HUGH CRAWFORD
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE MAN WAS HUGH CRAWFORD, 
 AND THE WOMAN
 
 BEFORE THE WAR 
 
 OR, 
 
 The Return of Hugh Crawford 
 
 BY 
 
 ELDEE KEESING 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 BY 
 ROBERT J. DAVISON 
 
 SEATTLE, WASH. 
 1915 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR
 
 COPYRIGHT 1915 
 
 BY 
 ELDEE KEESING 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 CURTIS-JOHNSON PRINTING CO. 
 CHICAGO, ILL.
 
 
 DEDICATED 
 
 TO 
 MY MOTHER 
 
 
 1966151
 
 INDEX 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. A WHITE CHRISTMAS 1 
 
 II. LOVE S YOUNG DREAM 13 
 
 III. A MAN OF PLEASURE 27 
 
 IV. MARRIAGE BY REGISTRAR 39 
 
 V. RIFTS 57 
 
 VI. ELEANOR 71 
 
 VII. BROKEN PROMISES 85 
 
 VIII. MAN S INHUMANITY 97 
 
 IX. MANAGING AUNT ELLEN Ill 
 
 X. WHEN You PLAY WITH LOVE 129 
 
 XL I WANT TO BE FREE 145 
 
 XII. DIVORCE 163 
 
 XIII. AN ACCIDENT 185 
 
 XIV. A WARNING 201 
 
 XV. THE REVOLUTIONISTS 211 
 
 XVI. THE JAPANESE IDOL 221 
 
 XVII. THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR 233 
 
 XVIII. SONIA, COUNTESS RAMONIFF 243 
 
 XIX. ST. PETERSBURG 261 
 
 XX. BURNING BRIDGES 273 
 
 XXI. AN OLD WEDDING RING 281 
 
 XXII. SUCCESSFUL 293
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 THE MAN WAS HUGH CRAWFORD, AND 
 
 THE WOMAN Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE RUSSIAN THREW HIMSELF BACK 
 
 AMONG THE CUSHIONS 139 
 
 To OUR LITTLE FATHER ! To OUR CZAR 226 
 
 Vll
 
 Before The War, or The Return 
 of Hugh Crawford 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A WHITE CHRISTMAS. 
 
 It was Christmas night. The moon was shining from a sky 
 dotted with stars and the moon-beams streamed into the snow- 
 covered garden of the old Hamilton place, making a wierd, 
 mysterious picture of lights and shadows as it fell on tree and 
 bough; even beautifying the bare branches of the trees with 
 its silvery splendor. 
 
 Anne Hamilton stood at the window of her room, gazing 
 into the night, watching for Hugh Crawford. She and her 
 aunt owned the beautiful old house they lived in, but it was 
 Miss Hamilton alone who managed everything ; from the edu 
 cation of Anne, whom she loved with protective tenderness, to 
 the smallest particular of comfort and elegance of their daily 
 life. She paid everything and she was never idle, and though 
 naturally aggressive, was a lovable, womanly woman of fine 
 intelligence and upright nature. 
 
 Anne was a small, dark creature with magnificent black eyes, 
 and of the type that remains immutable in spite of per 
 suasions. In all her healthy, well-guarded life she had been 
 kept ignorant of the world and its dangers but she was so in 
 tense so excessively temperamental, thrilling with the 
 exuberance of youth and the joy of living, that she con 
 stantly shocked her practical aunt. She came of gentle peo-
 
 2 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 pie, for her mother was the daughter of a peer and her father 
 was a highly cultured Scotch-American who, with his only 
 sister, had inherited some money, which by shrewd invest 
 ments he had made into a great fortune. It was while on 
 one of his business trips to Great Britain that he met, wooed, 
 and won Anne Ridgway and brought her to his home in 
 La Conner. 
 
 A year later the lovely English girl lay in a huge, old- 
 fashioned bed of the great chamber, staring into the pink, 
 crumpled face of the little daughter beside her. With lov 
 ing hands she touched the soft, curling, black hair crowning 
 the tiny babe, then turned to her husband. 
 
 Donald Hamilton, humbly kneeling beside the bed, tried 
 to return his dying wife s smile as she seemed to settle down 
 nearer the child. When she gathered her failing strength, 
 and lay her arms around her husband s neck, he made an 
 effort to speak, but she would not have heard, for, with a 
 deep sigh of happiness, the young wife passed quietly away. 
 
 Heredity is a strange thing. 
 
 Many years before our story, the grandfather of Donald 
 Hamilton had married a Spanish woman. She had lived to 
 a great age, much loved for her impulsive warmth of heart, 
 greatly admired for her dark, picturesque beauty, and greatly 
 feared for her sharp temper. She had worried, and stormed, 
 and raged, because none of the Hamilton children, or grand 
 children, looked like her. They were a sturdy, red-haired 
 family, showing no trace of the Spanish blood infused into 
 their race, but if the old lady could have seen Anne, she 
 would have been gratified, for the great-granddaughter born 
 in America to Donald Hamilton and his blond English wife, 
 was distinctly of Spanish type. 
 
 "Why, she s like Grandmother!" Miss Hamilton gasped, 
 when the nurse brought the child to her. She looked with 
 perplexity at the dark creature with the mass of blue-black
 
 A WHITE CHRISTMAS. 3 
 
 hair and great dark eyes, so like the portrait hanging in the 
 parlor. "Yes!" she muttered. "She s Spanish." 
 
 The baby, gentle and ingratiating in manner, wound her 
 self around her aunt s heart and when Donald Hamilton 
 died, he gave his little daughter Anne into his sister s lov 
 ing care. 
 
 "You ve been like a mother to me, Mary, and you ll guard 
 her?" 
 
 "Indeed I will, Donald. She s our own blood and I m 
 thankful to have her." 
 
 Donald Hamilton did not smile, but a happy expression was 
 on his face, fixed by the Great Sculptor, and Mary Hamilton, 
 bending her head over the little child left to her care, gave 
 vent to the tremendous sorrow which tore her heart and 
 soul, and cried as if her heart would break. 
 
 Relatives in England tried to get possession of the child 
 but she was under her aunt s guardianship until her eight 
 eenth birthday, and Miss Hamilton devoted her life to the 
 girl. 
 
 Anne, dark and vivacious, but with a langourous charm of 
 manner, was not aggressive and usually attained her desires 
 by insidious perseverance hidden under a patient demeanor. 
 She had the Scotch strength of will, and when she saw she 
 could not cajole, would storm, or doggedly wait for what 
 she desired. She was not militant, as was her aunt, although 
 she made a slave of that warlike lady. 
 
 She was ripening into womanhood and wanted to dance 
 and sing and work, not knowing that nature was arousing her 
 emotions. She often electrified her aunt by her astoundingly 
 unreserved queries. For instance, one summer s day, she 
 was in the garden quietly sewing under Miss Hamilton s 
 direction. 
 
 "Why do most people get married? "Why didn t you?" 
 she asked impulsively, and seeing that her aunt changed 
 color and stared, she added politely. "Didn t you want to?"
 
 4 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "Yes, I wanted to marry, dear." 
 
 "Well," persisted the girl, "why didn t you?" 
 
 "The man I loved didn t ask me," Miss Hamilton an 
 swered simply though she was much annoyed and added 
 severely, "I am surprised at your question, Anne. I can t 
 understand such unnatural curiosity. Has any-one been talk 
 ing nonsense to you? When I was young, girls didn t think 
 of such things, but I suppose it s the fault of co-education 
 of allowing intimacies between boys and girls." 
 
 The good lady would have been astonished had she known 
 how many hours Anne and Hugh Crawford spent together, 
 and how completely the youth had magnetized the heart out 
 of the sweet, sensitive girl s keeping, but Miss Hamilton did 
 not take Crawford seriously, although she was not sorry 
 that he was leaving La Conner, and considered him a silly 
 young fool. 
 
 "His trip to Europe will put an end to their boy and girl 
 flirtation and Anne will forget him after a month or two. 
 She is not the kind to sit in a corner and mope for an absent 
 lover, and there is nothing serious between them," she 
 thought. "They ll imagine they are heartbroken for a day 
 or two." 
 
 But she didn t understand the nature of the girl she loved 
 so devotedly. 
 
 "In a few years you ll be getting married, too," she told 
 Anne after they returned from the Deak-Hardeen wedding 
 in New York where Anne had been one of the bridesmaids. 
 "Some day a fairy prince will come for you and lead you to 
 the altar, and you ll have the protection of a good man s 
 love." 
 
 "Perhaps he will come in disguise," Anne laughed, 
 shrewdly looking into her aunt s eyes. "He might be here 
 now." 
 
 "I am quite sure he is not," Miss Hamilton answered with 
 asperity. "You ll recognize him when he appears."
 
 A WHITE CHRISTMAS. 5 
 
 The conversation had dropped when Dora brought tea. 
 The elderly woman glanced uneasily at the girl. "I wonder 
 if I ever will understand the child," she mused. "She s so 
 different from the rest of us." She would have been more 
 perplexed if she could have looked in on Anne s mind. 
 
 Christmas night had come again and little Anne waited 
 for Hugh Crawford. He was going to Berlin to complete 
 his medical studies, and she was disturbed. She knew his 
 pleasure-loving nature, and fear, coupled with a surge of 
 sorrow, swept over her. The poignancy of grief was a new 
 experience to the girl who could not understand the agony 
 of presentiment which oppressed her. 
 
 "I m selfish and unreasonable," she thought sombrely, 
 "and Hugh is gentle and kind, just as a doctor should be. / 
 believe in him. If he were poor, he d do big things. Auntie 
 says he has the capacity to learn and could make himself 
 famous, but he s not serious. She says his money is too new, 
 and you have to learn how to be rich and enjoy a sane life. 
 She thinks he wants to go to Europe to enjoy himself, and 
 not to study but she never did appreciate Hugh. 
 
 She tapped her fingers nervously on the window-panes and 
 her scarlet lips trembled at some thought. She looked sad 
 and unattractive until a tall figure appeared around the cor 
 ner and entered the gate; then her face bloomed into 
 sparkling beauty and her eyes grew blacker, while her heart 
 seemed to stop beating as she watched Crawford approach 
 the house. 
 
 She silently slipped from her room and ran down the hall 
 to the great staircase, meeting him when he entered the hall. 
 Entirely oblivious of the maid he came eagerly toward Anne 
 with both hands outstretched. 
 
 Hugh Crawford was a vivid picture of manhood. The bril 
 liant color of his golden hair and magnificent complexion 
 made him almost uncanny in beauty, and he seemed to 
 bring a rush of tingling, fresh air in with him. Anne looked
 
 6 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 very small and dark beside him, yet her eyes held him cap 
 tive when she laughingly gave the Christmas greeting, and 
 he smiled at her with adoring fervency. 
 
 "I brought you a little remembrance, Anne. I wanted 
 you to have it before you went to church." He put a small 
 packet in her hand. 
 
 "Oh, Hugh! What is it?" she exclaimed. "Wait until 
 I open it." 
 
 "No, I can t stay a minute. I want to finish my good 
 bye calls." He looked at her meaningly. "I ll see you at 
 church." 
 
 With a parting nod he stepped out in the air and went 
 swinging out of the gate. The world was fine to the young 
 American and his spirits were soaring on the wings of am 
 bition, while he had not the slightest fear that anything, or 
 anybody, could stop his rise to honor and renown, and al 
 ready he was picturing his triumphant return to La Conner. 
 
 Anne watched the door close upon him, then she lightly 
 ran upstairs to her rooms. What had Hugh given her? 
 She had some difficulty in undoing the wrapping, for her 
 nervous fingers were trembling with happiness and curiosity, 
 but she at last opened the box and started with an exclama 
 tion of delight when she saw her lover s face smiling at her 
 from the golden setting of a locket. 
 
 "Oh, how lovely! How dear of him to think of what I 
 really wanted." She leaned over the miniature, then shyly 
 kissed the pictured face before fastening the slender chain 
 around her throat and slipping the locket under the collar 
 of her dress. "I can t show it to auntie just yet," she mur 
 mured. "I ll tell her to-morrow." There was an unusual 
 flush on her smooth olive cheeks and excitement made her 
 beautiful eyes brilliant. The festive spirit of the season 
 seemed to possess her and a delightful expectation, deeper 
 than any feeling she had ever known, came over her when 
 she thought of Crawford. As eight o clock approached, she
 
 A WHITE CHRISTMAS. 1 
 
 put on her hat and slipped into her fur coat. She took a 
 last glance in the mirror at the smart, glowing little figure, 
 and snatching up her muff, stepped into the hall. 
 
 "Are you ready, auntie?" she called as she fastened her 
 gloves, smiling with engaging sweetness when Miss Hamil 
 ton answered by leaving her room and looking appreciatively 
 at the rosy-cheeked girl. 
 
 "It s cold, so we mustn t keep the horses waiting," her 
 aunt said briskly. "Yes, I m ready." 
 
 They walked down the stairs, side by side, and when they 
 opened the front door, Christmas seemed to be in the very 
 air, and the children trooping past the large, square, formal 
 house, set far back from the street, shouted salutes. 
 
 For a few minutes the slender girl and stout lady stood in 
 the blaze of light at the open door, replying to the merry 
 greetings. 
 
 "Isn t Christmas grand!" Anne cried, throwing her furred 
 arms around the dignified lady. "I m so happy. Isn t it 
 good to be alive?" 
 
 "I m glad you re happy but you needn t knock my bonnet 
 off," Miss Hamilton grumbled, trying to conceal her irrita 
 tion. The girl s sudden and energetic expressions of affec 
 tion always embarrassed the straight-laced woman, and she 
 severely followed the dancing, svelte figure down the wide 
 steps and into the big sleigh, piled with fur rugs. 
 
 With a great jingling of bells, they sped over the white 
 roads, some fleecy snow floating from the trees decorating 
 them with great splashes of white, and when the coachman 
 drew up in front of the church, the two women, nodding 
 and laughing while they shook the snow from their garments, 
 passed through a huge open door that disclosed a wealth of 
 warmth, light, and brightness the glories of an immense 
 Christmas tree dominating the interior. 
 
 Anne s heart gave a great bound of joy when she saw 
 Hugh Crawford waiting near the door. He drew a long
 
 8 RETURN OF HUOH CRAWFORD 
 
 breath when he looked at her (but he had not disdained 
 looking with appraising eyes at the other girls around him 
 while he waited.) 
 
 Crawford was twenty-two and felt that he knew a great 
 deal of the world. He was quite satisfied with himself and 
 fully aware of his own physical charms, and did not scorn 
 posing. 
 
 His eyes met Anne s and the girl s jubilant happiness 
 showed in her face when she looked at him through her 
 thick lashes, and Crawford, unreservedly proud and happy, 
 returned the glance ardently. 
 
 The news of his going to Europe created much interest in 
 the little church and friends gathered around with fervid 
 good wishes and merry prophecies. Many tried to insist that 
 winter was the worst time of the year to cross the Atlantic, but 
 he intended to spend a few months in Germany before enter 
 ing the University, and his passage was engaged for the first 
 week in January. 
 
 For the moment he forgot everything but the girl, and he 
 was in a happy mood of expectancy when he went forward to 
 meet her. 
 
 From childhood they had been fond of each other. They 
 moved in the same circle, and although Anne was the rich 
 est girl in the State, Crawford knew she was his for the 
 asking. 
 
 "When Anne gets that deep look in her eyes she s a stun 
 ning beauty and I m going to marry her," he decided, for 
 there was none of the hopeless lover in Hugh Crawford. 
 Modesty was never one of his virtues, but his debonair assur 
 ance was not unbecoming and he floated over the course of 
 existence, affable, generous, a "prince of good fellows," and 
 liked by every one, except Miss Hamilton. 
 
 "Oh, Hugh ! It was just what I wanted," Anne whispered, 
 laying her hand over her bosom, and Crawford knew that 
 she wore his locket. "I don t know how to thank you."
 
 A WHITE CHRISTMAS. 9 
 
 He glowed with distinct gratification in discovering that 
 she stole timorous glances up at him, quite unlike her usual 
 careless smiles, and he did not speak but pressed her arm. 
 
 "In a couple of weeks you will be in Europe," she whis 
 pered. "It seems so far away." 
 
 "I am here tonight, Anne. Don t think of anything sad. 
 I want it to be the happiest night of my life. I m going to 
 ask Miss Hamilton to let me take you home. I have some 
 thing important to tell you." 
 
 Reluctantly Miss Hamilton consented, and coming home 
 from the church Christmas tree, Hugh Crawford asked Anne 
 to be his wife. She had known that they belonged to each 
 other had felt so ever since they were children, but there 
 had been no love-making. 
 
 Crawford faltered and stammered, finding his feelings toe 
 deep to express. In spite of his emotion, the thought of 
 going away did not carry a pain to his heart, as it did to 
 Anne s, although he was under the spell of her sweetness and 
 felt the power of love. 
 
 "You promise to marry me, Anne?" He drew her master 
 fully, closely almost roughly into his arms. "Kiss me and 
 give me your promise, darling." 
 
 For an instant she held her breath and looked into his eyes, 
 then gave him her first kiss. Something seemed to unlock 
 the wonders of the world to Crawford, and his heart fluttered 
 as madly as hers. Life was a fairy romance and the future 
 promised heavenly sweetness. "Tell me that you love me," 
 he whispered. 
 
 She murmured her answer, and slowly under the shadow 
 of the leafless trees, they walked homewards, the beauty of 
 the Christmas night unnoticed. 
 
 "We must tell auntie," Anne ventured nervously. "She 
 may not want us to marry." 
 
 "What s the use of worrying her now," Crawford whis 
 pered. "It only concerns ourselves, and we can tell her when
 
 10 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 we are ready," but noticing the pain in Anne s face, his tone 
 changed, his face quivered and he bent tenderly over her. 
 "Do just as you want to, dear," he yielded fondly. 
 
 "I ll tell her some other time," Anne answered quietly. 
 "It shall be our secret for the present." 
 
 -A man seems to feel the domination of love more intensely 
 than does a girl, and fear of the terrible power of passion 
 makes him timorous, but a girl accepts things and has ro 
 mantic dreams and desires for love-making, and, without 
 reasoning, knows things a man only learns from experience. 
 
 When Dora, who had been Anne s nurse but now was her 
 maid, opened the door, she whispered that Miss Hamilton 
 was already at home. 
 
 "We won t disturb her," Anne said easily. "Auntie must 
 be tired out with Christmas work. It is not necessary to 
 call her." 
 
 Crawford was in high sprits and followed her into the 
 cozy reception room that led to the parlor. Everything was 
 going to be as he wished the future promised to be perfect, 
 for his whole heart was engrossed in his love for Anne. 
 
 "You will never change, dear?" he a sked as he stood be 
 side her. "You will not forget me?" 
 
 "Why do you go away now, if you have any doubt?" the 
 girl retorted quickly. "Wait a few months. I will be eight 
 een, and I will go with you. Our marriage would not inter 
 fere with your studies. I can t bear to think of your going 
 to a strange country without me." 
 
 Crawford smiled at her. "No, dear, it would not do. I 
 am going away to work and if we were married, I would want 
 to be with you always." He was very handsome and manly 
 when he added, "I m going to make you proud of your hus 
 band-to-be, Anne." 
 
 He loosened her furs and threw them on the table and 
 drew her into the large, old-fashioned parlor. It was an im 
 mense, high-ceilinged room, with crystal chandeliers and
 
 A WHITE CHRISTMAS. 11 
 
 gilded mirrors, stately and comfortable, warm and velvet- 
 carpeted, and the great fireplace was piled with glowing logs. 
 His hand sought hers as they sat on a couch in a corner, and 
 with her head resting on his shoulder, they cheerfully planned 
 their future. 
 
 But Anne s heart grew heavy, and again she begged him 
 not to go without her. 
 
 "You are so handsome, Hugh. :_I m afraid someone may 
 win you from me," she argued jealously. "Ah, if you loved 
 me as I do you, you would wait for me." 
 
 He put his arm about her and drew her close. "Don t you 
 trust me, dear?" he interrogated. "Don t be afraid, dar 
 ling," he added passionately, "I love you. I will be true to 
 you, but marriage will hamper me, and if you love me you 
 will not cramp my our future. Surely our affection is strong 
 enough to bear this separation." 
 
 Love and confidence opened the glory of life to her and she 
 laid her face close to his, believing in his faith and promises. 
 The future beckoned with alluring delights and her love, up 
 lifted by pride, gained strength. He was her Hugh, her 
 husband-to-be. 
 
 They were oblivious to time until they heard Miss Hamilton 
 speaking querulously to a servant. 
 
 It must be late I must go, darling, Crawford whispered. 
 Say good-bye before your aunt comes. He kissed her warm, 
 responsive lips. "You will love me always, Anne?" 
 
 "Always," she replied solemnly, "but will you never 
 change? You will meet such beautiful women, Hugh, and I 
 am not even pretty." 
 
 Again he kissed her and her uplifted eyes found a sweet 
 answer to her fears. 
 
 "No one can ever be so beautiful to me as you are, Sweet 
 heart," he asserted and let her slip from his arms just as Miss 
 Hamilton, bustling and smiling, entered the room.
 
 12 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 Crawford s train was to leave shortly after midnight and 
 there wasn t much time for friendly God-speeds, but the man, 
 young, handsome, rich and confident, proudly faced the world 
 with Anne s promise in his mind and her kisses on his lips. 
 
 When he had gone, the girl went to her room and, press 
 ing her treasured locket against her heart, stood at her win 
 dow gazing through the silvery sheen of the night, trying to 
 pierce through the shadows of the future. Her nature was in 
 tense and passionate and thinking of her promise to Craw 
 ford, she bowed her head and murmured, "until death us 
 do part."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Love s Young Dream. 
 
 13
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 LOVE S YOUNG DREAM. 
 
 After his arrival in Europe, Crawford wrote interesting 
 though brief letters, telling of his new experiences, friends, 
 and sometimes of his studies, but he never mentioned a hope 
 of returning to claim Anne for his w-ife. 
 
 She loved him with the splendid passion of youth and felt 
 miserable and uneasy when he raved over th e beauty of some 
 of the women he met. One day Dora brought her a thick 
 letter bearing the German post-mark. The girl tore it open 
 with a beating heart, smiled at its unusual length, and read 
 and re-read words that restored her confidence. 
 
 "And again I am in Vienna," Crawford wrote. "You will 
 think I do not attend my lectures and will never get down 
 to hard work at the University, but I return to Berlin in a few 
 days ; and never mind, Anne dearest, if I m not made of the 
 stuff that famous men are made of, my laziness will give a 
 better man a chance ; but I 11 get my degree and frame it for 
 you some day. I wish you could meet some of the splen 
 did people here, and that I could show you the wonderful 
 places we used to dream of when we were kids ; but you are in 
 La Conner, and I am here without you. "Wouldn t it be won 
 derful if you were in London when I go there which will be 
 in November." 
 
 Blissfully happy, Anne joyously wrote that she would meet 
 him, directed and sealed the letter, eager to send her message 
 on its way, but her face grew sorrowful when she remembered 
 her aunt, and with loving intuition she concluded not to send 
 her reply until she had told Miss Hamilton of her decision. 
 The girl was in her sitting-room, an immense, old-fashioned 
 apartment paneled and hung with golden-tinted hangings. 
 
 15
 
 16 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 The small square panes of the windows made strange bars of 
 light on the rich carpet, quiet and correct in color, and toned 
 with the perfect furnishings of the room. Anne loved solitude 
 at times, and knew that no one would disturb her if her door 
 were closed, but she rose and opened it, calling to Miss 
 Hamilton. 
 
 She did not know that nervousness made her voice shrill, 
 and stared when her aunt ran to her, crying, "What is the 
 matter, Anne ? Have you bad news ? 
 
 " No ! Oh, no, indeed ! She tried to speak naturally, but 
 stammered and blushed. "Hugh is well. I want to speak of 
 his letter. He is going to London in the autumn." 
 
 Miss Hamilton looked relieved. "Is that so?" she said, 
 her face clearing before Anne s words. She had, from time to 
 time suspected that Anne was engaged to Crawford, and could 
 not understand the girl s desire for personal independence and 
 secretive wish to keep her love affair to herself. Her pride 
 and affection rankled at Anne s want of confidence. 
 
 The truth was that Anne had been afraid to confide in her 
 aunt, remembering Miss Hamilton s antagonism to Crawford, 
 and Hugh had written such peculiar such friendly letters, 
 that she was beginning to fear his love had changed, and had 
 even imagined he wanted to break their engagement. But now 
 she could tell her aunt that she was going to him, and that all 
 the temptations and allurements of the great world had not 
 changed his affection for her. 
 
 Now her aunt would have to admit that Crawford s char 
 acter was firm and his promises honorable. 
 
 She did not dream that Miss Hamilton s pride rankled at 
 being of so little importance to the girl she had mothered. 
 
 "I hope you won t feel badly, auntie, but I m going to 
 meet Hugh in London." Anne s tone was conciliatory. "He 
 has written for me to come. I can stay with aunt Ridgway 
 until we are married. She s invited me regularly, for years."
 
 LOVE S YOUNG DREAM. 17 
 
 Mary Hamilton s face darkened and her lips tightened when 
 she looked steadily into the mutinous face before her. 
 
 "You are going to leave me?" She gasped and made a 
 sudden gesture of appeal. Oh, Anne ! Not going to London 
 not alone?" 
 
 "I shall take Dora with me so I shall not be alone. You 
 must have expected that sooner or later I would marry Hugh. 
 
 "But listen, dear. I don t understand why you are going 
 to him. Can t he come for you and marry you in your own 
 home among your friends among the people who love you 
 both?" 
 
 "He is not ready to come home and I am only too glad to 
 go to him. I wanted him to take me with him two years 
 ago." 
 
 Anne tried to speak calmly, unmindful of the pain she saw 
 in her aunt s face and glanced swiftly away, but she reddened 
 and paled in turn, trembling nervously when she added, "I 
 have written for him to expect me. 
 
 "I suppose you will do as you think best, but I beg of you, 
 do not make this foolish journey. You will regret it, as sure 
 as you re born," Miss Hamilton cried. "I have tried to do 
 my duty, but you are of age. You say you are going to be 
 his wife, but I can t understand how a man with red blood in 
 his veins can ask you to go to him, when he has time and 
 money to come for you." 
 
 "But I want to go. I will be glad to get away from La 
 Conner and the people I ve known all my life. I want a 
 change. I ve been buried here, and I haven t been happy 
 since Hugh went away." 
 
 Flaring sparks of passion showed in her eyes and her face 
 was very sweet as she declared herself. 
 
 "Fiddle-sticks! You re in love with an ideal," Miss Ham 
 ilton scoffed. "We ve heard all sorts of rumors of his drink 
 ing and carousing with those crazy students. He hasn t done 
 anything to make you proud of him that I know of. He s
 
 18 
 
 just six-feet-one of handsome animal, and no doubt more con 
 ceited than ever since he s been kiting over Europe with 
 people we never heard of. Doe s he ever tell you that he s 
 been to church? You ll find him a different man, and he 
 never was worthy of your loyalty and love. I don t want you 
 to go to him, Anne." The girl started to speak but Miss 
 Hamilton had not finished. The red and white in her Saxon 
 face made her look years younger, and quite like a worried, 
 motherly angel. "Of course my opinions are nothing against 
 his and you are legally free to go where your fancy leads, but 
 remember that even if Hugh Crawford does love you now, 
 you can t depend on him. He is volatile and selfish " 
 
 "You were always against him," Anne cried passionately. 
 "You don t know him as he really is. He isn t selfish. He 
 would give up the world everything, for me. It is two years 
 since he went to Europe, and he has been constant. He wants 
 me, and we love each other and will be happy." Her cheeks 
 flamed, and she stood up defiantly while she defended her lover. 
 
 Miss Hamilton stared and tried to hide her discouragement 
 under a wintry smile. 
 
 "There is no use of our arguing, dear. I know I can t in 
 fluence you, but I have always tried to make you happy, so I 
 won t annoy you with my misgivings. The kind of love you 
 feel is a mystery to me. It seems like romantic hysteria," 
 and seeing Anne s displeasure she added more gently, "but 
 I m an old maid and don t understand the grand passion, 
 and hope you may be blessed." 
 
 "Some day you and Hugh will understand each other bet 
 ter," Anne burst out impulsively, "and for my sake you 
 will be nice to him." 
 
 I shall love him if he is kind to you, replied Miss Ham 
 ilton, "but Anne, what has suddenly made you dissatisfied 
 with La Conner? "Won t you and Hugh live here?" 
 
 "I suppose we will, eventually, but Hugh s letters show
 
 LOVE S YOUNG DREAM. 19 
 
 me how commonplace life here, is. There is no society no 
 art nothing but monotony." 
 
 Miss Hamilton had great difficulty in controlling her tem 
 per, and to hide her vexation, she yielded to a hysterical desire 
 to laugh, but the sound was not mirthful. To her La Conner 
 was perfect and she couldn t understand Anne s remarks. 
 
 "Don t imagine you will ever drift entirely away from 
 your home, Anne. You may think you don t love the old 
 place, but you and Hugh will be glad to come back some day 
 mark my words. You can t expect to find allurements and 
 the delightful snares of Paris, in a little home town like La 
 Conner, but you have peace, and loving friends here. You 
 liked it so well yourself that you wouldn t leave it and go 
 abroad with the Deaks when they asked you. I wanted you 
 to go then." 
 
 "Perhaps there was a reason perhaps it was because I 
 was engaged to Hugh and he could not leave Berlin, and he 
 had not asked me to go to him." 
 
 Miss Hamilton raised her brows. "Perhaps he had less 
 assurance then, and thought he would have to come for you 
 if he wanted you." She was filled with impotent despair 
 when she looked into Anne s dark, warm face and glanced at 
 her helplessly when she exclaimed, I m afraid of the sea, but 
 let me go with you?" 
 
 "I I d rather go alone, auntie. It s not worth the jour 
 ney, and I would hate to leave you so far away from home. 
 I d have to go with Hugh. But you re going to give your 
 consent, aren t you, darling?" 
 
 "You don t need it," Miss Hamilton said dully. "You d 
 go without it." 
 
 "Yes, I would, dear, but I would not be happy. I want 
 your love and sympathy. You don t want to see me 
 wretched?" 
 
