Had he meant nothing by +it, nothing, except the casual insolent intimacy which a man would grant +a _ballerina_? + +Or was he now turning from her in dreadful abandonment because after +this scandal she would be too conspicuous to make it agreeable to carry +out the intentions--perhaps only the vaguely realized intentions--of the +past? + +But why then, why had he kissed her on the mountain? + +Utter terror beset her. Her voice shook so that the words dropped +almost incoherently from the quivering lips. + +"But if not--if not--Oh, you must know that now--now it is imperative!" + +Shameful beseeching--shameful that she should have to beseech. Where was +his manhood, his chivalry--where his compassion? + +"Imperative _nuts_! You don't mean to say you're trying to make me marry +you because we got lost in the woods?" + +Desperately the girl struggled for dignity. + +"It is the least you could do, Signor. Even if--if you had not +cared----" + +Her voice broke again. + +"You little nut." Johnny's tones had altered. More mildly he went on, "I +don't quite get you, Ri-Ri, and I don't think you get me. It isn't up to +me to do any marrying, if that's honestly what's worrying you. And I'm +not going to be stampeded, if that's what you're trying to do. . . . Our +reputations will have to stand it." + +And this, Maria Angelina despairingly recalled, was the man who had +kissed her, had watched the moon rise with his arm about her, promising +her his protection. . . . Wildly she wished that she had died before she +had come to this--a thing lightly regarded and repudiated. + +It was horrible to plead to him but the panic of her plight drove her +on. + +"Reputations!" she said chokingly. "Yours can stand it, perhaps--but +what of me? You cannot be serious, you cannot! Why, it is my name, my +life, my everything! . . . You made me come this way. Always I wanted +you to go another way, but no, you were sure, you told me to trust to +you. And then you pretended to care for me--do you think I would have +tolerated your arm about me for one instant if I had not believed it was +forever? Oh, if my father were here you would talk differently! Have you +no honor? None? . . . Every one knew there was an--an affair of the +heart growing between us, and then for us two to disappear--this night +alone----" + +Her voice kept breaking off. She could not control it or the tears that +ran down her face in the darkness. She was a choking, crying wild thing. + +Desperately she forced one last insistence, "Oh, you must, you must!" + +"Must nothing," Byrd answered her savagely. "What kind of scheme is +this, anyhow? I've had a few things tried before but this beats the +Dutch. I don't know how much of this talk you mean but I'll tell you +right now, young lady, nobody can tie me up for life with any such +stuff. Father! Honor! Scandal! Believe me, little one, you've got the +wrong number." + +"You mean--you dare refuse?" + +"You bet I dare refuse. There's no sense to all this. Nobody's going to +think the worse of you because you got lost with me--and if you're +trying to put anything over, you might as well stop now." + +Maria Angelina stopped. It seemed to her that she should die of shame. + +Dazedly she stood and looked at him through the darkness out of which a +few drops of rain were again falling. + +"You just forget it and get a bit of rest," Johnny Byrd advised +brusquely. "Hurry in out of the wet. That thing's going to leak again," +and he nodded jerkily up at the sky. + +He tugged open the door, and stricken as a wounded creature crawling to +shelter Maria Angelina bent her head and stumbled across the threshold. + +"In you go," he said with a more cheerful air. "Wrap yourself up as warm +as you can and I'll follow----" + +She was within the doorway when these words came. She turned and saw +that he was stooping to enter. + +"I shall do quite well, Signor," she found her voice quickly to say. +"You need not come in." + +"Need not----?" He appeared caught with fresh amazement. "Judas, where +do you think I'm going to stay? Out in the rain?" + +"Certainly not in here, Signor." + +Desperation lent Maria Angelina sudden fire. "You must be mad, Signor!" +she told him fiercely. + +"And you madder. You don't think I'm going to stay"--he jerked his head +backward--"out in the wet?" + +"But naturally. You are a man. It is your place." + +"My place--you little Wop! A man! I'd be a dead one." The words of a +humorous lecturer smote his memory and with harsh merriment he quoted, +"'Good-night, Miss Middleton, said I, as I buttoned her carefully into +her tent and went out to sleep upon a cactus.' . . . None of that stuff +for mine," and without more ado Johnny Byrd lowered his head to pass +under the doorway. + +There was a gasp from the interior. + +"Ri-Ri, listen to me!" he demanded upon the threshold. "You're +raving--loco--nuts! There's no harm in my huddling under the same roof +with you--it's a damn necessity. I'm not going to hold hands and I'm +not going to kiss you. If you've got any drawn swords you can lay their +blades between us. You turn your face to the wall and forget all about +it and I'll do the same." + +"Signor, stay without!" + +"Got a dagger in your garter? . . . Ri-Ri, listen to me. You're +absolutely wrong in the head. Be sensible. Have a heart. I'm going to +get some rest." + +"It does not matter what you say or what you intend. You do not need to +reassure me that you will not kiss me, Signor. That will not happen +again." Maria Angelina's voice was like ice. "But you are not coming +within this place." + +Tensely she confronted him. He loomed before her as a wolfish brute, +seeking his comfort at this last cost of her pride. . . . But no man, +she thought tragically, should ever say that he had spent the night +within the same four walls. + +She sprang forward, her hands outstretched, then shrank back. + +She could not touch him. Not only the perception of the ludicrous folly +of matching her strength against his withheld her, but some flaming fury +against putting a hand upon a man who had so repudiated her. + +Her brain grew alert. Suddenly very intent and collected she stepped +aside and Johnny Byrd came in. + +Close to the wall she pressed, edging nearer and nearer the door, and as +he stumbled and fumbled with the blankets she gave a quick spring and +flashed out. + +Like mad she ran across the clearing, through a thicket, and out again +and away. + +On the instant he was after her; she heard his steps crashing behind her +but she had the start of her swiftness and the speed of her desperation. +Brambles meant nothing to her, nor the thickets nor branches. She flew +on and on, lost in the darkness, his shouts growing fainter and fainter +in her ears. + +At last, in a shrub, she stopped to listen. She could hear nothing. Then +came a call--very faint. It came from the wrong direction. She had +turned and doubled like a hare and Johnny was pursuing, if he still +pursued, a mistaken way. + +She was safe . . . and she stood still for a few minutes to quiet her +pounding heart and catch her gasping breath, and then she stole out, +cautiously, anxiously hurrying, to make her own way down. + +She had no idea of time or of distance. Vaguely she felt that it was the +middle of the night but that if she were quick, very quick, she might +reach the Lodge before it was too disastrously late. She might meet a +searching party out for them--there would be searching parties if people +were truly worried at their absence. + +Of course if they thought it an elopement, they might not take that +trouble. They might be merely waiting and conjecturing. + +If only Cousin Jim had not returned to New York! He was so kind and +concerned that he would be searching. There would be a chance of his +understanding. But Cousin Jane--what would she believe? + +Cousin Jane had seen Johnny draw her significantly back. + +At her folly of the afternoon she looked back with horror. How bold she +had been in that new American freedom! Mamma had warned her--dear Mamma +so far away, so innocent of this terrible disgrace. . . . + +Wildly she plunged on through the dark, hoping always for a path but +finding nothing but rough wilderness. She knew no landmarks to guide +her, but down she went determinedly, down, down continually. + +An hour had passed. Perhaps two hours. The sky had grown blacker and +blacker. There were occasional gusts of rain. The wind that had been +threshing the tree tops blew with increasing fury. + +Jagged tridents of lightning flashed before her eyes. Thunder followed +almost instantly, great crashing peals that seemed to be rending the +heavens. + +Maria Angelina felt as if the splinters must fall upon her. It was like +the voice of judgment. + +On she went, down, down, through a darkness that was chaos lit by +lightning. Rain came, in a torrent of water, heavy as lead, drenching +her to the skin. Her hair had streamed loose and was plastered about her +face, her throat, her arms. A strand like a wet rope wound about her +wrist and delayed her. Often she slipped and fell. + +Still down. But if she should find the Lodge, what then? What would they +think of her, wet, torn, disheveled, an outcast of the night? + +She sobbed aloud as she went. She, who had come to America so proudly, +so confidently of glad fortune, who had thought the world a fairy tale +and believed that she had found its prince--what place on earth would +there be for her after this, disgraced and ashamed? + +They would ship her back to Mamma at once. And the scandal would travel +with her, whispered by tourists, blazoned by newspapers. + +And her family had so counted upon her! They had looked for such great +things! + +Now she had utterly blackened their name, tarnished them all forever +with her disrepute. Poor Julietta's hopes would be ruined. . . . No one +would want a Santonini. . . . Lucia would be furious. The Tostis might +even repudiate her--certainly they would inflict their condescension. + +She could only disappear, hide in some nursing sisterhood. + +So ran her wild thoughts as she scrambled down these endless mountain +sides. All the black fears that she had fought off earlier in the +evening by her belief in Johnny's devotion were upon her now like a pack +of wolves. She wished that she could die at once and be out of it, yet +when she heard the sudden wash of water, almost under her feet, she +jumped aside and screamed. + +A river! In the night it looked wider than that one they had followed +that afternoon but it might only be another part of it. + +Very wearily she made her way along the bank, so mortally tired that it +seemed as if every step must be her last. There was no underbrush to +struggle with now, for she had come to a grove of pines and their fallen +needles made a carpet for her lagging feet. + +The rain was nearly over, but she was too wet and too cold to take +comfort in that. + +More and more laggingly she went and at last, when a hidden root tripped +her, she made no effort to rise, but lay prostrate, her cheek upon her +outflung arm, and yielded to the dark, drowsy oblivion that stole +numbingly over her. + +She would be glad, she thought, never to wake. