"Great Scott, but that was a narrow shave!" I sighed in ecstasy. "He's out of it now."
"He may be out of the lock, but we're not out of the wood," said Alb.
He had slowed down, reversed the engine, and quietly passed into a water-lane between some huge barges, looking not a whit disconcerted by the curious gaze of the barge-folk who wondered at his bare feet and soaked overalls.
"Why, what can he do?" I asked. "He'll have to wait an hour before the lock opens again."
"You'll see presently what he can do," said Alb. "At least, you will if he has any sense. It will be time for us to crow by-and-by—if ever."
I burned to ask what he meant by these ominous prognostications; but he began to jabber in Dutch to our staring water-neighbors. Any stranger would have thought him in the pleasantest mood in the world. He had a friendly nod for the brown-faced skipper of a smoking tug, a few words for another, and smiles for every one.
"I'm telling them that I've a wager on, and begging their kind help to win it," he explained to me, as gradually he pushed "Mascotte" and "Waterspin" through, and ahead of, the other craft. "I'm saying nothing about the Club flag; but they can see it, and they all know what it means. But, to save rows, I'm being extra polite, and, you see, it pays. Nobody yet has resented our getting ahead, though theirs is the right of precedence."
On we went toward the top of the lock, sneaking, sidling, pushing, here and there thanks to a good-natured, helping hand, here and there thanks to a shout from the lock-keeper to a sulky bargeman. On the lock-keeper the sight of the Club flag had a magic effect, and he evidently intended to make its rights respected, no doubt counting on a five gulden "tip" at the end.
Ignorant of the perils at which Alb had hinted, the time seemed intolerably long as the water foamed in through the upper sluice-gates, filling the lock inch by inch, and lifting its load of creaking boats and tugs. When we entered the lower gates, we could see only the green and slimy wall of the lock; but by-and-by we found ourselves looking over green fields to a picturesque old town no more than a stone's throw away.
Alb's pleasantries and the might of the Club flag had brought us near to the top of the lock, and I had begun to hope that his dark prophecies were not to be fulfilled, when I jumped at the sound of a shout from shore.
The voice was the voice of Alec MacNairne, and turning my head with a start, I saw his tall figure tearing toward us on the narrow parapet made by the edge of the lock.
"That's what you meant?" I quavered.
"That's what I meant," answered Alb. But his hand was on the starting lever, and the upper gates had begun to swing back.
Alb was looking particularly debonair, and taking pattern by him, I turned away from my aunt's husband, pretending that I had neither seen nor heard him.
"Hi, you there! Starr—Brederode! Scoundrels!" he roared at our backs.
"If he jumps into one of these boats and gets across to us!" I murmured.
"He will if he can, but——"
Before Alb could finish his sentence the first half of my fear was verified. Sir Alec gathered himself for a spring, and leaping across the narrow water-lane between his parapet and the nearest barge, landed with a crash on the gunwale.
At that sound my heart seemed to stop for repairs; for there were two barges in front of us, the biggest in the lock, and we had not been able to pass them before the doors began to open. Now we could not escape until they had floated out into the canal, and, meanwhile, there might be a little private tragedy in high life on board "Mascotte."
But a Dutchman's lighter is as sacred, Alb has explained to us all, as a Dutchman's house; and when the loud, explosive Scotsman arrived on the gunwale, uninvited and breathing fire, the lighter's owner proceeded also to breathe fire. He swore; his Kees dog yapped; his children cried and his wife vituperated. An understudy took the helm, and before Sir Alec could jump across to another barge, in his pursuit of us, he found himself engaged in an encounter with the skipper of his first choice.
The one could speak no English, the other could speak no Dutch; and in his fury at seeing us slip out through the gates behind the two great barges, he could do nothing but stammer with rage, and try to push past the stout form which strove to detain him for argument.
Naturally, the push made matters worse. Sir Alec does not know Dutchmen, especially lightermen, as well as I have learned to do, or he would have refrained from that extreme—and on the man's own barge. His push was given back with interest, and the last we saw of him, as other boats surged round the scene of the contest, was in a gallant attempt to make a twelve-foot jump, while a stout Dutch skipper and a stout Dutch skipper's stout Dutch wife held on to his coat-tails.
Again I drew a full breath of relief, and I saw by Alb's face that he, too, hoped for the best, for—whatever his private feelings might be—he is too good a sportsman not to feel the spirit of a race.
We were out of the lock, our propeller churning the water, but—again there was a "but." Alb made a dash for freedom by trying to glide between the two immense barges which, alone of all the late denizens of the lock, had refused to give us precedence. But his gracious ways had not softened the hearts of these skippers, nor did they care for his Club flag. All they did care for was to keep one another from getting ahead.