 She put her arms around her aunt and kissed her. Was 
 she selfish and cruel in wanting to leave the woman who had
 
 20 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 been a mother to her ? In her heart she was not satisfied with 
 herself, but her love for Crawford seemed to justify her. Her 
 disregard of opinion, the dominant desire to go to her lover, 
 surprised and thrilled her, and there was no fear of the 
 long journey or the future. It appeared to be the natural 
 thing for her to do. 
 
 "You will feel differently when you see how happy Hugh 
 and I are, and I will be back some day with him." 
 
 "That sounds very pleasant and I ll always be here wait 
 ing for you, or ready to go to you if you need me, but all 
 the king s horses and all the king s men couldn t get me to 
 go traipsing off to Europe, or far from La Conner, unless 
 you needed me." 
 
 "I was afraid you wouldn t be so sweet to me," Anne 
 cried gratefully, putting her slim young arms around Miss 
 Hamilton s shoulders and holding her close. "Auntie, I 
 love you dearly. I shall never forget all your loving kindness 
 to me." 
 
 ""Will it stand the test of my asking you to remain with 
 me?" 
 
 "Oh, auntie!" 
 
 "There, there, child! I haven t asked it. Kiss me again 
 and let me go," and Miss Hamilton walked rapidly out of 
 the room, breathing hard and gripping her hands to keep 
 from weeping. She knew how terribly lonely she would be 
 without the girl. 
 
 So, as usual, Anne dominated the older woman and car 
 ried out her plans with unfaltering ardor. 
 
 The days seemed years while she waited with heart-breaking 
 anxiety for the answer to her letter to Crawford. At the 
 end of three weeks she received a few lines from him. She 
 read, fascinated and thrilled, and finding a world of meaning 
 between the following words: 
 
 It seemed too good to be true that you are coming to Lon 
 don. I was surprised at your quick response, and all I can
 
 LOVE S YOUNG DREAM. 21 
 
 say is that you are the bravest little girl in the world to take 
 such a long journey, practically, alone. I should tell you to 
 wait until friends are crossing but I am too selfish, and my 
 mind is full of thoughts of our meeting. I enclose an address. 
 A friend recommended the place, and I suggest I meet you 
 there. It is less public than a hotel. You will find a letter 
 waiting for you when you arrive in London. You mention 
 having relatives there and that they are nice. Of course they 
 must be, but I don t want to know them I want you. Faith 
 fully. Hugh." 
 
 She read the letter over carefully, then studied the card 
 
 Crawford had enclosed. Written on it was Bedford 
 
 Square. W. C. She did some serious thinking before replac 
 ing it in the envelope and locking it in her desk. She would go 
 at once. With Hugh, any place would be paradise. He would 
 again take her in his arms, and they would share each other s 
 joys and sorrows for life. 
 
 She went to her aunt in such a whirl of emotion that her 
 happiness was contagious. Although Miss Hamilton was bit 
 terly jealous of Crawford, she hoped he had "settled down," 
 and she tried to share Anne s confidence that the girl was 
 wise in following the dictates of her heart. She gave herself 
 up to the excitement, trying to forget the dread of the com 
 ing separation and after weeks of preparation, tearfully but 
 hopefully wished Anne "God speed." 
 
 I was a fool to allow her to go without me but she wanted 
 me to stay at home. She ll be with the Deaks in New York, 
 and Dora is to be trusted. I wonder what the Ridgways will 
 think. I m pretty sure Hugh Crawford will love her more 
 than ever after he meets her mother s people." 
 
 The train with a nerve-racking shriek vanished around a 
 curve, and with a dry sob, Mary Hamilton tried to smile at 
 the friends who had come to the station to wish Anne good-bye, 
 slowly stepped into her carriage and returned to her lonely 
 home.
 
 22 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 When Anne and her maid descended from the Express aV 
 New York they were met by the Honorable Philip Deak and 
 his sister. 
 
 Philip Deak s only daughter, Eleanor, had been Anne s 
 chum in college, but she had married and gone to England. 
 Although Anne was younger than the beautiful New York 
 girl, they had been devoted to one another and when Eleanor 
 married, Miss Hamilton and Anne (who was the youngest 
 bridesmaid) went to New York for the wedding. 
 
 The Deaks liked Anne and greetings were hardly over before 
 they spoke of amusements they had planned for her. 
 
 They had never heard of Hugh Crawford and Anne did not 
 speak of her fiance, but his face was constantly before her, 
 her brain was crowded with tender fancies, and the few days 
 she spent in New York before sailing, were a trial to the girl 
 who was constantly thinking of her approaching marriage. 
 
 "Hugh is queer. I suppose I will understand him better 
 after we are married," she thought, trusting blindly in his 
 judgment. He writes of the wonderful people he would like 
 me to know and that he longs to see me, but he never mentions 
 our marriage." 
 
 She scrutinized the card bearing the London address. 
 
 I suppose he has some good reason for wanting me to meet 
 him, instead of coming to aunt Ridgway s. I wonder what 
 he will say when he meets my mother s people, and I can t 
 understand why auntie never allowed me to speak of them. 
 I believe she s a dear socialist and disapproves of the title. 
 
 She carefully replaced the card in her pocket-book and 
 sighed happily as she went downstairs to meet the guests, 
 Miss Deak being At Home," and the rooms already full of 
 callers. 
 
 Ellen Deak kept Anne beside her, proud of the girl whose 
 calm air of distinction made her very attractive, until she 
 noticed hew pale her guest-of-honor was.
 
 LOVE S YOUNG DREAM. 23 
 
 A young mail with a budding moustache was passing. 
 
 "Willie Dearborn, I want you to take Miss Hamilton to a 
 quiet corner and see that she has some tea, Miss Deak whis 
 pered, and Anne was led away from the crush near the door, 
 to a small room opening from the drawing rooms, and from 
 her seat could watch the five-o clock tea callers mingling and 
 gossiping in New York social fashion. 
 
 In spite of her youth, it all looked very frivolous and 
 trifling to the western girl and she felt very serious indeed 
 when the young man who had left her, re-appeared with serv 
 ants following him. 
 
 "I ventured to order sandwiches, too," he whispered boy 
 ishly. 
 
 "Thank you. You are very kind," Anne answered per 
 functorily. 
 
 "You are a stranger in New York?" young Dearborn en 
 quired, trying to be pleasant to the quiet girl. "Will you 
 remain here long?" 
 
 "No. I am on my way to England," Anne answered smil 
 ing. "I will be a stranger in a strange land. This will be 
 my first voyage. 
 
 "You will find the English people delightful especially the 
 English women," Dearborn asserted, chatting away although 
 his mouth was full of cake. He had taken a fancy to the 
 black-eyed girl. They are extremely kindly and sympathetic 
 and have charming manners," he added. 
 
 "Don t you think good manners are to be found wherever 
 kindly feeling exists?" Anne burst out with her wonted hon 
 esty. "Surely they are not confined to England." 
 
 Dearborn glanced at her with surprise and changed the sub 
 ject. He was a rich youth, of an old, respected family and 
 not accustomed to having his words challenged by "buds," 
 and Anne s alert response embarrassed him. She saw his con 
 fusion and blamed herself for her outspokenness. To Dear 
 born s bewilderment she lifted her darkly-fringed eyes to his
 
 24 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 and stammered, almost childishly, "I wish you would tell me 
 of England and English people." 
 
 "I m afraid the task is beyond me," Dearborn said, red 
 dening with pleasure, "and besides, half the fun of travel 
 ling is in the unexpected. I couldn t do the subject justice. 
 My heart is in America it s God s country to me." 
 
 "Perhaps my heart is in England, and all the world is 
 God s country." 
 
 Anne laughed and looked up with the look that transformed 
 her, and Dearborn was forced to admit that the new girl was 
 interesting, but at a signal from Miss Deak, Anne rose to her 
 feet, and with a pleasant word, went back to her hostess. 
 
 "I was afraid you wouldn t succeed in getting away from 
 Willie. He looked quite savage when you left him," laughed 
 Miss Deak. "He s a nice boy, and the catch of the season." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 Bless my heart, I hope you won t marry a foreigner, Anne. 
 I always hate to think of our girls marrying on the other 
 side. Although Eleanor is married to an American she has 
 been lost to us since her husband took her to England. Amer 
 ican men are the best men in the world. 
 
 "I think exactly as you do," Anne agreed. "I ll promise 
 not to marry anyone but an American. 
 
 "Promises are more brittle than the proverbial pie-crust if 
 the little god of love interferes, Miss Deak exclaimed. And 
 never marry in a hurry. I ve been engaged for years, and 
 believe in long engagements." 
 
 Anne did not smile although Eleanor had told of Miss Deak s 
 engagement to "a man out west," whose fear of the slender 
 little woman of his choice, had been the Deak family joke 
 for years. Remembering the old-fashioned romance, the 
 young girl looked at the elderly woman in a kind of amaze. 
 Was it possible that any man would dare take that dainty 
 form in his arms and kiss her? Would prim, energetic Miss
 
 LOVE S YOUNG DREAM. 25 
 
 Deak feel the same joy in meeting her lover that she would 
 feel when she again met Hugh? 
 
 "Don t look so serious, dear. I m afraid I frightened 
 you with my chatter," Miss Deak whispered remorsefully, 
 little dreaming of the thoughts in the brain of the girl 
 beside her. 
 
 "You did not frighten me at all," was the frank re 
 sponse; "you have been so kind to me that you make me 
 homesick for my own auntie." 
 
 Miss Deak smiled complacently, and that evening con 
 fided to her brother that she thought Anne Hamilton the 
 sweetest girl she had ever known, and she rose early the 
 next morning to select books and flowers to be sent to the 
 steamer; for Anne was going to sail that day. 
 
 "I thought Mary Hamilton was a sensible woman, but 
 she must be crazy to let that child travel Avith only a maid 
 to take care of her," she grumbled. "And Anne has too 
 much money. I ll be surprised if some fortune hunter 
 doesn t gobble her up." 
 
 It was a beautiful day and Anne s spirits were high when 
 the big automobile bore them swiftly away from the resi 
 dence part of New York to the docks. The sun shone and 
 even busy New York looked lovely to the girl. 
 
 She found her cabin massed with flowers. On the table 
 was a huge bunch of violets bearing a loving message from 
 her aunt Hamilton, and at this beautiful evidence of tender 
 thought, the little traveler threw her arms around Dora s 
 neck, weeping on the bosom of the woman Avho had grown 
 to early middle-age in her service. 
 
 "There, there, Miss Anne, dear. Don t cry," Dora 
 pleaded. "It isn t too late to go back. Send a cable to 
 Mr. Hugh, and come home." 
 
 "Oh, you don t understand, Dora!" Anne cried miser 
 ably. "I don t want to go home. I m crying just because
 
 26 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 auntie loves me. Oh, I wish she had come with us, after 
 all. I m homesick for her." 
 
 Dora kept discreetly silent, arranging the luxurious cabin, 
 unpacking steamer rugs and trunks, and when the steamer 
 moved past Sandy Hook, Anne, carefully tucked in her 
 steamer chair, turned her eyes away from America and 
 gazed dreamily in the direction of the Old World, where 
 she was to meet the master of her destiny.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 A Man of Pleasure.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A MAN OF PLEASURE. 
 
 On a pleasant, warm morning in October, 19 , the Cafe 
 of the Cascade" in the Bois du Boulogne was full of 
 people, laughing, glowering, smiling, or cynical, according to 
 their different temperaments. 
 
 The weather was beautiful, Indian summer lingering and 
 lovely, the grass as emerald as in springtime and the leaves 
 of the trees turning to perfect glories of red and yellow 
 and brown. The world seemed to smile in gaiety beneath 
 the rays of the autumn sun, glowing, alluring, and enchant 
 ing. 
 
 The glories of the artistic setting were not destroyed 
 by the well-dressed men and brightly-gowned women walk 
 ing through the sunlight, and the ravishing toilets of many 
 of the women, glinting with gold and silver embroideries 
 of gorgeous colorings (for it was the fashion to wear 
 bizarre Balkan combinations) only augmented the sug 
 gestion of early summer and brilliant flowers. Even the 
 painted faces of some of the fair ones did not impair the 
 beauty of the scene, although few of their voices were 
 sweet enough to match the surroundings. 
 
 Everything, everybody, was gay. The music played softly 
 enough to please the music lovers, and not loud enough to 
 disturb tender confidences exchanged over the tables, and 
 the portly maitre d hotel, omnipresent, and paying no heed 
 to those who desired to be ignored, was satisfied and 
 smiling. / 
 
 A magnificent royal blue limousine rolled up to the 
 entrance and with elegant courtesy a tall, fair man, strik- 
 
 29
 
 30 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 ingly handsome and of splendid stature, tenderly assisted 
 a radiant, slender woman from the car. 
 
 The man was Hugh Crawford and the woman was the 
 Marquise Tania Cherimiski, beauty and wit, renowned 
 among a certain set for her lavish entertainments, and one 
 of the many lovely female mysteries of Paris who live like 
 extravagant princesses on wealth derived from a vague 
 "somewhere." 
 
 "The Marquise Tania" had not seen the last of her best 
 days but she was not young, though her easy grace and 
 proud carriage were captivating and alluring, and many 
 men found her charms more attractive than the beaute de 
 diable of the younger women they met in her salon. She 
 was extremely independent and selected her friends to suit 
 herself, though she seldom appeared in public with any of her 
 admirers. She was reputed to be very rich. 
 
 Apparently she was well known by the frequenters of the 
 Cascade, for her contagious burst of laughter at some remark 
 of Crawford s, called answering smiles to the faces of the 
 assembled joy-seekers, and she nodded nonchalantly to a few 
 of the men at the tables. 
 
 It was overwhelming personality and impudence that im 
 pelled her to suggest dining at this well-known rendezvous at 
 the hour when she was sure to meet tout Paris and ac 
 quaintances she had known in the past. 
 
 Crawford, a stranger in Paris, had eagerly adopted her 
 suggestion of lunching out of the city. Nouveau riche, fre 
 quently befuddled by brandy, and morally weak, he still was 
 an American with an American s distaste for being seen 
 among decent people with a woman of doubtful reputation, 
 and he heartily wished himself back in Paris, but having been 
 caught, he accepted the situation as gracefully as possible and 
 with natural deliberation and calculation, looked stolidly 
 ahead of him, apparently as composed as if he were at home 
 in the little western town where he had been born and bred.
 
 A MAN OF PLEASURE. 31 
 
 The immobility of his face gave no index of his offended 
 feelings ; besides the Marquise was very fetching. They found 
 a table and he listened to the men and women chattering like 
 monkeys about himself and the woman with him, and felt 
 ridiculous and absurd. He did not know that among the 
 men were many who were, or wanted to be, fiery admirers of 
 the Marquise and though they would not have acknowledged 
 it, they secretly admired the courage of the handsome un 
 known in bringing the beautiful woman among the people she 
 once had associated with, but who now left her severely alone. 
 
 The truth is that Hugh Crawford had only met the Mar 
 quise the evening before. A student friend in Berlin had 
 asked him to deliver a packet, accompanied by a letter of in 
 troduction. Crawford found her apartment full of interest 
 ing people, while her title, animation and apparent popularity 
 awakened a desire to know her better; and Hugh Crawford 
 never hesitated when his own pleasures were in question. 
 
 The Marquise Tania handed the packet Crawford gave her 
 to a delicate lad who had followed her across the room, and 
 with graceful abruptness linked her arm through the Ameri 
 can s. 
 
 "Monsieur Crawford, permit me to introduce Johann 
 Schmoltz. He also studied in Berlin but run away, Johann, 
 you and Monsieur Crawford shall talk another time." 
 
 Both men laughed and shook hands. Crawford did not un 
 derstand the significant looks that passed between some of 
 the guests that stood near him ; a look that was instantly suc 
 ceeded by conventional smiles. If he had known that the 
 gracious woman, smiling admiringly up into his eyes, her face 
 bright with interest and glowing with animation, had known 
 all the sorrow and tragedy of terrorism and despotism, had 
 seen the lives of her loved ones sacrificed for their ideal and 
 had consecrated her life to revenge for the catastrophe to her 
 home, he might have felt apprehension.
 
 32 
 
 The Marquise Tania found Crawford attractively good-look 
 ing, knew he was rich and easy going and she exerted every 
 fascination at her command to captivate the wealthy Ameri 
 can. She had been prepared for his coming by the enthusi 
 astic member of the Cause who had given him the introduc 
 tory letter to her and while she flared her great eyes at him 
 with flattering admiration, she was studying him. 
 
 Crawford was delightfully certain that Tania had taken a 
 sudden fancy to him and he sat and talked with her, earnestly 
 and merrily, about his friends and experiences, her deep in 
 terest compelling him to confide his ambitions and plans. She 
 was so sweetly serious that his heart responded to her flat 
 tery and he did not spare the pronoun "I" so dear to his 
 egotistical nature. Tania saw that she could safely adulate 
 him and listened with patient urbanity. 
 
 She shone amid the magnificence and splendor of her sur 
 roundings and was beautiful at night time. 
 
 But on this bright October morn he was a little shocked 
 when he noted the signs of time which the autumn sun 
 mercilessly disclosed and almost repented of his invitation to 
 take her to luncheon. He mentally concluded to confine his 
 attentions to less public places while he comforted himself 
 with the thought that he was a stranger in Paris. 
 
 Had the Marquise Tania known how awkward and con 
 spicuous Hugh Crawford felt what a catastrophe he con 
 sidered their descent among the haut ton, she would have been 
 delighted, for she was mischievous as a monkey, but she did 
 not guess what was in his mind. She was cheerfully stimulat 
 ing and good-natured as she sat by his side during the ride 
 around the lake and out to the Cascade and when they de 
 scended from the car she was flushed and sparkling and 
 Crawford had forgotten his virtuous resolutions. 
 
 The mail re d hatel found them a table and while Tania 
 leaned over the snowy cloth slowly reading the menu, the 
 women around her were admiring the costume of this myste-
 
 A MAN OF PLEASURE. 33 
 
 rious lawgiver of fashion who was celebrated for her marvel 
 lous toilettes and dashing good taste. Her figure was per 
 fect, and the scant skirt of her gown, which was slit half-way 
 to the knee, revealed the contour of her beautiful slender 
 limbs and one daintily shod foot and silken ankle. 
 
 Crawford s large blue eyes turned from her to the occu 
 pants of the tables around them. The sunlight flashed in his 
 face and showed the signs of passion and determination and 
 the selfish cruelty of his true nature, as it lighted up his blond 
 physiognomy. 
 
 He was extremely well-dressed and gave the impression of 
 being an educated, self-satisfied Englishman placidly inter 
 ested in the beauty of the scene before him though his thoughts 
 were busily planning a graceful retreat from his embarrass 
 ing position. 
 
 His gaze returned to the woman sitting opposite to him 
 and he smiled more confidently. After all, why should he 
 worry? She was only one of the women who had shown him 
 preference she was only an episode. With the hastiness 
 of one who gives free sway to his moods, he became more gra 
 cious, and during luncheon listened attentively while the 
 Marquise gayly talked of Paris and its attractions. As the 
 wine warmed his blood he too grew animated, lost all haughti 
 ness and reserve and decided that at last he had met a woman 
 who understood him. She was not the mercenary sort but a 
 rich, independent woman-of-the-world who appreciated him. 
 
 Before they had finished their meal, a party of English 
 people entered the cafe and sat at a neighboring table, tittering 
 and laughing. 
 
 That gentleman looks exactly like the picture Cousin Anne 
 wears in her locket," one of the girls exclaimed. 
 . "Don t be silly and stare at people you do not know," an 
 older woman in the party answered reprovingly, although she 
 lifted her lorgnette and looked squarely at Crawford who was 
 blissfully unconscious of the interest he had aroused.
 
 34 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 He did not dream that he was close to Anne s relatives. 
 
 The Marquise was in gay spirits and Crawford leaned to 
 ward her, a smile lurking in his handsome eyes. 
 
 Suppose we have our coffee in the city ? 
 
 She tilted her head with an astonishingly languishing look 
 and pouted her full lips as she whispered, "Oui." 
 
 He did not appear to notice the coquetry but the Marquise 
 smiled and a concentrated expression showed in her luminous 
 eyes. She clicked her small teeth together when Crawford 
 affectionately pressed her arm as he assisted her into the 
 machine. 
 
 She sat back in the corner of the immense car, her bright 
 face looking lovely to the American, and she impulsively laid 
 her bare hand over his. 
 
 "Come to my apartment," she suggested. "Have coffee 
 chez moi." 
 
 "That will be delightful. Indeed I will," he exclaimed 
 heartily. "I wish I did not have to leave Paris, but I posi 
 tively must go to London to-morrow. I m sorry we did not 
 meet before." 
 
 I am sorry too, Tania said softly, but if you must go 
 you must. I will give you a letter to a friend or perhaps you 
 will deliver a little present for me. I have very dear friends 
 in England." 
 
 "I am sure you have very dear friends wherever you are 
 known," Crawford answered innocently. The Marquise 
 turned and looked searchingly at him. Did she grow pale un 
 der her rouge? "There is nothing surprising in that, is 
 there?" he asked. "You are a magnificent woman." 
 
 "Do you think so?" she laughed, her manner again light 
 and alluring. "And you too are magnificent and very fas 
 cinating. You American men are the most delightful men 
 in the world." 
 
 The Marquise Tania was renowned for her courage and 
 self-control, but she was struck with a peculiar feeling of dis-
 
 A MAX OF PLEASURE. 35 
 
 taste for the task ahead of her and regretted that this Apollo- 
 like young giant should be chosen for her tool, and when the 
 car swung up in front of her apartment in the Rue Cherche 
 Midi, she silently gave her hand to Crawford who carefully 
 assisted her to descend. She hesitated as she stood beside him. 
 Should she spare him? Should she send him out of her life 
 out of danger? She knew he was going to meet his sweet 
 heart in London ; indeed there was very little of Hugh Craw 
 ford s present life that she did not know. But the moment 
 passed, and the love of the "Cause" was greater than any 
 womanly compunction, and flashing her white teeth in a daz 
 zling smile, she led Crawford to her apartment. 
 
 Later in the afternoon he remembered Anne and smiled, 
 but his smile was not an agreeable one. 
 
 "I won t marry if I can get out of it, but I must go to 
 London," he thought wearily. "She s waiting for me now. 
 I 11 send a wire that I m unavoidably detained and that a letter 
 will follow." 
 
 He did feel a pang of compunction for his unmanly de 
 cision, but unfortunately Hugh Crawford was not consistent 
 and his resolutions were as changeable as his emotions, and 
 he was swayed by every wave of passion and humor a 
 weather-cock of whims that responded to each new infatua 
 tion without regard to cause or consequence. With a shrug 
 of the shoulders he dismissed embarrassing thoughts, and wrote 
 his message and a letter to Anne. Once he lifted his eyes from 
 the Marquise s elaborately carved desk and saw the Russian 
 woman s eyes challenging him with smiling mockery, and he 
 soulfully returned the glance. 
 
 The following days passed quickly and delightfully. He 
 found his new friend a most attentive listener, charming, en 
 tertaining and sympathetic. She assisted him in selecting an 
 apartment and furniture, helped him arrange his personal 
 treasures, introduced him to many of her friends and catered 
 to his vanity with seductive understanding.
 
 36 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "Wholly unconscious of her motive, he gladly offered to carry 
 a present to her friend in London which she begged him to 
 deliver immediately on his arrival. 
 
 On the fifth day of his stay in Paris the cloud of procrasti 
 nation that swayed him slowly lifted, the wine fumes drifted 
 away and Hugh Crawford realized that he must go to Eng 
 land; that a crisis in his life had arrived. He knew he had 
 been cruelly indifferent to Anne s feelings, and it was a ques 
 tion not of how long, but of how short a time it would take 
 for him to cross the Channel. 
 
 "Anne did not mention her aunt s name," he muttered 
 crossly, and rang the bell for the English valet he had en 
 gaged. "I suppose she is a nobody, " and when the quiet 
 Saunders entered the room, he said, "We re going to London 
 immediately. Pack my things and lock up the place. Leave 
 the key with the concierge and tell her to keep everything 
 in readiness. We may return at any time." 
 
 "Very good, Sir." 
 
 Saunders face did not express any emotion. 
 
 Hugh Crawford s aspirations to become a great doctor 
 seemed to have vanished. He still was quiet and gentlemanly 
 in manner and, in spite of extreme selfishness, made many 
 friends. His fortune yielded him an immense income and 
 his wealth threw him into the company of other gilded youths 
 without stamina or serious aspirations, many of them being 
 weak, vain and vicious. 
 
 His engagement to Anne Hamilton did not interfere with 
 his enjoyment of the society of other women and it was after 
 a carousal with the hard-drinking, wild set he mingled with 
 in Vienna that he had written the letter to her telling her 
 that he longed for her wanted her. He did not dream that 
 she would consider it a request to come to him. 
 
 To use his own expression, he was "up a tree," for he did 
 not want to marry. He wanted to be free, and desired none 
 of the sacrifice of worldly, selfish amusements, that a wife
 
 A MAN OF PLEASURE. 37 
 
 would expect, and he had been introduced into an atmosphere 
 entirely different from the society he had known in America. 
 He believed he could find a mate among the luxurious and 
 brilliant women he met and admired until he remembered 
 Anne. After all, she might be reasonable, and when he spoke 
 with her he could easily persuade her that marriage would be 
 fatal to his prospects. She had always been under his influ 
 ence and would see things as he did. She was an orphan, 
 wealthy in her own right, and he magnanimously made up his 
 mind to make her visit to Europe a pleasant one, but did not 
 intend to marry her if he could avoid it. 
 
 He knew his power over women. Crawford was not to be 
 blamed because women fell in love with and spoiled him. By 
 nature he was ardently receptive, and exchanged pledges and 
 vows with reckless abandon, believing himself to be passion 
 ately in love with the latest lady who pleased his fancy. 
 
 It is true he did not forget the slender, dark, wistful girl 
 who had given him her promise in America, but it was only 
 a fragrant, shadowy memory which her regular letters kept 
 alive, and did not interfere with his enjoyment of pleasures at 
 hand. 
 
 The youth had changed into a man of the world, and in the 
 beautiful apartment the Marquise Tania had helped him se 
 lect, he arranged photographs of professional beauties stage 
 favorites German Swiss Italian and French girls, beside 
 framed and autographed pictures of aristocratic women; and 
 many occupied spaces more conspicuous than did Anne s dif 
 ferent portraits. 
 
 "We are a long time dead and I m going to live while I 
 may, he thought drily, while he prepared to start for London. 
 
 He stood in front of an exquisite miniature of a beautiful 
 woman whose blue eyes and masses of amber hair were as at 
 tractive as his own blonde coloring. Her white throat rounded 
 into a sumptuous chin of perfect outline. It was the portrait 
 of Sonia, Madame Ramoniff, whose perfection of beauty was
 
 38 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 unchallenged, and whose audacities, though innocent, led her 
 into indiscretions almost too flagrantly unwise, even for her 
 merry associates. 
 
 His memory turned to Madame Ramoniff even while he was 
 giving instructions to Saunders, and his white teeth glistened 
 in a self-satisfied smile. 
 
 "Sonia is coming to Paris in the Spring. I believe she is 
 the only woman in the world for me. I wonder "
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Marriage by Registrar.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MARRIAGE BY REGISTRAR. 
 
 The same sunshine that was shining in Paris, flooded the 
 long windows of Bedford Square, London, glinting and flash 
 ing upon Anne, who stood looking into the street. It gleamed 
 on the few passers-by, radiating golden warmth on everything 
 and everybody. It turned Anne s black hair into shimmer 
 ing red and gold, and warmed the electric whiteness of her 
 skin into glowing tints of pink. 
 
 She was thinking of her lover of Hugh Crawford, the 
 man she had crossed the restless Atlantic to marry and for 
 whose coming she longed with blissful confidence, and her 
 brain was teeming with loving, passionate fancies. She was 
 only a girl, independent in thought and action; unspoilt, un 
 affected, quiet and reserved, and her eyes brightened and her 
 cheeks flushed, when she pictured her meeting with her lover. 
 Her life and soul were his, and her sweet, dark face took on a 
 strange beauty, believing her dreams of love were to be real 
 ized her life to be blessed. 
 
 She did not note her own attractiveness did not care about 
 the splendor of her dark eyes or the clearness of her olive skin 
 that her hair was a veritable crown of sable glory. She 
 thought only of Crawford her handsome lover the splendid 
 ruler of her life who was coming to her to make her his own. 
 
 She knew he was hers. Her own man. He had told her so 
 when they exchanged vows and planned their future in the 
 old home in La Conner. Every word he had uttered had been 
 treasured in her memory, no fear or doubts tainting it. 
 
 She was passionate, unworldly, trustful, ignorant of guile 
 and she felt herself to be the luckiest girl in the world. 
 
 41
 
 42 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 Though Crawford s letters had been brief, they had been 
 tender. In the simplicity of her heart she read much between 
 the lines. He had dwelt on the charms of the people he met, 
 the beauty of the women, of their cleverness and culture ; and 
 Anne, made ambitious by her love, studied languages and ac 
 complishments, hoping to make proud the man of her heart. 
 She believed him to be so good, so adorable, that she marvelled 
 at her good fortune and gratefully wondered that this para 
 gon had asked her to be his wife. 
 
 Wife wife," She blushed when she murmured the dear 
 word. 
 
 Rumors that Crawford was sowing wild oats, drinking 
 heavily and associating with the most reckless students in Ber 
 lin, had reached La Conner, but no one, not even Miss Hamil 
 ton, dared repeat all the scandal to Anne besides they 
 thought it was exaggerated. 
 
 At the time Hugh Crawford asked Anne to marry him, he 
 did love the girl and for the time was absolutely unconscious 
 of himself, but his new environment and friends, and the al 
 lurements of European life, enticed him away from her, and 
 his love died, although his letters misled the girl into think 
 ing she still was all the world to him, and she resented any 
 gossip regarding her beloved. When several intimate friends 
 in the little community remonstrated with Miss Hamilton for 
 giving in to Anne, and calmly permitting her to leave her 
 home to meet Crawford in London, the girl was furious but 
 laughed in their faces. 
 
