CHAPTER IV.
Mrs. McVeigh found herself thinking of the young Marquise very often.She was not pleased at the story with which she had been entertainedthere; yet was she conscious of the fact that she would have been verymuch more displeased had the story been told by any other than thefascinating girl-widow.
"Do you observe," she remarked to the Countess Helene, "that youngthough she is she seems to have associated only with elderlypeople, or with books where various questions were discussed? Itis a pity. She has been robbed of childhood and girlhood by thefriends who are so proud of her, and who would make of her only alovely thinking-machine."
"You do not then approve of the strong-minded woman, the femalephilosopher."
"Oh, yes;" replied Mrs. McVeigh, dubiously; "but this delightfulcreature does not belong to that order yet. She is bubbling over withenthusiasm for the masses because she has not yet been touched byenthusiasm for an individual. I wish she would fall in love with somefine fellow who would marry her and make her life so happy she wouldforget all the bad laws of nations and the bad morals of the world."
"Hum! I fancy suitors have not been lacking. Her income is notrifle."
"In our country a girl like that would need no income to insure herdesirable suitors. She is the most fascinating creature, and sounconscious of her charms."
Her son, who had been at a writing desk in the corner, laid down hispen and turned around.
"My imperfect following of your rapid French makes me understand atleast that this is a serious case," he said, teasingly. "Are you sure,mother, that she has not treated you to enchantment? I heard the samelady described a few days ago, and the picture drawn was that of anatheistical revolutionist, an unlovely and unlovable type."
"Ah!" said the Countess Helene. "You also are opposed to beautifulmachines that think."
"I have never been accustomed to those whose thoughts follow suchunpleasant lines, Madame," he replied. "I have been taught to reverethe woman whose foundation of life is the religion scorned by the ladyyou are discussing. A woman without that religion would be like ascentless blossom to me."
The Countess smiled and raised her brows slightly. This severe youngofficer, her friend's son, took himself and his tastes veryseriously.
Looking at him she fancied she could detect both the hawk and the dovemeeting in those clear, level eyes of his. Though youthful, she couldsee in him the steadiness of the only son--the head of the house--theprotector and the adored of his mother and sister, who were goodlittle women, flattering their men folks by their dependence. And fromthat picture the lady who was studying him passed on to the picture ofthe possible bride to whom he would some day fling his favors. She,also, must be adoring and domestic and devout. Her articles of faithmust be as orthodox as his affection. He would love her, of course,but must do the thinking for the family.
Because the Lieutenant lacked the buoyant, adaptable Frenchtemperament of his mother, the Countess was inclined to be rathersevere in her judgment of him. He was so young; so serious. She didnot fancy young men except in the pages of romances; even when theyhad brains they appeared to her always over-weighted with theresponsibility of them.
It is only after a man has left his boyhood in the distance that hecan amuse a woman with airy nothings and make her feel that his wordsare only the froth on the edge of a current that is deep--deep!
Mrs. McVeigh, unconscious of the silent criticism being passed onher son, again poised a lance in defence of the stranger underdiscussion.
"It is absurd to call her atheistical," she insisted; "would I beinfluenced by such a person? She is an enthusiast, student of manyreligions, possibly; but people should know her before they judge, andyou, Kenneth, should see her before you credit their gossip. She is abeautiful, sympathetic child, oppressed too early with the seriousnessof life."
"At any rate, I see I shall never take you home heart whole," hedecided, and laughed as he gathered up letters he had been addressingand left the room.
"One could fancy your son making a tour of the world and coming backwithout a sentimental scratch," said the Countess, after he had gone."I have noticed him with women; perfectly gallant, interested andwilling to please, but not a flutter of an eyelid out of form; not atone of the voice that would flatter one. I am not sure but that thewomen are all the more anxious to claim such a man, the victory seemsgreater, yet it is more natural to find them reciprocal. Perhaps thereis a betrothed somewhere to whom he has sworn allegiance in its mostrigid form; is that the reason?"
Mrs. McVeigh smiled. She rather liked to think her son not sosusceptible as Frenchmen pretended to be.
"I do not think there are any vows of allegiance," she confessed; "butthere is someone at home to whom we have assigned him since they werechildren."
"Truly? But I fancied the parents did not arrange the affairsmatrimonial in your country."
"We do not; that is, not in a definite official way. Still, we areallowed our little preferences, and sometimes we can help or hinder inour own way. But this affair"--and she made a gesture towards the doorof her son's room, "this affair is in embryo yet."
"Good settlements?"