Evidently they were old enemies, and this was not the first time that they had engaged in deadly duel. Ancient scores had to be paid, and a fig for those who came after!
Each glared at the other. Each tried to push his big craft ahead. Crash! They stuck, and jammed, the man at the right, the man at the left, pushing with all his force with a giant pole, each push locking both barges the tighter.
We were on their heels, and on ours was the whole press of boats let out from the lock, surging heavily forward.
Alb shouted something in Dutch. "I'm saying that the only thing is for one to give way, and let the other go by in advance, not both try to strain through together," he explained, when I anxiously demanded to know what was happening.
Both men shook their heads, and grumbled, while from behind rose a Babel of cries and adjurations.
"They won't," said Alb. "They say that they will never give way to each other. They would smash their boats first. If anything happens to part them they won't mind, because it will be fate, and neither one will have given up for the other. Meanwhile, they say they're sorry, but they won't move, and the rest of us must fare the best we can."
"Can't the lock-keeper do anything?" I asked.
"He can swear." Alb smiled; and I believe there was something in him that sympathized with the two obstinate brutes.
"For goodness' sake tell them we'll give each one a hundred—no, a thousand—gulden, if necessary, if only they'll agree as to which is to yield, and move out of our road."
"I'll tell them," said Brederode, dubiously; and a few words passed between the three.
"I knew what they'd answer," he announced, in a moment. "They say they won't do it for a million. 'Every man has his price,' is a proverb that doesn't count with Dutchmen, where principles are concerned. Now, I'm going to try and force a way, but I'm afraid 'Mascotte' hasn't force enough, and if not, it's all up, for here comes MacNairne."
I looked back and saw my uncle-in-law picking his way toward us from boat to barge, from barge to lighter. He had lost his hat in that argument of which I had not seen the end, but he had not lost his determination, and at his present rate he would reach us in about two minutes.
At his present rate he would reach us in about two minutes
Suddenly Alb put on full speed ahead, and gallantly little "Mascotte" rammed her dainty nose between the two black and bulky barges. But her strength did not match her courage. She got only a pinching for her pains, and, as Alb exclaimed, we were caught.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I've done all I could, and don't see what I can do more, short of knocking poor MacNairne on the head with a pole."
"You've been a brick, and I won't forget it," said I. A strange coolness had come upon me with the knowledge that the worst was inevitable. I felt that my small-sword alone could win me through. "All I ask is that, whatever I do or say, you'll stand by me," I finished.
"Have you a plan?" he asked.
"Part of a plan. I——"
Before I had a chance to finish either plan or sentence the enemy was upon us. I heard him coming, and turned round just in time to meet my aunt's husband face to face as, climbing across from the nearest barge, he leaped over the rail on to our little deck.
I smiled brilliantly at the dear fellow. I sprang to him, holding out a welcoming hand.
"Why, Sir Alec, thisisa delightful surprise!" I exclaimed. "Wheredidyou come from? I thought I had lost you, at Leeuwarden."
So utterly was he dumfounded, not to say flabbergasted, by the manner of his reception, that I had time to spring these three quickly following remarks upon him before he was able to answer.
When he did, it was with a sledge-hammer. "Well, I'm d—d!" said he.
I stared in gentle amazement; then, glancing quickly at Alb, appeared suddenly to apprehend his meaning.
"Why, of course, you must be surprised to find me on a boat with Jonkheer Brederode."
"You lied to me at Leeuwarden," went on Sir Alec. He was never a man to mince words, as I noticed when visiting my aunt. Poor, pretty, flirtatious Aunt Fay!
I now gathered dignity. My simple delight at an unexpected meeting with a relative (in law) in a foreign waterway, froze into virtuous indignation.
"Really, Sir Alec, I am at a loss to understand you," I said. "I greet you in the most friendly——"
"Because you're a scoundrel and a hypocrite," said he.
This interruption I scorned to notice, save by proceeding as I had intended to proceed.
"And you insult me. What do you mean, Sir Alec MacNairne?"
"I mean"—he caught me up without hesitation—"that you, though you pretended to sympathize when I confided in you, were in league with Rudolph Brederode to outwit and deceive me in the most shameless way."
"You forget yourself," said Brederode, turning red, and contriving to keep his dignity in spite of Hendrik's sopping overalls. "I have never deceived or injured you. If this were my boat, I should have to ask——"
"Don't try that on," said Sir Alec, scornfully. "Itisyour boat."
"It happens to be the property of Miss Van Buren, a young American lady, for whom I'm acting as skipper," returned Alb.