 "It s too bad Anne has money. If Hugh Crawford was 
 half a man he wouldn t ask her to meet him," drawled Mrs. 
 Wotson, one of Miss Hamilton s oldest friends, and Mrs. Wog- 
 gles wiped her eyes when she answered, "It looks strange to 
 me. Anne is no saint, but I m sorry for her. It would take 
 an angel to live happily with Hugh Crawford or any other 
 pretty man." This remark ended in a sorrowful sniff. Her 
 own husband was attractive.
 
 MARRIAGE BY REGISTRAR. 43 
 
 But nothing dampened Anne s spirits and she departed 
 happily confident that felicity awaited her, but she was a 
 timid little figure when she arrived in Liverpool. 
 
 After giving her a sweeping glance, her aunt Ridgway 
 gathered her in her arms and kissed her warmly. 
 
 "I am very glad you arrived safely, my dear," she ex 
 claimed in a deep, musical voice. "I hope you are not hor 
 ribly fatigued." 
 
 Oh, the voyage was perfect," Anne declared, "but I am 
 thankful to be on land again." 
 
 "Give your keys to your maid. Your trunks must be ex 
 amined. We want to catch the first train for London." 
 
 Anne obeyed meekly, finding it very pleasant to be taken 
 care of by her new aunt. 
 
 "I m sure I m going to be very fond of you, my dear, and 
 the girls are wild to know you." Lady Eidgway spoke from 
 the heart and felt that her daughters need not fear a rival in 
 the little, dark, American cousin. 
 
 "I hope they will like me," Anne responded simply. The 
 color was rising in her olive cheeks and her aunt wondered 
 if the girl was plain, after all. 
 
 "We have planned to go to Paris in a few days. You won t 
 be too tired to cross the Channel?" 
 
 Lady Ridgway, marching ahead, did not see the expression 
 that lighted Anne s face, nor would she have understood the 
 sigh of relief, for the "Honorable Misses Ridgway" never 
 declined a trip to Paris. But Anne made up her mind to 
 plead fatigue. It would give her the opportunity of meet 
 ing Hugh without making excuses and, when they were mar 
 ried, she would explain everything to her aunt. 
 
 They waited at the "Adelphi" until train time, and the 
 new atmosphere, the excitement of the odd compartments, 
 the fascinating glimpses of lovely scenery, the delirium of 
 arriving at the Ridgways town house, kept up Anne s spirits. 
 But not even the welcome she received, nor the luxurious
 
 44 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 rooms, exquisitely furnished, which had been prepared for 
 her, served to lessen her disappointment in not finding a 
 letter from Hugh. 
 
 "Perhaps Mr. Hugh has written to Bedford Square," she 
 said when Dora was dressing her for dinner. "He may be 
 coming any day." She felt hysterical, and when she and 
 Dora looked at each other, both tried to smile but failed. 
 
 "I suppose you know what you re doing, Miss Anne," Dora 
 said quietly. "It s not my place to speak, but you told me 
 all about Mr. Hugh and I wish you d tell her ladyship. I m 
 sure she s very pleasant and would like you to be married 
 here and it would be more like home more respectable-like. 
 
 "Mr. Hugh says he does not want to see anyone but me." 
 Anne colored furiously and bristled. "He does not care about 
 my relatives," and Dora said no more. 
 
 Her aunt and cousins urged and begged Anne to go to 
 France, even suggested deferring the journey until she was 
 rested, but she insisted that she would be more contented if 
 she knew she was not interfering with their plans that she 
 preferred remaining in London, and succeeded in convincing 
 Lady Ridgway that she would be happier alone, with Dora 
 to look after her. 
 
 When they had gone, the anxious girl sought the address 
 Crawford had sent to her. She had no difficulty in finding 
 the place and though it was not the kind of a house she ex 
 pected, it appeared quiet and respectable. She had seen no 
 one in the halls when going to the rooms that were reserved 
 for her, but this was London, and perhaps select boarding 
 houses were as different from those at home as was the accent 
 of the people. Still she could not repress a vague feeling 
 of uneasiness, and wondered how she would be married. 
 Would the ceremony be brief would Hugh bring the min 
 ister with him? She almost wished she had allowed Dora to 
 come with her. A gentle tap at the door disturbed her 
 musings.
 
 MARRIAGE BY REGISTRAR. 45 
 
 Come in, she cried breathlessly, and the landlady entered, 
 carrying a telegram in her hand. 
 
 "I brought it myself," the woman said, smiling ingratia 
 tingly. "I hope you are quite comfortable." 
 
 "Yes, thank you," Anne answered coldly. "Everything is 
 very nice." 
 
 She stood silent while the woman turned to leave the room, 
 but not until the door closed after the retreating figure, did 
 she open the envelope and her face fell when she read : 
 
 "Detained in Paris on important business. "Will write. 
 Love. Hugh." 
 
 Oh ! " she cried childishly. " I am so disappointed. But 
 re-reading the message, she sighed deeply and dried her 
 tears. "Poor boy! It is harder for him than for me," she 
 thought while she folded the printed slip and laid it against 
 his card in her purse. " I 11 go back to Dora until tomorrow. 
 
 Though the serving woman knew the futility of attempting 
 to reason, she begged to go with Anne, but the girl blithely 
 returned alone to Bedford Square on the following morning. 
 
 The promised letter had arrived, bidding her be patient, 
 and with a wild desire to obey Crawford, she pulled the bell- 
 rope and told the maid to bring tea. Sitting at the tiny table 
 with its pretty old-fashioned service, she wrote a note to Dora 
 saying she was "all right" and wished toilet articles, changes 
 of linen and a white broadcloth gown brought to her. Dora 
 was to leave them with the maid. She added that she did 
 not wish to see Dora and would "return in a few days with 
 Mr. Hugh." 
 
 To the students of morality I will admit the absurdity of 
 Anne s blind confidence and Crawford s shameful selfishness, 
 but there were many errors in their affair. 
 
 "I m as lonely as if this house were a wilderness," the girl 
 sobbed while she lay awake in the darkness of the third night. 
 "I ll die if I stay here another day. I can t bear this 
 suspense."
 
 46 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 But in the morning the maid brought a basket of roses and 
 a note from Crawford. He would be with her as soon as he 
 had delivered a package entrusted to his care and was her 
 "faithful Hugh." 
 
 With a hysterical sob she buried her face in the loveliness 
 of the soft, fragrant petals, and responding to feminine in 
 stinct stood long before her mirror, gazing into it and praying 
 hoping that her lover would find her attractive; perhaps 
 changed for the better. Color came to her face and the bril 
 liancy of happiness illumined her eyes. I am so glad I 
 thought of a white dress," she murmured when she carefully 
 arrayed herself in the soft gown. "There is nothing so pure 
 and appropriate for a bride. 
 
 She looked with satisfaction at the reflection of symmetrical 
 slenderness the perfect contour of bust and hip, and, smooth 
 ing the material with caressing fingers, felt her heart beating. 
 
 Eager impatience gleamed through her lashes and she trem 
 bled, while every nerve in her body was tingling when she 
 recognized Crawford s step. She forgot the maid in the hall, 
 and flung open the door. 
 
 "Hugh!" she cried, and impetuously threw her arms 
 around his neck. 
 
 He half-carried her into the sitting room and shutting the 
 door, gathered her clinging form into his arms. Her brain 
 and heart were cleared of fears, and her pulses beat madly 
 when he held her from him and she saw the look she hoped 
 for, come into his eyes the look that made her cry, "You 
 do love me. I have not changed." 
 
 "Why, my little Anne! Yes, you are changed. I did not 
 know you were so lovely." 
 
 She returned his kisses, her heart on her lips. 
 
 "I am so glad I came to you," she whispered. "I have 
 wanted you, Hugh." 
 
 "My sweetheart my very own!" Crawford looked into her
 
 MARRIAGE BY REGISTRAR. 47 
 
 face while she nestled in his arms. What a little girl you are, 
 Anne." 
 
 But she suddenly straightened and tried to draw herself 
 from his arms. "Where is the minister? Must we go to him ? 
 I thought I" 
 
 "Don t be impatient, darling." Crawford had drunk an 
 extra eye-opener and felt irritated by the interruption to his 
 love-making. "There is nothing to be anxious about. You 
 are here. We love each other. You must not think of any 
 thing else." 
 
 Anne was confused for a moment. Her eyes closed, her 
 lips parted, and she tried to speak but could not. Her lover s 
 voice sounded far away, but she tried to collect her scattered 
 wits. Why should she be frightened? Perhaps her wonder 
 ful happiness was overpowering her surely everything was 
 as she wished. Hugh was with her and loved her. There 
 was nothing to fear. 
 
 "1 thought you would bring the clergyman with you," 
 she feebly whispered, "and won t we need witnesses t" 
 
 Impatience showed in Crawford s face. He let her with 
 draw herself from his arms and retreat behind a table. 
 
 "We are both young, Anne have our lives before us, and 
 I am going to try to make every moment happy, but don t 
 think of anything but this blessed meeting away from every 
 thing and everybody. You have made me the proudest man 
 in London by coming to me, dear. We must be in mutual 
 accord, and you know you are safe with me?" 
 
 "Of course I am safe, but we must be married right away! 
 Why, Hugh, can t you see we must be married at once. Auntie 
 all our friends at home are waiting to hear of our wedding," 
 she cried, blushing and breathless. A deadly surprise that he 
 had not been the. one to insist on their immediate marriage 
 made her horribly frightened. "I will send a telegram to 
 my aunt Ridgway," she continued. "She is on the continent 
 and I I promised auntie "
 
 48 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 Again Anne grew incoherent. 
 
 Sweetheart, I do not want to put a yoke about my neck, 
 Crawford answered in his deep, caressing voice which robbed 
 the unexpected words of their brutality. "This is not the 
 moment to argue, dear, but I am not prepared to marry at 
 present. There is no need of haste or anxiety." 
 
 The girl s heart was beating with shame and fear, and put 
 ting her hands to the sides of her face, she looked straight 
 into the eyes of the man before her. She was tragic and pale 
 and all her beauty seemed to have faded. 
 
 "Good heavens! I hope she s not going to be hysterical," 
 Crawford thought irritably, but aloud he said gently, "You 
 do not understand me, Anne. I love you adore you, as 
 sincerely as ever; but there are reasons that make marriage 
 impossible at present." His eyes blinked nervously. "I 
 know you think I am unreasonable and unkind, but I have 
 grown away from the old-fashioned ideas of marriage. It 
 doesn t really make any difference to our love whether a 
 clergyman mumbles a few words over us now, or ten years 
 from now. My affairs are in a peculiar condition " 
 
 "I have money," interrupted Anne. "That need not worry 
 you." 
 
 "It is not likely I would live on my wife s funds. Craw 
 ford replied, with rising temper. "Heaven forbid that it 
 should ever come to that, but we can discuss such things an 
 other time." He held out his arms to her. "I have always 
 loved you, Anne. Won t you trust me? Come to me, 
 darling. 
 
 "No,.no! You must go away immediately. I am going 
 back to my aunt s home to Dora." 
 
 It seemed as if another woman was speaking. All the bril 
 liance had left her face, her voice sounded heartbroken, and 
 in spite of half-drunken egotism, Crawford dared not ap 
 proach her. 
 
 His mind had queer angles and he felt a spasm of shame.
 
 MARRIAGE BY REGISTRAR. 49 
 
 "Perhaps I had better leave you and come again tonight 
 or tomorrow but no I can t leave you. Don t send me 
 away. 
 
 Her eyes blazed at him, she turned quickly, disappeared 
 into the inner room, and locked the door between them. 
 
 Crawford angrily stared at the barrier separating them and 
 with a silent oath, left the house. He felt that he was in 
 the "deuce of a stew" and swore at himself for writing 
 drunken letters. Of course he would have to marry Anne, 
 and she was a dear little Puritan, with money enough to 
 make her attractive to many men, even if they did not care 
 for her as he certainly did; but their marriage meant ruin 
 to his hopes of social prestige and what would Sonia think? 
 
 And there never was so wretched a girl as Anne, listening 
 to Crawford s retreating steps and sobbing, though her eyes 
 were dry. So this was the great love he had promised this 
 humiliation and counterfeit of affection. And how mad how 
 romantic she had been. She felt her heart turning to stone. 
 "I do not understand. I thought he wanted to marry me," 
 she moaned. She had been headstrong and felt as if she had 
 broken all the commandments. She shuddered when she 
 thought of her aunt Hamilton and friends in La Conner. 
 What would they think? 
 
 "He never loved me. It was only a fancy and there is no 
 Hugh Crawford like the one I thought I knew," and as the 
 memory of her pleading and Crawford s refusal to marry her, 
 returned with stinging force, she blushed with shame. "Oh, 
 I am sick of life," she cried. "I want to go home." 
 
 When Hugh Crawford left the house sheltering the girl he 
 had wantonly insulted, he felt more and more shamed and 
 overwhelmed that he had allowed his vanity to get him in 
 such a predicament. Of course he would win Anne s forgive 
 ness and no harm had been done. No one was aware of their 
 meeting except Dora who was devoted to her, and no one
 
 50 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 need ever know that he had met her away from her aunt s 
 home. 
 
 He knew she was well-connected but did not think she had 
 influential friends in Europe, and he had a caddish horror of 
 becoming related to the shabby-genteel relatives of a wife. 
 But he felt contemptible and guilty and concluded to see the 
 neighborhood where Anne s people lived. 
 
 Jumping into a taxi-cab, he gave the address to the driver 
 and soon found himself in one of the most pretentious quar 
 ters in London. He was entirely unprepared for the magni 
 ficence of the mansion, but he ascended the steps and rang the 
 bell. 
 
 Two footmen and a stately butler, with stony faces and 
 dignified attention, were standing ready to receive, and when 
 the American entered, he noted the grandeur of the hall. 
 
 "Miss Hamilton is not at home," the butler said with an 
 impassive face. He approved of Crawford s appearance and 
 correct attire. "No sir, I do not know when she will return, 
 sir." 
 
 "Give my card to her aunt," Crawford said complacently, 
 knowing the lady was on the continent, but he was amazed 
 when the man answered, "Lady Ridgway is abroad." 
 
 Furious at his own folly, he retired. So Anne s aunt was 
 a titled woman. "Why did the Hamiltons make a secret of it ? 
 Why had not Anne disclosed the rank of her people? She 
 had never given him the right to think she was wild and 
 what had possessed him to ask her to delay their marriage? 
 He entirely forgot his selfish motives and was stunned and 
 grew hot and cold, while he sat in the cab, returning as fast 
 as he could to Bedford Square. He was disgusted with him 
 self. If he had listened to the promptings of conscience, he 
 would have written Anne that she mistook his words ; that 
 their marriage would not bring happiness for he did not love 
 her as she deserved. It would have been brutal, but not so 
 much so as his astonishing and abominable request for her to
 
 MARRIAGE BY REGISTRAR. 51 
 
 meet him, when he did not intend to make her his wife im 
 mediately. His brain was befogged from debauches, was 
 dulled to the sense of right and wrong, and he was not en 
 dowed with great penetration. Her decision to come to him 
 had startled him but had not aroused the better instincts of 
 his nature, for he calmly and pitilessly allowed her to leave 
 her home and jeopardize her good name, that he might 
 "explain" his new ideas of modern morality. 
 
 He never thought she would be so "difficult," for her let 
 ters had breathed mad love, and passionate adoration and 
 confidence and he was curious to see her again. 
 
 Now he was filled with devout thankfulness that he had not 
 refused to marry her. He had only suggested a postpone 
 ment. 
 
 "After all, it might have been worse," he muttered as he 
 drew in a deep breath of the frosty air from the open win 
 dow of the cab. "When we are married I will explain that 
 many rich American girls come to Europe with their maids, 
 ostensibly to perfect themselves in some art, though really it 
 is to enjoy their individual rights and get away from nar 
 row conventions. So there was truth in the rumor that Anne s 
 mother was of noble birth, although no one in La Conner be 
 lieved it. The Hamiltons are so democratic that they scorn 
 social position, and consider all men equal if they are good 
 Presbyterians. 
 
 Be laughed, and leaning back in the cab, lighted a cigar, 
 calmly arranging the future to suit himself, and already ap 
 preciating the advantage of having Anne for his wife. His 
 handsome face flushed, and again his eyes were self-satisfied 
 when he looked into the street. Ue would beg Anne s forgive 
 ness, plead business embarrassments, and insist on being mar 
 ried at once. She really was adorable delicious; much more 
 attractive than he had expected, and with the prestige of her 
 family, he could enter circles where noAv he was only tolerated
 
 52 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 on account of his wealth and the influence of a few powerful 
 friends. 
 
 He eagerly entered the house he had left in such a different 
 mood, and walking lightly up the hall, knocked at the door 
 of Anne s rooms. He thought he was steeled to accept her 
 reproaches but his confidence vanished as if by magic when 
 he heard her cross the floor and unlock the door. 
 
 Anne thought it was Dora whom she had sent for, and 
 when she saw Crawford s face tenderly bending toward her, 
 she fell back into the room. 
 
 "Oh, oh! F0w/" she cried, hiding her face in her hands 
 to hide her tear-swollen eyes veiled in her beautiful, vibrant 
 hair an exhausted, trembling girl. 
 
 "My darling, forgive me. I could not stay away. You do 
 not understand me, dearest. I love you so that I cannot wait 
 to see you with your people. You must let me speak tell you 
 that though I am worried and should not ask you to share my 
 anxieties, I cannot live without you my ideal my wife. 
 
 She could not believe her ears and throwing her hair from 
 her face, turned to him. 
 
 "Why have you changed? After outraging my feelings 
 and humiliating me, why have you come back ? I do not want 
 to be your wife. We would never be happy never forget. 
 You have killed the faith I had or was it love or fancy? 
 Whatever it was, is dead. 
 
 He was in the room and closed the door. 
 
 "Anne, I know that in your heart you do not mean to be 
 cruel to me." His voice vibrated with feeling. It was very 
 easy to arouse his passions and Anne s recoil from his offered 
 caresses her angry aversion, made her eminently desirable to 
 the maji who ever longed to possess what was denied him. 
 "I don t wonder that you doubt me, dear, but the truth is 
 stronger than circumstances. I am not prepared to marry 
 but we love each other, and you will not ruin my life our 
 happiness. You must send for Dora, now that I am here, and
 
 MARRIAGE BY REGISTRAR. 53 
 
 we have arrived at an understanding. I will get a license and 
 we will be married by Registrar." 
 
 With tender strength he clasped the girl to his breast, 
 kissed her hair, cheeks and brow, whispering loving promises, 
 but not pressing her lips until the gentle, innocent creature 
 forgot her misery and nestled in his arms. 
 
 "I have sent for Dora," she murmured. "Oh, Hugh, why 
 didn t you say it was only business that worried you. I 
 thought you did not want to marry me." 
 
 Clothed in self-complacency, and expanding with delightful 
 emotions, Crawford masterfully accepted her ardent affec 
 tion, and kissed her sweet mouth. 
 
 The news of their marriage was cabled to Miss Hamilton, 
 and when Lady Ridgway received her announcement cards, 
 she wondered why Anne had been so secretive and shook her 
 head in disapproval. 
 
 "Anne should have been married in church and had a re 
 ception at my home. The Americans do things queerly," she 
 spluttered, but concluding that it was too late to offer advice, 
 sent presents from herself and "the girls" and wrote a charm 
 ing letter to Anne, expressing the hope that the Crawfords 
 would accept her home in Devonshire as a quiet place for 
 their honeymoon. 
 
 Among the unexpected presents the Crawfords received, 
 was a small English bull dog, sent by a boy relative whom 
 Anne had never seen. A manly letter was tied to the heavy 
 silver collar, wishing the new American cousin every happi 
 ness, and much to Crawford s amusement, Anne s eyes 
 brimmed over with tears that fell on the animal s surprised 
 face, and "Fifi" attempted to lick the hand caressing her. 
 
 "You re terribly temperamental, dear," her husband 
 laughed. 
 
 Anne blushed. She sometimes feared that Crawford 
 thought her silly, and wearied of her too constant devotion, 
 and she concluded that she did not understand his nature..
 
 54 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "Shall I send her to the stables?" she asked. "You used to 
 be fond of dogs. Don t you remember 
 
 " Oh ! for goodness sake, keep the animal with you keep 
 your precious dog, but don t everlastingly refer to the past. 
 Forget tY." Seeing her look of wounded astonishment, he 
 added more calmly, "I don t want to be cross, dear, but look 
 forward." 
 
 Whatever -Anne may have thought, she did not say, but 
 Fifi, as if knowing that she had permission to remain, ca 
 reered around the room in joyous abandon, until both Craw 
 ford and Anne laughed, and muttering something about an 
 engagement, the young husband disappeared for the even 
 ing. 
 
 Uninterrupted love-making is apt to grow tiresome, but 
 Anne did not know this, and wearied her husband with her 
 too evident ardor and perpetual admiration. She tried to 
 control her enthusiasms, "Spanish Spasms" he laughingly 
 called them, but her heart still gave great bounds when she 
 heard his foot-step and all the resolutions of self-control went 
 scattering when he deigned to smile on her. In fact, Anne 
 Crawford was madly in love with her husband. 
 
 But slowly the realization that she did not really share his 
 life, and that he often preferred to seek his pleasures with 
 out her, dawned on her, and with a strange self-compassion, 
 she tried to be patient and good-natured. 
 
 The marriage left Hugh Crawford nothing to be desired. 
 He had married a rich girl of aristocratic connections who 
 opened doors that would have been closed to him. He had 
 no difficulties, and after a few months of tiresome, petty mis 
 understandings and espionage, he declared his right to free 
 dom, and found himself as unconfmed as before his marriage. 
 Anne did not care for show, and allowed him to come and go 
 as he chose, soon growing into the habit of visiting her own 
 particular friends, or staying alone in their apartment when
 
 MARRIAGE BY REGISTRAR. 55 
 
 Hugh was entertaining or being entertained, by the dashing 
 set in which they found themselves. 
 
 Anne, reared among strict Presbyterian principles, did not 
 approve of many things she saw in English society, but wisely 
 ignored what did not please her, hedging herself around with 
 cold reserve. Her new friends laughed and shook their shoul 
 ders, wondering how such a charming man as Hugh Crawford 
 could have fancied -her. Occasionally unpleasant stories 
 reached her and there were scenes, tears and kisses, and the 
 young wife kept more and more to herself. 
 
 "I don t enjoy myself among your friends. They bore me 
 to death with their ways of looking at life, so I am better away 
 from them," she told Hugh, but did not mention that she 
 considered them foolish and vulgar. 
 
 "I m supposed to love, honor, and obey, " she thought 
 one day while she patted the head of the little dog at her 
 knee. Oh, Fifi, are you glad you are just a little doggie with 
 out any problems to solve ? 
 
 Fifi sat up and wrinkled her black muzzle, thought it over, 
 then gently laid her head in her mistress lap. 
 
 "Will we go for a ride, and when we are out in the country 
 have a run together just as if we were in La Conner?" 
 
 Fifi solemnly rose and walked to the door, the incarnation 
 of silent understanding and fidelity. 
 
 When Anne was putting on her gloves, Crawford came into 
 her dressing room. 
 
 "Going out?" he enquired gayly, looking with pride and 
 admiration at Anne, who was wrapped in a beautiful chin 
 chilla coat. "Your furs make me think of Russia," he ex 
 claimed. "I m sorry we did not spend the New Year in St. 
 Petersburg," then opening the door for her, he added, "I 
 won t be home for dinner, dear. Awfully sorry." 
 
 "It doesn t make any difference," Anne replied quietly, 
 and followed by her dog, coolly passed him.
 
 56 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 Left alone, Crawford laughed. His wife s new dignity 
 amused and pleased him. 
 
 "I was afraid she was going to spy 011 me, and worry me 
 to death, demanding the little attentions that are so tiresome ; 
 but I have made her understand that 1 am master. Anne 
 isn t exactly exhilarating, but she s not a bad sort." 
 
 He absently admired his reflection in a mirror. 
 
 "She seemed pretty frigid when I spoke of not being home 
 for dinner. I wonder if she has heard anything new and 
 I do hope she isn t going to develope into a jealous woman 
 and spoil my fun in Paris."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 Rifts. 
 
 57
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 BIPTB. 
 
 In February the Crawfords went to Paris and moved into 
 Hugh s handsome apartment. It was not large and magnifi 
 cent as was the Marquise Tania s, but Anne declared it just 
 the right size, but she would have thought it perfect had it 
 been wretched because it was Hugh s. 
 
 When she resolved to keep aloof from most of her husband s 
 intimate friends, she displayed good judgment and saved her 
 self many shocks and slights. Not that she was crushingly 
 severe or aggravatingly mild, for she was neither, but she was 
 too simple to be taken seriously by the men and women which 
 her connections and the combined wealth of herself and her 
 husband drew around them. Many of the new acquaintances 
 were snobs (some of them titled), and Anne did not share 
 her husband s veneration for the "nobility" as it is called 
 when one has inherited a handle to one s name, though she 
 was always courteous, but her stand-off-ishness did not make 
 her popular. 
 
 It was her day at Home, and Miss Howard, a pretty girl 
 with a baby stare but some worldly experience, stood beside 
 her. 
 
 "You are to be envied, married to such a charming man 
 as Mr. Crawford," the girl babbled. "He is so fascinating 
 we girls adore him." 
 
 "I am glad you like him," Anne answered sweetly, al 
 though jealousy made her cold. "Naturally I think my hus 
 band all that is good and noble. 
 
 She managed to keep her face tranquil when Miss Howard 
 looked at her with an amused smile. 
 
 59
 
 60 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Crawford," she giggled, "you said that as if 
 you didn t appreciate your husband." 
 
 "Oh, you are mistaken," denied Anne. "I do appreciate 
 Mr. Crawford, and I m sure both he and I are keenly alive to 
 your nattering interest." 
 
 The girl turned. She did not quite understand Mrs. Craw 
 ford and much preferred the society of her handsome hus 
 band. 
 
 "I am glad you have come to Paris," she murmured con 
 ventionally. "I hope we shall meet frequently. Thank you 
 for a delightful afternoon, but I must go." 
 
 "And I am very glad to have the opportunity of meeting 
 you on your first visit to Paris but I must go too. A beau 
 tiful woman came forward, graciously holding out her hand. 
 It was Elizabeth Barrett, a friend of Miss Hamilton s, and 
 the splendid woman, whose presence was courted on both 
 sides of the Atlantic, warmly kissed Anne. Crawford stand 
 ing near the door, smiled with good-natured contempt at the 
 warmth of the salute, but came toward his wife. 
 
 "Did you know that Eleanor Hardeen is in Paris? Her 
 husband s death was a dreadful shock, but she has recovered 
 from it. She is visiting me and sends her love to you." Mrs. 
 Barrett turned to Hugh. "You do not know her though your 
 wife and she were devoted to each other. They seem to have 
 drifted apart." 
 
 "Because of marriage, I suppose". Crawford smiled 
 suavely. "She must be a good deal older than Anne. I re 
 member hearing of the wedding. 
 
 He saw no element to interest him in this social by-play, and 
 decided that a protege of the Barrett s, and an old friend of 
 his tiresome wife, would hardly be an exciting addition to 
 his list of acquaintances. 
 
 A silvery laugh rang from the smaller room leading from 
 the corridor, and with a hasty apology he excused himself and 
 hurried in the direction of the musical sound.
 
 J?JFT$. 61 
 
 Anne was disconcerted. Her heart palpitated with a fierce 
 intolerable feeling of mortification at her husband s rudeness. 
 She had not yet learned to entirely control her features or 
 emotions, and frankly stared after Crawford and waited for 
 some new and obvious humiliation. 
 
 With quiet understanding of the scene, Mrs. Barrett rose 
 to go. She gave no indication that she had seen Anne s agita 
 tion and offered her hand again. 
 
 "You will come to see me very soon, won t you? Are you 
 going to the Salon? Eleanor is going with us. She does not 
 wear mourning does not believe in it, but " 
 
 "Oh, I will be there," Anne exclaimed eagerly. "I am so 
 glad you mentioned it. Thursday afternoon, isn t it?" 
 
 "That little girl has the same unforgettable eyes," mused 
 Elizabeth Barrett when she sat in her car, speeding back to 
 her hotel, "and she is very, very unhappy." 
 
 Most of the guests had gone, Crawford had not reappeared 
 and Anne sent for her dog. 
 
 "I ll never be a credit to Hugh in a social way, I dislike 
 all this falseness, but if it pleases him I suppose I will have 
 to do my share of entertaining." 
 
 She looked so severe that Fifi, solemnly entering through 
 a rear door, whimpered and bristled. 
 
 "Be still, you little agitator," reproved Anne, and Fifi sub 
 sided, though she had a hungry look in her eyes when Craw 
 ford, accompanied by a gloriously lovely woman, entered the 
 salon, his face radiant as he brought the later caller to his 
 wife. 
 
 "Anne, I want you to know Madame Ramoniff " he began 
 ceremoniously, but Madame interrupted, 
 
 "My dear Mrs. Crawford, I am glad of. the opportunity of 
 meeting Hugh s wife. We are old friends and visit the same 
 houses in Germany and Russia, and all of his friends have 
 been very anxious to know the sweet Avife he has won." 
 
 "Oh, he has told me of you," Anne answered cordially.
 
 62 
 
 "He wrote of your beautiful homes, one in Vienna and an 
 other in St. Petersburg on the Moika is it not? He has 
 promised to take me to Russia. 
 
 11 Oh, yes! Yes, indeed! I shall never forget St. Peters 
 burg, Crawford burst out, and his wife turned to him in sur 
 prise. He spoke nervously and rapidly, and it was very 
 unusual for him to show embarrassment. "To return is the 
 dream of my life," he added. 
 
 Madame Ramoniff stared at him with a mocking look in 
 her direct glance and showed her perfect teeth in a dazzling 
 smile. 
 
 "Hugh " Her eyes turned to Anne. "You will not 
 mind if I call your husband by his Christian name he is such 
 a boy. We are fond of him because he says such delightful 
 things, and we all enjoy a little flattery, do we not?" 
 
 She spoke easily but her words, innocent in themselves, car 
 ried a vague feeling of distrust to Anne s heart. 
 
 "Hugh met many charming people since he came to Europe 
 and has so many new friends that I am bewildered," she de 
 clared, trying to stifle the jealousy rising in her breast. "But 
 it is not surprising that he particularly mentioned you, 
 Madame. He could not help it." 
 
 Hugh laughed and sauntered away and Anne drew her 
 guest to a settee. 
 
