V
ON THE WAY TO THE CAR
Beverley found that she could "be happy again, as if nothing hadhappened" between her and Roger. For one thing, it was wonderful to feelthat she had the power to "save" a fellow-being, and wonderful to beworshipped as Clo worshipped her. Of course, Roger "worshipped" her,too, but it was Beverley who looked up to him. Clo looked up to her.When Beverley went into the room presided over by Sister Lake, thechild's great black eyes dwelt upon her as the eyes of a devotee uponthe form of a goddess "come alive." Roger Sands' wife felt simply thatshe was repaying God for saving her, by what she was able to do for thisIrish girl.
As soon as Clo was allowed to talk she insisted upon telling Beverleyabout herself. There was, apparently, no romance or mystery in the storyof her eighteen years of life. Her mother had died when she was lessthan three, but Clo could "remember her perfectly." It wasn't only thephotograph she had (a badly taken one of a young woman with a baby inher arms), but she could see her mother's colouring. Oh, such lovelycolouring! Not dark red hair, like her own, but gold, and eyes morebrown than gray. And mother had been only twenty-four when she died. Clohad to admit that most of what she knew of mother was from the Sisterswho looked after the orphans. Yes, it was in an orphan asylum that thechild had been brought up. About father she knew nothing, except thatmother had "lost" him before her baby was born, and that he "came fromAmerica." Evidently his name had been Riley, because mother was Mrs.Riley, and Clo was Clodagh because "that was a name in mother's family."
The Sisters had been particularly kind. Mother had given Clo into theircare, because she lodged, and had fallen ill, in the street of theorphan asylum. There had been a little money, which was placed in a bankfor the child. The Sisters had known that mother was a lady; but theorphan girls, when they grew up, were supposed to be put into service.Neither Clo nor the Sisters had wanted her to be a servant, and when shewas sixteen a situation was found for her as "companion" to an old lady.Clo "stuck it out" for nearly two years. Then she ran away and sailedfor the United States, her unknown father's land, with the sixty poundswhich was her fortune. This money was all spent, and she was nearlystarving when she snatched at what she could get with Moreton andPayntor.
"But I just couldn't eat and dress on my wages," Clo explained, in hersoft, rich voice, rather deep for so young and small a girl, and madecreamy by a touch of Irish brogue. "One has to do both in New York. Iwas so hungry all the time, if the girls left a crust on their plates Iused to hide it. I expect the way I'd look to see if there'd be anythingleft gave them the idea I was a sly piece. They thought I put on airs,too. Me! P'raps it was my not knowing their kind of slang. And it's trueI did steal once, or almost the same thing as steal. There was a dollarbill on the floor under a table one afternoon. 'Stead of trying to findwho was the owner, I slipped it inside my dress. I must have been nearlyoff my head, or I'd never have done it, darling Mrs. Sands! When thetime came to go home to my room that night, I didn't go. I went to arestaurant, and I ate. I ate a whole dollar's worth of dinner, just so Icouldn't give any money back if I changed my mind next day. Well, nextday was the day you know of. And what with knowing I was a thief, andthe girls knowing it, too--though there was no proof--I thought the bestthing for a lost child was to die!"
Beverley had by this time "made everything right" for Clo at Moreton andPayntor's. Indeed, Mrs. Roger Sands having taken her up, she had becomequite a classic figure of romance among her late enemies. When Beverleytold the girl that when she got well she wouldn't have to go, but couldstop and be "a sort of secretary," Clo Riley almost had a relapse fromthe shock of joy.
By the end of May Clo's broken ribs had mended. The first day when shewas up and dressed, able to go downstairs, and out for a spin in therenovated blue car, she was a very different looking girl from thebattered wisp of humanity whose blood had stained the "robin's-egg"cloth and silk.