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +MRS. BLAIR REGRETS + + +It had taken a long time for concern to spread among the picnickers. + +The sudden shower had sent them all scurrying for shelter, and when the +climb was resumed, they crossed the river on those wide, flat +stepping-stones that Johnny Byrd had missed, and re-formed in +self-absorbed little twos and threes that failed to take note of the +absence of the laggards. + +When Ruth remembered to call back, "Where's Ri-Ri?" to her mother, Mrs. +Blair only glanced over her shoulder and answered, "She's coming," with +no thought of anxiety. + +It did occur to her, however, somewhat later, that the girl was +loitering a little too significantly with young Byrd, and she made a +point of suggesting to Ruth, when she passed her in a short time, that +she wait for her cousin who was probably finding the climb too +strenuous. + +"Who? Me?" said Ruth amazedly. "Gee, what do you want me to do--fan her? +Let Johnny do it," and cheerfully she went on photographing a group upon +a fallen log, and Mrs. Blair went on with the lawyer from Washington who +was a rapid walker. + +And Ruth, with the casual thought that neither Ri-Ri nor Johnny Byrd +would relish such attendance, promptly let the thought of them dissolve +from her memory. + +She was immersed in her own particular world that afternoon. + +Life was at a crisis for her. Robert Martin had been drifting faster and +faster with the current of his admiration for her, and now seemed to +have been brought up on very definite solid ground. He felt he knew +where he was. And he wanted to know where Ruth was. + +And Ruth found herself in that special quandary reserved for independent +American girls who want to have their cake and eat it, too. + +She wanted Bob Martin, and she wanted to be gratifyingly sure that Bob +Martin wanted her--and then she wanted affairs to stand still at that +pleasant pass, while she played about and invited adventure. + +Life was so desirable as it was . . . especially with Bob Martin in the +scene. But if he were unsatisfied he wouldn't remain there as part of +the adjacent landscape. + +Bob was no pursuing Lochinvar. + +It was very delicate. She couldn't explain all her hesitation +satisfactorily to herself, so she had made rather a poor job of it when +she tried to explain to Bob. + +Part of it was young unreadiness for the decisions and responsibilities +of life, part of it was reprehensible aversion about shutting the door +to other adventures, and part of it was her native energy, as yet +unemployed, aware of a larger world and anxious to play some undivined +part in its destinies. + +She had always been furious that the war had come too soon for her. She +would have loved to have gone over there, and known the mud and +doughnuts and doughboys . . . and the excitement and the officers. . . . + +But Bob wasn't going to dangle much longer. He hadn't a doubt but that +everything was all right and he was in haste to taste the assurance. + +And Ruth wasn't going to lose him. + +These hesitations of hers would convey nothing to his youthful +masculinity but that she didn't care enough. And his was not the age +that appreciates the temporizing half loaf. + +So that trip up the mountain meant for them much youthful discussion, +much searching of wills and hearts and motives, a threatening gloom upon +his part, and a struggling defensiveness upon hers. + +Small wonder that Maria Angelina and her companion were not remembered! + +It was not until she was at the very top of old Baldy, and again a part +of the general group that Ruth had the thought to look about her and +recognize her cousin's absence. + +"They _are_ taking their time," she remarked to Bob. + +"Glad they're enjoying it," he gave back with a disgruntled air that +Ruth determinedly ignored. + +"I guess Ri-Ri's no good at a climb," she said. "This little old +mountain must have got her." + +"Oh, Johnny's strong right arm will do the work," he returned +indifferently. + +"But they ought to be here now. You don't suppose they missed the way?" +Mrs. Blair, overhearing, suggested, and turned to look down the steep +path that they had come. + +Bob scouted the idea of such a mishap. + +"Johnny knows his way about. They'll be along when they feel like it," +he predicted easily, and Mrs. Blair turned to the arrangement of supper +with a slight anxiety which she dissembled beneath casual cheerfulness. + +In her heart she was vexed. Dreadfully noticeable, she thought, that +persistent lagging of theirs. She might have expected it of Johnny +Byrd--he had a way of making new girls conspicuous--but she had looked +for better things from Maria Angelina. + +It was too bad. It showed that as soon as you gave those cloistered +girls an inch they took an ell. + +Outwardly she spoke with praise of her charge. Julia Martin, a youthful +aunt of Bob's, was curious about the girl. + +"She's the loveliest creature," she declared with facile enthusiasm, as +she and Mrs. Blair delved into a hamper that the Martins' chauffeur and +butler had shouldered up before the picnickers. + +"And so naively young--I don't see how her mother dared let her come so +far away." + +"Oh--her mother wanted her to see America," Mrs. Blair gave back. + +"She must be having a wonderful time," pursued the young lady. "She was +simply a picture at the dance. . . . Think of giving a mountain climb +the night after the dance," she added in a lower voice. "Bob and his +mother are perfectly mad. I think they want to kill their guests +off--perhaps there's method in their madness. . . . I never saw anything +quite like her," she resumed upon Maria Angelina. "I fancy Johnny Byrd +hasn't either!" + +"Wasn't she pretty?" agreed Mrs. Blair with pleasantness, laying out the +spoons. "Yes, it's very interesting for her to have this," she went on, +"before she really knows Roman society. . . . She will come out as soon +as she returns from America, I suppose. The eldest sister is being +married this fall, and the next sister and Maria Angelina are about of +an age." + +"Little hard on the sister unless she is a raving, tearing beauty," said +the intuitive Miss Martin with a laugh. "Perhaps they are sending Maria +Angelina away to keep her in abeyance!" + +"Perhaps," Mrs. Blair assented. "At any rate, with this preliminary +experience, I fancy that little Ri-Ri will make quite a sensation over +there." + +It was as if she said plainly to the curious young aunt that this +pilgrimage was only a prelude in Maria Angelina's career, and she +certainly did not take its possibilities for any serious finalities. + +But the youthful aunt was not intimidated. + +"She'll make a sensation over _here_ if she carries off the Byrd +millions," she threw out smartly. + +Mrs. Blair smiled with an effect of remote amusement. Inwardly she knew +sharp annoyance. She wished she could smack that loitering child. . . . +Very certainly she would betray no degrading interest in her fortunes. +The Martins were not to think that she was intent on placing _any one_! + +"Johnny Byrd's a child," said she indifferently. + +"He's been of age two years," said the youthful aunt, "and he's out of +college now and very much a catch--all his vacations used to be +hairbreadth escapes. Of course he courts danger," she threw in with a +little laugh and a sidelong look. + +But Mrs. Blair was not laughing. She was blaming herself for the +negligence which had made this situation possible, although--extenuation +made haste to add within her--no one could humanly be expected to be +going up and down a trail all afternoon to gather in the stragglers. And +she had told Ruth to wait. + +"She's probably just tired out," said the stout widower with strong +accents of sympathy. "Climb too much for her, and very sensibly they've +turned back." + +"If I could only be sure. If I could only be sure she wasn't hurt--or +lost," said Mrs. Blair doubtfully. + +"Lost!" Bob Martin derided. "Lost--on a straight trail. Not unless they +jolly wanted to!" + +"Don't spoil the party, mother," was Ruth's edged advice. "Ri-Ri hasn't +broken any legs or necks. And she wasn't alone to get lost. She just +gave up and Johnny Byrd took her home. I know her foot was blistered at +the dance last night and that's probably the matter." + +It was the explanation they decided to adopt. + +Mrs. Blair, recalling that this was not her expedition, made a double +duty of appearing sensibly at ease, although the nervous haste with +which a sudden noise would bring her to alertness, facing the path, +revealed some inner tension. + +The young people were inclined to be hilarious over the affair, +inventing fresh reasons for the absent ones, reasons that ranged from +elopement to wood pussies. + +"There was one around last night," the tennis champion insisted. + +But the hilarity was only a flash in the pan. After its flare the party +dragged. Curiosity preoccupied some; uneasiness communicated itself to +others. And the frank abstraction of Ruth and Bob had a depressing +effect upon the atmosphere. + +And the runaways were missed. Johnny Byrd had an infectious way of +making a party go and Maria Angelina's sweet soprano had become so much +a part of every gathering that its absence now made song a dejection. + +Other things of Maria Angelina than her soprano were missed, also. + +Julia Martin found the popular bachelor decidedly absent-minded. The +crack young polo player thought the scenery disappointing. Decidedly, it +was a dull party. + +And the weather was threatening. + +So after supper had been disposed of and there had been a bonfire and an +effort at singing about it, a dispirited silence spread until a decent +interval was felt to have elapsed and allowed the suggestion of return. + +Once it was suggested everybody seemed ready for the start, even without +the moon, for the path was fairly clear and the men had pocket +flashlights, so down in the dark they started, proceeding cautiously +and gingerly, and accumulating mental reservations about mountains and +mountain climbing until the moon suddenly overtook them and sent a +silvering wash of light into the valley at their feet. + +They had gained the main path before the moon deserted them, and the +first of the gusty showers sent them hurrying along in shivering +impatience for the open fires of homes. + +"We'll find that pair of short sports toasting their toes and giving us +the laugh," predicted Bob, tramping along, a hand on Ruth's arm now. + +Ruth was wearing his huge college sweater over her silk one and felt +indefinably less adventurous and independent than on her upward trip. +Bob seemed very stable, very desirable, as she stumbled wearily on. She +wasn't quite sure what she had wanted to gain time for, that afternoon. +Already the barriers of custom and common-sense were raising their solid +heads. + +And Bob was romance, too. It was silly to be unready for surrender. She +realized that if she lost him. . . . + +At the Lodge she gave him back a quick look that set him astir. + +"Hold on," he called as she broke from him to follow her mother. + +The cars from the Martin house party had been left at the Lodge in +readiness and with perfunctory warmth of farewells the tired +mountaineers were hastening either to the Lodge or the motors. + +"Here's Johnny's car," he sung out. "He's probably inside----" and Bob +swung hastily after Ruth and her mother. + +He was up the steps beside them and opened the door into the wide hall +where a group was lingering about the open