 "You do not live in Paris, Madame Ramoniff?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, we keep an apartment here live here part of 
 every year, but our home is in Russia. My husband my chil 
 dren are Russian. I am Viennese, but love Paris it has 
 the joyous atmosphere it is always gay there is always 
 what your husband calls a good time here." 
 
 She spoke with a delicious accent, her voice rising and 
 falling in the delightful Viennese way of speaking, and Anne 
 was astonished at the purity of her English. 
 
 "No ! I must not stay any longer," she insisted when Anne 
 offered refreshments. "I promised that good-looking hus-
 
 KIFT8. 63 
 
 band of yours that 1 would call today, and I hope you will 
 allow me to come again very soon ; and you must come to see 
 me. 
 
 Anne s eyes were sombre when Madame Ramoniff took leave. 
 She wondered that her husband had not mentioned calling on 
 this beautiful woman, and remembered how his first letters 
 from Berlin had been full of her kindness to him. 
 
 "Has Madame gone?" 
 
 Anne s lips tightened at the tone of her husband s voice. 
 
 "I hope you were cordial to her," he continued. "She is 
 a good woman for you to know to copy. I hope she liked 
 you." 
 
 Anne smiled unpleasantly. 
 
 "And I hope I am always polite under my own roof," she 
 answered. Madame Ramoniff is coming again. 
 
 "Don t be cross, dear," Crawford returned with a sigh of 
 relief. "You always do the right thing, I know. I am un 
 der obligation to Madame Ramoniff and her husband for 
 many kindnesses in the past, and " 
 
 "I try to please you, Hugh," Anne s eyes were cold. "I try 
 to be agreeable to all your friends." 
 
 "And succeed too," Crawford answered, playfully imitat 
 ing her tragic tone. He was too prudent to appear to notice 
 his wife s curtness. "This is different from La Conner, dear. 
 You re quite a grand lady." 
 
 "No, I will never be that, Hugh." She paused and ingenu 
 ously betrayed what was troubling her. "Why didn t you 
 tell me that you went to see that Russian woman?" 
 
 "Madame Ramoniff is not a Russian woman, but an Aus 
 trian lady," corrected Crawford. His expression was not 
 good to see. "I don t know that I ever made it a practice to 
 report my goings and comings to you, and look here, Anne, 
 we may as well continue to live like rational beings. I m not 
 a man to stand for nagging."
 
 64 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 A yellowish pallor crept over her face when Anne watched 
 him fling himself out of the room. It was their first serious 
 tiff. 
 
 On the following Thursday afternoon the Crawfords at 
 tended the Art Exhibit at the Salon. The building was full 
 of gorgeously attired women, and aristocratic looking men, 
 holding their catalogues and gossiping in low tones of art 
 and artists. 
 
 The Barretts were already there, and watching for the 
 Americans. A strikingly lovely girl flung her arms around 
 Anne s neck. It was Eleanor Hardeen. 
 
 The slender young widow was too indifferent to notice the 
 flash of pain in Anne s eyes when Crawford impulsively 
 stepped forward, but she inwardly remarked that Anne s 
 husband was quite different from any man she had ever met. 
 When he saluted her, she smiled at his open glance of admira 
 tion. She noted that his face, eyes, hair and skin seemed al 
 most artificial in their perfection and that his whole bear 
 ing radiated joyous self-satisfaction. She smiled when she 
 thought that her aunt Ellen Deak would have dubbed him 
 "a pretty man." 
 
 Anne looked insignificant beside her Greek-god of a hus-. 
 band, and the young widow s heart was puzzled when she 
 contemplated the young married people. 
 
 Hugh Crawford was thanking his stars that he had given 
 in to Anne and brought her to the Exhibit. He had ex 
 pected to be bored, for Art, with a capital A, did not appeal 
 to him, and to meet this luscious new beauty was a delightful 
 surprise. The little party of Americans stood in front of a 
 painting by Bouquereau, admiring the wonderful work of the 
 master, but Crawford s gaze wandered from the canvas and 
 he furtively watched Anne s friend, thinking her more inter 
 esting than any painting could possibly be. 
 
 Eleanor suddenly looked at him and her cold, puzzled 
 scrutiny amazed him. At last he had met a woman who did
 
 RIFTS. 65 
 
 not betray any gratification, or interest in his glances and 
 her indifference compelled an unwilling respect. Her serene 
 coldness made the susceptible Hugh Crawford an instant 
 adorer, and he made up his mind to bring response into the 
 eyes of this beauty who looked ardent as fire, and whose calm 
 poise attracted his errant fancy. But his face did not betray 
 his thoughts and he became almost lover-like in his attentions 
 to his wife. 
 
 Anne looked at him sarcastically. She had watched his face 
 when he was introduced to Eleanor, and was miserable with 
 jealousy. The temper of her Spanish ancestress blazed in her 
 heart; burning, proud, indomitable, but she tried to act as 
 if a new pain had not entered her breast. She was very sensi 
 tive to psychic influences, and felt that this meeting of her 
 husband and friend was going to bring trouble. 
 
 She grew to dislike Paris hated the snow that never lasted, 
 but turned to unpleasant slush, and, with the perversity of 
 human nature, she irritated and estranged the husband she 
 adored, by impatient grumbling, or disdainful coldness. She 
 grew careless about her appearance and sometimes Crawford 
 looked at her with surprise and aversion, wondering how he 
 ever could have thought her attractive. 
 
 Taking everything into consideration it is not to be won 
 dered at that the Crawfords married life was a failure or that 
 Crawford grew more stupidly self-complacent and enjoyed 
 the freedom that European custom accords to men mar 
 ried or single. 
 
 "There is no reason why I should not enjoy myself in 
 my own way," he concluded. "Anne is abominably unpleas 
 ant and unreasonable. She pretends to love me and suc 
 ceeds in making our lives a burden." 
 
 He commenced to think she had tricked him into marrying 
 her, and forgot the days of his boyhood when he truly loved 
 her. He really had nothing but his money and handsome 
 appearance his caressing voice and perfect manners, to rec-
 
 66 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 ommend him ; for all his splendid aims, and ambitious desires 
 of "doing something worth while" and making a place for 
 himself in the profession he had chosen, were forgotten in 
 the mad lust for pleasure and self-indulgence. 
 
 Although Anne frequently met Eleanor Hardeen, there was 
 no continuance of their girlhood intimacy, and the young 
 widow, who was having a very agreeable stay in Paris, did 
 not seem to regret it. 
 
 One afternoon, when Anne was returning from shopping, sin- 
 instructed her chauffeur to take her slowly through the 
 Champs Elysees. Her car was closed, for the weather was still 
 cold. She leaned forward, watching the men and women, 
 children and nurses, walking under the bare trees, laughing 
 and ruddy, apparently enjoying the cold and snow, when 
 suddenly she saw her husband, walking with Eleanor Hardeen 
 and her little son. 
 
 She had forgotten there was a child although Eleanor had 
 written to her of her baby. But that was centuries ago 
 when she was happy when Hugh loved her. 
 
 The boy was running ahead of his mother, playing with a 
 blanketed poodle, and Hugh Crawford and the laughing, 
 rosy woman beside him made a superb couple. 
 
 Eleanor was quietly dressed in a dull cloth gown, but her 
 sables were wonderful, and from the black velvet toque to the 
 dainty shoes, she was a vision of simple and costly magnifi 
 cence. 
 
 Anne noticed the satisfaction on her husband s face, and 
 the bright animation of the beautiful woman he was bending 
 over. 
 
 "Dear God!" she cried bitterly, "Why was I not beauti 
 ful? Why should Eleanor have everything, and I be denied, 
 even the hopes of motherhood?" 
 
 She crouched back in her machine, fearing they would see 
 her and imagine she was spying upon them ; but she need 
 not have worried, for neither Hugh Crawford nor Eleanor
 
 RIFTS. 67 
 
 Hardeen were thinking of anything save the pleasurable 
 excitement of an unexpected meeting. 
 
 "Perhaps there is safety in numbers," Anne thought 
 while she gulped back a sob, "I was always jealous of some 
 body even at home, and here I first thought hardly of 
 Madam Ramoniff, then of that Marquise whom everyone 
 gossips about and now it is Eleanor. I guess 1 do lack tact 
 and diplomacy and character, just as Hugh says." She 
 knotted her brows. Suddenly it flashed across her mind that 
 she would go away go to London. Her aunt would be glad 
 to see her, and Hugh might miss her and follow or he 
 might be persuaded to leave this dreadful, tempting Paris 
 and go with her. 
 
 Of late she seldom saw Crawford in the evening, unless 
 they were slated to appear at some social function together, 
 but she sent Saunders for him. He came immediately, 
 dressed for dinner, and charmingly deferential in manner. 
 
 "You are not in a hurry, I hope," Anne asked, cold with 
 nervousness. "I want to speak seriously with you." 
 
 She tried to be ironical but only succeeded in sounding dis 
 agreeable. 
 
 "Can you spare a few minutes to your wife?" 
 
 "Why, yes! Certainly, dear," Crawford was vaguely 
 alarmed at her unusual manner. "I am proud that you sent 
 for me." 
 
 He noticed that she had grown thin and sallow. She still 
 showed traces of the tears she had shed when she saw him 
 with her friend and lines of pain on either side of her pome 
 granate-red mouth made her look severe and years older than 
 she was. Her husband s eyes were extremely observant, and 
 he felt a little sorry for her. 
 
 "She s been having one of her silent tantrums," he thought, 
 dreading a scenee, and commenced to feel impatient. 
 
 "Well?" he asked brusquely. "What did you want to 
 see me about?"
 
 68 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "I want to go away from Paris," she ventured hesitatingly. 
 "I want you to take me over to London." 
 
 Crawford gazed at her with astonishment, then with dis 
 tinct relief. If Anne were out of the city he could enjoy many 
 privileges alone that now included her. He was dazzled with 
 instant flashes of anticipation, but tried not to show how de 
 lighted he was at the prospect of her departure. 
 
 "You do not look well, dear," he commented, looking 
 kindly at her. Paris does not seem to agree with you. You 
 are very sensible. You had better start as soon as possible 
 and I will try to follow you soon." 
 
 "You cannot go with me now?" 
 
 She spoke with a catch in her breath, hoping praying, 
 that he would ask her to wait until they could go together. 
 
 "No. At present it is impossible, but I will go as far as 
 Boulogne. I shall send Saunders across with you and you 
 have Dora to look after your comfort. You are wise in going 
 at once, dear." 
 
 Her dark face betrayed her inward rage and she stared 
 at him fixedly. "You needn t think of going to Boulogne 
 with me, Hugh," she said. "You need go to no trouble." 
 
 "What I do for you is not trouble, Anne." 
 
 She laughed a low, unmusical sound that strangled in 
 her throat, for she knew the value of his false-courteous 
 words knew in her heart that he was glad she was going 
 away. 
 
 "You promise to come for me?" 
 
 Yes ! Of course ! " He looked at his watch. Is this all 
 you wanted to say? I must be going I m late now, but I ll 
 see you in the morning. I suppose we won t run across each 
 other to-night." 
 
 After he had left her, the remembrance of his polite in 
 difference filled Anne with fury, and his secrecy about walk 
 ing with Eleanor made her ill with jealous rage. She hated
 
 RIFTS. 69 
 
 herself for being such a fool as to love this man who con 
 sidered her less than nothing. 
 
 But he s my husband. I married him. I ve made my bed 
 I must lie on it," she repeated slowly. "But he doesn t 
 care for me. He never cared." 
 
 The next day she left for London and was nervously con 
 scious of the smile on her husband s lips when he kissed her 
 good-bye.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 Eleanor. 
 
 71
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ELEANOR. 
 
 Eleanor Hardeen, the latest whim of Hugh Crawford s fickle 
 heart, was the only child of Philip Deak, capitalist and rail 
 road magnate. She was a recognized beauty, good-natured, 
 impulsive, and had been so accustomed to luxury and adula 
 tion, that she was carelessly indifferent to conventions and 
 not in the least aware that she was selfish and overbearing. 
 
 She amused herself with Crawford s attentions because he 
 flattered her and helped her forget the tragic death of her 
 husband. But she adored her boy and never intended to 
 marry again. Of course that did not mean that she should 
 be perpetually mournful. In reviewing the last months of 
 her married life, she concluded that fate had not been un 
 favorable to her when it made Hardeen take the last fatal 
 ride. As it was, she still had some fond memories of him 
 though she had no more illusions. 
 
 Her mother had died when Eleanor s little brother was 
 born, and pale day was breaking into promise of glorious 
 brightness when the child, so anxiously desired, but weakly 
 wailing, was left to the care of a nurse, in the terror and 
 excitement of his advent into the world. 
 
 Eleanor was aroused from sleep by hearing whispers as 
 her own nurse left the room, and listened to hurried footsteps 
 passing through the house. She knew she was not to disturb 
 her beloved Daddy whose face, distorted by anguish, broke 
 her childish heart, but she climbed out of bed and descended 
 the stairs. She heard a baby crying and silently opening a 
 door, looked with wide-eyed amazement at Maggie, her 
 own nurse, bending over a baby. 
 
 Holy mother ! exclaimed the woman, Oh ! Miss Ellie, 
 
 73
 
 74 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 it s a sad day for you a sad day," and she gathered the 
 two motherless children to her warm Irish heart. 
 
 The mother s fortune was left entirely to the children, and 
 Miss Ellen Deak took immediate charge of the household and 
 devoted herself to her brother and his children. 
 
 Philip Deak, considered a hard man by the world, was gen 
 tle as a woman to his family. He adored the boy and girl, 
 even grudging their necessary absences at school, and their 
 vacations were an unalloyed delight usually spent on his 
 yacht or travelling from one beauty spot to another in his 
 private car. 
 
 The death of his boy, Philip the second, as he was affection 
 ately called, almost killed the great financier, and his whole 
 heart centered on Eleanor. 
 
 Aside from beauty of face and form, the girl had the won 
 derful coloring of her Irish mother. She w,as piquant, sym 
 pathetic in manner and, until her death, would attract and 
 retain the interest of the sterner sex. 
 
 It was not the blood that glowed in her clear cheeks, or 
 the brightness of the blue eyes that made her so irresistible, 
 but the spirit that laughed and danced in her face the charm 
 of her Irish smile. 
 
 She was quite different from the Deaks, who were renowned 
 for their classically beautiful features. Even Ellen Deak, 
 fair and forty, was a handsome woman of patrician comeli 
 ness and perfect outlines, and she had the animation, but not 
 the soft charm of the admiration-compelling Eleanor. 
 
 The girl was nineteen years old when Jasper Hardeen first 
 met her. The Deaks were yachting off the coast of Maine 
 and a party from another yacht visited them, bringing Har 
 deen, and for the first time in her life, Eleanor avoided a 
 man s gaze. 
 
 Jasper Hardeen never forgot the meeting. He had met 
 many women. Glances had flashed at him brilliant smiles 
 and perfect curves had attracted him but they had not been
 
 ELEANOR. 75 
 
 of more than passing interest, and when he met Eleanor Deak 
 it seemed as if all his dreams of fair women were combined 
 in the face and form of the splendid girl ; and in spite of, or 
 because of his strong masculinity, he became a humble sup 
 pliant for her hand, overwhelmed by his own unworthiness 
 in winning the maiden who had conquered his heart. 
 
 When she lifted her frank eyes to his and smiled, he felt 
 chilled by her friendly interest then encouraged by the ex 
 pression of pleasure that lifted the corners of her delicious 
 mouth, and her warm, exquisite, human beauty aroused sen 
 sations of fervid admiration. He longed to kiss her lips, and 
 for the first time, felt that money and birth would have no 
 influence in breaking down the barriers that existed between 
 his dissipation and her innocent purity. He was old very 
 old, in experience. But she did not know that. She was 
 kept in the usual ignorance that surrounds young girls re 
 garding moral and physical purity, and gladly welcomed his 
 attentions with the loving abandon of a*i affectionate child. 
 She did not hide her admiration, but his love made him doubt 
 his powers of persuasion, though he determined to try to 
 win her. The courtship was short and ardent, and Philip 
 Deak, who saw what was going on, spoke to his sister about it. 
 
 "For goodness sake! Don t act like a ninny," she com 
 mented. "Let them be happy." 
 
 Her own life had been changed by the interference of her 
 well-meaning brother, who had not wanted her to marry 
 the one man she had loved, because he was poor. But she 
 had given her promise and was still engaged to the lover of 
 her youth, who had fought his way to fortune, and had 
 "horse ranches" in the west. But she had never had the cour 
 age to leave her brother. 
 
 "But of course I want her to be happy ," grumbled 
 Deak indignantly. "But I don t like him, Ellen." 
 
 Miss Deak looked at the man of millions with contemptuous 
 antagonism for a moment, then burst out rudely:
 
 76 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "So you don t like him? He doesn t want to inarry you, 
 does he?" 
 
 "But he s wild." 
 
 "You won t find many King Arthurs in society nowadays. 
 
 "All men are not roues either," Deak demurred. "I m go 
 ing to speak seriously to Eleanor. She doesn t think of mar 
 riage. She is only a child at heart." 
 
 "She may surprise you! Did Jasper Hardeen ask 
 you for her hand?" Miss Deak spoke with the primness of 
 the early Victorian epoch. 
 
 "Yes! He asked my consent to speak to her." 
 
 When Philip Deak found his daughter she was standing 
 by Hardeen at the side of the railing, looking into the water. 
 Her face was brilliant with color and she slipped her hand 
 through her father s arm. 
 
 We were just speaking of you, Daddy, she said. You re 
 neglecting me frightfully. 
 
 "Well, I m going* to devote a little time to you now. I 
 would like to have a little talk with you when you can spare 
 your poor old father a moment," he answered lightly, but 
 the girl detected sadness in his voice. 
 
 She turned to Hardeen who understood. 
 
 "I must go back to my friends." He nodded toward the 
 yacht near them. " I m afraid I m something of a nuisance. 
 
 "Oh, no!" Eleanor answered impulsively, then when the 
 young man had gone she turned to her father. "What s the 
 matter, Daddy!" 
 
 1 Come down to my cabin. I want to speak with you. 
 
 She followed, wondering at his tone and when he sat down 
 in his big chair, she let him pull her down on his knee. 
 
 "Has Hardeen said anything to you that you want to ask 
 me about?" floundered her father. "Has he has he told 
 you?" 
 
 "He he said he had had spoken to you." 
 
 "He wants to take you away from me, Eleanor. I don t
 
 ELEANOR. 77 
 
 want you to marry him. I knew his father and loved him 
 but Jasper is not like the old man. Do you want to go away 
 with him and leave me?" 
 
 "We could be with you very, very often, Daddy." 
 
 She pressed her soft cheek to her father s and he knew 
 he had lost her the bird was ready to leave the nest. The 
 blood glowed in her warm, white skin and joy shone in the 
 eyes that looked into his with a suggestion of shyness in their 
 laughing depths. 
 
 "Very well, Eleanor. I have never denied you anything, 
 and I want to give you happiness," he said solemnly. "God 
 bless you, dear. You re very like your mother. I ll speak 
 to Hardeen." 
 
 Eleanor kissed him and went to her own cabin. Miss 
 Deak who had been inquisitively watching, followed her, and 
 the slender spinster smiled interrogatively. 
 
 "Eleanor! You are engaged? You are going to be mar 
 ried?" 
 
 Eleanor blushed. 
 
 "Oh, I am not going to be married for ages I am going 
 to wait until you marry Andrew MacVeety." She danced 
 up to her prim aunt and laughing heartily, held the strug 
 gling lady in her strong young arms. 
 
 Three years after the Deak-Hardeen wedding, Eleanor 
 Hardeen looked into the mistiness of an English rain. The 
 weather was miserable, and Devonshire, the country usually 
 perfect to live and hunt in, was gray and sombre. 
 
 The scene was mysteriously beautiful in the pale, opal 
 light, and Eleanor, gazing from the window of the nursery, 
 felt the peculiar charm. The house was old, low and ramb 
 ling, without any of the up-to-date conveniences she had 
 been accustomed to, but her husband bought the place, and 
 she was placidly satisfied. She didn t care where she lived 
 so long as her little son little Phil was with her. 
 
 It was fully ten minutes since the luncheon bell rang, and
 
 78 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 the red cheeked butler was arranging the flowers and silver, 
 when his ear caught the sound of Eleanor s light, elastic 
 step and she entered the room. 
 
 Three years had made a great difference, and the dash 
 ing girl had developed into a sumptuous woman. 
 
 Jasper Hardeen had been proud of the beauty and merry 
 light-heartedness of his bride. He was not an easy man to 
 please, but she had satisfied him for six months, then he 
 wearied of her innocence. 
 
 It had been a severe shock to Eleanor s vanity to find 
 herself set aside, for all her life she had received homage 
 and consideration. Her health was not good but when her 
 little son came, she found comfort and never betrayed to 
 Hardeen how deeply his indifference wounded her. She 
 was essentially Irish and resented the disappointment her 
 husband s character was to her, but philosophically thought 
 with Celtic patience: 
 
 "After all I have little Phil, so my marriage wasn t exact 
 ly a failure. I m thankful my baby was a boy." 
 
 Hardeen considered himself a mighty hunter and spent 
 days in the field. His wife did not care that he was away 
 and was calmly enjoying a cutlet when she saw them bring 
 ing him home to her. She did not realize the seriousness of 
 his injuries although his shoulder was broken and he had a 
 severe cut at the base of his brain. His horse had failed 
 him at a stone wall. On the second day he developed a 
 heavy fever and a few hours after the doctors operated, 
 Jasper Hardeen passed away without regaining conscious 
 ness. 
 
 Eleanor cabled the news to her father but requested him 
 not to come to her. Her husband was buried in the little 
 subterranean vault on the estate he had left to his son. It 
 was his request and, although it seemed strange to Eleanor, 
 she followed his wishes. 
 
 She was not twenty-three when this tragedy came to her,
 
 ELEANOR. 79 
 
 and she covered up the past as best she could, did not wear 
 mourning and found contentment in the loving eyes of her 
 boy. Pride again mounted in her heart and a resolution to 
 bring Phil up to clean, honorable manhood, displaced the 
 shock and grief of her husband s death. 
 
 "I shall always keep him near me," she decided, "and 
 after a while when I forget some things, I am going home 
 to father. I love him and I want my boy to love him. 
 
 She was lying awake, day-dreaming, and had not rung 
 for her maid, but she heard little Phil running down the 
 hall and called to him, sitting up in bed and wrapping her 
 self in a soft negligee that was lying on the chair close to 
 her hand. She was a vision of glowing youth a poem of 
 delicate color, and she smiled when the door burst open and 
 the boy, followed by his nurse, rushed into the room. The 
 woman smiled admiringly. She had been with Eleanor be 
 fore the baby came and knew some of the trials the young 
 wife had proudly ignored. 
 
 "You re looking lovely this morning, Ma am," she 
 exclaimed, not impertinently but impulsively. "You do look 
 grand. 
 
 Eleanor laughed. She loved flattery. 
 
 "That s because I am happy this morning," she said lightly. 
 
 She had the dewy freshness of lips, ripe and alluring, and 
 "looked like a girl you could chum with" as one of her 
 youthful admirers had once told her, as she gathered the boy 
 
 in her arms. 
 
 ********** 
 
 In the later part of February she accepted Elizabeth Bar 
 rett s invitation and went to Paris with her son and two 
 maids. Life was still an open book and she intended to read 
 it. With the ardor of her nature she longed for excitement 
 and change, and reveled in the attention her incontestable 
 beauty received. 
 
 The Barretts were waiting at the Gare St. Lazare and soon
 
 80 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 Eleanor was seated in front of the fire-place in the warm, 
 bright rooms Elizabeth Barrett had arranged for her, drink 
 ing tea, and gossiping of mutual friends. 
 
 Although she did not wear mourning for her husband, 
 Eleanor dressed very quietly, and for the first few weeks 
 after arriving in Paris, did not accept any social invitations. 
 But she was pleasure-loving and did not want to dwell on 
 the past, and much to Elizabeth Barrett s disapproval, she 
 accepted Hugh Crawford s attentions with tolerant amuse 
 ment, and Anne s husband, conceited and impressionable, 
 looked forward to his meetings with her as if they were 
 epochs in his life. 
 
 "Why so silent?" she asked him one day. He had brought 
 her some flowers, and a toy for the boy. 
 
 "Because I am too happy for words when I am with you," 
 he answered in a low voice. "I am afraid to tell you " 
 
 "You are getting into deep water," laughed Eleanor, look 
 ing demurely into his flushed face. "I don t understand your 
 kind of fear and happiness. Now Phil, w r hen he is afraid, 
 comes to his mother for protection, and when he is happy, 
 dances and jumps and yells like a Comanche Indian." 
 
 Phil, who was in the room, hearing his name mentioned, 
 stared in wonder at the big man. He did not like Crawford 
 and ran to his mother, slipping his hand into hers. 
 
 "He is an affectionate little fellow," Crawford said. 
 
 "Yes! He is very like his grandfather." 
 
 But Hugh Crawford was not interested in the child and 
 muttering to himself that children should be kept in the 
 nursery, walked homeward, having obtained Eleanor s con 
 sent to be with the Barretts at the dinner he had ordered at 
 Voisins, to be followed by Thais, at the Grand Opera. 
 
 A magnificent car rolled up ahead of him when he walked 
 along the street, and the Marquise Tania, with flattering ve 
 hemence, insisted on taking him to her apartments. He 
 managed to excuse himself without offending her and with
 
 ELEANOR. 81 
 
 a promise of seeing her the next day, kept on his way; but 
 he liked the Marquise and knew that she allowed him many 
 privileges not accorded to others, and, changing his mind, 
 he turned his steps to her home. 
 
 The wonderful rooms in the aristocratic quarter of the 
 Rue Cherche Midi, were historic, having been occupied by 
 a Regent of France, but the fact was forgotten, although 
 the decorations and mouldings were still as elaborate as 
 ever. Walking through the fine ante-chamber and Louis XIV 
 Salon, Crawford entered a room he had never before noticed. 
 The whole floor, now occupied by Tania, seemed to be full 
 of grand chambers and mysterious cabinets. 
 
 When he pushed aside the heavy tapestries, he noticed 
 that this room contained none of the priceless bric-a-brac, 
 paintings, or bibelots, such as decorated the other rooms he 
 had seen, its walls were covered with heavy tapestries, and 
 it was furnished with almost monastic severity. Men and 
 a few women, many of them Crawford knew to be Russians 
 or Poles with unpronounceable names, were gathered around 
 an Italian who was singing while he accompanied himself 
 with a guitar. Dreamy passion ran through the mad, martial 
 strain. The song was entrancing weird; combining the 
 sensuousness of love, hope, fear and hatred with an under 
 current of vehemence, and the singer completely fascinated 
 the listeners with the swaying melody. 
 
 Crawford, who had met no difficulty in reaching this apart 
 ment, being recognized by the servants as one of Tania s 
 most favored friends, stepped quietly into the room. His 
 entrance passed unheeded and his own blood commenced to 
 riot in his veins some unspoken power in the music strangely 
 moved him. 
 
 The Marquise, whose face seemed illuminated with a hid 
 den fire, suddenly spied him and her midnight eyes flared in 
 startled amazement. With a shrill cry she came toward him. 
 The Italian Marino stopped singing and with a nervous laugh
 
 82 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 lifted a glass from a low table beside him and held it to his 
 trembling lips, swallowing great mouthfuls of wine while 
 the company separated into groups. 
 
 "You told me you were not coming but you are most wel 
 come, my beau Hugh," cried Tania. 
 
 Crawford s eyes winked nervously and he looked at her 
 with vague uneasiness, but she returned his glance with ap 
 parent innocent pleasure and he forgot the strange fear that 
 had assailed him. 
 
 It was almost dawn of the next day before he returned to 
 his own apartment, his head heavy from drinking too much 
 wine, and a blurred remembrance of having lost heavily at 
 
 cards. 
 
 ********** 
 
 The night of the dinner, Eleanoi^ was a picture, perfect in 
 the eyes of Hugh Crawford. She wore diamonds in her dusky 
 hair, and when he helped her remove her magnificent ermine 
 cloak, he saw that she was wearing a violet-hued gown, and 
 the mass of violets he had sent her that morning, was caught 
 at her belt. 
 
 Many eyes turned toward their box at the opera and glances 
 of admiration were directed at the two beautiful women and 
 striking looking men. 
 
 "/// were free." 
 
 For the first time the subtle, horrid thought entered Craw 
 ford s brain. Here was the woman he should have met and 
 married, instead of tying himself to a tiresome, sombre crea 
 ture like Anne. 
 
 He placed his chair immediately behind Eleanor s and 
 watched her, absolutely oblivious of the beautiful Prima 
 Donna who was charming the crowded house with the beauty 
 of her voice and physical loveliness. 
 
 Eleanor impulsively leaned back to him and whispered, "I 
 love Garden." 
 
 Crawford did not answer, but smiled as he watched the
 
 ELEANOR. 83 
 
 beautiful face, now pale as snow from emotion. Somehow 
 this display of temperament displeased him. When he left 
 his friends after the opera he was very serious. As far as 
 he was concerned, the evening had been unsatisfactory, and 
 when he entered his apartment, he ordered Saunders to bring 
 brandy and soda. Lighting a cigar he lolled back on his 
 couch, lazily thinking, 
 
 "I believe I have found the woman who would not bore 
 me. Sonia will always be out of my reach and no other 
 woman is quite as glorious as she, but Eleanor is beautiful, 
 young and gay. She cannot imagine I think of her wealth, 
 and I will love her make her love me. 
 
 He dreamed of kissing and caressing the new woman of his 
 desires, till happening to look up at the clock, he noticed the 
 lateness of the hour. Yawning, he undressed slowly and soon 
 was sound asleep. 
 
 He had entirely forgotten Anne. He did not remember 
 the wife waiting for him in England.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Broken Promises. 
 
 85
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BROKEN PROMISES. 
 
 Anne spent feverish weeks in London, trying to hide her 
 desolation from her relatives and shrinking from the thought 
 of sympathy which she feared might be offered. Rumors 
 reached her of Crawfo rd s wildness, of his mad extravagances, 
 and of his infatuation for her friend Eleanor Hardeen, and 
 it required a veritable passion and the most patient self- 
 control, to listen without flinching to the undercurrent of 
 acidity in Lady Ridgway s opinion of her new nephew. But 
 although Crawford seemed to have forgotten her existence and 
 did not acknowledge her letters, the power of Anne s love car 
 ried everything before it, casting aside warnings and filling 
 her heart with hopes for the future. 
 