"Rot," was the terse comment of my uncle-in-law.
Alb bit his lip, and his eyes were growing dangerous. I had seen that look on his face once or twice.
"And he's engaged to her," said I.
That is, something inside of me popped out those words, and there they were, spoken, not to be taken back. Alb and I looked at each other. He flushed again. But he did not speak.
"Produce this Miss Van Buren," sneered Sir Alec.
"I will," I promised. "But before I do, calm yourself. You are in no fit state to speak to ladies."
"I wish to talk to my wife," said he.
"Aunt Fay is not on board this boat, and never has been," I pronounced, each nerve on edge lest one lovely feminine head or another should pop up from below. I knew well that we owed the extraordinary obedience of the girls to the magnetic influence of that remarkable woman their chaperon, and how long she could continue to exert the charm which meshed them in the cabin, as Vivien meshed Merlin in the hollow oak, it was impossible to guess. At any instant we might hear a girlish voice calling the name of Lady MacNairne. Even if Tibe—but I dared not think of Tibe.
Horatius holding his bridge alone, was nothing compared to me. No one could help me now.
"Pooh! Do you expect me to believe that? After what happened at Leeuwarden—when I trusted you?"
"You trusted me," said I, coldly, "with good reason, and it would be well if you did so again. Kindly state what, from your point of view,didhappen at Leeuwarden to bring this storm of unmerited abuse upon my head."
"I dare say it would be convenient to you to forget. I met you with Brederode at the Kermess. You seized me and prevented me from following him as I wished to do. Then, when he had got out of my way, you assured me that you'd find him. You said you were not with him on his boat, that you hadn't been together ten minutes——"
"Neither had we," said I. "That was perfectly true. And I'm not on his boat. As he told you, I'm on Miss Van Buren's. And if I didn't look you up to tell you where you could find Jonkheer Brederode, it was because I thought you would only lose your dignity by meeting him, and do Aunt Fay and yourself both more harm than good. I know for a certainty that Alb—that Brederode hasn't seen Aunt Fay since July anyhow. And why should I let you and your stupid suspicions make trouble between a very good fellow and—and—the girl he's in love with?"
This time I did not meet Alb's eyes. I was looking straight and with a noble defiance into Sir Alec's.
"You are very high and mighty," said he. "But I'm not to be fooled again by either of you. I've been chasing Brederode for weeks in that beastly motor-launch, and I'm about sick of the whole business. I've got him now, and you, too. And though you may both tell me till you're blue in the face that my wife hasn't been and isn't on this boat, I won't believe you till I've searched every hole and corner of it."
"Perhaps I had better go and ask Miss Van Buren whether she will kindly permit my uncle-in-law to make such an examination of her property," I said, with the ice of conscious rectitude in my voice.
"Very well," returned Sir Alec. "Go and fetch her."
With head aloft, I stalked to the top of the steps which I defy any human being to descend with dignity.
What would happen between Sir Alec and Alb while I was gone, or what I should say when I got below, I knew not. I could only trust to luck. Was it going to turn out in vain, I asked myself, that all my life I have been called "lucky Starr"?
The canvas curtain at the door of the outer cabin, which protects the ladies from the heat of the motor-room, was unfurled and hanging at length. Standing behind it, I spoke Miss Van Buren's name.
All was silent on the other side. But, after a delay of a few seconds, Nell half pushed aside the heavy folds of canvas and looked out at me. Her charming face was, for an instant, within twelve inches of mine. I drew back in resignation. With my own hand I had given her to another. Whether or no she would eventually become his, I could not tell, but I felt that, after what I had done, she would never belong to me.
There was, however, very little time to think of that now. My business was pressing.
"Come outside in the passage a minute," I said, in a low voice, still hearing no sound from the other side of the curtain. "I want to speak to you."
"Lady MacNairne——" she began.
I put my finger to my lips. "Sh!" said I.
"Oh, did you know she was ill?" asked Nell.
I shook my head.
"She is, poor dear. She had the most sudden attack, just after we came down, and Phyllis and I haven't been able to leave her. She wouldn't let one of us go up to tell you."
"Wonderful little woman!" I could scarcely refrain from exclaiming. "Her cleverness—I mean her consideration—is extraordinary."
"It was her heart," explained Nell. "She's been lying down ever since, holding Phyllis's hand and mine. But she's better now, and I'm not sure she hasn't gone to sleep, for when I heard you call me, and tried to slip my hand out of hers, she didn't seem to notice."
"She wouldn't," I said—to myself. "Where's Tibe?" I asked aloud.
"She's using him for a footstool."