fire. + +A glance told them Johnny Byrd was not of the company. Bob and Ruth went +to the door of the music room. It was deserted. Mrs. Blair went swiftly +to the clerk's desk at the side entrance. + +She came back, looking upset. Maria Angelina had not returned, to the +clerk's knowledge. No one had telephoned any news. + +"I'll go up and make sure," offered Ruth, and sped up the stairs only to +return in a few minutes with a face of dawning excitement. + +"They must be lost!" she announced in a voice that drew instant +attention. + +"Did you look to see if her things were there?" said her mother in an +agitated undertone. + +Bob Martin met her glance with swift intelligence. + +"Johnny's car is out there," he told them. "It isn't _that_--they are +simply lost, as Ruth says. Wait--I must tell them before they get away," +and he hurried out into the increasing downpour. + +Mrs. Blair turned on her daughter a face of pale misgiving. + +"I knew it," she said direfully. "I felt it all along. . . . She's +lost." + +"Well, she'll be found," said Ruth lightly, with an indisputable lift +of excitement. "The bears won't eat them." + +Mrs. Blair's eyes shifted uneasily to meet the advancing circle from the +fire. + +"There are worse bites than bears'," she found time to throw out, before +she had to voice the best possible version of Maria Angelina's +disappearance. + +Instantly a babble of facile comfort rose. + +They would be here any moment now. + +Some one had picked them up--they were safe and sound, this instant. + +There wasn't a thing that could happen--it wasn't as though these were +_wilds_. + +Just telephone about--she mustn't worry. As soon as it was light some +one would go out and track them. + +Why, Judge Carney's boys had been lost all night and breakfasted on +blueberries. It wasn't uncommon. + +And nothing could happen to her--with Johnny Byrd along. + +Oh, Johnny would take care of her--by morning everything would be all +right. + +But how in the world had it happened? That was such an _easy_ trail! + +And that was the question that stared, Argus-eyed, at Jane Blair. It was +the question, she knew, that they were all asking themselves--and the +others--in covert curiosity. + +What had happened? And how had it happened? + + + + +CHAPTER X + +FANTASY + + +She awoke to fright--some great hairy beast of the forest was nosing +her. + +Then a light flashed in her eyes, and as she closed them, drifting off +to exhaustion again, she half saw a figure stooping towards her. Then +she felt herself being carried, while a barking seemed to be all about +her. + +The next thing she knew was light forcing its brightness through her +closed lids and a great warmth beating upon her. + +She dragged her eyes open again. She was lying on a black bear skin rug +before a roaring fire, and some one was kneeling beside her, tucking +cushions beneath her head. She had a glimpse of a khaki sleeve and a +lean brown wrist. + +The warmth was delicious. She wanted to put her head back against those +pillows and sleep forever but memory was rousing, too. + +Sleepily, she mumbled, "What time is it?" + +The khaki shirt sleeve had withdrawn from view and the answering voice +came from a corner of the room. + +"It's about two." + +Two o'clock! The night gone--gone past redemption. + +"Oh, Madre mia!" whispered Maria Angelina. + +She struggled up on one elbow, her little face, scratched and stained, +staring wildly out from the dark thicket of hair. "But where am I? Where +is this place? Is it near the Lodge--near Wilderness Lodge?" + +"We're miles from Wilderness," said the voice out of the shadows. "This +is Old Chief Mountain--on the Little Pine River." + +Old Chief Mountain! Vaguely Maria Angelina recalled that stony peak, far +behind Old Baldy. . . . They had climbed the wrong mountain, indeed. +. . . And she had plunged farther away, in her headlong flight. + +She stared about her. She saw a huge fireplace where the flames were +dancing. Above it, on a wide mantel, was a disarray of books, +cigar-boxes, pipes and papers, the papers weighted oddly with a jar of +obviously pickled frogs. + +Upon the log walls several fishing rods were stretched on nails and a +gun, a corn-popper, a rough coat and cap and a fishing net were all hung +on neighboring hooks. + +It was the cabin of some woodsman, and she seemed alone in it with the +woodsman and his dog, a tawny collie--the wild animal of her awakening. +Quietly alert, he lay now beside her, his grave, bright eyes upon her +face. + +The woodsman she could not see. + +"Now see if you can drink all of this." The khaki sleeve had appeared +from the shadows and was holding a steaming cup to her lips. + +It was a huge cup made of granite ware. Obediently Maria Angelina drank. +The contents were scalding hot and while her throat seemed blistered the +warmth penetrated her veins in quick reaction. + +"Lucky I didn't empty my coffeepot," said the voice cheerfully. "There +it was--waiting to be heated. Memorandum--never wash a coffeepot." + +The voice seemed coming to her out of a dream. Thrusting back the +tangled hair from her eyes Maria Angelina lifted them incredulously to +the woodsman's face. + +Was it true? . . . Those clear, sharp-cut features, those bright, keen +eyes with the gay smile! . . . Was it true---or was she dreaming? + +Instinctively she dropped her hand and let her hair like a black curtain +shield her face. The blood seemed to stand still in her veins waiting +that dreadful instant of recognition. + +Confusedly, with some frantic thought of flight, "I must go--Oh, I must +go----" + +She sat up, still hiding, like Godiva, in her hair. + +"You lie down and rest," said the authoritative voice. "If there's any +going to be done I'll do it. Is there some other Babe in the Woods to be +found?" + +"Oh, no--no, but I must go----" + +"You get a good rest. You can tell me all about it and who you are when +you're dry and warm." + +She yielded to the compulsion in his voice and to her own weakness, and +lay very still and inert, her cheek upon her outflung arm, her eyes +watching the red dance of flames through the black strands of her hair. +It was the final irony, she felt, of that dreadful night. To meet Barry +Elder again--like this--after all her dreams---- + +It was too terrible to be true. + +And he did not know her. He had come to that place of his, in the +Adirondacks, of which he had spoken, and had never given her a thought. +He had never come to see her. . . . + +A great wave of mortification surged over Maria Angelina, bearing a +medley of images, of thoughts, of old hopes--like the wash from some +sinking ship. What a fool of hope she had been! How vain and silly and +credulous! . . . She had dreamed of this man, sung to the thought of +him--quickened to absurd expectancy at every stir of the wheels. . . . +And then she had pictured him at the seashore, beneath the spell of that +gold-haired siren--and here he was, quite near and free--utterly +unremembering! + +She had suffered many pangs of mortification this night but now her +poor, shamed spirit bled afresh. + +But perhaps he had just come. And certainly he would remember to come +and see his friends, the Blairs, and possibly he would remember that +foreign cousin of theirs that he had danced with--just remember her with +pleasant friendliness. She would give herself so much of balm. + +And who indeed was she for Barry Elder to remember? Just a very young, +very silly goose of a girl, a little foreigner . . . some one to +nickname and pet carelessly . . . a girl who had been good enough for +Johnny Byrd to make love to but not good enough for him to marry. . . . + +A girl who had thrown her name recklessly to the winds and who, +to-morrow, would be a byword. . . . + +These thoughts ached in her with her bruised flesh. + +Meanwhile Barry Elder had been making quick trips about the room and now +he threw down an armful of garments beside her and knelt at her feet, +tugging at her sopping shoes. + +"Let me get these off--there, that's better. Now the other one. . . . +Lordy, child, those footies. . . . Now you'd better get into these dry +things as quick as you can. Not a perfect fit, but the best I can do. +I'll take a turn in the woods and be back in ten minutes. So you hurry +up." + +He closed the door upon the words that Maria Angelina was beginning to +frame and left her looking helplessly at a pair of corduroy +knickerbockers, a blue flannel shirt, a strange undergarment, plaid golf +stockings and a pair of fringed moccasins. + +They were in an untouched heap when her host returned, letting in a cold +rush of the night with him. + +"What's this?" he flung out in mock severity. "See here, young lady, you +must get into those clothes whether they happen to be the style or not! +Little girls who get wet can't go to sleep in their clothes. Now I'll +give you just ten minutes more and then if you are not a good girl----" + +To her own dismay and to his Maria Angelina burst into tears. + +"Oh, come now," said Barry helplessly. "You poor little dud----" + +The sudden gentleness of his voice undid the last of the girl's control. +She sobbed harder and harder as he sat down beside her and began to pat +her shaking shoulders. + +"You shan't do anything you don't want to," he comforted. "You're tired +out, I know. But you'd be so much more comfy in these dry togs----" + +"Oh, please, Signor, not those things. Do not make me. I will get +dry----" + +"You don't have to if you don't want to," he told her gently, looking +down in a puzzled way at her distress. Her face was buried in a crook of +her arm; her black hair streamed tempestuously over her heaving +shoulders. "Come closer to the fire, then, and dry out." + +He threw more wood upon the flames and piled on brush that shed a swift, +crackling heat. + +"Give that a chance at those wet clothes of yours," he advised. +"Meanwhile we'd better wring this out," and with businesslike despatch +he began gathering that dripping black hair into the folds of a Turkish +towel. Very strenuously he wrung it. + +"That's what I do for my kid sister when she's been in swimming," he +mentioned. "She's at the seashore now--no getting her away from the +water. She's a bigger girl than you are. . . . Now when you feel better +suppose you tell me all about it. Did you say you came from Wilderness +Lodge?" + +"Yes," said Maria Angelina half whisperingly. + +Had he no memory of her at all? Or was she so different in that wet, +muddied blouse, hair streaming, and face scratched--she looked down at +her grimy little hands and wondered dumbly what her face might look +like. + +And then she saw that Barry Elder, having finished with her hair, was +preparing to wash her face, for he brought a granite basin of hot water +and began wetting and soaping the end of a voluminous towel with which +he advanced upon her. + +"I can well wash myself," she cried with promptness, and most thoroughly +she washed and scrubbed, and then hung her head as he took away the +things. + +She felt as if a screening mask had fallen and her only thought now was +to make an escape before discovery should add one more humiliation to +this night of shames. + +"You are very good," she said shyly. "I cannot tell you how I thank you. +And I feel so much better that if you will please let me go----" + +"Go? To Wilderness Lodge? It's