 At last his silence alarmed her and she feared she had 
 made a grave mistake in leaving him. Did he resent her 
 absence 1 After secret tears and much hesitation she decided to 
 return to him, and believing things would arrange themselves 
 better when she was again with her husband, she made Dora s 
 head swim with her eagerness to return to Paris. 
 
 Dora, faithful, sensible soul, did not understand the chang 
 ing moods, but silently obeyed instructions while she watched 
 with loving, observant eyes and prayed that happier days were 
 coming for her beloved "Miss Anne." 
 
 The Channel was very rough and the journey fatiguing, 
 and Anne sat almost motionless until they reached Paris, but 
 when she entered her beautiful apartment she felt a faint 
 pleasure when she surveyed the attractive rooms. Everything 
 seemed home-like, and the air of warmth and comfort were 
 very encouraging. 
 
 It was ten o clock and she was not surprised that Crawford 
 
 87
 
 88 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 was not at home. She went into his room and saw intimate 
 signs of his occupation his brushes a framed picture of 
 herself on his dressing table his canopied bed, half open and 
 ready for him even his dressing gown and slippers looked 
 dear and familiar, and she felt tremulous and happy. 
 
 "Everything is going to be all right now," she murmured, 
 as vague possibilities filled her soul with comfort and she 
 turned to her own rooms. Dora brought her some soup and 
 a glass of wine, and feeling refreshed, she bathed and had 
 Dora dress her in a primrose silk teagown Crawford had once 
 admired, and lay down on her couch to wait for him. 
 
 ; You may as well go to bed, Dora, and tell Saunders to in 
 form Mr. Crawford I am here and would like to see him as 
 soon as he comes home." 
 
 Dora smiled radiantly and with a soft "good-night, Miss 
 Anne," went in search of Saunders. 
 
 Until her marriage Anne had belonged to a world of relig 
 ious atmosphere and puritan refinements. Consideration and 
 respect for women had been a dominant feature of daily life 
 around her, but marriage to Crawford had taught her that 
 sex made no difference, and her wishes were not to be con 
 sidered if they conflicted with his desires; but he had never 
 revealed the venom of his uncontrolled temper. 
 
 She could not read, and listened to the clock ticking away 
 the hours of life. Laying aside the book in her hand, she 
 looked up at the silk-draped walls and placidly congratulated 
 herself on her good sense in returning and yawned. It was 
 after three in the morning when she heard her husband 
 coming to her. 
 
 Crawford was astounded and annoyed to know of her ar 
 rival, and the imperative order to go to her at once, which 
 Saunders repeated with unnecessary force, did not soften his 
 anger. Flushed and frowsy from drinking, his hand still hold 
 ing a lighted cigar, he went to Anne. He had never looked so
 
 BROKEN PROMISES. 89 
 
 plebeian so vulgar; his hair mussed and his coat awry, while 
 he grinned foolishly, trying to cover his vexation. 
 
 Anne raised herself and held out her arras, color coming 
 into her face and her gorgeous Spanish eyes warm with 
 affection; but her husband did not attempt to go near her 
 and sank heavily into a deep chair. His face grew sullen. 
 
 "Well," he sneered, "so you re back again. "The cat came 
 back. " 
 
 "Didn t you expect me to come home?" she flashed angrily. 
 "Aren t you glad to see me?" 
 
 He leaned confidentially toward her, the fumes from his 
 breath disgusted her, and half-drunken rage roughened his 
 voice. 
 
 "I m a damned fool to speak the truth but when the wine 
 is in the wit is out, and I m going to tell you what I think. 
 Glad! Glad!" He breathed heavily, trying to conquer the 
 brutal rage that possessed him. "No, my wife, I m not glad. 
 I wish I had never seen you. 
 
 Befuddled as was his brain, he regretted his words as 
 soon as they left his lips. He rose to his feet and plunged 
 out of the room, having the good sense not to try to excuse 
 himself. But not until the next day did he realize the full 
 cruelty of his behavior and then he remorsefully assured 
 himself that he would be a man, and drop Tania and her 
 friends and forget Eleanor everyone, and go away from 
 Paris. He would take up the study of his profession again 
 and try to do something worth while. Of course Anne would 
 forgive him, although he had acted like a cad, and they 
 would start all over again. 
 
 His head ached, his eyes burned, but he looked splendidly 
 attractive in his repentant mood and went to Anne, utterly 
 humbled and asked her pardon. 
 
 She gave him from the abundance of affection long re 
 pressed. It was happiness enough that he had come to her, 
 asked her forgiveness and told her that he loved her; so all
 
 90 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 the humiliation and all the misery were forgotten now that 
 her husband her Hugh, had promised to be all her heart 
 desired. 
 
 He allowed her to bathe his aching head, lay bandages on 
 his pulsing eyes and darken the room so that he might sleep. 
 When he awakened he found her sitting beside him. In 
 the dim light she looked beautiful. Her face and dark eyes 
 were radiant and the soft, lacy gown hung gracefully around 
 her young figure. He held out his hand and drew his wife 
 to him and kissed her red lips. 
 
 Harmony re-established and ambition revived, they again 
 planned eagerly for their future. They would return to the 
 "States" and Crawford would "hang out his shingle." But 
 it could not be for a year or two. He wanted to study seri 
 ously in Europe before settling down to work. 
 
 As he talked, Crawford s belief in himself expanded, and 
 lie w<as convinced that a sudden and tremendous change had 
 taken place in his character. 
 
 So Anne s troubles disappeared for awhile and Crawford s 
 cronies missed him. 
 
 "Madame Crawford has returned," explained Tania when 
 questioned regarding her American. "It will not interfere 
 with his usefulness," and she laughed cruelly. "We shall 
 soon see him and it is best I do not seek him. I am afraid 
 the good Hugh will not find his wife very amusing." 
 
 And for a while the Hugh Crawfords motored and dined, 
 went to a few houses, seemingly very devoted to each other, 
 but gradually the young husband commenced to find the role 
 of mari fidele extremely monotonous, although he and Anne 
 were firmly entrenched among the ultra smart (and ultra 
 gay) set from the beginning of their marriage. Anne s for 
 tune was greater than her husband s (her attorneys had ar 
 ranged that it should not pass out of her own control) and
 
 BROKEN PROMISES. 91 
 
 their combined wealth made them among the richest Ameri 
 cans in Paris. 
 
 Crawford loved the European extravagance and Anne de 
 veloped a new sprightliness and enjoyment of luxury and 
 beauty which the strict Presbyterian household in La Conner 
 did not know of. 
 
 Perhaps it is not to be wondered at that Hugh Crawford 
 again threw himself into the wildest gayeties and that Anne 
 again became jealous and discontented. 
 
 "Hugh, I want to go home," she staggered him one day 
 by exclaiming. "I don t want to live here. I hate it I m 
 homesick. 
 
 You want to see your aunt, do you, Anne? Well, I won t 
 interfere with you, dear. 7 couldn t go now; but there is 
 no reason why you should wait for me." 
 
 Oh, Hugh, I 11 try to be patient, she vowed, I wouldn t 
 think of going without you." 
 
 That night they went to an entertainment on the old side 
 of the Seine. As they rode through the historical streets, 
 Hugh Crawford drooped moodily in a corner of the car. 
 He remorsefully acknowledged that Anne wearied him and 
 when she slipped her hand into his and crept closer, he 
 shuddered and wished she was not so constantly affectionate. 
 
 They were among the earlier arrivals and Anne, sitting 
 quietly in a corner chatting with an elderly Englishman, 
 watched her husband s full, treacherous eyes, seeking for 
 some one. 
 
 In spite of his promises and apparent devotion, Anne feared 
 he would not be able to combat the temptations of Paris 
 life, and she tortured herself with suspicions. Gossip had 
 reached her that he again sought the society of the people he 
 had promised to drop, that he had devoted himself to Madame 
 Ramoniff when she passed through Paris, and again made 
 himself conspicuous by attentions to Eleanor Hardeen, but 
 she tried to ignore the scandal and to believe there was no
 
 92 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 truth in the small talk. She adored him at that time and 
 understood why other women found him attractive; but her 
 hands clenched when she saw his face brighten as his atten 
 tion strayed toward the entrance of the room and Eleanor 
 gracious, smiling and perfectly dressed entered. Exquisite 
 lines appeared in every movement she was more than usually 
 radiant, and Anne reluctantly confessed to herself that she 
 had never seen a lovelier woman. 
 
 The laughing young widow was immediately surrounded, 
 and Anne was shocked at the- sullen displeasure that showed 
 in the usually inscrutable face of her husband while he watched 
 the merry party at the door, then new comers appeared, 
 and Eleanor moved out of the focus of the wife s jealous 
 eyes. 
 
 A voice from behind reached her as she sat with her silent 
 acquaintance in the sheltered nook : 
 
 "Handsome fellow, Crawford!" 
 
 Anne listened breathlessly for the answer which came 
 immediately. 
 
 "Yes, he is! His wife is here to-night quiet little thing." 
 
 "Is she? I know her cousins fine, high-spirited girls." 
 
 "The little Crawford is different. She s among the has- 
 beens her husband does all the high-spirited stuff. I saw 
 her this evening he s been ragging her again." 
 
 How can you tell ? 
 
 "By her eyes. They look pitiful. He s doing all he can 
 to break her heart and she s silly about him but it s their 
 affair." 
 
 Anne, with shame stronger than pride, looked into the 
 face of the man beside her. Neither spoke, but the English 
 man wished himself miles away. 
 
 Her heart swelled with rage and grief and she uncere 
 moniously left the crowded house and returned to her own 
 home. A hastily written line to her hostess mentioned sud 
 den illness, with a request that Crawford was not to be in-
 
 BROKEN PROMISES. 93 
 
 formed of her indisposition, and she knew her husband would 
 not miss her unless her absence was brought to his notice. 
 
 When she slowly entered their apartment she uttered an 
 ejaculation, for Fifi, with her ears laid deprecatingly against 
 her head, was at her heels. 
 
 We re going away, beastie, she murmured and again told 
 Dora that she wished to see Crawford when he came home. 
 
 He was prepared for the storm which greeted him and, com 
 paring his pale, infuriated wife with the woman he had 
 in his thoughts, he wondered how he ever imagined he could 
 live with her. Better far better, that they understand each 
 other. He would not be tied to her. Her jealousy destroyed 
 every possible chance for even friendly comfort. A demon 
 seemed to take possession of him and he cruelly, deliberately 
 determined to assert his independence. 
 
 In the excitement and confusion of the moment, Anne s 
 emotions surged through her brain and when Crawford 
 entered her room, the sight of him sent her jealous fury to 
 raging. This was the man who had lured her away fronj 
 home with the promises of love and happiness. Her eyes 
 blazed when she looked at him and she shocked herself by the 
 burst of recrimination that came from her lips. 
 
 "And I have heard of other madnesses," she finished. "Of 
 your devotion to Madame Ramoniff of you making yourself 
 the ridicule of friends by running after Eleanor Hardeen 
 the woman who laughs at you. 
 
 "Just listen to me for a minute," Crawford interrupted. 
 Whatever you have heard is true, but you needn t trouble to 
 enumerate my sins. I was uncommonly happy while you were 
 away and I ve had to sneak ever since you came back, but 
 you re not going to interfere with me or my way of enjoy 
 ing myself in the future. You can go to hell for all I care," 
 and he flung himself out of the room. 
 
 For hours, until daylight appeared and the sun rose, Anne 
 Crawford sat like a graven image, thinking planning in un-
 
 94 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 happy silence. She forced herself to be cairn controlled the 
 reckless desire to scream and destroy objects around her. She 
 did not know the passing of the hours until Dora, bringing 
 her breakfast, knocked at the door. 
 
 The woman stared wonderingly at the electric lights still 
 burning, and setting down the tray, went to Anne and 
 anxiously peered into the mask-like face. 
 
 "There, there, dearie," she crooned, pressing Anne back 
 among the pillows. "Try to drink a little hot coffee." 
 
 "No, Dora. I cannot." 
 
 Suddenly her features quivered and she covered her face 
 with her hands. Dora, inexpressibly touched by her mistress 
 grief, dropped at Anne s side and gathered her in her arms. 
 Difference of caste did not exist they were two gentle, lov 
 ing women. Dora gazed through her tears into the beloved 
 face of her adored "Miss Anne." 
 
 "Try to cry, dear. Cry away your sorrow, then forget it. 
 Think of all the people who love you think of your auntie. 
 
 Gradually tranquility came and Anne brought herself down 
 fo the point where she could determine which was the wisest 
 course to follow. The absurdity of trying to live with her 
 husband penetrated her agitated brain, and she was astonished 
 at the thoughts that trooped into her mind, and the calmness 
 with which she thought of a new and separate life. At last 
 she acknowledged to herself how wise her aunt Hamilton had 
 been in trying to dissuade her from marrying Crawford. She 
 knew that she had made a fatal mistake when she came to 
 him, and hot tears of mortification coursed down her cheeks 
 while irritating self-condemnation troubled her. 
 
 She did not place all the blame on her husband. 
 
 "I am too soft. That s been my great weakness. I did not 
 seem to have any will of my own when he was near. No won 
 der he had no respect for me and took advantage of my affec 
 tion. I don t see how I could have been so foolish. There s 
 nothing to him no stability no honor."
 
 BROKEN PROMISES. 95 
 
 She determined to go to America, and with genuine pleas 
 ure thought of returning to her own country, and rang for 
 Dora. 
 
 "Oh, Miss Anne, if you would go for a ride it would do 
 you good. It is beautiful in the sunlight and " 
 
 "It is more beautiful at home, Dora. Would you be glad 
 to go back?" 
 
 A thanksgiving song was in Dora s heart. 
 
 "Yes! Indeed I would be glad but is Mr. Hugh think 
 ing of going 1 
 
 "You and I are going as we came alone." 
 
 The firm resolve on Anne s face was so like Donald Hamil 
 ton s stern expression that Dora shuddered. She made a pre 
 tence of arranging things around the room and watched Anne 
 with anxious eyes. 
 
 "I m glad I am here to take care of her," she said to her 
 self, She certainly does need me. 
 
 Now that she had made up her mind to leave her husband, 
 Anne was tremendously excited. She threw aside her indol 
 ence and superintended packing, and made arrangements for 
 the voyage home. She made a pretence of concealment, but 
 it was not necessary, for no one, least of all her European 
 servants, believed that she would really openly rebel against 
 her husband s neglect and show her independence ; and neither 
 did Crawford dream she would take the initiative and humili 
 ate him by leaving him. 
 
 She breathed freer now that her resolution was made and 
 had not felt so buoyant since the first few days of her mar 
 riage; but when night came, she suffered a terrible revulsion 
 of feeling. She would not could not leave Hugh to others. 
 She was his wife she would not please him by leaving him. 
 Nervous and ill, she again fought with herself. "It is my only 
 chance of happiness," she cried. " He may miss me. He may 
 remember. He may find out that he does love me." 
 
 She wrote a long letter to Lady Ridgway, promising news
 
 96 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 from America and sent a few notes to friends before she took 
 a farewell of the little home her husband had brought her to, 
 and she was almost blinded with tears when she and Dora, 
 followed by Fifi, left the apartment in the aristocratic street. 
 But hope was not quite dead in Anne s heart and she be 
 lieved there was happiness to be found in America. Craw 
 ford was her husband. He would be sorry and follow her. 
 
 Once on board the steamer she bore herself proudly, but 
 the big eyes that looked out from under the masses of black 
 hair were very wistful in their sad brooding, and the thin 
 face grew longer and paler. 
 
 When the voyage was over and the vessel began to turn to 
 her dock, Anne eagerly scanned the open arch where hun 
 dreds of heads were massed together like the hundred priests 
 on Chinese dishes. She knew that none of her friends were 
 aware of her coming unless Hugh had cabled for some one 
 to meet her. 
 
 One man in advance of all was waving a handkerchief 
 which he had tied to his cane. 
 
 "That s brother Will!" exclaimed a lady passenger, wav 
 ing a response; but no one was waiting for Anne. 
 
 With wheezes and creaks, the huge vessel was fastened to 
 the wharf amid a terrific riot of noise, then the passengers 
 crowded down the gangway and struggled to stations under 
 their initials, to declare themselves to Uncle Sam before pass 
 ing into the chaos of the New World.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 Man s Inhumanity. 
 
 97
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MAN S INHUMANITY. 
 
 Again on her native land, Anne Crawford experienced a 
 kind of joy running through her. Even the speech and ac 
 cent of her own people were music to her ears and she felt as 
 if she had freed herself from restraining bonds. 
 
 As yet, no one in America knew of her rupture with her 
 husband and, though her conscience did not trouble her for 
 leaving him, she felt the painful failure of her hopes. Dread 
 ing curious questions, she did not communicate with the Deaks 
 and it puzzled her to know what was the best thing for her 
 to do. 
 
 It again was September and New York was as warm and 
 sultry as it had been the year before when she had sailed for 
 London, and nothing seemed changed but herself. 
 
 She conferred with Dora, scorning social differences, and 
 listened to the advice of that discreet and loyal friend with 
 unusual meekness. 
 
 "You have never been in Washington, Miss Anne," Dora 
 suggested. "You always wanted to go there." 
 
 "That s a good suggestion. Yes, we will go there." 
 
 So after a restless night in the loneliness of a palatial hotel, 
 Anne left for Washington. 
 
 She was not deceitful and realized that she could not re 
 turn to La Conner without explaining the absence of her hus 
 band and felt that she could not bear the criticism of old 
 friends in the narrow-visioned, conventional little town where 
 separation and divorce were frowned upon, and the sunder 
 ing of marriage relations was against all religious teachings. 
 
 If Anne Crawford s marriage had been happy, she would 
 have resented any non-observance of domestic routine as ve- 
 
 99
 
 100 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 hemently as did her religious friends who lived stern and 
 zealous lives of piety, but experience had broadened her views. 
 
 She did not imagine that she would spend years of her life 
 in Washington, but she intended to remain over the winter 
 and established herself there, and after looking at sumptuous 
 apartments and pretentious hotels, finally rented a house in 
 the Capitol. 
 
 The little dwelling, small for the fashionable neighborhood, 
 had not a fault to mar its beauty. It was charmingly fur 
 nished and had large, comfortable rooms, rich but unostenta 
 tious, and Anne found it a delightful change from the opu 
 lent grandeur of Paris. 
 
 In her delicate boudoir with its walls entirely covered with 
 French-gray tapestry and the ceilings formed of dainty 
 frescoes of birds and flowering vines, she surrounded herself 
 with her personal trifles and straightway commenced to dream 
 of Crawford s surprise when he came for her and found her 
 installed so comfortably. Downstairs, the open hall, carpeted 
 with lovely fane antique rugs, led to a splendid salon and 
 smaller rooms, and altogether the little house, gay and not too 
 new, was ideal in its way. 
 
 After all, Anne was only a young unsophisticated creature 
 and, although she had suffered keen anguish and passed 
 through a stormy year, the look of suffering left her eyes and 
 she regained her good spirits. She believed Crawford would 
 come to her in spite of his apparent disregard of her exist 
 ence. 
 
 Nothing is harder than for youth to dwell on past sorrows, 
 
 and again she was ready to forget and forgive. 
 
 ** ******** 
 
 After the first shock to his self-esteem was over, Hugh Craw 
 ford congratulated himself that Anne had returned to Amer 
 ica, and was heartily and unaffectedly glad that the Atlantic 
 rolled between him and her constant endearments. 
 
 "If she wasn t such a Puritan I d apply for a divorce, but
 
 MAN S INHUMANITY. 101 
 
 she d raise a row and drag all our domestic squabbles be 
 fore the public, rather than permit it. I have a right to it. 
 The law is on my side. She deserted me." 
 
 He checked his mutterings when Saunders entered the room, 
 but in his heart Hugh Crawford was thinking of Eleanor, and 
 he promised himself that he would be free. All the laws in 
 the world could not bind him to a wife he did not want. 
 
 At a dinner party the week following, he found that his ob 
 serving hostess had placed him next to Eleanor. She looked 
 more desirable than ever, and a seductive suggestion of a 
 sprite fresh from the dew, danced before his eyes. His brain 
 teemed with unwise thoughts, and before her friendly smile 
 he felt guilty. 
 
 "Have you heard from Anne?" she asked. "I suppose I 
 will see her soon, for I m going home in a few weeks. Father 
 thinks I have been crazy to remain in Paris during the sum 
 mer even with week-end excursions to the sea and he wants 
 to see Phil." 
 
 A sudden resolve entered Crawford s mind. 
 
 Perhaps I can arrange to cross when you do. Would you 
 be glad?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed. That would be delightful. It would be nice 
 if we could make up a party," Eleanor answered animatedly, 
 then her voice dropped to a confidential whisper. "I am go 
 ing to tell you a secret. Anne must have told you of my aunt 
 Ellen well, she is going to be married. She doesn t know it 
 but she is. She leaned closer to Crawford. Aunt Ellen 
 has been engaged to the most patient man in the world for 
 twenty years. He is going to meet us in Chicago and bring 
 his favorite horses with him, and aunt Ellen is afraid of 
 horses." She laughed with infectious mirth, showing all her 
 white teeth, even and pointed. "I am going to manage aunt 
 Ellen. She has managed our family for years and I m going 
 to get even." 
 
 "What a lovely, joyous creature she is," Crawford was
 
 102 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 thinking while he listened. "She s as vivacious as Sonia 
 and there is always danger surrounding a married woman. 
 Eleanor is quite unlike any other girl I ever knew. 
 
 They chatted softly and Eleanor did not notice the fervor 
 in his voice nor did she know that his composure wavered 
 before her candid eyes. 
 
 So with a new hope in his heart, a fresh desire before his 
 imagination, and urged by selfish longings, Crawford pre 
 pared to go to Washington. He cabled Anne of his intended 
 departure from France. 
 
 A rich woman, young and with the prestige of a good fam 
 ily behind her can always find pleasures awaiting her, and 
 society will not interfere with her pursuits so long as it is 
 not defied, and Anne, with surprising skill and tact, sur 
 rounded herself with powerful and congenial friends. 
 
 She went through the necessary routine of calling and mak 
 ing calls and attended dinners and entertainments, but she 
 was patiently waiting for Crawford, and although almost 
 overjoyed, she was not surprised when his cable came to 
 her. He was coming for her. 
 
 His neglect had not robbed her of her youthful confidence 
 and she again thought of him with love-dazzled hopes and 
 breathlessly thanked God for her happiness. She even found 
 excuses for his flirtations and blamed herself for not enter 
 ing into his life. She felt that she had treated him with 
 contemptuous patience instead of trying to please him, as she 
 should have done. It was all her fault, but things would be 
 different in the future. She felt a superb confidence that 
 when they were reunited she would know how to handle the 
 intricacies of life and there would be no more shadows be 
 tween them. 
 
 With the hope of looking attractive in his eyes, she spent 
 hours trying to decide what she would wear when he came 
 to her, and after great anxiety, selected a simple black velvet 
 gown.
 
 MAN S INHUMANITY. 103 
 
 Dora suggested white. 
 
 "You have never worn a white dress since you were mar 
 ried, Miss Anne." It would always be "Miss Anne" to Dora. 
 
 I prefer black, Anne answered sharply and Dora looked 
 with consternation at her mistress disturbed face. 
 
 The woman s remark had brought a sudden remembrance 
 that she had worn a white gown when she arrayed herself to 
 meet Crawford in London before they were married, and 
 Anne turned pale to the lips. 
 
 After Crawford arrived in New York he sent a telegram, 
 mentioning the hour to expect him, but when he reached Wash 
 ington he sought his friend and attorney and had a lengthy 
 interview in the lawyer s private office regarding his inten 
 tion of obtaining a divorce, before going to his hotel. 
 
 When he reached Anne s little house it was dinner time. 
 He was in conventional evening clothes and looked careless 
 and elegant, although he inwardly was nervous and prepared 
 for a scene. He knew it would be disagreeable, but he was 
 determined to have a definite understanding with her. Of 
 course she would flare up and defy him there would be one 
 of their old time clashes of will, but he had not the slightest 
 idea of shirking. His mind was decided. He was going to 
 be happy in spite of her. 
 
 When he entered the brilliantly lighted room his eyes 
 blinked nervously and for a moment he was blinded, but his 
 expression did not change and he looked blandly kind and 
 pleasant. But he drew himself away and did not try to 
 caress Anne when she flung herself into his arms. 
 
 In an instant her pride was aroused. A terrible reaction 
 of feeling swept over her making her tremble, and she tottered 
 away from him. She had not dreamed that he would be in 
 this mood and the cold repulse, after their separation, filled 
 her heart with mysterious fear. 
 
 He still appealed to her and she could not help looking 

 
 104 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 admiringly at the handsome animal who was her husband. 
 
 A thought of their betrothal in the old home in La Conner 
 of her aunt s instinctive dislike for him passed like a heart 
 breaking vision over her, leaving a fearful dread in its wake. 
 She grew paler and the evanescent beauty of her happiness 
 seemed to have been blasted from her. 
 
 "Have you been ill," Crawford asked, "or is it the black 
 gown? You are looking wretched." 
 
 "No I am well! I am always well." She drew herself 
 to the mantle, stretching her slim arm up to the shelf of the 
 fireplace and trying to calm her fears. She stoutly tried to 
 smile and added humbly, "I am very glad that you came for 
 me, Hugh." 
 
 Crawford felt a momentary discomfiture when he looked 
 into her white face, and in spite of his resolutions, felt 
 ashamed of himself. 
 
 "I will ring for dinner," Anne exclaimed, wildly trying to 
 speak naturally. "You must be famished." 
 
 " No ! Please do not ring. I have little time and must say 
 what is necessary at once. I won t detain you long. You can 
 dine after I have gone." 
 
 Anne s heart seemed to die within her, the walls appeared 
 to crumble toward her, but she stood motionless, listening to 
 her husband s cruel, musical voice. 
 
 "We have not been happy together, Anne. I am sorry to 
 speak so plainly so bluntly, but it is better than writing un 
 pleasant truths, and I want you to apply for a divorce." 
 
 Anne s skin turned yellow and her eyes blackened. She 
 looked like a dark fury and could not speak. 
 
 "I am deeply humiliated that you think so badly of me 
 as your desertion and present appearance would indicate," 
 Crawford went on. "Of course if you need me at any time, 
 I always will be glad to be of service to you. There is no rea 
 son why we should be enemies. I will never forget what you
 
 MAN S INHUMANITY. 105 
 
 oiice were to me and no great harm has been done. You are 
 young and wealthy and no doubt will make a brilliant second 
 marriage. 
 
 He waited for her reply and was not quite satisfied with 
 the progress he was making. 
 
 "You must know that I am entirely justified," he added. 
 "Utherwise I would not ask for my freedom would not de 
 sire it." 
 
 Anne gained control of herself, started to speak, then 
 thought it better to be silent, and resolutely closed her lips. 
 
 "Well! Have you nothing to say?" he asked angrily. 
 "Does silence give consent?" 
 
 "I was going to ask you what you had to gain what self 
 ish motive was behind this sudden desire to crush me? Will 
 it make you happier to humiliate me?" 
 
 "Womanlike, you choose the unpleasantest way of stating 
 your interpretations. I am not trying to crush you or wound 
 you. I do not like this unsettled way of living this cat-and- 
 dog existence. Our marriage was a mistake and you and I 
 are not suited to each other." 
 
 The calmness with which she looked at him matched his 
 own insolence. 
 
 "I will not agree," she said coldly. "Never." 
 
 Bitter hatred was in Hugh Crawford s heart when he gazed 
 critically at the haggard face of the woman defying him. 
 
 "My dear, you cannot see yourself. If you did you might 
 understand. A year brings many changes not always to be 
 desired," and he smiled insultingly at Anne s horrified look 
 of surprise at his cold-bloodedness. "You were a rather 
 attractive girl, but our connubial felicity has made a sad 
 change in you, my dear and you know how much I appre 
 ciate all that is lovely." 
 
 "Who is she?" she asked mechanically. "Of course you 
 love some one else."
 
 106 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "I have not said so," Crawford laughed unpleasantly. 
 Her jealousy was so like her. He turned to the door say 
 ing, "I must confess your charms are not very evident to 
 me. I am going and I hope we understand each other. You 
 will have fair treatment, but I demand my liberty. I think 
 you do agree with me, after all." 
 
 "No," she repeated dully. "I do not agree." 
 
 Crawford turned impatiently. 
 
 "Don t be a simpleton, Anne," he cried passionately. 
 "Can t you see what a failure our married life has been 
 what a complete failure ! The time has come to end it. I m 
 a free man born free but I feel like a slave." 
 
 "Hugh!" Anne was pleading for her happiness and her 
 face was pathetic. "When we were married I was silly just 
 a silly girl. I knew nothing of the world as it really is. 1 
 imagined we would be as married people are at home, just 
 happy to be together. But I m a woman now I ve learned 
 a lot. Let us forgive each other and go back to La Conner 
 and commence all over again." 
 
 "Don t talk rot!" Crawford s face grew hard. "Damn 
 it all, Anne, can t you understand can t you meet me half 
 way?" 
 
 Her anger rose past bounds and she wondered if she had 
 been too spiritless. She would assert her rights. 
 
 "My dear Hugh, I realize that I am nothing to you. My 
 wishes have always been subservient to yours. I have over 
 looked your vices and refrained from mentioning many un 
 pleasant things, trying by patience to keep your affection, 
 but I will not agree to this. It would be wrong." 
 
 "So you refuse!" Crawford angrily cried. "Aren t you 
 growing puritanical late in the day?" 
 
 "Yes, it is late in the day. I should never have married 
 you. I I didn t want to marry you after I caught a glimpse 
 of your true character in London."
 
 MAN S INHUMANITY. 107 
 
 She stopped abruptly, blushing painfully. 
 
 "Don t lie! You asked me to marry you. I did the hon 
 orable thing. 1 gave you my name because you ran after 
 me and I was sorry for you. 
 
 Anne s face grew ashen, but she did not give up. 
 