All accounted for and under control! Yes; thrice wonderful little woman.
"We couldn't see anything of the race after all," went on Nell. "Did we beat?"
"That's what I've come to talk to you about," I said, not knowing in the least what I was going to say next. "It turned out," I went on slowly, "that a man I—er—know, was on board the boat we were racing. We beat it, but we didn't beat him; for he's walked on board since we've been jammed by a couple of brutes on barges. Oh, no harm done—don't be worried. The man is—in fact—Sir Alec MacNairne."
"Oh, the nice man we met at Amsterdam, and again at Leeuwarden, when we—we—" She blushed at the recollection. "He's a distant relation of——"
"Hush! Please don't speak her name or his loud enough for either to hear," I whispered. "I can't explain all to you; but—will you trust me?"
"Why, of course," said my lost Angel.
"Sir Alec MacNairne thinks his wife is on board, and he's very angry with Brederode and me, because, you see, he and his wife have had a quarrel," I vaguely explained. "He's got everything mixed up; and because he's heard that a Lady MacNairne's on this boat, he's been chasing us, full of fury. He's silly enough to believe that Brederode's in love with his wife, and—I can't make you understand precisely why, without giving away a secret of myaunt's—that nonsense of his is likely to workourLady MacNairne a lot of harm."
"What a shame!" exclaimed sympathetic but puzzled Nell. "Can't anything be done about it?"
"Something has been done," said I. "That's what I want you to forgive me for, and—and help me to carry out, for Aunt Fay's sake. Poor Aunt Fay, who's suffering with her heart at this minute! What will she have to endure, if you don't stand by her!"
"I'll stand by her with all my might and main," said Nell. "What can I do?"
"I'm breaking it to you—by degrees. The first degree is, I told Sir Alec that Alb was—is—in love with you."
"Oh—howcouldyou?"
"It was fatally easy. And then I said you were engaged to him. That's the second degree; and the third and last is, that I beg and implore you to come on deck with me, and tell him it's true."
The girl had actually turned pale. "I can't possibly. Anything else—but not that," she said.
"It's the one thing to save my poor aunt. Miss Van Buren—Nell—I tell you frankly, if you won't do this, she—I'm afraid she won't much longer be Lady MacNairne."
"Good gracious! How awful!" stammered the girl.
"Tragic!" I agreed. "And for me—but I say nothing of my feelings. You know how devoted I am to my aunt. She'll be alone in the world—with Tibe—if you refuse to sacrifice yourself in this way for her."
Nell's face was now white and set. I felt a brute; but what was I to do? For the sake of every one concerned, I couldn't have the L.C.P. exposed, or be exposed myself, and the trip broken up at the last, in contumely for all.
I hung on her lips.
"Where is Jonkheer Brederode?" she asked.
"He's on deck, too."
"And you expect me to say—before him—that——"
"He's said the same, already. Or, at least, he agreed while I said it."
"Oh! Well, I don't see how I'm to go through with it. But for Lady MacNairne's sake, I'll—do it. Come, let's get it over."
"Wait a minute," I urged, restraining her impatience. "I must explain a little more, first. After Sir Alec has talked with you, he'll want to come below to the cabins, and everywhere, searching for his wife; for he won't believe, till he's made sure with his own eyes, that she's not on board. If you're willing that he should, I am; but don't tell him that a person named Lady MacNairne's really with us, or I can't answer for the consequences."
"If he comes below, he'll see her."
"That doesn't matter, as they've never met; so long as he doesn't know her name."
"Very well, he shan't learn it from me."
"And he mustn't from Miss Rivers. Will you warn your stepsister, not under any provocation whatever, to speak the name of Lady MacNairne?"
"I will. But why couldn't you have said Phil was engaged to Jonkheer Brederode?"
"Robert van Buren wouldn't have stood it."
"I see. But what about him? It's no use my telling him anything; he would go and do the opposite. He's sitting in the outer cabin, alone, where Lady MacNairne asked him to stay and keep guard over her, while Phyllis and I stopped beside her in the inner room.
"Dear Aunt Fay," I murmured. "If you'll just warn Miss Rivers, and tell my aunt that she'd better be asleep when Sir Alec MacNairne peeps in, I'll tackle your cousin."
"Come, then," said Nell.
And I followed her into that tasteful little cabin which, in the dim past, I decorated for my own use.
Luckily, it is a far more difficult task to persuade Robert van Buren to say something than not to say anything at all; and though he was puzzled, and not too pleased at being plunged into a mystery, I extorted from him a promise to glare as much as he liked at the intruder but not on any account to speak.
"He won't know you understand English," I said, determining to strengthen in Sir Alec's mind, by every means in my power, the impression of Robert's Dutchness.