miles and miles, child--and it's pouring +cats and dogs again. Don't you hear the drumsticks on the roof?" + +She hesitated. "Then--have you a telephone?" + +"No, thank the Lord!" The remembered laughter flashed in Barry Elder's +tones. "I came here to get away from the devil of invention and all his +works. There isn't a telephone nearer than Peter's place--four miles +away. I'll go over for you as soon as it's light, for I expect your +mother's worrying her head off about you. How did you ever happen to get +lost over here?" + +Helplessly Maria Angelina sought for words. Silence was ungrateful but +there seemed nothing she could say. + +"It was on a picnic--please do not ask me," she whispered foolishly. + +In humorous perplexity the young man stood looking down upon the small +figure that chance had deposited so unexpectedly upon his hearth, a most +forlorn and drooping small figure, with downcast and averted head, then +with that sudden smile that made his young face so brightly persuasive +he dropped beside her and reached towards her. + +"Here, little kiddie, you come and sit with me while I warm those feet +of yours----" + +Swiftly she withdrew from his kindly reaching hands. + +"Signor, it is not fitting that you should hold me, that you should warm +my feet," she gasped. "I am _not_ a child, Signor!" + +Signor . . . The word waked some echo in his mind. . . . The child had +used it before--but what connection was groping----? + +He repeated the word aloud. + +"You do not recall?" said Maria Angelina chokingly. "Though indeed, +there is no reason why you should. It was but for a moment----" + +She glanced up to see recognition leap amazedly into his face. + +"The little Signorina! The Blairs' little Signorina!" + +"Maria Angelina Santonini," she told him soberly. "Yes, that is I." + +"Why of course I remember," he insisted. "A little girl in a white +dress. A big hat which you took off. Your first night in America. We had +a wonderful dance together----" + +"And you said you would come to the mountains," she told him childishly. + +He stared a moment. "Why, so I did. . . . And here I am. And here you +are. To think I did not know you--I've been wondering whom you made me +want to think of! But I took you for a youngster, you know, a regular +ten-year-old runaway. Why, with your hair down like that---- Of course, +it was absurd of me." + +He paused with a smile for the absurdity of it. + +Gallantly she tried to give him back that smile but there was something +so wan and piteous in the curve of her soft lips, something so hurt and +sick in the shadows of her dark eyes, that Barry Elder felt oddly +silenced. + +And then he tried to cover that silence with kind chatter as he moved +about his room once more in hospitable preparation. + +"It was Sandy, here, who really found you," he told her. "He whined at +the door till I let him out and then he came back, barking, for me, so I +had to go. I was really looking for a mink. Sandy's always excited about +minks." + +Maria Angelina put a hand to the dog's head and stroked it. + +"I was so tired," she said. "I think I was asleep." + +"I rather think you were," said Barry in an odd tone. He glanced at her +white cheek with its scarlet scratch of a branch. "And I rather think +you ought to be asleep now but first you must eat this and drink some +more coffee." + +Maria Angelina needed no urging. Like a starveling she fell upon that +plate of crisp bacon and delicately fried eggs and cleaned it to the +last morsel. + +"I had but two bites of sweet chocolate for my dinner," she apologized. + +"So you were lost before dinner--no wonder you were done in." + +Barry filled a very worn-looking little brown pipe with care. "Where +were you going, anyway, for your picnic?" + +"It was to Old Baldy." + +"Old Baldy, eh? Let me see--what trail did you take?" + +"On the river path. Then--then we got separated----" + +"I see. But it's a fairly clear trail. Did you try another?" + +"We--we crossed the river the wrong time, I think, and so got on the +wrong mountain. We----" + +Maria Angelina's voice died away in sudden sick perception of that +betraying pronoun. + +Quite slowly, without looking at her, Barry completed the lighting of +that pipe to his satisfaction and drew a few appreciative puffs. Then he +turned to inquire casually, "And who is 'we'?" + +He saw only the top of the girl's tousled head and the tense grip of her +clasped hands in her lap. + +"If you would not ask, Signor!" she said whisperingly. + +"A dark secret!" He tried to laugh over that but his keen eyes rested on +her with a troubled wonder. + +"And then you got lost--even from your companion?" he prompted quietly. + +"Yes, I--I came away alone for he--he refused to go on," faltered Maria +Angelina painfully, "and then I seemed to go on forever--and I could do +no more. But now I am quite well again," she insisted with a ghost of a +brave smile. "If only--if only my Cousin Jane could know that I'm trying +to get back," she finished in a tone that shook in spite of her. + +"You weren't trying to get lost, were you?" questioned Barry lightly, +groping for a cue. There was no mistaking the flash of Maria Angelina's +repudiation and the candor of her suddenly upraised young face. + +"Oh, no, Signor, no, no! It was only that I was so careless--that I +believed he knew the way." + +"And was he trying to get lost?" + +"Oh, no, Signor, no, it was all a mistake." + +"This is a very easy neck of the woods to get lost in," Barry told her +reassuringly. "Old residents here often miss their way--especially in a +storm. Mrs. Blair will worry, of course, but she is very sensible and +she knows you will come to light with the daylight. Just as soon as it +is clear enough for me to find my way I'll strike over to Peter's place +and phone her that you are safe and sound, and I'll get a horse for you +to ride out on--you won't care for any more walking and the motor can +only come as far as the road." + +"But you must not tell them _you_ have found me," said Maria Angelina, +overwhelmed with tragedy again. She seemed fated, she thought in +dreadful humor, to spend the night with young men! And to have been lost +by one and found by another! + +"It will be so much worse," she said pleadingly. "Could you not just +show me the way and let me go----?" + +"So much worse?" His face was very grave and gentle. "So much worse? I +don't think I understand." + +"So _very_ much worse. To have been found like this--Oh, promise me to +say nothing about it. I know that I can trust you." + +"I think you had better tell me all about it, Signorina." + +He saw that dark misery, like a film, swim blindingly over her wide +eyes. + +"I cannot." + +He considered a moment before he spoke again. + +"If you really do not want any one to know that I found you I am willing +to hold my tongue. But don't you see what a lot of ridiculous deception +that would involve? You would have to make up all sorts of little +things. And then, after all, you'd be sure to say something--one always +does--and let it all out----" + +Maria Angelina looked at him pathetically and a sudden impulse stabbed +him to say hastily, "I'll fall in with any plan you want to make. Only +wait to decide until you feel rested. Then perhaps we can decide +together. . . . And now, if you are really getting dry----" + +"Truly, I am, Signor Elder. I am indeed dry and hot." + +"Then you'd better make up your mind to curl up on that cot over there +and sleep." + +"I couldn't sleep." + +There was truth beneath Maria Angelina's quick disclaimer. Exhausted as +she was, her mind was vividly awake, now, excited with the strangeness +of her presence there. + +Her mortification at his finding her was gone. He was so rarely kind, so +pleasantly matter of fact. He was as gayly undisturbed as if the heavens +rained starving young girls upon him every night! And somehow she had +known he was like this . . . but he was like no one else that she had +known. . . . + +Her mind groped for a comparison. For an instant she vainly tried to +picture Paolo Tosti doing the honors to such a guest--but that picture +was unpaintable. + +This Barry Elder was chivalry itself; he was kindness and comfort--and +he was a strange, stirring excitement that flung a glamour over the +disaster of the hour. + +It was like a little hush before the final storm, a dim dream before the +nightmare enfolded her again. + +Her eyes followed him as he turned out the kerosene lamp, which was +sputtering, and flung fresh logs upon the hearty fire. Overhead the +rain droned, like monotonous fingers upon a keyboard, and beside her +Sandy slept noisily, with sudden whimpers. + +Barry's eyes, meeting the wistful dark ones, smiled responsively, and +Maria Angelina felt a queer tightening within her, as if some one had +tied a band about her heart. + +"You don't have such fires in Italy," he observed, dropping down upon +the rug across from her, and refilling that battered pipe of his. "I +well remember when I ordered a fire and the _cameraria_ came in with a +bunch of twigs." + +Madly Maria Angelina fell upon the revelation. + +"You have been in Italy!" + +"Oh, more than once! But all before the war." + +"And you have been in Rome? Oh, to think of that! But where did you +stay? Whom did you know there, Signor?" + +Barry grinned. "Head waiters!" + +"You knew no Romans, then? Oh, but that was a pity." + +"I can well believe it, Signorina!" + +"Oh, Rome can be very gay--though I am not out in society myself, and +know so little. . . . What did you do, then? I suppose you went to the +Forum and the Vatican and the Via Appia like all the tourists and drove +out to the Coliseum by moonlight?" + +Delightedly she laughed as Barry Elder confirmed her account of his +activities. + +"Me, I have never seen the Coliseum by moonlight," she reported +plaintively, adding with eager wistfulness, "And did you buy violets on +the Spanish Stairs? And throw a penny into the Trevi fountain to ensure +your return? And do you remember the street that turns off left, the Via +Poli? From there you come quick to my house, the Palazzo Santonini----" + +"And do you really live in a palace?" It was Barry's turn to question. +"A really truly palace? And is your father a really truly prince?" + +"Nothing so great! He is a count--but of a very old family, the +Santonini," Maria Angelina explained with becoming pride. + +"And is your mother of a very old----" + +"My mother is American--the cousin of Mrs. Blair. But Mamma has never +been back in America--she is too devoted to us, is Mamma, and she has so +much to look after for Papa. Papa is charming but he does not manage." + +"That makes complications," said Barry gravely. + +"And Francisco, my brother, is just like him. He is always running +bills, now that he is in the army. And he was so brave in the war that +Mamma cannot bear to be cross. He will have to marry an heiress, that +boy," she sighed and Barry Elder's eyes lighted in amusement. + +"How many of you are there?" he wanted interestedly to know, and +vivaciously Maria Angelina informed him of her sisters, her life, her +lessons, the rare excursions, the pension at the seashore, the +engagement of her sister Lucia and Paolo Tosti. + +And absorbedly Barry Elder listened, his eyes on her changing face. When +she paused he flung in some question or some anecdote of