CHAPTER XAN UNCONVENTIONAL GIRL.
Frank remembered that the people of Vanceborough had told him that Hilda Dugan was rather wild and wayward. He also remembered that when he first met her, there was something about her that had not quite pleased him, even while it attracted him. Even then he had decided that there was something in the make-up of this girl against which she would have to keep constant guard, else it would lead her into folly.
He could see that she had suffered, and something told him that even now she was in trouble which preyed upon her mind. Then he thought of the desperate fellow who had followed her and attacked him.
“I was sure I knew you when I saw you first near Sixth Avenue,” he declared. “Yet I could not recall your name. As a rule, I remember names perfectly. In this case, however, the only time we ever met was up there in Maine, and seeing you here, I was unable to think where and when our meeting had taken place. It is not so very strange, for the surroundings here are somewhat different from what they were in Maine.”
“Still,” she asserted, “I knew you the moment my eyes rested on your face.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Yet you did not pause.”
“No.”
“You did not bow.”
“No.”
“You hurried on without a sign of recognition.”
His manner was an accusation, and she bowed her head, as if ashamed of what she had done.
“It is plain,” said Merry gently, “that, for some reason, you did not wish me to recognize you. What that reason was I will not ask, for it is none of my business.”
She made a feeble gesture of protest.
“I was so startled—so astonished. I did not think of seeing you here, and it was a shock. Yet—I knew you instantly!”
She spoke the final words in a tone of triumph, and he almost fancied she was reproving him for his failure to remember her name.
“How could I forget?” she went on, her voice trembling a little. “You have not changed—only—you’re a little older and—and—handsomer! There—I’ve said it! I suppose it was bold and unladylike, but it would come out.”
Merry was compelled to laugh.
“Miss Dugan,” he said, yet not after the manner of the common flatterer, “you have given me the very reason why I did not remember you. You are older and—handsomer. When I met you I thought you were—I won’t tell you what I did think, for it will sound like a silly attempt to flatter.”
“I’m glad you did not say it!” she exclaimed. “I know I’m not homely. Frank of me to say so, isn’t it? But I do not believe in false modesty, Mr. Merriwell, and I have sense enough to know what my mirror tells me. Now, that is unconventional, you must confess.”
It was, in truth, and something about it charmed and attracted him as he had been charmed and attracted by this girl the first time he saw her. She was not merely an ordinary girl who did the same things and said the same things as other girls. She had ways of her own which made her seem original and attractive and fascinating. To himself Frank confessed that she possessed a most dangerous power of fascination if she but knew how to wield it.
“Rather unconventional,” he acknowledged, laughing. “But you have not explained why you failed to bow to me when you recognized me on the street.”
“Perhaps I cannot explain, for it may be that I do not quite know myself.”
This was strange, and Frank feared she was trying to evade the point by an adroit turn.
“And you will not permit me to take you home?”
“I have no real home in New York; I’m simply stopping here for the time.”
“You will not allow me to take you to your stopping-place?”
“I think you had better not, Mr. Merriwell.”
“It is for you to choose; but there is much we might talk about, and——”
“Yes, yes—but—no—I will not!”
She had seemed to waver for a moment. Frank’s thoughts flew swiftly. They were approaching Forty-second Street.
“Then, if you will not do that,” he said, “here is Shanley’s, just ahead, and we can go in there.”
“Oh, I am not dressed for it!”
“You are dressed all right, Miss Dugan. It is early yet, and the swells will not be out for some time. I hardly think we shall provoke ridicule by our dress. Will you come?”
“Oh, I’ve thought I’d like to go there, but I’ve never had a proper escort, and——”
“Can you make that excuse now?”
“I didn’t mean that, but—but—what will you think?”
It was rather remarkable for her to care what anybody thought, as Frank realized, even though he had known so little of her; therefore her fear lest he should think badly of her was a decided compliment to him, for it told that she wished to stand well in his eyes, at least.
“Miss Dugan, under the circumstances, I see no reason why we should be extremely conventional and proper. We’ll stop at Shanley’s.”
He signaled to the driver, who opened the little trap-door in the top of the hansom and looked down, whereupon Frank told him where to stop.
Merry assisted Hilda to alight, paid the driver and escorted her into the brightly lighted restaurant. A colored man opened the door for them, bowing as they passed in. They paused before entering the dining-room for a boy to brush from Frank’s clothes some dust still clinging there.
Merry chose to sit in a retired corner where they would not be prominent, yet where they could command a good view of the room. Hilda had asked him not to take a table near the front windows. She seemed to fear that some one might observe and recognize her from the street.
Frank wondered if she could be thinking of the desperate fellow who had twice assaulted him.
As they entered the brilliantly lighted room and followed the waiter who preceded them to a table, Frank suddenly caught a full-length reflection of his companion in a mirror. All in a twinkling he knew she was wondrously beautiful and striking in appearance. Before that he had known she was pretty, even beautiful, but not till that moment had he realized the full extent of her beauty. She had a carriage that was graceful and queenly, a figure that Venus herself might envy, a finely shaped head, an abundance of dark hair and a complexion that all the arts of make-up could not imitate.
Frank saw some of the people at the tables turn to look at Hilda, the men admiringly, the women not without a show of envy.