I had just arranged matters when Nell came back with the strained air of a martyr who hears the lions. We went up on deck together, and a glance showed Sir Alec that no introduction was needed.
"What! This is Miss Van Buren, the young lady who is engaged to marry Jonkheer Brederode!" he exclaimed.
Nell bowed, thankful no doubt that his way of putting it relieved her of the necessity for words.
"You said in Leeuwarden that you didn't know the two young ladies in Dutch costumes," my uncle-in-law flung at me.
"You may have gathered that impression. I certainly never said so," I answered promptly—and truthfully too. "Perhaps I thought, at the time, that the less attention bestowed on the ladies the better they would be pleased," I added.
"You were right," remarked Nell, bravely.
"Oh, very well," said Sir Alec. Then, abruptly, "How's the dog?"
"He's as nice as ever," replied the girl.
Silence for an instant. MacNairne was visibly reflecting. The sight of Miss Van Buren, and her tacit confirmation of my statement, was cooling him down. He is a gentleman, and a good fellow when not in one of his jealous rages; and evidently he did not wish to distress her, or shake her faith in a man she was going to marry.
"I expected to find my wife on board this boat," he said at last abruptly. "Is she here?"
"No," said Nell, "she is not, and never has been."
"It's your boat—not Brederode's?"
"It's my boat. He is—kindly acting as our skipper. If you would care to go below, and satisfy yourself that La—that your wife isn't on board, please do so."
Sir Alec looked at her, and she looked at him, straight in the eyes, as why should she not, poor girl, having no guilty secret of her own to conceal?
"Thank you," he said. "If I've your word for it, that's enough. I won't go below. Instead, I will bid you good afternoon, and get back to my own boat—if I can. But first—Starr, do you know where my wife is?"
"I don't," said I. "That I swear. I only wish I did, and I'd tell you like a shot. Why don't you advertise in the papers: 'Come home. Forget and forgive. I'll do the same.' Or something of the sort? I'm perfectly sure that would fetch her, for she's very fond of you, you know—or ought to know. She told me once that, in spite of all, you were one of the best fellows in the world."
"Did she really?" the poor chap asked, his face flushing up—not with rage this time.
"She did, indeed."
"Thank you," he said absent-mindedly. He thought for a moment, and then spoke quickly, "Well, Brederode, I'm not sure that I oughtn't to apologize."
"Iamsure, Sir Alec," Alb answered. But he was smiling.
"Here goes, then." The big Scotsman held out his hand. The tall Dutchman in the blue overalls took it.
"I don't know about you, Starr," said Sir Alec. "I'm inclined to feel that you, at all events, have treated me rather badly. As my wife's——"
"I've meant well all through," I broke in hurriedly. "And just now I gave you a bit of good advice. You'll thank me when you've taken it."
"Perhaps I will take it," he muttered.
"Hurrah!" said Alb. "The grand pressure of the whole flock of us is forcing the barrier apart. We shall make our way through in a few minutes now."
"Good-by, then, all," exclaimed Sir Alec. "I must be getting back to my boat. The bargees don't mind me much now it's dawned on their intelligence that I'm neither mad nor an anarchist. Brederode, I congratulate you on your engagement to Miss Van Buren. I hope, Miss Van Buren, that you will be very happy. As for me, probably I shall leave Holland to-morrow."
With that he turned his back upon us resolutely and made off, scrambling on board the barge jammed nearest "Mascotte's" side. So he went on, from one to another, until he had disappeared from sight.
"Miss Van Buren," said Brederode, "can you forgive us?"
"It is hard," she said, picking up a fold of her white dress and playing with it nervously. "But we won't talk of it any more—ever. I must go now, and see how Lady MacNairne is."
"Not yet. One moment. There's something I must say in justice to myself," Brederode persisted.
She hesitated. And there was that in her face, that in his voice, which made me realize suddenly that my explanations were not needed. I could trust Alb not to give me away; and, as for him, he had forgotten all about me—so had Nell. And I crept off unnoticed.
The one place for me was on board "Waterspin," and before the barrier had done more than show signs of yielding I crawled over, slinking into my cabin.
"Well, well!" I said to myself. "Well, well!" I said again, with my head between my hands as I sat on my lonely bunk. There seemed nothing else to say.
I stayed for a long time, until the press had broken, and we were going on at full speed once more. Then I went to a window of the kitchen, which Phyllis so much admired, and looked out. I could see the deck of "Mascotte," and Brederode and Nell, who were still alone there together.