his own times +in Italy and Sandy was often roused by unseasonable laughter, and +thudded his tail in sleepy friendliness before dozing off to his dreams +again. + +Then like a flash, as swiftly as it had come, the excited glow of +recollection was an extinguished flame, leaving her shivering before a +nearer memory. + +For Barry Elder asked one question too many. He brought the present down +upon them. + +"And how do you like America?" he asked. "Has it been good fun for you +up here?" + +Only the blind could have missed the change that came over the girl's +face, blotting out its laughter and etching in queer, startled fear. + +"It has been--very gay," she stammered. + +Despairingly she asked herself why she still tried to hide her story +from him since in the morning it must all come out. He would know all +about her then. And what must he be thinking already of her stammered +evasions? + +Oh, if only on that yesterday, which seemed a thousand yesterdays away, +she had stayed closely by her Cousin Jane! If she had not let her folly +wreck all her life! + +Bitterly ironic to know that all the time Barry Elder was here, at hand. +If only she had known! Had he just come? + +She wondered and asked the question. + +And at that Barry's face changed as if he had remembered something he +would have been as glad to forget. + +"Oh--I've been here a few days," he gave back vaguely. + +She glanced about the shadowy room. "So alone?" + +A wry smile touched his mouth. "I came for alone-ness. I had a play to +write--I wanted to work some things out for myself," and indefinably but +certainly Maria Angelina caught the impression that all the things he +wanted to work out for himself in this solitude were not connected with +his play. + +His linked hands had slipped over his knees and he looked ahead of him +very steadily into the fire, and Maria Angelina had a feeling that he +looked that way into the fire many evenings, so oddly, grimly intent, +with oblivious eyes and faintly ironic lips. + +He was quiet so long, without moving, that she felt as if he had +forgotten her. He did not look happy. . . . Something dark had touched +him. . . . + +"Is it something you want that you cannot get, Signor?" she asked him in +a grave little voice. + +He turned his eyes to her, and she saw there was smoldering fire beneath +their surface brightness. + +"No, Signorina, it is something that I want and that I can get." + +"There is no difficulty there," she murmured. + +"No?" His tone held mockery. "The difficulty is in me. . . . I don't +want to want it." + +His eyes continued to rest on her in ironic smiling. + +"Signorina, what would you do if you wanted a cake, oh, such a beautiful +cake, all white icing and lovely sugar outside . . . and within--well, +something that was very, very bad for the digestion? Only the first bite +would be good, you see. But such a first bite! And you wanted +it--because the icing was so marvelous and the sugar so sweet. . . . And +if you had wanted that cake a long time, oh, before you knew what a +cheating thing it was within, and if you had been denied it and suddenly +found it was within your reach----?" + +He broke off with a laugh. + +Slowly she asked, "And would you have to eat the cake if you took the +first bite?" + +His voice was harsh. "To the last crumb." + +"Then I would not bite." + +"But the frosting, Signorina, the pretty pink and white frosting!" + +So bitter was his laugh that the girl grew older in understanding. She +thought of the girl she had seen by his side in the restaurant, the girl +whose eyes had been as blue as the sea and her hair yellow as amber +. . . the girl who had angled for Bob Martin's money. + +She remembered that Barry Elder had of late inherited some money. + +Impulsively she leaned towards him, her eyes dark and pitiful in her +white face. + +"Do not touch it," she whispered. "Do not. I do not want _you_ to be +unhappy----" + +Utterly she understood. His absurd metaphor was no protection against +her. She remembered all Cousin Jane's implications, all the bald +revelations of Johnny Byrd. + +Somehow he had come to know that the heart of Leila Grey was a cheating +thing, yet for the sake of the beauty which had so teased him, for the +glamorous loveliness of those blue eyes and rosy tints, he was almost +ready to let himself be borne on by his inclinations. . . . + +Barry Elder looked startled at that earnest little whisper and his eyes +met hers unguarded a full minute, then a whimsical smile touched his +lips to softness. + +"I'm afraid you have a tender heart, Maria Angelina Santonini," he said. +"You want all the world to have nice wholesome cake, beautifully +frosted--don't you?" + +Her gravity refused his banter. "Not all the world. Only those for whom +realities matter. Only those--those like you, Signor--who could feel +pain and disillusionment." + +"In God's green earth, what do you know of disillusionment, child?" + +"I am no child, Signor." + +"I don't believe that you are." He looked at her with new seriousness. + +"And I am horribly afraid," he continued, "that you have an inkling into +my absurd symbols of speech." + +That brought her eyes back to his and there was something indefinably +touching in their soft, deprecating shyness. . . . Barry's gaze lingered +unconsciously. + +He began to wonder about her. + +He had wondered about her that night at the restaurant, he +remembered--wondered and forgotten. He had been unhappy that night, with +the peculiar unhappiness of a naturally decisive man wretchedly in two +minds, and she had given him a half hour of forgetfulness. + +Afterwards he had concluded that his impressions had played him false, +that no daughter of to-day could possibly be as touchingly young, as +innocently enchanting. + +But she was quite real, it seemed. And she sat there upon his hearth rug +with her eyes like pools of night. . . . What in the world had happened +to her in this America to which she had come in such gay confidence? +What was she trying to hide? + +What in all the sorry, stupid world had put that shadow into her look, +that hurt droop to her lips? + +He could not conceive that real tragedy could so much as brush her with +the tips of its wings, but some trouble was there, some difficulty. + +His pipe was out but he drew on it absently. Maria Angelina snuggled +closer and closer into her pile of cushions and went to sleep. + +After she was asleep he rose and stood looking down at her, and he found +his heart queerly touched by that scratched cheek and the childish way +she tucked her hand under the other cheek as she slept. + +Also he was fascinated by the length of her black lashes. + +Very carefully he covered her with blankets. + +Then he yawned, looked at his watch, smiled to himself and with a +blanket of his own he stretched himself upon the fur rug at her feet. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +MORNING LIGHT + + +Maria Angelina had no difficulty at all in recollecting where she was +when she came to herself next morning, for her dreams had been growing +sharper and sharper with reality. In those dreams she was forever +climbing down mountain sides, tripping, stumbling, down, down, forever +down, until at last there surged through her the warmth of that cabin +fire and the memory of Barry Elder's care. + +She opened her eyes. The warmth of the dream fire was a blaze of +sunlight that fell across it. The fire itself a charred mass of embers +upon a mound of gray ashes. Upon the hearth stood the disreputable +remnants of her sodden shoes. + +For a few moments she lay still, her consciousness invaded with its +rush of memories. She felt very direfully stiff when she thought about +it, but after the first moment she did not think about it. + +She sat up and looked eagerly about. + +There were no shadows now; the sunlight was streaming in through the +cabin's three windows and through the door that stood open into a world +of forest green. She heard birds singing and the sound of running water. +Barry Elder was nowhere to be seen. + +The cabin was one room, an amazing room, its unconcealed simplicities +blazoning themselves cheerfully in the light. There were rustic tables +and comfortable chairs; there was a couch untouched, apparently, save +that it had been denuded of the cushions that lay now about her. There +was a small black stove and pans on it and dishes on a stand. There was +a chest of drawers and along the walls were low open shelves of books, +the shelves topped with a miscellany of pipes and pictures and playing +cards. + +Between two windows stood a large table buried in books and papers with +a typewriter poking its head above the confusion. + +So he really was writing a play--another play. She hoped, remembering +Cousin Jim's remark, that he would not put too much Harvard in. + +She got to her feet--with wincing reluctance for every muscle in her +small person made its lameness felt, and she limped when she began to +walk. The rejected pile of clothing had disappeared from her side, but +the fringed moccasins were left, and very humbly she drew them on. Her +stockings were not those in which a Santonini desires to be discovered! + +Uncertainly she moved towards the door, her stiffly dried white skirt +rattling at each move. It was a battleground of a skirt where black mud +and green grass stains struggled for preeminence, and her poor middy +blouse, she thought, was in little better plight. + +She had a sudden, half hysterical thought of Lucia's face, if Lucia +could see her now, and a queer little gulp of laughter caught in the +lump in her throat! + +"Morning, Signorina! A merry morning to you." + +Up the grassy bank before the cabin Barry Elder came swinging towards +her, a lithe figure in brown knickers and white shirt rolling loosely +open at the throat. His face was flushed and his brown, close-cropped +curls were wet as if he had been ducking them into the cold river water. + +He waved one hand gayly; the other was carrying a pail of water. + +"You look so _clean_!" gave back Maria Angelina impetuously, her +laughter rising to meet his, but her sensitive blood coloring her face +before his gaze. + +"There's the entire river to wash in. I thought you'd like it better out +of doors so I've built you a dressing room. . . . Meanwhile the +commissary will be working. Don't be too long, for breakfast will be +ready," he told her, passing by her into the house, with a gesture of +direction as if it were the most matter of fact thing in the world for +young men to cook breakfast and for young ladies to wash in rivers. + +So Maria Angelina followed his directions and went down into the grove +of young birches that he called her dressing-room. + +Here greenness was all about her, and through the delicate, interlacing +boughs before her even the river was shut out, except one eddying stream +of it that swerved in beneath her feet. There was lovely freshness in +the morning air, a lovely brightness in the sky above her. It was a +dressing-room for a nymph of the woods, for a dryad, for Diana herself. + +Gratefully she stooped to the cold water at her feet. There on the bank, +upon a spread towel, she discovered soap and fresh towels, a comb and a +pair of military brushes, still wet from recent washing. He was very +sweet and thoughtful, that Barry Elder. + +Valiantly she attacked that