 "Perhaps you used to tell me that I was jealous. I won t 
 be so again. Perhaps " 
 
 "Perhaps! Perhaps! You have made my life a hell, but 
 let us dispense with any talk of sentiment." He laughed 
 wearily. "At least the worst is over and you know how I 
 feel." 
 
 "But divorce is disgraceful," she still argued faintly. 
 "Most people have the same opinion that I have that di 
 vorce is dishonorable. I could not bear it." 
 
 "Divorce disgraceful!" Crawford sneered. "Why, you re 
 crazy. There need be little publicity. It s the scandal that 
 would be painful not the divorce itself. But we can arrange 
 things quietly. You must meet this, and in another year you 
 will have forgotten all this tragic nonsense." 
 
 "Hugh, be good to me be good to yourself. I will never 
 bother you, but " 
 
 "My dear girl, you know I hate trouble of any kind and 
 my nature is pacific. I am never unreasonable, but in this 
 matter I am firm as a rock. Everything is prepared. 
 
 "You mean that you have arranged everything to suit 
 yourself. I must get a divorce." She crept toward him like 
 a wild animal and stood before her husband, her eyes blazing 
 and her face angry and hard. I thought I knew you, Hugh 
 Crawford. I believed that in spite of your cruel neglect you 
 still loved me a little, but now I know that I was mistaken." 
 Her voice rose with passion. "But I will never agree. I 
 am your wife and will remain your wife." 
 
 "For your own sake you will change your mind," Craw 
 ford replied. "It sounds very pretty for you to prate about 
 your old-fashioned theories, but try to remember that we are
 
 108 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 separate people two separate personalities, and you have 
 not the right to inflict your ideas or yourself on me ; no 
 right to compel " 
 
 "Compel? I am not trying to compel you to live with 
 me, if that is what you were going to say, but I will not 
 agree to a divorce. I refuse. Absolutely. 
 
 Anne s passion passed and she commenced to cry miserably. 
 
 "Well, I m going and for heaven s sake don t let us have 
 any tears. I have tried to act decently, but I ll leave every 
 thing to Keene " 
 
 Anne looked up. 
 
 "So Keene is going to do the dirty work for you? I 
 thought he was a great corporation lawyer and would not 
 stoop to anything like this. But I will tell him how you have 
 treated me." 
 
 "And what if I tell him that you met me in apartments in 
 London before we were married." 
 
 Anne s mouth opened in horror. 
 
 "But Hugh," she cried, "there was nothing wrong!" 
 
 "Who would believe you?" he jeered contemptuously. 
 "Would the Deaks or your virtuous friends at home? Would 
 your aunt believe it? Would you be welcome among your 
 puritanical friends who disapprove of divorce?" 
 
 His words were unwise. He did not know that the gentle, 
 passionate girl was changing into a wild, proud creature 
 whose hungry heart he was leaving to the mercy of the 
 world. 
 
 Something perhaps the tragedy in her face irritated him, 
 and he swojje at her under his breath. 
 
 "Now do you understand me?" 
 
 "Yes! Yes! Please go away," she murmured faintly, the 
 tears commencing to stream down her face. 
 
 When Hugh Crawford left the room she stood immov 
 able, listening while he walked through the hall heard his
 
 MAN S INHUMANITY. 109 
 
 deep voice speaking to the butler, then the front door closed. 
 
 She bent her dark head over her arms as she clung to the 
 fireplace. 
 
 "Dear God!" she wept. "I was only a fool. I paid for 
 my folly. Is there no use in trying to do right? I want to 
 be happy and I am so lonely so lonely. It isn t fair. It 
 isn t just."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Managing Aunt Ellen. 
 
 in
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MANAGING AUNT ELLEN. 
 
 On the same steamer that brought Eleanor Hardeen and 
 her boy to America, Hugh Crawford remorselessly planned 
 the blasting of his wife s happiness. He felt some uneasi 
 ness, fearing Anne s refusal to consider a divorce, and an 
 ugly determination to make her feel her weakness, and 
 coerce her into compliance, entered his mind. 
 
 The power of his passion for Eleanor swept everything 
 before it, making wrong appear right, and he grew sorry 
 for himself, and reasoned that he had been forced into his 
 marriage with Anne. She had always thrown herself at 
 his head and he decided that he had been too kind. "But 
 I m going to get rid of her," he vowed, and not one pang 
 of conscience disturbed him not one qualm of compassion 
 disquieted him. 
 
 It rained almost incessantly and the voyage was extremely 
 unpleasant, much to his disappointment, for he had counted 
 on spending hours with Eleanor, assuring himself that the 
 intimacy of a voyage was worth months of devotion on 
 land, but though Phil took daily walks with his nurse, his 
 mother remained in her cabin. 
 
 Crawford tried to win the child s affections, but in spite 
 of all overtures, Phil disliked, and was jealous of the big 
 man in the blue flannels. 
 
 "He s badly spoiled," Crawford muttered when the boy 
 in wild spirits ran away from his nurse and tried to climb 
 the railing. "He needs a man to manage him." 
 
 The nurse Bertha lifted Phil and placed him on the deck, 
 but he again ran away, staggering to Crawford and holding 
 out his hands. Hugh seized him. He really loved children 
 
 113
 
 114 RETURN OF HUGE CRAWFORD 
 
 and felt a pleasureable excitement in holding the squirming 
 youngster in his arms until the white-capped nurse swooped 
 down on them. 
 
 "You must not run away from your nurse, Phil," he 
 exclaimed. "Men don t run away from women." 
 
 Phil tried to struggle to the deck, but Crawford held him 
 fast. "I haven t any little boy," he said to the child. 
 "Would you like to belong to me?" 
 
 "No!" the child answered bluntly. "I don t like you. 
 I belong to my mamma." 
 
 "Come, come, Master Phil! You mustn t be rude," the 
 nurse scolded. "You re a naughty boy," and wondering 
 why he should be reproved for speaking the truth, the 
 child submissively went to the woman. 
 
 When Eleanor came on deck on the morning of the last 
 day, she appeared more desirable than ever. Her eyes 
 fairly danced with excitement. She smiled when Crawford 
 eagerly went to her, his face lighted up with an expression 
 of tenderness. 
 
 "You are better?" he asked. "It has been a lonely voy 
 age for me. I have longed to see you." 
 
 She held out her hand in her charming, impulsive way. 
 
 "Oh, no! You could not possibly be lonely with hun 
 dreds of nice people around you," she exclaimed, but her 
 face saddened as she gazed off toward the shore. "I have 
 not been really ill. I needed a rest, and Mr. Crawford 
 I was a bride when I left America. It is not the home 
 coming we all expected." 
 
 She tried to speak composedly, but her eyes were bright 
 \rith tears. 
 
 Crawford looked at her with astonishment. She had not 
 worn mourning and she had not seemed to grieve for her 
 husband. Was it possible that she had loved Phil s father? 
 
 He looked distressed and, without a thought of the people
 
 MANAGING AUNT ELLEN. 115 
 
 crowding around them, laid his hand on her arm and, 
 speaking impulsively, said the wisest thing he could have 
 chosen 
 
 "You have your boy." 
 
 She did not speak, but looked at him with eloquent eyes. 
 
 They were nearing the wharf and everyone was inter 
 ested. After watching a group on the dock, Eleanor ex 
 citedly called Phil and snatched him up in her arms. She 
 had recognized her own people, and tried to point out her 
 father to the child who obediently waved his hand toward 
 the mass of humanity on the pier. 
 
 Crawford saw that he was forgotten and retreated to 
 the background, smiling complacently, satisfied that it 
 would be different some day. He was quite convinced 
 of that. 
 
 After they landed and stood on the dock, the Deaks 
 tried to be cordial to Crawford, whom they had heard of 
 as Anne s husband, but Eleanor and the boy absorbed their 
 thoughts and they were relieved when he withdrew to have 
 his belongings examined. 
 
 His expression was serious when he rode uptown to his 
 hotel and he was very thoughtful during dinner, though his 
 mood did not interfere with his enjoyment of the meal. 
 When it was over he returned to his suite and told Saunders 
 to pack necessary belongings, and moodily watched the 
 silent valet. 
 
 "We are going to Washington for a few days." 
 
 "Yes, sir!" Saunders face was very happy and the 
 discovery surprised Crawford, who did not know that his 
 man was courting Dora. 
 
 "We ll be back in a week. Tell the office to hold all mail 
 for me." 
 
 "Very good, Sir." Saunders face fell. The man was 
 wondering if Dora would be satisfied to leave the service of
 
 116 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 Mrs. Crawford, but his master s frowns reminded him that 
 he was not paid for wondering and he patiently resumed 
 packing. 
 
 The weather was becoming chilly and social New York 
 was returning for the winter. 
 
 The magnificent home of Philip Deak again rang with 
 merry voices, but the owner of all the grandeur sat in his 
 high-ceilinged den, his handsome gray head resting against 
 the back of his own particular chair, while his white, 
 patrician hands beat a tattoo on the Spanish leather. He 
 was not alone, for Eleanor was sitting opposite, arguing, 
 begging and demanding. 
 
 Let us find out what is causing all this emotion what 
 great tragedy Philip Deak was facing. He had his daughter 
 and grandson with him. He had obtained the desires of his 
 heart what could mar his happiness? 
 
 "It s out of the question," he said, "and madcap foolish 
 ness. 
 
 "No, it isn t foolishness, Daddy. Aunt Ellen deserves to 
 be happy." 
 
 "Isn t she happy with us? Hasn t she everything a 
 woman can desire?" 
 
 "No, dear! She has not," Eleanor answered decidedly, 
 and when she came to him and sat on the arm of his chair, 
 Philip Deak knew he was lost. "She thinks she has happi 
 ness, but she hasn t," Eleanor whispered. "She Avants 
 Andrew MacVeety. She wants her own home and interests 
 she wants the love of a good man." 
 
 "Pshaw! She s an old maid," Deak growled. "She ll 
 buck. She ll never marry." 
 
 "You just wait and see," Eleanor nodded her head 
 wisely. "I know what I m talking about, Daddy dear, and 
 I m going to look after things and try to take Aunt Ellen s
 
 MANAGING AUNT ELLEN. 117 
 
 place in the house. I m never going to leave my darling 
 Daddy again. You and little Phil are my world." 
 
 That night Philip Deak telegraphed a night letter to 
 Andrew MacVeety which Eleanor helped dictate, and when 
 he thought it over, he decided that, after all, it might be 
 pleasant to escape his sister s argus-eyed surveillance, and 
 MacVeety had "made good" and deserved to be happy. 
 
 In pursuance of preconcerted plans, Miss Deak was im 
 plored to accompany Eleanor to Chicago on important busi 
 ness. She looked sharply at her niece, who stood in front 
 of a long mirror, admiring her dainty foot, and curving her 
 slender ankle at graceful angles, while she gazed solemnly 
 at the reflection. 
 
 "Do stop playing with your foot, Eleanor, and tell me 
 why you can t send your lawyer, " Miss Deak said crossly. 
 "I can t understand why you need me to go with you. 
 You crossed the ocean without a chaperone; and I don t 
 approve of your leaving your boy even for a week." 
 
 "Oh, Phil will be all right," his mother answered cheer 
 fully. "Bertha has been with me since before he was born, 
 but of course if you don t go, I ll take him." 
 
 "Good gracious!" Miss Deak raised a face brimming 
 with uneasiness. "Don t speak of such a thing. The child 
 can t be rested from the voyage, and I ll go with you. I ve 
 always been a slave to you and Philip. We d better start 
 to-night and get it over." 
 
 Very well, darling ! Eleanor quelled her disposition to 
 laugh, and that evening, when she and her aunt sat in the 
 observation end of Deak s private car, she cheerfully stared 
 into the twilight. 
 
 Ellen Deak had to confess that Eleanor was more beauti 
 ful than ever and, if the truth must be told, she was in 
 wardly flattered that her gay, independent niece wanted 
 her companionship. But letters from Andrew MacVeety 
 had put her in a flutter of excitement and she was torn
 
 118 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 between desire to see her lover and fear of appearing absurd 
 in meeting him with the youthful and merry Eleanor acting 
 as chaperone. 
 
 "It is very strange that Andrew should be in Chicago 
 just now," she fumed to Eleanor. "It is rather embarrass 
 ing for me." 
 
 "I don t see why," Eleanor retorted. "Mr. MacVeety is 
 a Western man and may make frequent visits that he does 
 not mention to you. He may have charming friends in 
 Chicago. He s a fine-looking man in the prime of life." 
 
 "He s older than I am," exclaimed Miss Deak sepulch- 
 rally. "He s half a century old." 
 
 "Pouf!" Eleanor shocked her aunt by her French man 
 ner. "I admire him very much, and fifty is not old for 
 a man." 
 
 Ellen Deak irritably drew her chair away from the win 
 dow and did not reply. She closed her eyes, but she was 
 not sleepy and her th oughts were as unquiet as the wheels 
 whirling over the rails. 
 
 "That foolish girl has no depth. She has been married 
 . and widowed but does not yet realize the seriousness of life 
 and, just because men run after her with their best foot 
 first, she thinks they all are Romeos. She d flirt with any 
 man even Andrew." She sighed deeply when she thought 
 of her own past youth. 
 
 When they left the train in Chicago, they drove to the 
 hotel w r ith MacVeety, who had been waiting for them with 
 feverish impatience. Eleanor pleaded a headache and re 
 tired to her room, and on the following morning left Miss 
 Deak alone, while she left the hotel "to attend to business 
 regarding some Hardeen property." 
 
 She smiled maliciously when her aunt complained about 
 being alone. Andrew MacVeety was near at hand and it 
 was Miss Deak s fault if she felt lonely, and Eleanor looked
 
 MANAGING AUNT ELLEN. 119 
 
 very handsome and heartless when she smiled into her aunt s 
 discontented face. 
 
 When she returned to the hotel for luncheon she saw an 
 energetic little woman dressed very quietly, arguing with 
 the hotel clerk. It Avas her aunt, the wealthy sister of a 
 money king a bachelor maid who had the true Yankee 
 hatred of being "done," and she was enjoying herself. 
 
 The manager of the hotel came up when she disappeared 
 through a side door. 
 
 "What did Miss Deak want? Don t hesitate about ex 
 plaining things to her," he instructed the clerk. "Her name 
 on the register means a lot to the house and she s hand-in- 
 glove with the best people. Never mind if she screws you 
 down. She s bound to do that she can afford to do it. 
 She s not liberal, but she s square as a man." 
 
 Eleanor Hardeen tried to act as if she had not heard and 
 swept to the dining-room, but she was furious with her 
 aunt. 
 
 "I do hope Mr. MacVeety doesn t waste his chances and 
 that auntie doesn t scare him into going home without her," 
 she thought. 
 
 After her argument with the clerk, Ellen Deak hurried 
 from the hotel and stepped into a waiting carriage. The 
 big, bearded man holding the reins almost lifted her into 
 her place. 
 
 "That s right, Ellie," he cried loudly. "Jump right in." 
 
 Andrew MacVeety tenderly tucked the lap robe around 
 the pale woman who looked at the horses Avith frightened 
 eyes. 
 
 She had always been the "one woman" to him and he 
 loved even her eccentricities, but she evaded his glances and 
 already repented of coming, for they were rapidly speeding 
 through the avenue, and she nervously clutched his arm. 
 She appreciated MacVeety s fidelity and was proud of his
 
 120 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 devotion, but she despised him for his fear of her displeas 
 ure, which she considered lack of courage. 
 
 "He s afraid of me," she thought ironically. "We ve 
 been writing to each other for twenty years and I suppose 
 he ll go back to his horses and we ll correspond for twenty 
 years more." 
 
 "Why don t you buy a car?" she asked. "No one in 
 their sane mind drives horses in the city. We ll have a 
 runaway if you re not more careful." 
 
 "Perhaps we will," MacVeety answered cheerfully. Was 
 it bravado or nervousness that made him check the horses 
 so sharply that they almost sat on their haunches and waved 
 their forefeet like begging dogs? Passers-by gazed at the 
 circus-like spectacle, and Ellen Deak clutched more firmly 
 the arm of her lover. 
 
 "Don t worry," he said calmly, and, given free rein, the 
 horses swung ahead. 
 
 Miss Deak reddened at the curtness of the tone and looked 
 up in surprise at the huge man beside her, but he was gazing 
 ahead. 
 
 "What s the matter, Andrew?" she demanded. 
 
 He shifted the reins before answering. 
 
 "I m thinking of going right back home. Are you ready 
 to come along?" He touched up the horses with the whip, 
 and if he could have known the terror in Ellen Deak s heart 
 he would have been ashamed of himself, for MacVeety was 
 a gentleman, but he made the horses dance and prance, then 
 suddenly pulled them in. The animals were his special pets 
 and knew his hand on the reins knew he was playing with 
 them, and responded to every movement of the lines. You 
 haven t answered my question, Ellie. " 
 
 "Oh, Andrew! This is hardly the time to talk about such 
 things," Miss Deak evaded, flushing like a young girl. 
 "We ll speak of it another time."
 
 MANAGING AUNT ELLEN. 121 
 
 They were flying over the long level roads outside the 
 city. 
 
 "No, Ellie," MacVeety said decidedly, "we won t talk 
 of it another time. I m going to know today now. You 
 must make up your mind. I ve been talking with Eleanor 
 and she told me that I was wasting my time that you will 
 never marry the best man in the world, so I suppose I don t 
 stand much chance." 
 
 "When did you see her?" asked the irate lady. 
 
 "This morning. I met her outside of the hotel and she 
 let me ride downtown with her." 
 
 (Which was strictly true.) 
 
 "Well, Eleanor talks altogether too much. She always 
 did. I 11 tell her what I think of her impertinence. 
 
 "Now, don t get mad at Eleanor. She s right. You re 
 too good for any man. She says so and she ought to know 
 when you ve taken care of her all your life." 
 
 Miss Deak looked up to see if there was a double meaning 
 in MacVeety s words, but found his face free from guile. 
 A desire to show her independence, and hazy possibilities of 
 great happiness, gathered in her mind. 
 
 "As usual, Eleanor thinks she knows everything, but you 
 can tell her that I 11 marry you as soon as I can get ready. 
 
 Oh, Ellie ! Do you mean it ? " MacVeety cried, dropping 
 the reins and clasping the horrified woman in his arms. 
 The horses contentedly shook their heads and rattled their 
 harness, but did not try to run away, and wandered to the 
 side of the road to nose among the grass and autumn leaves. 
 They were free as air and the lines fell from their necks to 
 the ground, while the enraptured man hugged and kissed 
 Miss Deak, almost strangling her in his huge arms and 
 smothering her with kisses. 
 
 "I m ashamed of you, Andrew MacVeety," she cried when 
 she could get her breath, for the first time regarding with 
 fear the stalwart form of her husband-to-be ; then her eyes
 
 122 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 strayed to the horses and she exclaimed, Good gracious ! 
 Look at the animals. Get out at once and get the reins in 
 your hands and take me right back to Eleanor." 
 "May I dine with you to-night, Ellie?" 
 
 "No, indeed!" (Already she was managing MacVeety 
 and he liked it.) 
 
 "Very well, dear," he pleasantly replied, accepting her 
 dictum. He was supremely happy and mentally vowed to 
 give Eleanor s boy the handsomest pony in the land, just 
 to show his appreciation of the advice he had received. 
 
 He turned the horses heads and they sped towards the 
 city and soon were within the limits and had to regulate 
 their speed. MacVeoty braced himself when they came in 
 front of the hotel and, disdaining the proffered services of 
 the carriage opener, to the horror of Miss Deak and the 
 amusement of a few by-standers, he lifted his fiancee from 
 the carriage, placed her on the pavement and heartily kissed 
 her. Again the horses were gentle as lambs. 
 
 "See you to-night," he called and jumped into the car 
 riage and drove away. 
 
 With head erect and cheeks burning, Miss Deak walked 
 into the hotel and went immediately to Eleanor. She found 
 that young woman lazily reading a novel. 
 
 "What do you mean by telling things to Andrew? You re 
 a wicked woman!" she burst out and commenced to cry. 
 Eleanor looked a little worried when she bent over her 
 aunt. "He never acted so before," continued Miss Deak, 
 "and he made me the laughing stock of the hotel. I never 
 felt so humiliated in all my life." 
 
 "Why, darling, I hope I didn t make any trouble between 
 you," Eleanor whispered soothingly, wondering what had 
 happened to cause such a storm. "Mr. MacVeety is such a 
 dear, big, good-hearted man, it seems too bad he is never 
 to be happy. Many women and girls would be proud of 
 the chance to marry him."
 
 MANAGING AUNT ELLEN. 123 
 
 "Don t waste your sympathy unnecessarily. Andrew and 
 I are to be married very soon." 
 
 Eleanor laughed: the silvery, hearty laugh that showed 
 her teeth in a flashing smile and her eyes twinkled with 
 merriment. 
 
 With an angry look at the laughing face, Ellen Deak 
 flounced out of the parlor connecting the sleeping rooms 
 and went into her own chamber. She sat down and tried 
 to control her temper and think, without absurdly foolish 
 fears. If she had dreamed that her lover and Eleanor had 
 exchanged confidences or that they had put their heads 
 together to manage her, she never would have forgiven 
 either culprit, but she was never to be aware of the secret 
 of MacVeety s sudden boldness. Her eyes closed for an 
 instant and when they opened they fell on the dressing 
 table where her switch and numberless trifles necessary for 
 her toilet were lying. How could she let Andrew see her 
 without her transformation and other beautifiers? She 
 would have no privacy if she married, and her soul rebelled 
 at the thought of even Andrew sharing her life. 
 
 She blushed when she looked in the mirror and saw her 
 gray hair and the wrinkles commencing to gather around 
 her eyes. She was too old. She could not marry and she 
 would tell him so. She could not bear the thought of mar 
 riage could not give up the easy, indolent, happy, single 
 life. 
 
 She did not attempt to eat any dinner and waited half 
 heartedly for him. 
 
 He came, sincerely perfectly happy and, in spite of her 
 timid shrinking, held her against his breast and kissed her 
 long and lingeringly. 
 
 "Oh, Andrew! How dare you kiss me like that?" she 
 protested, ready to cry. She was hardly able to breathe 
 after the ardent caress.
 
 124 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "Well, we re going to be married," MacVeety laughed 
 apologetically. "You may as well get used to me." 
 
 No, we re not going to marry, she cried. I ve changed 
 my mind. I don t love you enough to marry you." 
 
 "You don t love me enough?" 
 
 The big man looked down at the little woman, helpless 
 and stunned. 
 
 "No!" 
 
 "Don t think I will ever ask you again," he burst out 
 angrily. "I ve had enough of waiting. It s taken you some 
 time to find out that you don t care for me, but it s better 
 to tell me the truth. I ll go back West, where yes means 
 yes and no means no." 
 
 "I hope I haven t ruined your life, Andrew." 
 
 MacVeety sighed loudly and shook his head, but his tone 
 grew apologetic. 
 
 "Well, Ellie, of course I m disappointed, but if you have 
 changed your mind as you say you have don t bother about 
 me any more. It won t make any difference in a hundred 
 years and I m going to be honest with you. I came east 
 to be married and I m going to take my wife back with me. 
 T want my own home my own family, and if I can t get 
 the woman I ve waited for, like the chap in the Bible did 
 why, I ll have to get someone else. I ll try to make her 
 happy." 
 
 His soul was filled with satisfaction when he saw the 
 shocked surprise in Miss Beak s face. 
 
 "You may not find it easy to find a woman who would 
 care for you that would understand you." 
 
 "If I can t have you, I 11. have to do the best I can," he 
 retorted sportily. " I 11 take chances. 
 
 "Well, I hope you ll be happy," she said acidly, unable 
 to fathom her feelings. 
 
 "Oh, I ll be happy, all right. Who Avas it said life is 
 too short for repining? I m not going to be a fool even if
 
 MANAGING AUNT ELLEN. 125 
 
 I do love you, and I hope you ll be nice to my wife." He 
 felt like a brute when he noted the sadness in the handsome, 
 elderly face, and added more tenderly: "I didn t think 
 you d jilt me, dear. Will you kiss me good-bye?" 
 
 Although she started to cry he resolutely turned toward 
 the door. A dreadful picture of her Andrew and another 
 woman flashed through Ellen Deak s mind. Perhaps an 
 other woman a girl was waiting, hoping to get him. 
 
 "Andrew, I didn t mean it. Oh, don t leave me!" she 
 cried, and meekly went to the man who took her in his 
 arms. 
 
 He did not try to frighten her with caresses and was 
 completely dazed by the victory. He never could remember 
 how he spent the evening or what they talked about, and 
 when he walked to his hotel he wondered how he had been 
 able to keep from betraying the nervousness under which 
 he had labored. 
 
 The next morning he called Eleanor over the telephone. 
 He told her he was afraid he would not be able to hold his 
 new authority and confided his fear of a big wedding. 
 
 "I wish she would marry me here in Chicago," he said 
 miserably. "I m not much of an ornament in society, but 
 I suppose she ll make me face the music." 
 
 "Come over to our hotel," Eleanor s voice answered. 
 "I ll meet you in the red room and we ll talk it over." 
 
 "Of course, you must get married right here," she told 
 him when they met. "I wouldn t give her time to change 
 her mind, if I were you. It can be arranged without any 
 trouble and is not unusual. Then you and Aunt Ellen can 
 start on your honeymoon and I ll go home with my maid. 
 I ll telephone for Dad s car to be ready for me. / told him 
 I would come back without auntie." 
 
 "You told your father?" 
 
 MacVeety s voice showed how deeply he was impressed by 
 the coolness with which Eleanor disposed of his future.
 
 126 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "Oh, yes!" she flattered, and her speech bore a sugges 
 tion of sweet admiration. "I knew that just so soon as you 
 asserted yourself, you would carry everything before you. 
 Aunt Ellen appears firm, but she really needs a strong arm 
 to lean on a husband s authority. Every woman likes to 
 be dominated by the man she loves." 
 
 While her marriage was being arranged, Ellen Deak rested 
 unsuspectingly in her room. Her doubts of MacVeety s 
 courage had vanished and she noted with satisfaction that 
 when it was necessary, the real firmness of his character 
 asserted itself. Her vanity had received a blow when he 
 suggested putting another woman in his life and she rea 
 soned that the time for submerging herself in his interests 
 and taking her place as his life partner had arrived. 
 
 MacVeety found no difficulty in arranging for the wed 
 ding. Everyone was most kindly sympathetic most inter 
 ested, and all that worried him was the lady s consent. 
 
 Again he sought Eleanor. 
 
 "I m afraid to suggest it to her," he said nervously. 
 "You do it or perhaps I d better send a note." 
 
 The firmness and boldness had entirely disappeared from 
 his manner. 
 
 "That wouldn t do at all," Eleanor dissented. "Come up 
 with me and I ll send her to you. You won t have a bit of 
 trouble when she sees you but, be firm." 
 
 She triumphantly carried him along. 
 
 "Andy Mac V. wants to see you at once," she whispered 
 when she went into Miss Deak s room. "Oh, auntie, but 
 he s unco gude lookin . He d be a braw laddie i the 
 kilties." 
 
 "I dislike levity, Eleanor. What does he want? I didn t 
 expect to see him until after luncheon." 
 
 "He appears very nervous and impatient, but I didn t 
 ask any questions. He s not one of the family yet." 
 
 Her aunt drifted through the door which she gently closed
 
 MANAGING AUNT ELLEN. 127 
 
 after her, and Eleanor Hardeen, wealthy widow and social 
 queen, executed a little war dance. She laughed with her 
 self in the mirror and at last threw herself into a chair by 
 the window. 
 
 Aunt Ellen was going to be married and she Eleanor 
 Dad s girl, was going home to her father and son, to be 
 mistress of their home. It was a hope realized and the 
 world was glorious and gay. 
 
 MacVeety again almost lost courage when he looked at 
 the dainty, dignified woman coming to him, but he collected 
 his wits and held her hand tightly in his grasp while he 
 told her of his plans. 
 
 She dreAv herself back in alarm. 
 
 "To-day!" she exclaimed. "Why, I m not prepared. I 
 haven t anything w r ith me. I must ask Eleanor," she tem 
 porized. Clearly she had never known this man s true 
 nature before. 
 
 "I ve already shipped the horses back to the ranch and 
 I want to go home, Ellie. I wouldn t ask you to do any 
 thing unreasonable, but we re going to live together for life 
 and the sooner we begin, the better. I don t want to be 
 dictatorial," he coughed nervously, "but I expect you to 
 please me, dear." 
 
 He was cold with fear that she would refuse and almost 
 dazed when she said briskly : 
 
 "Very well, Andrew. We may as well have it over." 
 
 The next few hours passed like a whirlwind and after 
 the ceremony the newly married couple took Eleanor to the 
 station. It was growing dark and they sat in the brilliantly 
 lighted end of Philip Beak s car that had brought Aunt 
 Ellen to unexpected wedlock. 
 
 "I feel as if Andrew and I had eloped," the bride whis 
 pered, a world of happiness in her face, and a rush of affec 
 tion prompted her to throw her arms around Eleanor s neck.
 
 128 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "I wish Philip had been here. You must tell him just how 
 it was, dear." 
 
 Eleanor kissed them both and answered: "It wasn t an 
 elopement, auntie, but a real abduction. Wasn t it, Uncle 
 Andrew I 
 
 That night, lying awake in the darkness, she reviewed 
 the events of the past few days. Aunt Ellen was married, 
 but somehow r she could not repress a sigh. Was she going 
 to miss the little woman who had ruled the Deak house 
 hold? She noted that her maid was stirring restlessly on 
 her couch and breathing heavily and she wished the woman 
 would be quiet ; but gradually her own eyes closed and she 
 lost consciousness. 
 
 When she awakened, the autumn sun was shining, the 
 gorgeous colorings of Indian summer greeted her, and the 
 woman who had unconsciously come between Hugh Craw 
 ford and his wife, dressed slowly, then with a smile on her 
 face walked into the centre of the car, and carelessly draw 
 ing a flower from the bouquet on her breakfast table, fast 
 ened it among the laces on her breast.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 When You Play With Love.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHEN You PLAY WITH LOVE. 
 
 When Hugh Crawford deliberately sought his wife and, 
 with impacable selfishness, demanded a divorce, he expected 
 an outburst of passionate indignation and refusal, but her 
 grief and surprise did not make him deviate from his purpose, 
 although he did regret the insulting denunciations with which 
 he had shocked her soul with taunting truths and rudely 
 demolished all her hopes. 
 