"Well, well!" I repeated idiotically; "it's I who did that. If it hadn't been for me—but I don't know. I suppose it was bound to happen, anyway. I wonder?"
Then I returned to my cabin and flitted about restlessly. Soon I became conscious that I was humming an air. It was not, in itself, a sad air; but there was a certain sadness as well as appropriateness in its meaning for me——
Giving agreeable girls away—One for you, and one for you, but never (how does it go?),never one for me!
We were stopping. We had come to Middelburg. I looked out again. Nell was on deck alone. Doubtless Alb had at last gone below to the motor-room, and was exchanging the blue overalls for something more decorous. Would he, even for the sake of conventionality, have left her at such a moment unless everything were settled?
"Mascotte" and "Waterspin" were at rest, and I could avail myself of Alb's absence to find out if I liked. I was not at all sure that I did like. Nevertheless, something urged me to go, and before I quite knew how or why I had come there, I stood beside the pretty white figure. Nell looked up at me, radiant with emotion.
"Oh, Mr. Starr, you were just the one I wanted to see," she exclaimed. "I waswillingyou to come."
"Well, I came," I said, smiling. "I'm glad you want me."
"I want to ask you what to do. I sent him away. You know, we must stop on board till Lady MacNairne's better, so—there's no hurry, and—he had to change. At first hewouldn'tgo without an answer. But I told him Imusthave ten minutes to make up my mind. He's explained everything. He was never to blame. It was all Freule Menela's fault—and mine. Please say what you think. You know him so well; you're old friends. There's no one else I can talk to, and—I feel somehow—I have for a long time—almost as if you were a kind of—adopted brother."
Brother again! Blow after blow; let them fall now, one upon another. I had feared this, yet would not expect it. But I suppose I must unwittingly have been born a brother.
"That's right," said I. "Go on—little sister." The words were getting quite familiar now.
"He says that he has never stopped loving me—dreadfully—desperately—from the very first. But I wassosure it was only a fancy, and—and that when I was so bad to him, and Phyllis so kind, he began to care for her instead. Just now, when you said I must pretend to be engaged to him, I was thinking how horrid it would be for him to feel, 'Oh, if it were only Phyllis!' Didn't you suppose he was in love with Phyllis?"
"Never," I heard myself assuring her; "never."
"I'msoglad. You're sure, then, that he knows his own mind, that he isn't asking me to go on being really engaged to him just to save my feelings after that scene with Sir Alec MacNairne?"
"I'mdeadsure," I said.
"You perfect dear! Idolike you. Oh, wasn't it too funny—I can say it, now we're brother and sister—he thought I might be in love withyou."
"Owl!" I remarked.
"And all the time I was so horribly afraid he might suspect I cared that I would hardly speak a word to him. Besides, I didn't suppose he could be bothered listening to anythingImight have to say. And I felt quitesorryfor him when Phyllis was engaged to Robert. Dear Phil, I've been horrid to her, too. You see, she was trying to persuade herself to take Rudolph without loving him, and I justhatedher for it."
"Oh, that was what you meant, then!" I exclaimed.
"What I meant?"
"It doesn't matter. Well, make your mind easy, sweet sister. Alb adores you—has adored you since the first moment he set eyes on you, and will till he closes them in death. That's my conviction as his lifetime friend. And my advice is, go on being engaged to him until you marry him."
"Mariner, what an old trump you are!" broke in Brederode. And there he was behind me, neat as a pin, in his own suit of clothes, and radiant in his new suit of happiness.
"I give her to you, Alb," said I. And then I strolled away again, humming to the air of the Dead March, in Saul, or something equivalent, those haunting words—
Giving agreeable girls away——One for you, and one for you, but never, never one for me!
I felt, when I waked up on the morning of butter-market-day at Middelburg, as if I had not slept at all, but had listened throughout the night to the sweet, the incredibly sweet chimes that floated like perfume in the air. Yet I suppose I must have slept, for the bells had sometimes stopped playing their one melodious tune, to tinkle in my dreams, "One for you, and one for you, but never,neverone for me?"
The hotel is a nice hotel, and there is a garden. After breakfast, I was so tired of brotherliness, of beaming at happy couples, and hearing plans about weddings, that instead of going forth to see the famous Thursday Middelburg sights, at which the world comes from afar to gaze, I slipped away and hid in the garden.
Phyllis and Robert were out together. Rudolph and Nell were out together. Both parties conscientiously believed that they were out for sight-seeing; that their object was to behold matrons and maidens in white caps, quaint fichus, meek, straight bodices, and swelling skirts; to admire pretty faces, with tinkling gold ornaments at their temples; to stare at young arms, red under incredibly tight short sleeves, as they bore baskets of eggs or pats of butter to market. How well I knew the whole scene from photographs!—the bell-like figures of the women; the booths in the big market square; and the cool arcades of the butter-market. How well I knew, too, that neither Phyllis and Robert, nor Rudolph and Nell would see anything at all, or remember it, if by accident they did see aught save each other.