"Oh, yes; the girl is quite an heiress and is the niece of hisguardian--his guardian that was. Their estates join, and they havealways been fond of each other; so you see we have reason for ourhopes."
"Excellent!" agreed her friend, "and to conclude, I am to suppose ofcourse she is such a beauty that she blinds his eyes to all the charmsarrayed before him here."
"Well, we never thought of Gertrude as a beauty exactly; but she isremarkably good looking; all the Lorings are. I would have had herwith me for this visit but that her uncle, with whom she lives, hasbeen very ill for months. They, also, are of colonial French descentwith, of course, the usual infusions of Anglo-Saxon and European bloodsupposed to constitute the new American."
"The new--"
"Yes, you understand, we have yet the original American in ourland--the Indian."
"Ah!" with a gesture of repulsion; "the savages; and then, theAfricans! How brave you are, Claire. I should die of fear."
Mrs. McVeigh only smiled. She was searching through a portfolio, andfinally extracted a photograph from other pictures and papers.
"That is Miss Loring," she said, and handed it to the Countess, whoexamined it with critical interest.
"Very pretty," she decided, "an English type. If she were a Parisian,a modiste and hairdresser would do wonders towards developing her intoa beauty of the very rare, very fair order. She suggests a slenderwhite lily."
"Yes, Gertrude is a little like that," assented Mrs. McVeigh, andplaced the photograph on the mantel beside that of the very charming,piquant face of a girl resembling Mrs. McVeigh. It was a picture ofher daughter.
"Only six weeks since I left her; yet, it seems like a year," shesighed; and Fitzgerald Delaven, who had entered from the Lieutenant'sroom, sighed ponderously at her elbow.
"Well, Dr. Delaven, why are you blowing like a bellows?" she asked,with a smile of good nature.
"Out of sympathy, my lady," replied the young Irishman.
"Now, how can you possibly sympathize understandingly with a mother'sfeelings, you Irish pretender?" she asked with a note of fondness inher tones. "I sigh because I have not seen my little Evilena for sixweeks."
"And I because I am never likely to see that lovely duplicate ofyourself at all, at all! Ah, you laugh! But have you not noticed thateach time I am allowed to enter this room I pay my devotions to thatparticular corner of the mantel?"
"A very modern shrine," observed the Countess; "and why should you notsee the original of the picture some day. It is not so far toAmerica."
"True enough, but I'll be delving for two years here in the medicalcollege," he replied with lamentation in his tone. "And after thatI'll be delving for a practice in some modest corner of the world, andall the time that little lady will be counting her lovers on every oneof her white fingers, and, finally, will name the wedding day
for abetter boy than myself, och hone! och hone!"
Both the ladies laughed over his comical despair, and when LieutenantMcVeigh entered and heard the cause of it he set things right bypromising to speak a good word for Delaven to the little girl acrossthe water.
"You are a trump, Lieutenant; sorry am I that I have no sister withwhich to return the compliment."
"She might be in the way," suggested the Countess, and made a gesturetowards the other picture. "You perceive; our friend need not comeabroad for charming faces; those at home are worth courting."
"True for you, Madame;" he gave a look askance at the Lieutenant, andagain turned his eyes to the photograph; "there's an excuse forturning your back on the prettiest we have to offer you!" and then inan undertone, he added: "Even for putting aside the chance of knowingour so adorable Marquise."
The American did not appear to hear or to appreciate the spirit of thejest regarding the pictures, for he made no reply. The Countess, whowas interested in everybody's affairs, wondered if it was because theheiress was a person of indifference to him, or a person who wassacred; it was without doubt one or the other for which the man madeof himself a blank wall, and discouraged discussion.
Her carriage was just then announced; an engagement with Mrs. McVeighwas arranged for the following morning, and then the Countessdescended the staircase accompanied by the Lieutenant and Delaven. Sheliked to make progress through all public places with at least two menin attendance; even a youthful lieutenant and an untitled medicalstudent were not to be disdained, though she would, of course, havepreferred the Lieutenant in a uniform, six feet of broad shouldered,good-looking manhood would not weigh in her estimation with theglitter of buttons and golden cord.
The two friends were yet standing on the lower step of the hotelentrance, gazing idly after her carriage as it turned the corner, whenanother carriage containing two ladies rolled softly towards theirside of the street, as if to stop at a jeweler's two doors below.