 "I was foolish to try to reason with her at all. Our law 
 yers could have explained my rights and saved me all this 
 trouble. I tried to make it easy for her," he thought with 
 self-commiseration. "She doesn t seem to realize that we have 
 had a year of misery and spoiled each other s chance of hap 
 piness. She is young and rich. No doubt she will marry 
 some fellow who will enjoy her constant endearments, and 
 be happy ever after. : 
 
 Crawford did not dread the retribution which relentlessly 
 follows evil motives and by the time he arrived at his hotel 
 felt that he had acted rather well, and enjoyed a good night s 
 sleep. 
 
 He had consulted specialists about the haze that sometimes 
 obscured his vision and the pain back of his eyes; but he 
 had received no permanent relief and determined to see von 
 Soiron, the great German occulist, who was established in 
 Washington. 
 
 On the morning following his interview with Anne, his 
 spirits were low, but he dressed warmly, for the weather, was 
 gusty and cloudy. It was not far to the imposing building 
 where von Soiron had his offices and Crawford gave his card 
 to the attendant, expecting to be received at once. But his 
 
 131
 
 132 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 name and money gave him no prestige and he had to wait 
 his turn, and it was a full half hour before the door opened 
 for him and the nurse nodded. Crawford had met von 
 Soiron in Berlin and he confidently entered the presence of 
 the great man, but the kind face looked awe-inspiring in 
 the light from the immense windows and though no one 
 could have been more courteous, there was no conciliation 
 in his simple greeting. 
 
 "And so! You have trouble?" The coldness in the deep 
 voice sounded formidable to Crawford. "What have you 
 been doing? You are qualified to be a physician and yet 
 you ruin your constitution and abuse your health. You 
 cannot pretend ignorance of natural laws, Mr. Crawford. 
 You know you are wearing yourself out." 
 
 "I am not any different from other men," Crawford re 
 plied, surprised and indignant. "Eye trouble is not un 
 usual. Both my father and mother wore glasses." 
 
 "Well, you have come to me for advice is it not so? 
 You are a strong man, but more out-door exercise and 
 natural rest less wine and women, and no excesses of any 
 kind. If you do not control your appetites and emotions 
 you will lose your sight, perhaps for a time perhaps for 
 ever. 
 
 "For God s sake, doctor, don t say that!" 
 
 Terror struck Crawford s heart and he sank back in his 
 chair. 
 
 "You don t mean to say " 
 
 "I have already said," von Soiron answered in his pom 
 pous German fashion. "No more assaults on your health." 
 
 In the brilliant sunlight flooding the room, the doctor 
 carefully finished his examination, unreservedly commenting 
 on the state of the patient s nerves. Crawford still had the 
 student s veneration for learned professors, though he 
 thought Doctor von Soiron unnecessarily severe, and, he 
 determined to curb his impulses and appetites, and during
 
 WHEN YOU PLAY WITH LOVE. 133 
 
 the week he spent in Washington, suppressed his desire to 
 seek the sensuous delights and exciting stimulants of prodi 
 gal night life in a metropolis. 
 
 He sent a long, incoherent letter to Eleanor, containing 
 hints about present misery and hopes for future joy, and 
 dined often with Lawyer Keene, who was led to believe that 
 Anne was eagerly seeking the divorce. 
 
 When Eleanor returned from Chicago she lound Craw 
 ford s letter awaiting her, and she knit her pretty brows 
 over passages that seemed mysterious to her, then threw it 
 carelessly aside. "I suppose he has quarreled with Anne," 
 she thought indifferently. "He s very handsome and 
 awfully good fun, but I can t see w r hy Anne married him. 
 She s grown cold and peculiar a regular little nun, and 
 he d be the last man in the world to appeal to me as a 
 husband," and she immediately forgot the Crawfords. 
 
 But Hugh Crawford did not forget her and took her 
 acceptance of his already world-worn affections for granted. 
 She had never withheld her smiles from him and had encour 
 aged the delightful comradeship that had grown between 
 them. The startling opinion von Soiron had pronounced 
 did not prove conclusively that the trouble with his eyes 
 was serious and he concluded not to be oppressed by the 
 doctor s "croakings," and, although he was dignified and 
 tried to look properly serious, he was elated with the success 
 of his interview with Anne and considered himself as free 
 as though the divorce was granted. He was glad that his 
 wife s passion for him was now a dead thing and was not 
 ashamed of having killed her love. With colossal egotism 
 he felt confident that Eleanor would fling herself into his 
 arms (perhaps not as readily as Anne had) and it exas 
 perated him to think he would have to wait until the divorce 
 was absolute before he could call this alluring beauty his 
 own.
 
 134 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 He blithely returned to New York, dreaming of future 
 joys. 
 
 "Are you glad to see me? Have you a real welcome for 
 me?" he murmured fervidly when he went toward Eleanor. 
 She had kept him waiting almost half an hour in the per 
 fectly appointed drawing-room of her father s mansion, but 
 his head was high and the compelling, confident, boyish 
 look which attracted many women, was fastened on his 
 face. She noticed it and gave him her hand with a brilliant 
 smile of indulgence. 
 
 He misinterpreted her graciousness, and to her amaze 
 ment, stretched out his arms appealingly, apparently under 
 the dominion of powerful emotion. She never was really 
 under his influence and now his attitude made her impatient. 
 She unconsciously stood aggressively facing him, vexed to 
 know that she showed embarrassment. 
 
 "Where is Anne?" she asked coldly. "Did she return 
 with you?" 
 
 "No, she is in Washington but do not speak of her," 
 Crawford whispered thickly, grasping her hands and almost 
 hurting her. His voice trembled and his eyes shone, as he 
 faltered, "You know why I am here alone." 
 
 "Indeed I do not," Eleanor answered frankly. She tried 
 to speak naturally but her color deepened and she looked 
 at him with amazement, for Crawford s eyes were filled with 
 neurotic tears, and, in spite of his weakness, he never looked 
 so attractive in his life. "Don t you understand? I am 
 free free," he blurted out, "Anne has gone out of my life," 
 and he told her his side of the story. 
 
 Eleanor waited in silence. The surprised expression 
 slowly faded from her face, while in its place came a cold, 
 resentful stare, for Crawford appeared in a new and sinister 
 light. He had his own emotion to control and did not notice 
 her countenance. She listened with beating heart, uneasily 
 feeling that he was telling too much of his domestic trouble,
 
 WHEN YOU PLAY WITH LOVE. 135 
 
 and she wished he would go away, or that someone would 
 interrupt his confidences. 
 
 "But now that everything is settled, I have come to you 
 for comfort, dear," he said masterfully. "I need you." 
 
 "Me!" she flashed out, her eyes sparkling with anger. 
 "I m afraid I do not quite understand you." 
 
 With a shock she was awakened to the realization that she 
 had made a grave mistake in disregarding Anne s feelings 
 and amusing herself with her friend s husband, and en 
 couraging the attentions of the man who should have been 
 with his wife his chosen mate. Now she understood why 
 Anne had been disagreeable and cold but she had not meant 
 any harm. She hadn t thought of Anne. It was as if a 
 bandage had been removed from her eyes and she saw the 
 heartlessness of her flirtation in its true light. 
 
 Yes, you, my darling ! You know I love you, Crawford 
 said with emotion, then as if conscious of being on thin ice, 
 "I have never deceived you. I have hidden nothing from 
 you. Throw aside conventional scruples and trust me," 
 and seeing the red flaming in Eleanor s face, "Don t for 
 God s sake don t refuse me. I love you I love you. Anne 
 did not" 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Crawford! Please! I do not care to discuss 
 Anne or share any confidence with you." Instead of re 
 pelling, Eleanor s pride only added to Crawford s desire 
 and he did not believe that she was honestly expressing her 
 feelings until she added, "We have been very good friends, 
 but hardly intimate enough to warrant it." 
 
 "Perhaps I have been too impatient. Should I have 
 waited? I thought you knew," he muttered dully; resent 
 ment surged through him and he was torn by conflicting 
 emotions. "Do you mean to tell me there is no hope 
 won t you marry me? Don t you care for me?" 
 
 Eleanor smiled derisively and the color flew to Crawford s 
 face.
 
 136 RETURN. OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "My dear man, don t look so tragic. You are absurd. 
 1 have had to listen to some foolish speeches but really there 
 were none so unpleasant so funny as yours." 
 
 No man could mistake her meaning unless he was blind 
 and deaf, for her face and voice told her displeasure and, 
 for the first time, Crawford felt really abashed and ex 
 perienced misgiving. But his unruly temper overcame his 
 nervousness. She had not only refused to listen to him. 
 but ridiculed him. He towered over her, his handsome face 
 dark with wounded self-esteem and words effervesced mad 
 words, always to be regretted. 
 
 She eyed him as he advanced upon her and shivered be 
 fore the tirade, uttered quietly in the concentrated fury of 
 the moment. 
 
 "I don t wonder you are afraid of me," he finished. 
 
 "Afraid of you!" she sneered. "You flatter yourself 
 if you think I fear you. I am only ashamed that I was fool 
 enough to listen to your egotistical ravings and to have un 
 wittingly given you a chance to say I encouraged your 
 wicked thoughts. Anne should thank heaven for getting 
 away from you you conceited cad." 
 
 She glared at him with angry dislike, and Crawford s 
 disappointment and anger broke from his control, his speech 
 matching hers in unpleasant truths. 
 
 "To hell with your fine lady airs and stilted speeches," 
 he hissed. "You accepted my attentions, knowing I was a 
 married man the husband of your friend, and yet you call 
 yourself a good woman : why, you re a 
 
 His voice broke and he came even closer with out-stretched 
 hands. He was the slave of his powerful emotions and the 
 fire of momentary insanity made him want to kill her. 
 
 "Please go away," she cried, cowering from him as his 
 arm swung toward her. "Don t make a scene. I don t want 
 to call"
 
 WHEN 01 PLA1 WITH LOVE. 137 
 
 But he had her in his arms, kissing kissing kissing her. 
 He stifled her cries and crushed her to him till the very life 
 seemed driven out of her body. 
 
 "Now," he breathed, his face close to hers and his breath 
 suffocating her, "When you play with the next man s heart 
 when you play with love remember my kisses. I have held 
 you in my arms and all the hatred you may feel for me will 
 not take away the memory of my lips against yours." 
 
 He abruptly loosened his hold and Eleanor tottered to 
 ward the door. Sue was ghastly pale but tried to regain her 
 self-control, for little Phil s treble voice calling her, sounded 
 loud and clear, and she heard him coming down the great 
 staircase. 
 
 "If you have any decency at all if you are not utterly 
 lacking everything that is manly, go before my son comes." 
 
 Crawford slipped past her. He did not want to speak to 
 the child and turned his head when Phil ran to his mother. 
 The dignified footman, on duty at the front door, looked 
 after the departing figure with derision, for Crawford s face 
 was black as a thunder cloud and he was breathing the low, 
 common oaths of the slums through his clenched teeth. 
 
 The blood seemed ready to burst through his eyes when 
 he walked through the avenue, startling passers-by with his 
 diabolical expression, until the cold air and violent walking 
 brought his senses back and he grew quieter in his invectives. 
 But his hands shook as if palsied ; and he forgot Eleanor 
 and the end of his cherished desires and his ra-ge turned 
 to terror, for the world seemed darker, and he stumbled 
 along the shadowy street. 
 
 But the warning passed and he called a cab and returned 
 to his hotel. 
 
 Although Crawford was naturally buoyant and could usu 
 ally readjust himself under misadventure, his vanity con 
 tinued to smart and his heart ached with a painful sense 
 of Eleanor s heartlessness. For a month he regaled himself
 
 138 RETURN OP 1 HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 with New York dissipations and spent his days and nights 
 with boon companions; but he was restless and dissatisfied. 
 
 One afternoon he was standing in front of his hotel. 
 Equipages of all kinds flashed by and by a strange coinci 
 dence, the Marquise Tania, enjoying the radiance of the 
 early winter sunshine, passed him. She only caught a glimpse 
 of his pale, depressed face before she turned to the man 
 beside her. 
 
 "There is Crawford now standing alone, lighting his 
 cigar. 
 
 She leaned forward, ready to bow, but the man she led 
 into dangerous paths did not see her. 
 
 "He looks sad. Something or somebody has disturbed 
 him." 
 
 "You find him useful, Tania? He is very handsome. Do 
 not let your warm heart lead you to forget your oath. Out 
 laws are inexorable." 
 
 I am not a sentimentalist, I am a servant. I do not trust 
 Crawford but I find him useful. He dances very prettily to 
 the soft music of flattery," the Marquise said grimly. "He 
 has no depth and but one love. It is not his God, nor his 
 contry, nor his wife, nor a Cause- it is himself whom he 
 adores, and I understand how to tell him how irresistible 
 he is." 
 
 She smiled cruelly as they sped down the avenue and the 
 bearded man beside her patted her hand but did not speak. 
 
 "It is best we do not meet again," she whispered in Rus 
 sian. ""We shall have no trouble in taking the notes to 
 France. I will return very soon I may leave this week. I 
 am confident that fate will play into my hands. We must be 
 patient, dear friend, for our hopes are bound to be realized. 
 
 When she gave him her hand in parting, she looked as 
 gay as a dainty French fashion-plate, but her fingers were 
 strong as steel when she returned the grasp of the thin hand 
 clasping her own.
 
 THE RUSSIAN THREW HIMSELF BACK 
 AMONG THE CUSHIONS
 
 WHEN YOU PLAY WITH LOVE. 139 
 
 The Russian, who found the climate of America more to 
 his comfort than the heated atmosphere of Europe where 
 he was not too welcome, bowed and returned to the car. 
 He threw himself back among the cushions as if exhausted 
 with waiting waiting, but a subtle fire lighted up his 
 features and the fierce flame of enthusiasm unmistakably 
 shone in his eyes. 
 
 The Marquise Tania did not look after the receding car. 
 Her mind was crowded with conflicting schemes and un 
 formed projects, when she entered her hotel. Going up in 
 the elevator, she entered her suite on the second floor and 
 impatiently dismissed her maid. The primrose tinted walls, 
 discreetly touched with wood-brown, and hangings of silken 
 velour, were a delightful setting for the pale, dark woman 
 whose black hair and glowing eyes did not need warm.th of 
 coloring to set off her beauty. She seated herself at a desk, 
 smiling as if at a friend, at a huge bunch of Russian violets 
 placed on the shelf, then slowly loosened her long fur coat 
 and sinuously withdrew her arms from the wide sleeves. She 
 had decided to write to Crawford and intuition told her 
 that he would be eager to see her that her missive would 
 be a welcome surprise. 
 
 After the note had gone, she dressed herself carefully and 
 waited for his coming. Sitting among the cushions on her 
 couch, with a gold-colored gown draped around her and her 
 jet-black hair braided closely around her small head, she 
 looked a dainty, alluring picture in the scented atmosphere 
 of the primrose room. 
 
 Her note, coming to Crawford when he was still smarting 
 from the blow his vanity had received, filled him with de 
 lighted surprise. His nostrils expanded and he nervously 
 decided to go to her at once. Painful memories were odious 
 to him and he frankly fled from them. He knew Tania to 
 be entertaining and stimulating, and he was suave and dig 
 nified when he entered her rooms.
 
 140 
 
 I have so much to say to you, Hugh, she said after their 
 greeting, and she flashed her brilliant eyes. "I suppose you 
 are so courted by your American friends that you will not 
 have much time for Tania." 
 
 "I have nothing on for to-night. Will you have dinner 
 with me at Martin s?" He looked at her with immense 
 satisfaction. "Then you can explain the charming surprise 
 of your presence in America so far away from your be 
 loved Paris." 
 
 "Mon beau Hugh," she sat close to him with affectionate 
 familiarity, resting her hand on his arm, I have an engage 
 ment. I promised but I will send regrets. I would much 
 rather be with you than anyone. You have the great gift 
 the great power of persuasion." 
 
 Her voice was as soothing as a caress to Crawford s in 
 jured vanity, her red lips parted in a ravishing smile and 
 he felt more sure than ever that this lovely woman really 
 appreciated him. He noticed that her hair curled in little 
 tendrils on the nape of her neck and remembered that Anne s 
 did the same, and a sudden memory of his wife s face re 
 flecting her soul s agony flashed across his brain. 
 
 Tania, conscious of his distraction, determined to find out 
 what was troubling him. She had made a study of human 
 nature and bethought herself that something very serious 
 must have disturbed him. Knowing his chameleon-like nature 
 she artfully led his thoughts into bright channels and grad 
 ually Crawford commenced to be comforted by the flattering 
 gladness of her smiles; her cheerfulness soothed his nerves 
 and spirits, and his wounded self-esteem responded to her 
 cunning artfulness. 
 
 For dinner they went to the celebrated French restaurant. 
 The soft reflection of the shaded lights mellowed everything 
 and the Marquise Tania looked like a delicate miniature in 
 the rose-tinted rays. She was voluble and appeared ingon-
 
 WHEN YOU PLAY WITH LOVE. 141 
 
 nous when she seated herself opposite Crawford and gazed 
 at him with sparkling eyes. 
 
 "Ah, it is so good to be with you," she exclaimed ani 
 matedly, "and how fortunate that I saw you on the street. 
 I feared you were still in Washington. 
 
 "It certainly was fortunate for me," Crawford replied. 
 "Mrs. Crawford is still in "Washington." 
 
 For some inexplicable reason he did not want Tania to 
 know of his domestic affairs. In fact he did not intend 
 to tell anyone of his separation from Anne, and already this 
 strange man found himself wondering if she would ever 
 forgive him but the attentive waiter was bringing cocktails 
 and his thoughts swung back to surroundings. 
 
 He was not ill-pleased with the attention he and Tania ex 
 cited while they sat at the table decked with La France roses, 
 and he disclosed his fine teeth in a smile when the Marquise, 
 clasping the bowl of the glass with both beringed hands, 
 bowed in mock ceremony to him. 
 
 "This is ravissante, mon cher," she murmured vivaciously. 
 "I do not believe there is a more charming place to dine, 
 in all this great America." 
 
 She continued to smile and sparkle, her large hypnotic 
 eyes resting steadily on Crawford while he watched the 
 waiter draw the cork from the napkin-wrapped bottle, fill 
 the glasses, and replace it in the champagne cooler. 
 
 "Now tell me all about it," he said. "When did you come 
 over?" 
 
 Crawford s question was not unexpected and she leaned 
 toward him. 
 
 "I sailed very soon after you most unexpectedly. I was 
 tired and ill, so my physician ordered the ocean voyage, and 
 I am going to return in a few days. I really was all run 
 down as you Americans say, but the sea air has restored 
 me."
 
 142 RETURN OF HUGE CRAWFORD 
 
 "You look remarkably healthy for a sick woman. I have 
 never seen you look better." 
 
 "Ah, you always are so amiable," she responded airily. 
 "I have wonderful powers of recuperation. I receive no 
 sympathy. Even when I am ill I have the appearance of 
 the health impertinent." 
 
 Although she wanted to ask questions, and was inquisitive 
 about the beautiful widow Crawford had escorted to Amer 
 ica, she branched off into amusing stories of places and 
 acquaintances. She noticed that his glances were straying 
 among the people around them and thought, "He ignores 
 his little wife and some day he may need her and her wealth 
 and influence; but will she forget? I think not," but she 
 kept her ideas discreetly to herself. Lifting her glass she 
 exclaimed charmingly, "Hugh! To your happiness!" 
 
 "Then you will drink to our many future meetings. I 
 too am going back to France." He gave her a peculiar look, 
 the newly-recovered contentment showing in his manner. 
 "When did you say you were to sail?" 
 
 She mentioned a steamer leaving within the week and 
 Crawford promised to accompany her if he could secure 
 passage. 
 
 "I need cheerfulness and she s such a good sort really 
 fond of me, and she is a sympathetic creature," he thought. 
 Aloud he asked, "What, no more wine and no Kummel?" 
 
 No, nothing more ! It has been perfect. You are always 
 a princely host." 
 
 "It is early yet let us go somewhere. We may find some 
 thing amusing." 
 
 They found a box at Hammerstein s and in the noise of 
 the orchestra and stage, depression again seized Hugh Craw 
 ford. He did not think of Eleanor, but his wife s grave face 
 seemed to haunt him and the impulse to beg her forgiveness 
 was irresistible. 
 
 When he left the Marquise at her hotel, he dismissed the
 
 WHEN YOU PLAY WITH LOVE. 143 
 
 car and walked along the streets, glad to be alone. When in 
 his rooms he told Saunders to bring brandy and soda and 
 go to bed, and drawing a chair to his writing table, started 
 a letter to Anne. He destroyed page after page. He was 
 guiltily conscious of his wrong-doing but he did not doubt 
 her clemency. "Of course I acted shamefully there s no 
 getting around the fact. I don t pretend that I was justified 
 in speaking as I did and I won t try to see her before I sail, 
 but she 11 be glad to get my apology. He felt more satisfied 
 when he had written, 
 
 My dear wife: 
 
 "I want you to forgive me. I am leaving New York in a 
 few days and will return to our home in Paris where I will 
 await your letter. With my whole soul I crave your pardon 
 for my unkind and bitter words, Anne there is no one else 
 there is no thought of another woman taking your place as 
 my wife and I ask implore you to forget my words. 
 
 My excuse is as old as the hills but it is all I have to 
 offer. My nerves have been shattered by anxiety about my 
 eyes and when the wine is in, the wit is out. 
 
 "Forgive me, Anne. 
 
 Your repentant 
 
 Hugh." 
 
 When the letter reached Anne, she immediately recognized 
 Crawford s handwriting. She locked the door of her rooms 
 and for a long time sat at her desk, debating whether or not 
 to open it. Her pulses beat feverishly, for it was possible 
 that he had written something to wound her afresh. She 
 could not think why he should write at all, and hatred, all the 
 more bitter for its impotency, rankled in her breast. 
 
 . But curiosity overcame her and she did venture to open 
 the letter. 
 
 Her eyes blazed and her cheeks flamed when she read his
 
 144 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 words and she cried: "He thinks he can whistle me back. 
 He wanted the divorce and something or somebody has 
 made him change his mind, but I will never forgive him. 
 He shamed me. He insulted me and I hate him I hate 
 him." 
 
 Unlocking a secret drawer in her desk she slipped the 
 letter beside the locket Hugh Crawford had given her on 
 the .Christmas night of their betrothal, and like a drunken 
 woman she tremblingly shut them out of sight and stag 
 gered across the floor to her bedroom. She tried to reach 
 her bed, but fell short, and dropped like a suppliant to her 
 knees, her hands covering her face while she prayed, "Dear 
 God, comfort me! Comfort me!" 
 
 Hugh Crawford sailed for Prance, apparently as light- 
 hearted as ever and seemed devoted to a lady whose name 
 appeared on the passenger list as Madame Tania Cherimiski.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 I Want To Be Free. 
 
 145
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 I WANT To BE FREE. 
 
 Anne had been truly unhappy on account of Crawford, 
 who had an almost limitless power of hurting her. Her love 
 for him had been interwoven with her life and was as pain 
 ful to break as a habit, but pride came to her rescue and 
 she fought desperately against becoming demoralized. She 
 recalled the months of humiliation and disappointment fol 
 lowing her marriage and hoped and prayed that she would 
 never see him again. 
 
 There was one thing she was thankful forj he did not 
 insist on the divorce, for Anne had a dread of gossip and 
 could not bear the thought of the privacy of her life being 
 left to the mercy of the press the dreadful notoriety and 
 days of terror while the decree pended and the vulgarity 
 of it all. But when she re-read his letter pleading for a 
 reconciliation it did not soften her. She remembered his 
 threat of holding her up to the contempt of her friends and 
 determined to make him regret his monstrous cruelty. 
 
 Only pride kept her from returning to La Conner, but 
 she wrote a long, penitent letter to her aunt Hamilton, im 
 ploring her to come to Washington, and about two weeks 
 after Crawford s unhappy visit to his wife, Miss Hamilton 
 descended from the steps of a western train. 
 
 Anne motored to the station in a glistening new car she 
 had just bought, and had been waiting for half an hour 
 when the train arrived. She saw Miss Hamilton stop and 
 look around, nervously moving with the crowd, and her 
 heart swelled with pride and joy in her beloved kinswoman. 
 How could she have had the courage to wound that loving 
 heart and leave the tender protection of the only mother 
 
 147
 
 148 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 she had ever known. Their eyes met, and, with a wild 
 rush, Anne was in the outstretched arms. The two women 
 stood clasped in a passionate embrace, whispering and sob 
 bing fond and foolish words of endearment oblivious of 
 the crowd. 
 
 My little girl ! I am so thankful to see you again. 
 
 "And, oh auntie, I ve needed you so badly. I will never 
 leave you again. I m so glad to see your dear face," Anne 
 cried, smiling through happy tears and delighting in Miss 
 Hamilton s beaming countenance. She handed her aunt s 
 bag to the chauffeur, and as the man passed ahead, she 
 followed slowly, hanging childishly to her aunt. 
 
 Dora was waiting to meet Miss Hamilton when she en 
 tered the house and the two women who loved Anne Craw 
 ford shook hands and kissed each other warmly, to the 
 scandalized amazement of the footmen in the hall. Only 
 one who has had the experience of retaining old servants 
 can understand the pride and affection in Dora s heart when 
 Miss Hamilton greeted her with such spontaneous love. 
 
 "Come up to your rooms, dear," Anne said gayly, leading 
 the way, and her aunt followed with deliberate steps. The 
 suite prepared for her was very cheerful and Miss Hamilton 
 noted the beauty, harmony and comfort the look of home- 
 ness in the house the luxury without a show of expensive- 
 ness, and with a mental compliment to Anne s good taste, 
 started to speak. 
 
 But her words froze on her lips when her eyes fell on a 
 ferocious-looking, tawny animal, switching its tail and open 
 ing a dreadful mouth. 
 
 Anne s glance traveled from her aunt to the door where 
 Fifi stood guard. "Oh, auntie," she laughed, "don t be 
 frightened. It s only my little dog. She isn t cross." 
 
 "Little dog! Send it away, child," gasped the nervous 
 woman. "Where in Sam Hill did you ever get that, Anne?" 
 
 "She was one of my wedding presents."
 
 I WANT TO BE FREE. 149 
 
 Fifi was banished and half an hour later Miss Hamilton, 
 resting in a big chair before a cheery fire, was sipping a cup 
 of tea. She lost no time in asking questions and did not 
 pretend to be surprised at Crawford s absence, but she was 
 alarmed at the pallor, the heavy-lidded eyes, and the weari 
 ness in Anne s face. 
 
 "You ll always be a little girl to me, dear," she said, 
 tenderly squeezing Anne s thin hand. "You must tell me 
 all your troubles. You look as though you had been through 
 a severe illness, but I m here now and going to take care 
 of you." 
 
 Anne flushed and restrained the impulse to cry. 
 
 "Everything has been wrong, auntie, but I still have you, 
 and we are going to be happy together." 
 
 "After all, I m glad you didn t come home without 
 Hugh." Miss Hamilton looked solemn. "People will gos 
 sip if they get a chance and no one in La Conner imagines 
 there is any trouble between you, but I suspected something 
 was wrong. Why, even your letter telling of your marriage 
 worried me." 
 
 Her manner was encouraging, but still Anne did not con 
 fide. 
 
 "Tell me what is the matter," pleaded Miss Hamilton. 
 "I know you are in the right. I never liked Hugh." 
 
 "No, dear," Anne replied at last, "you never liked him, 
 but I always loved him, and I m going to tell you every 
 thing right from the beginning. 
 
 She impulsively threw herself on the arm of her aunt s 
 chair, resting her head on the beloved broad shoulder. She 
 told all her misery told of Crawford s letters which she 
 had foolishly construed into pleadings for a marriage told 
 of meeting him at the rooms in London told of his fickle 
 ness and her own jealousy. She did not spare him, nor did 
 she spare herself. 
 
 The deadly hatred in the heart of Miss Mary Hamilton
 
 150 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 of La Connor was very like the bitterness in the hearts of 
 her loyal ancestors, who had not stopped at murder and 
 bloodshed to avenge wrong to their loved ones. Her brow 
 was stormy and there was a hard glitter in the sweet elderlr 
 eyes. She was undergoing a change of heart. She was 
 regarding with toleration the sundering of marriage ties 
 and she felt suddenly convinced that there were times Avhen 
 divorce was justifiable. 
 
 It Avas deplorable, of course, but she knew Anne, and 
 she knew Hugh, and it Avas better to sunder bonds than to 
 break hearts. But she did not speak of the Avonderful 
 change that had taken place in her sentiments. 
 
 "It is much AA orse than I thought. It is a great shock to 
 me, dear, but you must not alloAv a man to make a mess of 
 your life," she declared grimly. "Let us forget Hugh for 
 awhile. You will have all you can do to keep me from 
 being homesick for I suppose I am to live in Washington 
 for awhile. You appear prepared to settle here." 
 
 Anne threw her arm around her aunt s neck, and with a 
 quiver in her voice promised, "We ll have no more past 
 history or heroics. I am going to introduce you to gay 
 people, Paris gowns and beautiful life. We ll forget the 
 gloom and be happy." 
 
 "At my time of life I may not appreciate the high life 
 you speak of, but seriously, Anne I want some more hot 
 tea. I suppose I may have two cups even in Washington." 
 
 With a happy laugh Anne jumped to her feet and turned 
 on the electricity and soon the water Avas boiling in the tiny 
 kettle. "It is natural to have you order me around, auntie," 
 she exclaimed. "I haven t been so happy for months." 
 
 Anne Grawford felt a restlessness and recklessness dom 
 inating her. A new personality seemed to have developed 
 in her and she looked at life from an entirely different vieAv-
 
 / WANT TO BE FREE. 151 
 
 point, while she made a brave effort to gather together the 
 tangled lines of her life. 
 
 She sighed when she saw her reflection in the mirror and 
 found herself unattractive and homely. She longed to be 
 beautiful and to bring men to her feet in admiration of her 
 physical charms and commenced to study herself. She 
 knew her good points and took care of her splendid hair 
 and teeth, nourished her skin, and after a few months of 
 intelligent treatment, viewed herself with critical eyes. 
 With a few blushes at her vanity, she admitted to herself 
 that she did look more alluring that her experiments had 
 turned out well. 
 