"This," I said to myself, "is the end. We may go back to Rotterdam together, if we like. But everything's as much changed as if it were another party. And this, this is what I've slaved for—fibbed for—plotted for! 'Giving agreeable girls away!' Faugh!" I felt as much injured as if I were a misunderstood saint, though, when one comes to look at it, perhaps I have not always played precisely the part of saint.
While I lolled gloomily on an extremely uncomfortable seat, not meant for lolling, I heard a faint rustling in the grass behind me, and Tibe appeared, to lay his head, in a matter-of-course way, upon my knee.
"Where's your mistress?" I asked mechanically. "Have you changed, too, like all the rest, and left her alone?"
"Here I am," answered the L.C.P., as if the question had been addressed to her. "I thought you'd be in the garden, so I came to find you. Why don't you go out and see things?"
"Why don't you?" I echoed.
"Because I didn't like to feel that you were all by yourself," she answered.
"You needn't have troubled about me," I said. "Nobody else does."
She laughed that quaint, quiet little laugh, which suits her. "That's different. They're engaged to each other—all the rest of them. I'm engaged—byyou."
"Don't let that engagement keep you from amusing yourself," I said. "The bargain's off now. I hired an aunt to further my interests. Every one else's have been furthered except mine."
"That's not my fault, is it?"
"I know it isn't," I assured her. "Don't think I'm finding fault with you. On the contrary, you're really a marvelous being. But Othello's occupation's gone."
"Yes," said she. "For both of us. I retire from aunthood, you retire from nephewhood, with mutual respect, Is that it?"
"I suppose so," I gloomily replied. "Yet I'm loth to part with you, somehow. You and Tibe are all I have left in the world. But now I must lose you both."
"You don't need an aunt," she said.
"No, but I need some one; I don't know exactly who. Robert has snatched one of my loves, Rudolph the other. What am I to do?"
"Come to the house and into my sitting-room, and let's talk it over," she suggested invitingly.
I obeyed.
There were flowers in her sitting-room. There always are. The scent of late roses was sad, yet soothing.
"Excuse me a minute. I'm going into the next room to make myself pretty before we begin our talk; but I won't be long, and Tibe shall keep you company," said the L.C.P.
"You're well enough as you are," I said.
But she went, smiling; and I hardly missed her, I was so busy with my own thoughts.
One for you, and one for you, but never, never one for me?
I must have hummed the words aloud, for her voice answered me, at the door.
"Never's a long word, isn't it?"
I looked up.
A neat little figure stood on the threshold between the two rooms, the same neat little figure I had seen constantly during the past eight weeks. But it was not the same face. She had said, lightly, that she was going to "make herself pretty," and she had. She had performed a miracle. Or else I was asleep and dreaming.
The gray hair, folded in wings, was gone; the blue glasses were gone; the big bow under the chin was gone. A pretty young woman was smiling at me with the pretty little mouth I knew; but I did not know the bright auburn hair, or the beautiful brown eyes that threw me an amazing challenge.
"Good heavens!" I exclaimed.
"You told me you didn't want your aunt any more," said she.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Don't you remember? I'm Mary Milton. If you'd lived in your own country, instead of gadding about in foreign ones, you'd know who Mary Milton is without asking—at least, you would if you ever readThe New York Meteor."
"I suppose this is a dream, and that I shall wake up," said I. "I slept very badly last night."
"Don't call for help under the impression that it's a nightmare," said my late aunt, twinkling.
"I have the impression that it's a vision," I answered. "But if you don't explain yourself instantly, I shall die in the dream—of heart failure."
"There's no great mystery," said Miss Milton. "I didn't particularly want to disguise myself, but you advertised for an aunt, and as it's difficult for a girl to make herself look middle-aged, I had to lookold. That's all, except that your advertisement came in very handy, because—as you'd know if you were a patriotic American—Mary Milton's an enterprising and rather celebrated young journalist making it her business to go round the world for her paper without spending a penny of her own. That was the understanding on whichThe Meteorstarted and 'boomed' me; for it was my own idea. I wanted to see things, and I hadn't money enough—so I went to call on the editor, and—I talked to him, till he was quite fired with the project.The Meteorhas given me a good send-off, and I've given it good copy. My adventures—as they look in print—have been sensational, and, I believe, popular. I've been at it for two years, and all America has read me, if you haven't. I've done all the countries of Europe, now. Holland was the last, and I seemed stuck on the threshold till I saw your advertisement. It couldn't have suited better—except for the blue glasses and the wig. But one can't have everything as one likes it. I've enjoyed the tour immensely, thanks to you; and so have the readers ofTheMeteor. I'm afraid I've teased you a good deal, and spent a lot of your pennies; but itwasfun! And you shall have your presents all back—every one of them. Heaps of money will be waiting for me from my paper when I get home to New York. They're delighted with my work; and then I intend to send you a check for all that you've paid me to be your aunt. I would rather,really; and only keep one little thing to remember you by, perhaps—and our days together."