tangled hair of hers, reducing it to the +old submissive braids which she coroneted about her head, fastening them +with twigs as best she could, and then she washed deliciously in that +cold, running stream. It must be wonderful, she felt, to be a man and to +live like this. One could forget the world in such a place. . . . + +Sandy dashed upon her, scattering the gathering darkness of her +thoughts, and she yielded to the young impulse to splash and romp with +him before returning with him to the cabin. + +She felt shy about reentering that house . . . and Barry Elder's +presence. + +A rich aroma of coffee greeted her upon the threshold. So did her host's +voice in mock severity. + +"I sent Sandy to bring you in--and I was just coming after the two of +you. . . . Will you sit here? I did have a dressy thought of setting up +a table out of doors but this is handier--nearer the stove, you know. +You've no idea of the convenience of it." + +"But you are getting me so _many_ meals," protested Maria Angelina, +confronted by a small table which he had spread for two before the +fireplace. Within the hearth he had kindled a small and cheerful blaze. + +"I'll agree to keep it up as long as you eat them." + +Swiftly Barry turned the browning ham from the iron spider into a small +platter and deposited it upon the table with a flourish. Then he placed +the granite coffeepot at her right hand. + +"I made it with an egg," he said proudly. "Will you pour, Signorina, +while I cut this? That's genuine canned cream--none of your execrable +Continental hot milk for me! And I like my cream first with three lumps +of sugar, please." + +He smiled blithely upon her as with a deep and delicious constraint her +small hands moved, housewifely, among his cups. + +"These aren't French rolls," he murmured, "but I promise you that they +are cold enough for a true Italian breakfast, and there is honey and +there is jam--and here, Signorina, is ham, milk-fed, smoke-cured, and +browned to make the best chef of Sherry's pale with envy and despair. +. . . I thank you," and he accepted the cup of coffee from her hand with +another direct smile that deepened the confusion of the girl's spirit. + +A dream had succeeded the nightmare, a fairy tale of a dream. It was +unreal . . . it was a bubble that would break . . . but it was a spell, +an enchantment. + +She forgot that she was tired and bruised; she forgot her stained +clothes; she forgot her outrageous past and her terrifying future. + +Oblivious and bewitched, she smiled across the table into Barry Elder's +eyes and poured his coffee and ate his bread and jam. The amazing youth +in her forgot for those moments all that it had suffered and all that it +must meet. She was floating, floating in the web of this beautiful +unreality. + +And Barry Elder himself appeared a very different person from that +bitter young man who had stared desperately into the fire and talked +about cake and disillusionment. In spite of his lack of sleep there was +nothing in the least haggard about his young face; he looked remarkably +alert and interested in life, and his eyes were very gentle and his +smile very sweet. + +Perhaps there was something of a dream to him in the presence of a +fairylike young creature who had blown in with the storm and slept upon +his sheltering hearth. Perhaps there was an enchantment to him in the +exquisite young face across the table, the shy, soft eyes, the delicate +pale contours. + + +Into their absorption came a shattering knock upon the door. Instantly +the nightmare was upon Maria Angelina. She was tense, her eyes wide, her +lips parted. And as the knock was repeated, one hand, wide-fingered in +fright, was raised as if to ward off some palpable blow. + +"Oh, let me hide," she breathed across the table into Barry Elder's +ears. + +Fortunately the latch was on the door. + +"Who's there?" said Barry Elder raising his voice to cover her +reiterated whisper. In negation he gestured her to silence. + +"Hello, hello there, I say!" + +It was the voice of Johnny Byrd and Maria Angelina half rose from her +chair and clutched Barry Elder's arm as he moved towards the summons. + +"Do not let him in," she gasped. "That is the man--last night----" + +The dog's barking was drowning her words. Johnny called again. + +"Anybody in? Here you wake up--anybody here?" + +Barry Elder had stood still at her words. His expression changed. He +turned and pointed to a blanket from the floor flung over a chair. + +She slipped behind it. + +Calling to his dog to behave and keep still, Barry stepped over to the +door and opened it. + +"Oh, Barry Elder! Gee, I thought this was your place but I didn't know +you were here," Johnny Byrd declared in relief. "I saw the smoke and +knew there was somebody about. . . . Gee, have you got any food?" + +Slowly Barry surveyed him. + +Johnny Byrd was not punctiliously turned out; he was streaked and +muddied; his blue eyes were rimmed with red as if his night's rest had +not been wholly soothing; he had no cap and his hair had clearly been +combed back by fingers into its restless roach. + +Barry's eyes appreciated each detail. "Hello, Johnny," he remarked +without affability. "How did you happen to toddle over for breakfast?" + +Johnny was not critical of tones. "Oh, never mind the damned details," +he said bitterly. "Gawd, I could eat a raw cow. . . . Say, you haven't +seen any one pass here lately, have you? I mean has any one been by at +all?" + +"I haven't seen any one pass here at all," said Barry Elder. + +"Sure? But have you been looking out? Say, what other way is there--Oh, +my Lord, is that coffee? Or do I only dream I smell it? I haven't had a +bite since the middle of yesterday. Let me get to it." + +But Barry Elder did not spring to the duties of his hostship. He did not +even move aside to permit Johnny Byrd to spring to his own +assistance--which Johnny showed every symptom of doing. He continued to +stand obstructingly in the middle of his log doorstep, one hand on the +knob of the half closed door behind him, his eyes fixed very curiously +on Johnny's flushed disorder. + +"What kind of an 'any one' are you looking for?" said Barry slowly. + +"Oh--a--well, I guess you've got to help me out on this. You know the +country. There's no use stalling. It's a girl--a foreign-looking girl." + +"And what are you doing at six in the morning looking for a +foreign-looking girl?" + +"It's the darndest luck," Johnny broke out explosively. "We--we got lost +last night going to a picnic on Old Baldy--and then we got +separated----" + +"How?" + +"How?" Johnny stared back at Barry Elder and found something oddly fixed +and challenging in that young man's eyes. + +"Why how--how does any one get separated?" he threw back querulously. + +"I can't imagine--especially when one is responsible for a girl." + +"Gosh, Barry, you're talking like a grandmother. Aren't you going to +give me anything to eat? What's the matter with you, anyway? You act +devilish queer----" + +Again he confronted the coldness of Barry's gaze and his own face +changed suddenly, with swift surmise. + +"Say, has she been here?" he broke out. "You've seen her, haven't you? I +was sure I saw tracks. . . . Has she--has she told you anything?" + +Barry leaned a little nearer the door-frame, drawing the door closer +behind him. Through the crack Sandy's pointed noise and exploring eyes +were fixed inquiringly upon the visitor and he whined eagerly as, +scenting disapprobation in the air, he yearned to meet this trouble +halfway. + +"I think you had better," Barry told him. + +"Better? Better what?" + +"Better tell me--everything." + +"Oh, all right, all right! _I've_ nothing to conceal. I didn't go off my +chump and behave like a darn lunatic in grand opera!" + +Then very quickly Johnny veered from anger into confidence. + +"Here's the whole story--and there's nothing to it. She's crazy--crazy +with her foreign notions, I tell you. At first I thought she was trying +to put something over on me, but I guess she's just genuinely crazy. +It's the way she was brought up. They go mad over there and bite if +you're left alone in a room with a girl." + +Definitely Barry waited. + +"We were up there on the mountain," said Johnny more lucidly. "We'd +lost the others--no fault of ours, Barry--you needn't look like a movie +censor--and we found we'd got to make a night of it. We were just worn +out and going in circles. And she--I give you my word I didn't do one +gosh-darned thing, but that girl just naturally took on and raved about +wanting me to marry her and blew me up when I said I hadn't asked her +and then--then--when I tried to get shelter in a little old shack we'd +stumbled on she just up and bolted. She----" + +His words died away. His eyes dropped before the blaze that met them. + +Very slowly Barry formulated his feelings. + +"You--infernal----" + +"Hold on there, I'm not any such thing." + +Through the bluster of Johnny's rally a really injured innocence made +its outcry. "She had no more reason to bolt than a--a grandmother." +Grandmothers appeared to be Johnny's sole figure of comparison. "You're +getting this dead wrong, Barry. . . . Look here, what do you take me +for?" + +"That's a large question," said Barry slowly. But his tone was milder +though far from reassuring. "But do you tell me that she asked you to +marry her?" + +"I do. She did. Just like that--out of a clear sky." + +"But what was the reason----" + +"There wasn't a reason, I give you my word, Barry." + +"You hadn't been saying anything to her--to suggest it?" + +Johnny Byrd's face changed unhappily. His sunburned warmth deepened to a +brick red. + +"Why, no--not about marrying. Oh, hang it all, Barry, don't act as if +you never kissed a pretty girl! Oh, she pretended she thought _that_ was +proposing to her--just as if a few friendly words and a half kiss meant +anything like that. . . . I'll own I was gone on her," Johnny found +himself suddenly announcing, "but when she was taking marriage for +granted right off it sounded too much like a hold-up and I flared all +over." + +"A hold-up?" + +"Oh, thumb screws, you know--the same old quick-step to the altar. I +hadn't done a thing, I tell you, but it looked as if she thought that +our being there was something she could stage a scene on and so I +thought--you don't know what things have been tried on me before," he +broke off to protest at Barry's expression. + +Mutteringly he offered, "You other fellows may think you know a little +bit about side-stepping girls but when it comes to any kind of a bank +roll--they're like starving Armenians at sight of food. I'd had 'em try +all sorts of things. . . . But I own, now, she was just going according +to her foreign ways. She must have been half scared to death. And +she--she is pretty crazy about me----" + +"I am not pretty crazy about you, Johnny Byrd!" + +The door behind Barry was wrenched from his holding and flung violently +open and Maria Angelina appeared upon the threshold, a defiant little +image of war. Deadly pale, except for that scarlet stain across her +cheek, her eyes blazing, there was something so mortally honest in the +indignant anger that possessed her that Johnny Byrd unconsciously fell +back a step, and Barry Elder stood aside, his own gaze lit with concern +and wonder. + +"I am despising you for a coward and a