It was Sunday, and Clo was burning with excitement. She was to meet herAngel's husband for the first time. She had pictured him a dragon. TheAngel loved him, but the Angel was such a saint, and would love any oldhusband. Clo imagined that Beverley had been poor (she must have knownpoverty to be so sympathetic!) and that she'd married an elderly manbecause--well, not entirely because he was rich (that wouldn't be likean Angel) but because she needed protection. Clo expected to see agrumpy graybeard.
Roger expected to see a washed-out invalid of indefinite type, a youngwoman of the shabbiest shop-girl order.
What Clodagh saw, when she followed Mrs. Sands into the study, was astrong, dark man, not old at all, apparently, and almost interestingenough in looks to be worthy of the Angel. Still, she was not sure shewas going to like him.
What Roger saw was a small, slender girl, too childish, too impish, tothink of as a "young woman." She had a little oval face with a pointedchin. It was pale, but not washed-out, and her lips were red. Anobstinate, impudent mouth, Roger thought. As for her eyes--he had neverseen such great eyes in a human face. They were like holes in a blanket,so big, so black, as they stared up at him. She had curly auburn hair,that looked even redder than it was, in contrast with her eyes. Butthough the face was impish, not pretty precisely, with its high cheekbones and impertinent chin, he had to admit that it was noticeable, and,in some odd way, attractive. The girl was charmingly dressed. He mighthave known that Bev would see to that. Clo was a surprise to him, as hewas to her. Each saw that the other was a distinct and interestingpersonality; and Roger realized that Beverley was right; the girl hadthe air of being a lady. There was something else about her, too, whichpiqued him. He could not make out what it was. Did she look like someonehe knew?
He was polite, as he had promised to be, and called Clo "Miss Riley."When Beverley said that they were going out for the invalid's firstdrive, Roger replied that he was glad; but Clo, catching his eye,fancied she saw a sarcastic gleam.
"He's thinking of the time I came here in that same car," she toldherself. "I know I must have spoilt it--got it all messed up with blood.Probably he had to give a lot for doing it over. And my goodness, thedollars of his that Angel has been pouring out for me every day since!No wonder he looks sick! But some day I shall pay. I don't know how,only I shall--I shall!"
Beverley and Clo went down in the gorgeously decorated elevator.
"If Angel lived in a garret, it would be a palace to me," she reflected.
A hall porter opened the door of carved bronze over glass. Withoutseeming to look, he took in every detail of the slim figure in whitecloth; the small white hat tilted over the dark red hair, the tiny whiteshoes, the dainty ankles in silk stockings. Clo could have laughedaloud. Of course, the giant in livery knew the whole story. He wascontrasting the way she came out with the way she had come in.
Drawn up at the pavement was the glittering blue automobile, with thestatuesque Robbins at the wheel. Clo remembered both, with a queer, sickpang. She had not been wholly unconscious when the stretcher was pushedinto the car. "What I owe this darling woman!" was the thought shebreathed like a prayer.
As the two crossed the pavement--tall, beautiful Beverley and quaintlittle Clo--a man who must have been loitering close by started towardthem with a limping step, and took off his hat.
"Is this Mrs. Roger Sands?" he asked.
Beverley stopped short, within a yard of her car. For such a graceful,softly moving person, her movement seemed jerky. Clo glanced from theman to Mrs. Sands in surprise. One would say the Angel lookedfrightened, only that would be absurd! Besides, the man wasn't acreature worth being afraid of. He was short, and very thin, as if hehad been ill. He hadn't a nice face. Sallow and sickly it was, like aprison bird, with hollows under the red-rimmed eyes. He was badly lame,too, if he wasn't pretending; and altogether, in spite of her newlymended ribs, Clo felt that she herself would be equal to knocking himdown.
"Yes, I am Mrs. Sands," Beverley answered, as if against her will. "Idon't--but perhaps someone has sent you with a message?"
"In a way, yes, that's it," said
the man. "I had a message for you. I'mthe man sent to meet you in Chicago, September 21st of last year."
The Lion's Mouse Page 5