"Did you always send back the money spent by persons you hypnotized to conduct you through the different countries?"
"No. That was different. I—don't exactly know why, but it was. And you needn't look at me so queerly. I've never done anything to be ashamed of."
"I'd knock the person down who suggested that you had," said I. "I was looking at you because I was thinking you more marvelous than ever. You hypnotizeme. You hypnotize everybody. I suppose you hypnotized the editor into giving you your job?"
"Perhaps I did," she laughed. "Often I can get people to do things for me—big things—if I want them to very much."
"You could get me to do anything!" I exclaimed. "You're a witch, and what's more, I believe you're a beauty. Great Scott! How you grow on one! Can this be why—because you are You—that in my heart of hearts I don't care a rap if Nell and Phyllis are engaged to others? I wonder if my instinct saw under the gray hair and blue glasses? Look here, are you Miss or Mrs. Mary Milton? and if you're Mrs., are you a widow, grass, or otherwise?"
She laughed. "Why, how old do you take me to be? As an aunt, my official age was over forty. But Miss Mary Milton isn't much more than half Lady MacNairne's age. It's as good to throw off the years as the wig and the spectacles. I'm only twenty-three. I haven't hadtimeto marry yet, thank goodness!"
"Thank goodness!" I echoed. "And thank goodness for You as you are. You seem to me perfect."
"But I should never have done like this, for an aunt."
"Certainly not. But to think I should have been wasting you all this time as a mere aunt!"
"I wasn't wasted. I saved you lots of things—if I didn't save you money. Really, Ididearn my salary—though you often thought me officious."
"Never!"
"Not when I kept you from proposing to Nell Van Buren?"
"That was a blessing in disguise."
"Like myself. But truly, I only did it to spare you humiliation in the end. I knew all along that she was in love with Rudolph Brederode—though perhapsshewouldn't have found it out so soon if it hadn't been for me."
"You've been our good genius all round," said I. "And I owe you——"
"Now, don't offer me more rewards! It was fun wheedling things from you at first; but bribes have been getting on my nerves lately. The play was played out."
"Let's pretend it was only a curtain-raiser," I suggested. "I'd like you to be 'on' in the next piece, in the leading part. Mary Milton! What a delicious name! Andyou'redelicious! It's a great comfort to understand why I was never really in love with either of those Angels. You are not an angel—but I'm going to be madly in love with you. I feel it coming on. I shall adore you."
"Nonsense! A man mustn't be in love with his aunt."
"I strip you of your aunthood. But I can't give you up toThe Meteor. If you go to America, you must personally conduct Ronald Lester Starr. You oughtn't to mind. You're used to looking after him."
I took a step toward her; but she stooped down and framed the ugly pansy of Tibe's face between her little hands.
"Tibe, what do you say to him?" she asked.
Tibe wagged his tail.
While he was wagging, the others came in. Their looks of radiant new happiness changed to surprise at sight of my companion. In spite of the dress nobody recognized the pretty girl with the wonderful eyes and crisp masses of sparkling auburn hair.
Yesterday I would have sacrificed anything, up to Tibe himself, to avoid explanations, but now I enjoyed them.
Everybody laughed and exclaimed (except Robert), and Brederode helped me out so nobly that I would have given him Nell with my own hand if she had not already made him that present.
"It's like one of Nell's stories," cried Phyllis. "Only she used to love to make hers end sadly."
"I should have died if this had ended sadly," Nell said frankly, holding out both hands to Brederode, with a lovely look in her eyes.
"So should I, I'm sure," said Phyllis. "Oh, isn't it glorious that we all adore each other so!"
"Do we?" I asked theMeteorlady.
She smiled. "I suppose it would be a pity to make a jarring note in the chorus."
While she was in that mood I took out the ruby ring which she had said ought to be an engagement ring.
"With this ring I thee——"
"No!"
"Engage thee as my perpetual chaperon."
This time she did not draw back her hand. And I kissed it as I slipped on the ruby.