When they were seated they fell to chatting again.
“It’s all so strange,” said the girl. “My last memory of you is as I saw you walking down that old wood road and vanishing into the forest. I thought it probable we might never meet again.”
“This world is very small, after all,” he said. “They say no one realizes this so well as a person who has done a wrong act and tries to get away somewhere where no one will know about it or ever hear that it happened.”
Again he fancied that she showed signs of confusion and distress, and he wondered if he had touched upon an unpleasant point. He hastened to continue:
“Our first meeting was under most singular circumstances. You remember how your little dog fell overboard from the steamer. You cried out for Jones to jump for it, and, when he hesitated, you sprang in yourself.”
“I remember,” she laughed, showing her fine teeth, surrounded by those curving red lips. “I also remember that Huck Jones did not jump in and get himself wet even then.”
“No; he seemed afraid to spoil his ministerial clothes.”
“The hypocrite! But some one else sprang into the water and swam to me. Then—if I am right—after telling myself that that person should speak to me first, I—I spoke to him! Isn’t that a humiliating confession to make?”
“Your memory is excellent, Miss Dugan,” smiled Merry. “I am sure I could not tell which one of us spoke first.”
“I did. I asked you why you jumped in after me, and you said you did it in order to assist me. Then you complimented me on my swimming. But it was a struggle to keep up till the steamer stopped and sent back a boat for us.”
“If I remember correctly, you did not seem to mind it at all.”
“I think I did not let you know. You told me it was very foolish for me to jump in after my dog. Then you asked how the dog happened to fall overboard.”
She stopped and gazed at him with suppressed laughter twinkling from her splendid black eyes, and it was his turn to flush.
“I remember that,” he confessed; “and I also remember that you coolly told me the dog had not fallen, overboard—that you had thrown him over.”
She continued to laugh silently.
“You were convinced that ‘Elder’ Jones would not jump in after him, and you wished to discover if I would be the one to take the plunge. I am willing to confess that the dog might not have proved sufficient inducement, but I could not resist the temptation after I saw you plunge into the water.”
Of a sudden the laughter died from her face and eyes.
“I suppose it was a very reprehensible thing to do. I presume it was extremely unladylike, and all that. It was by doing such things that I came to have many unpleasant stories told about me. Just because I would not fold my hands and be like other girls—soft, sappy, shy, shrinking, and silly—people decided that I must be bad and fell to talking about me. Now I will leave it to you, how else was I to make your acquaintance? Perhaps I had no right to wish to become acquainted with you, but I did wish to, and I am not ashamed to own it.
“There was no one on that boat to introduce us. If I waited till the trip was over, it was almost certain you would go your way, I would go mine, and we’d never meet again. If I smiled and flirted with you openly you would become disgusted and avoid me. Something about you made me feel sure of that. I made up my mind that I’d find a way to become acquainted with you—a way that would not make me seem bold and forward. I found it. I threw my dog over, screamed, and jumped after him. I had not misjudged you, for you leaped after me almost immediately. But then, while we were in the water, I was conscience-stricken and confessed the whole trick, which was a most foolish thing to do.”
Her frankness fascinated and delighted him. From the first there had been something about this girl that contrasted strongly with ordinary girls, interesting Merry not a little.
“I’m glad you threw the dog over,” he declared, with a laugh.
“Even though it came so near costing you your life?”
“It did not. I was following your father, any way, and should have fallen into his trap just the same. Perhaps if you had not met me thus, if I had not gone to your rescue, you would not have felt enough interest in me to watch your father and Jones and be on hand to save my life. So, you see, I should be very thankful that you tossed your dog into the lake that day.”
“Then,” said she seriously, “if you feel that way about it, I, too, am glad I did it.”
“If you had not, it is not likely we would be sitting here this evening.”
“But in one way, I fear, my meeting with you was a bad thing.”
“Indeed? In what way?”
“Just the same as my education may have been a bad thing. It put false ideas into my head. What am I but the daughter of Enos Dugan, the smuggler! I can never be anything else, yet I have entertained aspirations and ambitions. I can never be a lady, for who would accept me as such, knowing all about my parentage? If I had not received an education, if I had been kept at home in the backwoods, if I had never seen you, I might have married one of the many honest fellows who sought to win me—I might have settled down and been content as the wife of a Maine farmer. Now such a thing can never be. I have refused them all. I have dreamed false dreams, and disappointment must be my punishment. Sometimes I rebel against fate. Sometimes I am desperate, and I’ve even thought of—suicide!”
She whispered the last word, and he saw in her deep, dark eyes a look of despair that stabbed him keenly.
“You must not think such things, Miss Dugan!” he quickly exclaimed. “It is not true that your situation is so terrible because of your father.”
“Yes it is!” she declared, almost fiercely. “You know it is, Frank Merriwell! Would you—would you want to—to marry a girl like me?”
She looked at him defiantly, as if she knew he would not.
“Miss Dugan,” he said, “if I really and truly loved you, if I knew you were a good, true girl, I’d marry you even though your father were a red-handed pirate!”
There was no doubt but he meant it. Her bosom heaved, and she gave him a look he never forgot.
“I believe you,” she murmured softly. “It is just as I have ever thought of you, and that is why you have been my hero since the day we first met.”