flirter," said Maria Angelina in +a low but exceedingly penetrative voice, and so intense was her command +of the situation that neither man found humor, then, in the misused +word. + +"You make love to girls when you mean nothing by it--you get them lost +in the woods and then refuse the marriage that any gentleman, even an +indifferent gentleman, would offer! And then you behave like a savage. +You bully and try to force your way into the actual room of shelter with +me!" + +"You see!" Johnny waved his hand helplessly at her and looked +appealingly at Barry for a gleam of masculine right-mindedness. +"She--she wanted me to stay out in the rain, Barry." + +"But as it was, _she_ stayed out in the rain and you slept in the +shelter." + +"She ran, I'm telling you. I couldn't chase her forever, could I? I +tried to track her as soon as it got a little light and I could see +where she'd been sliding and slipping along, and honestly, I've been +nearly bats with worry till I got a trace of her again back in the +woods." + +Barry Elder turned towards the girl. + +"And that's the whole story, Signorina? That's all there is to it?" + +"All?" Maria Angelina echoed bewilderedly. She thought there was enough +and to spare. It seemed to her that she had related the destruction of +her lifetime. + +She stopped. She would not cry again before Johnny Byrd. She called on +all her pride to keep her firm before him. + +A queer change came over Barry Elder's expression. The light that seemed +to be shining in the back of his eyes was bright again. He looked at +Maria Angelina in a thoughtful silence, then he turned to Johnny Byrd. + +"I don't think you know how serious a business this is in Italy," he +told him. "You know, there where a girl cannot even see a man alone----" + +"Well, we don't need to cable it to Italy, do we?" Johnny demanded in +disgust. "It isn't going to spill any beans here. But it would look +fine, wouldn't it, if I came back to the Lodge yelling to marry her?" + +"Right you are. That is it, Signorina," Barry Elder agreed very +promptly. "That's the way it would look in America. Being lost is an +unpleasant accident. Nothing more--between young people of good family. +Not that young people of good families make a practice of being lost," +he supplemented, his eyes dancing in spite of himself at Maria +Angelina's deepening amaze, "but when anything like that happens--as it +has before this in the Adirondacks--people don't start an ugly scandal. +They may talk a little of course, but it won't do you any real harm. +. . . And it wouldn't be quite nice for Johnny to go rushing about +offering you marriage. The occasion doesn't demand it in the least." + +Helplessly she regarded him. . . . She felt utterly astray--astray and +blundering. . . . + +"Would Cousin Jane think so?" she appealed. + +"She would," averred Barry stoutly, over the twinge of an inner qualm. +"And so would your own mother, if she were here." + +But there Maria Angelina was on solid ground. + +"You know little about _that_," she told him with spirit. "If I were +lost in Italy----" + +But it was so impossible, being lost in Italy, that Maria Angelina could +only break off and guard a bewildered silence. + +"Then I expect your mother had better not know," was all the counsel +that Barry Elder could offer, realizing doubtfully that it was far from +a counsel of perfection. "You had better let that depend upon Mrs. +Blair." + +"I tried to tell her all this," Johnny broke in with an accent of +triumph. + +But Maria Angelina was looking only at Barry Elder. + +"Can you tell me that it is nothing?" she said pitifully, her eyes big +and black in her white face. "To have been gone all night with that +young man--to have been found by you--another young man? Even if the +Americans make light of it--is it not what you call an escapade?" + +"I have to admit that it's an escapade--an accidental escapade," Barry +qualified carefully. "But I don't know any way out of it--unless we all +stand together," he said slowly, "and all pretend that you got lost +alone and found alone. That's very simple, really, and I think perhaps +it would make things easier for you." + +"Now you're saying something!" Johnny was jubilant. "Absolute +intelligence--gleam of positive genius. . . . She was lost alone. Right +after the thunder shower. Missed the others and I went to a high place +to look for them and we never found each other. . . . Spent the night +searching for her," Johnny threw in carelessly, marking out a neat +little role for himself. "That's the story--eh, what?" + +"Oh could we--could we do that?" Maria Angelina implored with quivering +lips. + +"Of course we can do that. Only you've got to stick to that story like +grim death--no making any little break about climbing the mountain top +and things like that, you know." + +"You may trust me," said Maria fervently. + +"Leave it to your Uncle Dudley," Johnny reassured him. "But, look here, +Barry, do you want me to die on your doorstep?" he demanded, his hunger +returning as his agitation subsided. + +"Oh, sit down, Johnny, and I'll bring you something," said Barry at +last. "You had better keep your eye on the trail to see if any one else +is coming along. Two in a morning is quite stirring," he said +deliberately. "I'm sure the fire is still burning--unless you'd prefer +to have him perish of starvation?" he paused to inquire politely of the +girl, his twinkling eyes bringing a sudden irrepressible answer to her +lips. + +"Yes, that will be best for everybody's feelings," he rattled on, from +the interior of the cabin, referring not to Johnny's demise but to the +construction of a defensive narrative. "Each of you wandered about all +night alone. . . . Here's some ham, Johnny, and cold toast. There'll be +hot coffee in an instant. . . . Now remember you crossed the river just +after the thunder storm and separated to try different trails. And you +never found each other . . . That's simple, isn't it? And you, Johnny, +climbed the wrong mountain and slept in a shack and came down this +morning and returned to the Lodge. You must show up there, worried as +blazes and tearing your hair," he instructed the devouring Johnny who +merely nodded, tearing wolfishly at the cold toast. + +"But before you reach the Lodge I will ease the anxiety there by +telephoning that I have just found Maria Angelina," went on Barry, using +quite unconsciously the name by which he was thinking of the girl. + +He turned to her, "With your permission, I shall say that I have just +found you, that I have given you something to eat and while you were +resting I went to telephone. Does that make you any happier?" + +Her answering look was radiant. + +"Now, remember--don't change a word of this. . . . Here's your coffee, +Johnny. When you reach the Lodge, don't forget that you haven't seen me +and that you are still unfed----" + +"Unfed is right," said Johnny ungratefully. "Oh, my gosh, I am stiff as +a poker. What do you say, Barry, to our doping this out around that +fire--or have you got some other little thing in there you are keeping +incog as it were?" + +Refreshed and unabashed he grinned at them. + +But Barry did not offer his fire. + +"You'd better cut on before you are discovered," he advised. "It's a +long way to go--like Tipperary. And I'll hurry off to Peter's place. +. . . You strike over that shoulder there and down the trail to the +right and you'll find the main road. It's shorter than the river. +Besides you can't use the river trail or you would have found me. . . . +Now mind--don't change a word of it." + +"Sure, I've got it down. Well, I'll be off then!" + +But Johnny was not off. He hesitated a moment, turning very obviously to +Maria Angelina, who stood silent upon the doorstep, and it was Barry who +took himself suddenly off around the corner of the cabin, with a plate +of scraps for the vociferous Sandy. + +Embarrassedly Johnny muttered, "I say, Ri-Ri, I'm sorry." + +Her expression did not change. She said levelly, "I'm sorry, too. I did +not understand." + +"I didn't understand, either." + +Both stood silent. Then he spoke in a hurried, even a flurried way in a +very low tone indeed. + +"But I--I didn't mean to be a quitter. Look here, I didn't realize that +it was just the look of things you were after and not my--my----" + +"Your money, Signor?" said Ri-Ri clearly. + +He grew red. "I've got some queer experiences," he jerked out. + +"I should think, Signor, that you would." + +"Oh, hang that Signor! I don't blame you for being a frost, Ri-Ri, for I +guess I was pretty rotten to you--but I wasn't throwing you +down--honestly. I was just mulish, I guess, because you were trying to +stampede me. And I was fighting mad over the entire business and had to +take it out on somebody. If you'd just laughed and petted a fellow a +little----" + +He broke off and looked at her hopefully. + +Maria Angelina gave no signs of warmth. Her eyes were enigmatic as black +diamonds; and her mouth was a red bud of scorn. Her dignity was immense +for all that her braids had come down from their coronet and were +hanging childishly about her shoulders; the loose strands fluttering +about her face. + +Johnny wanted to put his hands out and touch them. And he wanted to grip +the small shoulders beneath that middy blouse and shake them out of that +aloof perverseness . . . they had been such soft, nestling shoulders +last night. . . . + +"You know I--I'm really crazy about you," he said quickly. "Of course +you know it--you had a right to know it. I was gone on you from the +moment I first saw you. You were so--different. I thought it was just a +crush--that I could take it or leave it, you know--but you _are_ +different. A man's just _got_ to have you----" + +He waited. He had an idea that he had elucidated something. He felt that +he had raised an issue. But Maria Angelina stood like the bright eternal +snow, unhearing and unheeding and most devilishly cold. + +"Only last night," said Johnny, explaining feverishly again, "you were +so funny and grand opera and all and I was mad and disgusted and grouchy +and I--I didn't know how much I cared myself. Look here, forget it, will +you, and begin again?" + +"Begin what again?" + +"Well, don't begin, then. Let's finish. Let's get married. I do want +you, Ri-Ri--I want you like the very deuce. After you had gone--Gee, it +was an awful night when I got over my mad. And coming down the mountain +this morning--I didn't know _what_ I was going to find! . . . So let's +forget it all--and get married," he repeated. + +There was a pause. "Do you mean this?" said a still voice. + +"Every word. That's what I was planning to tell you when I was running +down the mountain this morning. . . . And last night--if you'd gone at +me differently." + +He looked at her. Something in that young figure made him say quickly, +"Will you, Ri-Ri?" + +"I should like you," said Maria Angelina in a clear implacable little +voice, "to say that again, Signor Byrd, if you are in earnest." + +"Oh, all right. Come on back, Barry. . . . I'm asking Ri-Ri to marry +me--and we'll announce the engagement any time she says. . . . There. +. . . Now I've got that off my chest." + +"Thank you," said Maria Angelina. She looked neither at the embarrassed +Johnny nor the astounded Barry. "I will think about it and I will let +you know, Signor Byrd. Now please go." + +"Well, of all the----" said Johnny blankly. + +Then he looked at her. She was staring before her at something that she +alone could see. Her look was rather extraordinary. It occurred to +Johnny that after all she had a right to tantalize--and this was really +no moment for capitulation. + +To-night, now, after dinner, when every one was fed and warm and comfy. +. . . + +Still she might give a fellow a decent look. Hang it, he wasn't a +drygoods clerk offering himself! + +"Come on, let her alone now," cut in Barry with a certain savage energy +that woke wonder in Johnny before it had time to wake resentment. + +"We must be off," Barry went on. "Come on, the first part of our way +lies together and we'd better hurry or some searching party will find +us. Remember, you've only been here an hour," he called back to Maria +Angelina. He did not look at her, but added, in that same offhand way, +"Better go in and get some sleep and I'll telephone the Lodge from +Peter's and have a motor and a horse sent after you." + +"I'll come with the motor all right," Johnny promised. + +"Don't worry," called back Barry, and waved his hand with an air of +gayety but there was no laughter on his face as he started off over the +hill with Johnny Byrd. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +JOURNEY'S END + + +Over the hills went Johnny Byrd and down the trail and into a grove of +pines. + +Up to the left went Barry Elder, out of sight among the larches. He +walked briskly at first, his face clouded but set. Then he walked +slower, his face still clouded but unsettled. + +Decidedly his pace lagged. Then it stopped. He looked back. . . . He +went a little way back and stopped again. . . . Then he went on going +back without stopping. + +His face was much clearer now. + + +Maria Angelina had climbed a mountain and descended a mountain; she had +wandered and struggled and scrambled for hours till she was faint with +exhaustion; she had been through the extremes of hope and despair and +shame and anger and heart-breaking indignation till it seemed as if her +spirit must break with her body. + +For recovery she had had some scant hours of sleep and a portion of +food. + +And now, instead of succumbing to the mortal weariness that should have +been upon her, instead of closing the big eyes that burned in her head, +she stood at the cabin door with uplifted face listening to the song of +a bird that she did not know. + +Then she reentered the cabin; but not to sink into a chair, not to +release her bruised feet from the weight of her tiredness. + +She cleared the table and piled the dishes in a huge pan upon the little +stove. Upon the stove she discovered water heated in a kettle and she +poured it, splashing, over the panful. She found three cloths of +incredible blackness drying upon a little string in a corner by the +stove, and after smiling very tenderly upon them she abandoned them in +favor of a clean hand towel. + +She restored the washed dishes to their obvious places upon the shelves +and with a broom she battled with the dust upon the floor and drove it +out the open door. Then she swept up the hearth, singing as she swept, +and tidied the arrangement of books, bait and tobacco upon the mantel, +fingering them with shy curiosity. + +"Maria Angelina!" said a voice at the doorway and Maria Angelina turned +with a catch at her heart. + +It had taken Barry Elder a long time to retrace those steps of his. + +Twice he had stopped in deep thought. Once he had pulled out a +leather folder from his pocket and after regarding its sheaf of +papers had sat down upon a stone and deliberately opened a long, +much-creased-from-handling letter. It was dated a week before and it was +headed York Harbor. It concluded with an invitation--and a question. + +After reading that letter Barry remained sunk in thought for a time +longer than the reading had taken. + +All of his past was in that letter--and a great deal of his future in +that invitation. + +Then he went deeper into his pocketbook and took out a small photograph. +It was the one she had given him when he went to France--when she had +been willing to inspire but not to bless him. For a long time, soberly, +he gazed at the picture it disclosed, at the fair presentment of +delightful youth. + +Never had he looked at that picture in just that way. He had known +longing before it, and he had known bitterness quite as misplaced and +quite as disproportionate. + +It affected him now in neither way. + +It was a beautiful picture--it was the picture of a beautiful young +woman. He acknowledged the beauty with generous appreciation. But he +felt no inclination to go on staring, moonstruck, upon it; neither did +he feel the impulse to thrust it hurriedly out of sight, as something +with power to rend. + +It neither troubled him nor invited--though the girl was beautiful +enough, he continued to admit. So were her pearls--and neither were +genuine, thought Barry with more humor than a former adorer has any +right to feel. + +Then he amended his thought. Something of her was real--the invitation +in that letter--the inclination that he had always known she felt. It +was just because it was a genuine impulse in her that he realized how +strong was the calculation in her that had always been able to keep the +errant inclination in check. + +And even when he was going to war . . . She had envisaged her future so +shrewdly--either as wife or widow, he was certain, that she had given +the photograph and not her hand. + +Later, Bob Martin became unavailable. And he, himself, acquired an +income. + +It was not the income that tempted her, he was clearly aware, and he did +her and himself the justice to perceive that it was the inclination +which prompted the invitation--but the inclination could now feel itself +supported by an approving worldly conscience. + +He wondered now at the long struggle of his senses. He wondered at the +death pangs of infatuation. + +Once more he looked at the picture in a puzzled way as if to make sure +that the thing he felt--and the thing he didn't feel--were indubitably +real, and then he rose with a curious sense of lightness and yet +sobriety, and, straightening his shoulders as if a burden had fallen +from them, he retraced his steps towards the cabin. + +At the doorway he paused, for he heard Maria Angelina singing. Then he +spoke her name. + +The song stopped. Maria Angelina turned towards him a face of flushed +surprise. He discovered her quaintly with a jar of pickled frogs in her +hand. + +"Maria Angelina, what are you doing?" + +"But these, Signor--what are these?" + +"These? Oh--not for food, Maria Angelina--even in my most desperate +moments. . . . Maria Angelina, are you going to marry him?" + +She did not drop the frogs. Very carefully she put them back but with a +shaking hand. All the rosy sparkle was swept out of her. Her eyes were +averted. She looked suddenly harassed, stubborn, almost furtive. + +No quick denial came springing from her. + +"I do not know," she told him painfully. + +"You do not know?" + +There was something in the young man's voice that made her glance rise +to his. + +"Oh, it is not that I care for him!" said Maria Angelina ingenuously. + +"Then why think of marrying him?" + +"It may be--needful." + +"Not after this story," Barry Elder, insisted. + +"It is not that--now." She forced herself to meet his combative look. +"It is because of--Julietta." + +"Julietta! . . . Who the deuce is Julietta?" + +"Oh, she is my sister, my older sister. I told you about her last +night," Maria Angelina reminded him. "She is the one I love so much. +. . . And she is not pretty, at all--she is anything _but_ pretty, +though she is so good and dear--yet she will never marry unless she has +a large dower. And there is nothing in her life if she does not marry. +And there is no money for a large dower, but only for a little bit for +her and a little bit for me. So they sent me on this visit to America, +for here the men do not ask dowers and what was saved on me would help +Julietta--and now----" + +Borne headlong on her flood of revelation Maria Angelina could not stop +to watch the change in Barry Elder's face. And she was utterly +unprepared for the immense vehemence of the exclamation which cut into +her consciousness with such startling effect that she stopped and gasped +and swallowed uncertainly before finishing in an altered key, "And so I +must marry in America--for Julietta's dower----" + +In an odd voice Barry offered, "You think it your duty--because Byrd is +so rich----?" + +"I know it is my duty," she gave back, goaded to desperation, "but--but, +oh, it is like that cake of yours, Signor--of a nothingness to me +within!" + +Very abruptly Barry turned from her; he drove his hands deep into his +pocket and strode across the room and back. He brought up directly in +front of her. + +"Maria Angelina," he said softly, "how old are you?" + +"Eighteen." + +"How many men have you known?" + +"You, first, Signor, then the others here." + +"But you did care for him," he said. "You kissed him." + +Her eyes dropped, her cheeks flamed and he saw her lips quiver--those +soft, sensitive lips of hers which seemed to breathe such tender warmth +and perfume like the warmth and perfume of a flower. But through the +shine of tears her eyes came back to his. + +"No, Signor, it was he who kissed me--and without my consent! I did not +kiss him--never, never, never!" + +"Is there such a difference?" + +"But there is all the difference----" + +"Maria Angelina, you are sure that to kiss a man yourself, to kiss him +deliberately, unmistakably upon the lips, is a final seal and ultimate +surrender, and that if you do not marry a man you have so kissed you +would be no better than a worthless deceiver, an outrageous flirt, an +abandoned trifler----" + +She looked at him amazedly. + +His eyes were oddly dancing, his lips were curved in a boyish smile, +infinitely merry, infinitely tender; the wind was blowing back the curly +locks of hair from his face, giving it the look of a victorious runner, +arrived at some swift goal. + +Back of him, through the open door of the cabin, the green and gold of +the forest shone in translucent brightness. + +"But yes--that is true----" she stammered, not daring to trust that rush +of happiness, that sweet and secret singing of her blood. + +"Then, Maria Angelina," said he gayly yet adoringly, "Maria Angelina, +you little darling of the gods, come here instantly and kiss me. . . . +For I am never going to let you go again." + + +THE END + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: A missing period was added on page 150, after the +words "then shrank back", and a missing quotation mark was added on page +195, at the paragraph beginning "And Francisco". No other corrections +were made to the original text.] + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Innocent Adventuress, by Mary Hastings Bradley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INNOCENT ADVENTURESS *** + +***** This file should be named 29278.txt or 29278.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/2/7/29278/ + +Produced by Steven desJardins and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions 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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