Delaven uttered a slight exclamation of pleasure, and stepped forwardas if to speak, or open the door of their carriage. But the occupantsevidently did not see him, and, moreover, changed their minds aboutstopping, for the wheels were just ceasing to revolve when the youngerof the ladies leaned forward, spoke a brief word, and the driver sentthe horses onward at a rapid trot past the hotel, and Delaven steppedback with a woeful grimace.
"Faith! no chance to even play the lackey for her," he grumbled."There's an old saying that 'God is good to the Irish;' but I don'tthink I'm getting my share of it this day; unless its by way of beingkept out of temptation, and sure, its never a Delaven would pray forthat when the temptation is a lovely woman. Now wasn't she worth aday's journey afoot just to look at?"
He turned to his companion, whose gaze was still on the recedingcarriage, and who seemed, at last, to be aroused to interest insomething Parisian; for his eyes were alight, his expression, amingling of delight and disappointment. At Delaven's question,however, he attempted nonchalance, not very successfully, andremarked, as they re-entered the house, "There were two of them tolook at, which do you mean?"
"Faith, now, did you suppose for a minute it was the dowager I meant?Not a bit of it! Madame Alain, as I heard some of them call her, isthe 'gem of purest ray serene.' What star of the heavens dare twinklebeside her?"
"Don't attempt the poetical," suggested the other, unfeelingly. "I amto suppose, then, that you know her--this Madame Alain?"
"Do I know her? Haven't I been raving about her for days? Haven't youvowed she belonged to the type abhorrent to you? Haven't I had toendure your reflections on my sanity because of the adjectives I'veemployed to describe her attractions? Haven't you been laughing atyour own mother and myself for our infatuation?--and now--"
He stopped, because the Lieutenant's grip on his shoulder wasuncomfortably tight, as he said:
"Shut up! Who the devil are you talking about?"
"By the same power, how can I shut up and tell you at the same time?"and Delaven moved his arm, and felt of his shoulder, with exaggeratedself-pity. "Man! but you've got a grip in that fist of yours."
"Who is the lady you call Madame Alain?"
"Faith, if you had gone to her home when you were invited you'd haveno need to ask me the question this day. Her nearest friends call herMadame Alain, because that was the given name of her husband, thesaints be good to him! and it helps distinguish her from the dowager.But for all that she is the lady you disdained to know--Madame laMarquise de Caron."
McVeigh stared at him moodily, even doubtfully.
"You are not trying to play a practical joke, I reckon?" he said atlast; and then without waiting for a reply, walked over to the officewindow, where he stood staring out, his hands in his pockets, his backto Delaven, who was eyeing him calmly. Directly, he came backsmiling; his moody fit all gone.
"And I was idiot enough to disdain that invitation?" he asked; "well,Fitz, I have repented. I am willing to do penance in any agreeable waywe can conjure up, and to commence by calling tomorrow, if you canfind a way."
Delaven found a way. Finding the way out of, or into difficulties wasone of his strong points and one he especially delighted in, if it hada flavor of intrigue, and was to serve a friend. Since his mother'sdeath in Paris, several years before, he had made his home in or aboutthe city. He was without near relatives, but had quite a number ofconnections whose social standing was such that there were few doorshe could not find keys to, or a password that was the equivalent. Hisown frank, ingenuous nature made him quite as many friends as hissocial and diplomatic connections; so that despite the fact of a notenormous income, and that he meant to belong to the professions someday, and that he was by no means a youth on matrimony bent--with allthese drawbacks he was welcomed in a social way to most delightfulcircles, and when he remarked to the dowager that he would like tobring his friend, the Lieutenant, at an early day, she assured himthey would be welcome.
She endeavored to make them so in her own characteristic way, whenthey called, twenty-four hours later, and they spent a delightfultwenty minutes with her. She could not converse very freely with theAmerican, because of the difficulties of his French and her English,but their laughter over mistakes really tended to better theiracquaintance. He was conscious that her eyes were on him, even whileshe talked with Delaven, whose mother she had known. He would havebeen uncomfortable under such surveillance but for the feeling thatit was not entirely an unkindly regard, and he had hopes that theimpression made was in his favor.
Loris Dumaresque arrived as they were about to take their departure,and Lieutenant McVeigh gathered from their greeting that he was adaily visitor--that as god-son he was acting as far as possible in thestead of a real son, and that the dowager depended on him in many wayssince his return to Paris.
The American realized also that the artist would be called a veryhandsome man by some people, and that his gaiety and his selfconfidence would make him especially attractive to women. He felt animpatience with women who liked that sort of impudence. Delaven didnot get a civil word from him all the way home.
Madame la Marquise--Madame Alain--had not appeared upon the scene atall.
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