 Before her rupture with Crawford she would have con 
 sidered such desires unworthy and foolish, but his insulting 
 mention of her lack of pulchritude made her long to triumph 
 over her plainness. 
 
 "I look altogether Spanish I must remember that," she 
 soliloquized, drawing her dusky hair loosely over her ears 
 and, catching the long ends up in a coil on the top of her 
 head, she fastened the silken mass Avith a huge, old-fash 
 ioned comb which had belonged to her great-great-grand 
 mother. "I m thin, but I look much better and I m not 
 going to worry. I ve made a new start." 
 
 Time did not drag, and during the years that followed 
 many exciting incidents happened. Anne entertained gen 
 erously, and she and her aunt were cordially received into 
 the most exclusive and splendid houses, dancing in and out 
 of the palaces of pleasure until Miss Hamilton was tired to 
 death. Never had the rich spinster owned so many clothes at 
 one time, or spent money so lavishly. She was a very wealthy 
 woman and could have afforded herself every extravagance, 
 "but her Scotch blood and New England training forbade 
 prodigality, while her Presbyterian conscience troubled her 
 for being too lenient to "the world, the flesh, and the devil," 
 and gave her many sharp twinges.
 
 152 
 
 It annoyed her to see how flippant Anne was with the 
 train of admirers hangers-on such as are found in the wake 
 of any rich woman in society. Floyd Charteris, a fine look 
 ing fellow, younger than Anne, was the young matron s con 
 stant shadow, and Anne did flirt outrageously. After dis 
 covering that she could arouse attention and admiration, she 
 allowed herself too much liberty. She did not believe that 
 any of her adorers paid court to her money and supposed 
 it was solely her personal charm, which fascinated, and she 
 drifted into foolish self-complacency. 
 
 But Miss Hamilton s plain English awakened her from 
 her pleasant lethargy and saved her from a rude (and 
 expensive) awakening. 
 
 It was just before the Christmas holidays and their time 
 was crowded with engagements and Anne was skimming 
 over the bogs of festivity and frivolity with thoughtless 
 speed. She had given a dinner dance, and it would be un 
 wise to attempt to paint a word-picture of the brilliant, 
 bewildering carousal. 
 
 It had been a social success, and Miss Hamilton, while 
 impatiently waiting for Anne to come and kiss her good 
 night, was picturing the difference between the peaceful 
 mansion in La Conner and this lovely little home which 
 seemed almost pagan in its riotous gayety. Because of war 
 ring sentiments she felt caustic and dismissed her maid from 
 the room when Anne at last came to her. 
 
 She looked critically at the slender figure of her niece 
 and had to admit that Anne s- pale face was very attractive, 
 while the shimmering, sea-green chiffon, ultra-fashionable 
 gown was startlingly becoming to the young, black-haired 
 woman with the burning eyes and red, red mouth. 
 
 "It s no wonder men run after her. Who Avould have 
 believed she would have developed into such a magnificent 
 creature," the good woman thought. "She s not pretty- 
 but she is lovely and lovable. If she were as happy as she
 
 / WANT TO BE FREE. 153 
 
 is gay and attractive, she d be the most envjgd woman in 
 Washington. It s astonishing amazing, how she has 
 changed. 
 
 Her thoughts were routed by Anne. 
 
 Well, auntie we re living ! She flung herself into a 
 chair and her aunt recognized a subtle change of manner; 
 no lack of tenderness, but a defiant independence and energy 
 that suggested vigorous maturity of purpose. "We re hav 
 ing a good time," she continued. "I danced every dance 
 even the maxixe." 
 
 She yawned lazily. 
 
 "Go to bed, child, you re sleepy," Miss Hamilton said 
 severely. "Your party was a crush and I m glad it s over. 
 Thank the Lord I don t know how to dance, Anne. I never 
 dreamed that sane people would caper as did our guests 
 to-night at your Tango. It was worse than usual, and I 
 don t approve of that sort of thing. I can t get used to 
 girlish grandmothers and church members even bald- 
 headed old sinners who should be saying their prayers and 
 preparing for heaven cutting up like youngsters and 
 prancing like young colts." 
 
 Anne screamed with delight. Hugh Crawford, ruining 
 his health and hopes in European capitals,- would have been 
 shocked to see the gay insouciance of the wife he thought 
 was breaking her heart for him. 
 
 "Yes, it s different from La Conner, auntie, but I like the 
 gay whirl. Everything depends on viewpoint. I used to 
 quarrel with Hugh be horrified with things I don t notice 
 at all now, and I don t believe I am any the worse for being 
 broad-minded." 
 
 "Broad-mindedness seems to cover a great deal of lax 
 ity. Miss Hamilton looked very austere while she declared 
 her opinions. "I am not narrow, I hope, but I think you 
 were better and happier before you married and grew 
 worldly. And Anne you are wrong to allow a lot of men
 
 154 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 you don t care about to dangle after you. It doesn t seem 
 respectable," she blurted out, "and that boy Charteris 
 you encourage him particularly. He s younger than you 
 are and it s not right to play with a man s feelings." 
 
 "A little experience doesn t hurt anyone, darling," Anne 
 answered lightly. "He s a dear boy. I m really fond of 
 him. He s at the romantic age." 
 
 "Don t flatter yourself too much, my dear." Miss Ham 
 ilton s eyes twinkled. "He s not too romantic to run after 
 a rich woman." 
 
 "Oh, you would hate any man I was fond of," chuckled 
 Anne, but she looked peculiar and nervous and, rising from 
 her chair, crossed to her aunt. "Charteris wants me to 
 marry him." 
 
 The blood rushed to Miss Hamilton s face. 
 
 "I told him I would if you would consent." 
 
 "Anne! You are a married woman!" 
 
 "Of course, I would have to obtain a divorce and we 
 would not be married for ages and 
 
 My dear ! My dear ! Miss Hamilton cried. You must 
 be mad to even speak of linking your life with that boy s. 
 You can t be serious and I hope you won t forget your 
 husband to the extent of thinking of marrying that young 
 puppy. Hugh doesn t bother you. You are not a young 
 girl running into misery with her eyes blinded." She rose 
 heavily to her feet. "Anne, sometimes I feel that I am a 
 failure that I have no influence over you, for you have 
 always carried me along with your impetuosity, but I will 
 positively oppose this crazy notion. Now I ve listened to 
 your remarkable news, and I m going to forget it. Good 
 night, my dear, and when you say your prayers, ask for a 
 little common sense." 
 
 "Now, you are angry with me, dear, but don t think I 
 would go against your wishes. I m never going to risk 
 losing you."
 
 / WANT TO BE FREE. 155 
 
 Anne swept into the hall, her eyes gleaming feverishly 
 as she went to her own rooms. 
 
 When she had gone, Miss Hamilton stared stupidly at the 
 door which Anne had softly closed after her. Hot tears ran 
 down her cheeks and she opened and shut her hands, trying 
 to control her nerves, and sank to her knees. Throwing her 
 arms across the chair and burying her face in the cushions, 
 she cried unceasingly until the tempest of her grief was 
 checked, and with a resolute movement she threw back her 
 head. She knew where to find comfort. 
 
 She silently prayed for a few moments and a hopeful 
 light spread over the tired, wrinkled face, then she labori 
 ously rose to her feet, and when her maid tapped at her 
 door she cried in her usual, energetic tones : Come in and 
 undress me as quickly as you can, and take my hair off at 
 once it makes my head ache. , 
 
 The girl s fingers carefully loosened and removed the gray 
 
 coiffure that looked so natural and becoming. 
 
 #*##*####* 
 
 For hours Anne sat thinking in her beautiful, high-ceil- 
 inged bedroom. In her present mood the harmony of the 
 perfect furnishings and soft-toned decorations soothed her, 
 and she quietly digested the few stern but wise words her 
 aunt had expressed. She did not pretend to love Charteris, 
 but she liked him and she could not still the passion of lone 
 liness that possessed her ; the hunger for happiness and the 
 tempestuous longing for the love she had missed. She 
 swayed under the dominion of her feelings, almost fright 
 ened by the poignant desire that assailed her to have the 
 life she craved the love the home children. 
 
 "Hugh loved me when we were in La Conner, but his love 
 died. He accepted all I had to give, but gave me nothing 
 in return. Perhaps if I had children " 
 
 Thoughts crowded upon her. She remembered her hus 
 band s caresses, and memories she had tried to forget
 
 156 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 awakened riotously and her heart sank in despair. She 
 hated Hugh, but he had been her husband; he was her 
 husband. 
 
 She decided that when morning came she would send for 
 Charteris and tell him the truth. Feeling as she did, there 
 was no possibility of divorce or new marriage ties, and, 
 having decided, she was conscious of devout thankfulness 
 that she had not allowed him to kiss her. "I will not always 
 be lonely," she thought. "There must be other things be 
 sides love that bring contentment and peace but I don t 
 know where to find them." 
 
 After a brief sleep she awakened to a sense of well-being, 
 and when the events of the preceding night passed before 
 her, the wine, the music, the dancing, Charteris impassioned 
 wooing and her aunt s advice, seemed like a dream. 
 
 "I ve telephoned Mr. Charteris, auntie," she whispered 
 when she met Miss Hamilton in the breakfast room. "I 
 want to see him and get it over. 
 
 "So the night brought wisdom, as our French friends 
 believe it does. I am very thankful, dear. You are not 
 suited to each other." 
 
 "I m sorry it grew so serious, aunt," Anne confessed. 
 "There, is no use in pretending and I do like him rather 
 well. I ll be sorry to lose my friend." 
 
 "If Charteris loves you you will not lose his friendship," 
 Miss Hamilton declared. "He is only a boy, but he is no 
 fool." 
 
 "If," mimicked Anne. "Auntie, I hate that insignificant 
 if. " 
 
 They drank their coffee and looked through their letters, 
 but neither had much appetite, and were relieved when 
 Charteris card was brought to Anne. 
 
 She colored and tried to smile, gathering up the trailing 
 skirt of her breakfast-gown and hastily walking to the re-
 
 / WANT TO BE FREE. 157 
 
 ccption room. When she entered, Charteris came rapidly 
 toward her. 
 
 He looked very young in a plain business suit and his 
 rosy face and ardent eyes gave one the impression of affection 
 and good temper. 
 
 Has anything happened ? " he exclaimed. Gad, but you 
 do look sweet." 
 
 Anne stepped behind a chair. Suddenly she felt years 
 older and ashamed of this boy s admiration. 
 
 "Please don t come near me," she said deprecatingly. 
 "No nothing is the matter except that I want you to know 
 that I was not serious last night I do not want you to think 
 that I intend to re-marry I want to be honest with you." 
 
 She flushed furiously. The whole affair seemed horribly 
 silly and improper. 
 
 Charteris stood as if made of stone. His air castles were 
 tumbling around him and something told him that his dream 
 of love, and life, and luxury, with this charming woman 
 to pay the bills, was over never to be, and the rude awaken 
 ing almost made him ill. 
 
 Anne s feelings were too complex to be analyzed, but the 
 keenest of them was a sense of thankfulness that she had ex 
 tricated herself from a difficult position and from doubt. 
 She saw no grief, no love only anger and chagrin in the 
 youthful face before her. Her temper rose and she bit her 
 lips in fierce anger while a flush painted her face from neck 
 to brow. Her aunt had again been right. "If he loves 
 you," she had said. Why, Charteris didn t love her at all. 
 His expression told her that, but he was speaking and she 
 heard him say. 
 
 "I will not give you up. You cannot play fast and loose 
 with me." 
 
 "Don t speak absurdly, Mr. Charteris," she returned 
 "You cannot give up what you never possessed."
 
 158 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 He was slow in answering but the sneer on his lips alarmed 
 her and his words fell like fire, scorching her with shame. 
 
 "You have accepted my undivided attentions led me to 
 suppose that you cared for me allowed our names to be 
 associated together without a murmur showed me unusual 
 favor, unless you expected to be my wife." 
 
 Her muscles tightened and humiliation seemed to steal 
 the very breath from her, while her pulses leaped until she 
 shook. "I confess I am to blame for misleading you, but 
 you exaggerate the importance of our mistake, do you not?" 
 
 "No, I do not. You know it is the truth. There must be 
 a reason you have not mentioned." 
 
 "I am a married woman." 
 
 "But I will wait." 
 
 "There is nothing to wait for. I do not love you. I do 
 admire you and like to be with you, but I don t know how I 
 could have imagined that anything deeper than friendship 
 could exist between us." 
 
 He regarded her with angry eyes and cried, "I don t 
 understand you." 
 
 "And I can t explain," Anne retorted quickly, trying to 
 speak lightly though her face was drawn, I am a mystery 
 even to myself." 
 
 "Mystery or not, you can t throw me aside like an old 
 glove." His lips were twitching and his brows met in a 
 frown. "You are a very clever woman and quite an ex 
 perienced fencer." 
 
 "Don t let us quarrel," she pleaded, ignoring the taunt, 
 for she blamed herself. "Let us be friends, and Mr. 
 Charteris, I said I could not consider any question without 
 my aunt s opinion." A desire to test him flashed through 
 her mind and she added seriously, "Suppose I were to tell 
 you that my aunt is wealthy and that you are not a favorite 
 with her? Are you prepared financially to support a wife? 
 Are you in a position to take care of me?"
 
 / WANT TO BE FREE. 159 
 
 "1 have my income," Charteris sputtered, "but [ 
 thought" 
 
 Surely you did not think that my aunt s money would 
 pay your wife s expenses or that you could live in idleness, 
 and take life easily on money you had no right to money 
 you did not earn." 
 
 "But your husband Mr. Crawford is not a business 
 man." 
 
 "No! Hugh Crawford is not a business man. He would 
 be happier if he were, but he happens to be a very rich man, 
 not a parasite living on a woman s bounty. As a poor man 
 he would have worked been ambitious perhaps celebrated, 
 but his money has been a curse to him. However, my hus 
 band is not under discussion and your mention of him is as 
 preposterous as some of your other subjects." 
 
 She drew back, pale and shocked at the insolence in the 
 young man s face. 
 
 "It is rumored among our friends that your husband does 
 not feel the same consideration for you, that you express for 
 him." He laughed angrily, his voice vibrating through the 
 rooms to Miss Hamilton, who told the butler to have Fifi sent 
 to her. "It is whispered that Mr. Crawford does not care for 
 his wife," continued Charteris, "and that he seeks fairer 
 shrines. 
 
 He bowed stiffly and Anne watched him leave the room. 
 She was white with anger and a tendril of her beautiful 
 black hair escaped from its fastening and fell on her white 
 neck, the disorder giving her a picturesque beauty Charteris 
 never forgot. Perhaps the heavy dog silently entering from 
 the rear and lying crouched beside her mistress, had some 
 thing to do with his hasty retreat: but Anne, all unconscious 
 of her protector, listened to the front door close and lay 
 back in her chair, utterly collapsed. Her heart seemed leap 
 ing from her bosom, confusing her, until she felt herself
 
 160 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 gradually rising, a curious sensation of floating in the air, 
 and with a little sob, Anne fainted. 
 
 When Miss Hamilton heard Charteris leave the house, she 
 went to Anne and when she saw the white face and inert 
 form, she ran to the unconscious woman, patted her hands 
 and stroked the deathlike face. She did not want to call a 
 servant and looked in confusion around the room. With a 
 sigh of relief she poured water from a flower vase over her 
 handkerchief, bathing the pale face and forcing a few drops 
 between the chiselled lips. 
 
 "Anne, my girl! open your eyes for auntie," she whis 
 pered, whimpering and crooning as a mother does over a 
 baby, but controlled herself when Anne sighed and slowly 
 came back to consciousness. "Rest quietly, dear." Miss 
 Hamilton smiled into the haggard face, "Don t try to speak 
 now. 
 
 "I m all right now," Anne weakly turned her head and 
 kissed the hand resting on her shoulder. "I didn t sleep 
 very well last night. I m tired to death." 
 
 "That is the first time you have admitted it, child, and 
 nature has just given you a necessary warning. You need 
 rest. You ve had nothing but society and excitement since 
 we came here nearly five years ago and your trips to Canada 
 and Florida, or other fashionable places were as tiring as 
 Washington. Let us go home, Anne?" 
 
 "I can t oh, auntie, I couldn t go home to answer ques 
 tions and make excuses." 
 
 "Well, you don t have to go, and we won t argue. You 
 must go back to bed and try to get a little of the sleep you 
 missed last night you re almost prostrated but wait a min 
 uet." 
 
 She hurried into the dining room and returned with a 
 glass of port wine. 
 
 "Drink this," she said, "it will compose and warm you." 
 
 Anne, obedient and suppressed, did as she was ordered,
 
 I WANT TO BE FREE. 161 
 
 and after sipping the wine, rose to her feet. "You were 
 right about Charteris, auntie, * she confessed. "I have lost 
 ray friend." 
 
 "Oh, forget that young man. He is unimportant," Miss 
 Hamilton said contemptuously. "When he grows up he ll 
 be ashamed of himself. 
 
 They slowly walked up the stairs to Anne s large airy 
 room. The curtained French bed looked soft and silken, the 
 cool air floated into the heated atmosphere rippling the 
 hangings, and Miss Hamilton helped her undress, tucked her 
 snugly in bed, darkened the room and left her. 
 
 When Anne reappeared at luncheon, she had regained 
 her vivacity and again wrapped the cloak of worldliness 
 about herself. 
 
 "I ve really arrived at a conclusion, auntie," she said de 
 cidedly. "I want to be free. Hugh can have his liberty. 
 I m tired of being the wife of a man who doesn t want me."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Divorce. 
 
 163
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 DIVORCE. 
 
 In his apartment in Paris, watched over by the faithtu* 
 Saunders, Hugh Crawford read the formal notice that his 
 wife had instituted action for a divorce. He did not feel 
 elation, and wondered what necessity there was for a legal 
 separation when they never saw each other, and had no 
 money troubles. 
 
 He felt as if Anne was deliberately trying to injure him 
 and though he did not care that she ignored his letters, he 
 had not expected her to show any force of character ; least of 
 all to demand her freedom as her right. 
 
 Lying on his couch, looking up at her picture placed near 
 a new one of Madame Ramoniff, he told Saunders to bring 
 him brandy. Now that his wife was out of his life, he 
 endowed her with beauty and grace she had never possessed, 
 and decided that fate had been most unkind in robbing him 
 of her. He destroyed the lawyer s letter and did not men 
 tion the separation k> anyone but his vanity could not repress 
 unpleasant regrets. 
 
 Still searching new excitements he roamed over Europe, 
 drinking and gambling, rushing into sensuality, and using 
 tremendous vigor in futile efforts to find amusement and 
 happiness. And through all the drunken revels and health- 
 destroying dissipations, the American s handsome face 
 showed little trace of the life he led. 
 
 His personality was still compelling, he still was a very 
 delightful, passionate lover and still looked deeply into lovely 
 eyes when they challenged his. 
 
 The slight suggestion of mystery regarding his domestic 
 relations did not detract from his charm and his reserved 
 
 165
 
 16G RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 dignity in courteously putting aside any mention of his wife, 
 and cool loftiness of manner, was calculated to arouse 
 feminine curiosity. 
 
 While her husband was chasing fancied joys, Anne Craw 
 ford was waiting for what she believed to be the great crisis 
 of her married life. Lawyer Keene prepared the case for 
 the calendar, and being a man of perception, was all be 
 nignity and cheerfulness, and he honestly sympathized with 
 Anne. 
 
 Miss Hamilton was extremely nervous and miserable, 
 though she did not interfere. She considered divorce a vul 
 gar proceeding, but she grasped the truth that Anne had a 
 right to do what she considered just. 
 
 "A few years ago you d not be received by decent people," 
 she confided to her niece. You d be ostracised by your best 
 friends, if you divorced your husband. But now the cry 
 is Unlimited Liberty, and if you make a blunder in life, get 
 out of it if you can and profit by the experience." She let 
 Anne ponder on these remarks before adding, "I don t sup 
 pose there is any hope for a reconciliation between you and 
 Hugh." 
 
 "No! Absolutely none," Anne passionately cried. "I 
 wish I had never married him. If he begged me on his 
 knees to forgive him I would be glad to show him how I hate 
 and despise him." 
 
 Miss Hamilton was in a panic at the storm of \vords and 
 for once showed the white feather and hastily left the room ; 
 but Anne did not notice. She was thinking of Charteris 
 words, "Your husband does not show you consideration 
 he seeks fairer shrines. " " Some day I will have my revenge, 
 she muttered between clenched teeth. 
 
 When the divorce was granted, she read the published 
 announcement with keene satisfaction. It was over, and 
 there had been no scandal and less gossip than she feared, 
 while the news-gatherers had not been venomous or inquisi-
 
 DIVORCE. 167 
 
 live. It is true they interviewed Miss Hamilton, who was 
 apparently afflicted with unexpected deafness to such a 
 degree that they left in confusion, feeling much compassion 
 for Mrs. Crawford who had such an eccentric relative for a 
 chaperone. 
 
 "That s the blessing of having money, Anne," Miss Hamil 
 ton laughed wickedly. "As a beloved and talented man 
 once told me, I am called eccentric because I have a little 
 money, but if I were a poor man I d be called a crank. : 
 She looked out of the window and saw a demure young lady 
 descending the front stoop. "That little girl thought she d 
 find me napping. She s every bit as smart as that young 
 fellow who tried to pump me for inside information." 
 
 "Never mind, dear. It s almost over now and you ve been 
 a tower of strength to me." 
 
 Anne again rapaciously entered into excitement, trying to 
 imagine she was satisfied and hoping to stifle the hunger of 
 her heart. She was white and slender as a lily and her eyes 
 seemed deeper pools of passion, while she possessed an inter 
 esting charm of manner that had never been hers in early 
 girlhood. She dressed her body in gorgeous raiment and 
 feverishly sought distraction, endeavoring to find the joy 
 and sweetness in the life that stretched long before her. 
 On all sides she found admiring eyes looking into hers and 
 felt the throb of the love of living, and the joy of youth 
 and its allurements, returning to her. 
 
 She still flirted and trifled, but her experience with Char- 
 teris had been a lesson, and she steered away from serious 
 complications with the delicacy and aplomb of an experienced 
 society woman, listening to many foolish, passionate protesta 
 tions with sweet sympathy, but refusing to be moved or 
 excited, and continued to hold her would-be lovers as friends. 
 
 This new phase in Anne s character was another shock to 
 her aunt.
 
 168 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "It seems unwomanly, and silly, and wrong, to play with 
 hearts as if they were shuttle-cocks," she remonstrated. 
 
 "Oh, hearts are not affected, dear," Anne answered. "They 
 are not in the game. It is only fun. 
 
 "Some day you ll play with fire, and the sparks will burn 
 you." 
 
 "You ll always be near to act as an extinguisher in time 
 of danger," Anne laughed contentedly. "I m glad that 
 some men find me desirable. I want to live and there are 
 men worth loving." 
 
 Her words distressed her aunt and she took the mutinous, 
 young face between her old, plump hands. 
 
 "Yes, dear! There are many men, good and true, and I 
 pray that such a man will bring happiness to you, but I 
 want you to be sure of the affection of the next man who 
 interests you. Don t allow brilliant personality, or gallant 
 promises to lead you into another mistake. Don t marry 
 a man who loves your money, and don t mistake passion for 
 love." 
 
 "Your don ts are not very flattering to me, auntie. Don t 
 you think a man might love me for myself?" 
 
 Anne s red lips parted in a peculiar smile. She appeared 
 to be restless and nervous and Miss Hamilton felt tempted to 
 put her arms around her, but she resisted the impulse. 
 
 "Do you really believe," Anne asked, "that a good man 
 could care for me unselfishly and truly?" 
 
 "Don t be vexed, dear. Such a man might but make him 
 prove it." 
 
 Miss Hamilton stalked away. She saw that she had im 
 pressed Anne and left the room without spoiling the effect 
 of her words. 
 
 When her aunt had gone, Anne sat for a long time think 
 ing over Miss Hamilton s advice and wondering if she had 
 met the man who would prove his unselfishness and good 
 ness.
 
 DIVORCE. 169 
 
 She knew that Richard Seymour, courtly and brilliant, 
 was in love with her. Flattered and sought by mothers with 
 marriageable daughters, Seymour was charming to all, but 
 no woman had disturbed the equanimity of his existence until 
 he saw Anne. She was not attractive when she first left 
 Crawford almost five years before. Her eyes had been hag 
 gard with sleeplessness and sorrow, and she had looked morbid 
 and discontented, but Seymour never forgot the wistful, earn 
 est face. 
 
 He was a middle-aged man who had been around the world, 
 had seen the different sides of society, and was filled with 
 contempt for conventions and fashionable foibles. 
 
 Anne met him at the home of a Mrs Brodie, a lady she had 
 first known in London where she was recognized as one of 
 the most socially influential "commoners," and when the 
 Brodies rented one of the finest houses in Washington, they 
 were warmly welcomed by society, and entertained magnifi 
 cently. 
 
 There was a charming yonng daughter with gracious, in 
 gratiating manners and a voice as sweet as her mother s. 
 Walter Brodie s affairs called him to the west but his absence 
 was only a short one and when Anne entered their drawing- 
 room, the tall, elegant Englishman stood beside his wife. 
 
 His unexpected appearance reminded Anne of the first 
 days of her marriage and a surge of pain, followed by a flash 
 of self-contempt, swept over her, but with an easy smile she 
 held out her hand and after a few words, passed on. In 
 voluntarily Brodie glanced at his wife, surprised at the change 
 in Anne, for the plain little American girl had blossomed into 
 a very attractive woman. 
 
 A few moments later Anne happened to glance toward the 
 hostess who was speaking with a man. He was looking in her 
 direction and their eyes met. The glance was instantaneous, 
 and the color rushed into the man s face, while Anne s heart 
 beat fast with excitement. The look had been pointed but
 
 170 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 not ill-bred, although it contained approval and admiration 
 and the personality of the man made an impression never 
 to be forgotten by Anne Crawford. She suddenly realized 
 that she had the power to compel attention and regard. 
 
 She entered into conversation with an acquaintance but 
 she saw Mrs. Brodie coming toward her, the stranger beside 
 her. 
 
 Dear Mrs. Crawford," Mrs Brodie drawled in her sweet, 
 throaty voice, "I want you to allow me to introduce an old 
 friend. Permit me to present Mr. Seymour." 
 
 With a pleasant word she swept away and Anne, looking 
 up into the self-contained, calm face, felt a new sensation of 
 pride almost a childish satisfaction, that this man had 
 sought her out. People were grouped about the room and 
 the stranger, offering his arm, led her to a seat in a corner, 
 saying : 
 
 "I had the pleasure of seeing you in England some years 
 ago, Mrs. Crawford." 
 
 "In England?" Anne s tone expressed surprise. Surely 
 she could not have forgotten this striking looking man. 
 
 "Yes. I think you were with your maid, coming from 
 France," Seymour replied with an unaffected smile. "I re 
 membered you at once." 
 
 For an instant Anne looked serious, then with a brilliant 
 glance of invitation, made a place for him beside her. 
 
 "It is years since I was in England," she ventured, and 
 feeling very gay and delightful, "Are you sure it was me you 
 saw?" 
 
 "I could not be mistaken," Seymour seriously declared. 
 An involuntary gleam of surprise showed in his dark-gray 
 eyes at Anne s inconsequent laugh. He did not know that 
 it was because of the happiness bubbling up in her heart. I 
 have thought of you frequently," he. added, "and if you 
 will pardon what sounds like an unpardonable liberty, I 
 thought you were a Latin never an American." 

 
 DIVORCE. 171 
 
 Anne s face was beautifully alive and her eyes were shin 
 ing. She was thrilled to know that she commanded the 
 homage of this serious man. 
 
 "But I am American altogether American," she ex 
 claimed, "in spite of my aunt insisting that I am all 
 Spanish. 
 
 She stopped, her cheeks flaming with mortification, real 
 izing that she was confiding childishly to a stranger. 
 
 "Mrs. Crawford," he began in his quiet way, "I hope 
 you will forgive my boldness, but when I saw you to-night 
 I knew that fate had brought me to Washington, and will 
 you grant me a favor ? Just now you spoke of your aunt. 
 Will you permit me to call? I would like to know her." 
 
 Anne had the capacity of feeling keenest emotions. She 
 did not struggle against the ecstasy in her heart and ex 
 claimed. 
 
 "I shall be very glad." 
 
 Her words seemed to possess a prophecy. The remem 
 brance lingered in her memory long after she returned home 
 and lay awake in the solitude of her rooms, and when she 
 fell asleep she was murmuring, "I shall be very glad." 
 
 Within the week he called, and Anne, who appeared calm, 
 was anxiously nervous, wondering what her aunt would 
 think of this new friend. In spite of Seymour s simple air, 
 he disconcerted Miss Hamilton with his democratic thoughts 
 and distinguished manners. 
 
 "I believe he is a rank socialist," she told Anne when 
 he had gone, "but if he is, he s the first one I ever saw who 
 dared wear up-to-date collars or patronize a first-class tailor. 
 Most of them seem to think socialism opposed to ornamenta 
 tion." 
 
 Anne paid no attention to her aunt s criticisms. Life 
 was a glorious dream and she seemed wafted on the wings 
 of contentment while she believed she had never known 
 joy before. She was intoxicated with the assurance that
 
 172 RETURX OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 she was desired for herself and, like a flower, she blossomed 
 under the warmth of Seymour s approval and admiration. 
 
 In studying Anne, we must remember that she was young 
 and ardent; with the same love of adventure that fills the 
 minds of all young people, and that she responded to sensa 
 tions with the warmth of her peculiar nature : with vast 
 impetus hated or loved, and was fierce or gentle as her 
 heart prompted. 
 
 Nearly a year had passed since the night of the Brodie s 
 reception, and Anne had invited a few intimate friends to 
 dine. 
 
 Her drawing-room, brilliantly lighted, was very bright 
 and attractive. Already the musicians had arrived and 
 were tuning up their instruments in the music-room to the 
 right, and in the rear of the hall the dining-room, wainscoted 
 in Spanish walnut and. lighted by a rose tinted dome, which 
 left every thing but the table in semi-darkness, was delight 
 fully attractive. 
 
 Miss Hamilton was detained in conversation with a dec 
 orated foreigner and, although Anne was welcoming the 
 other dinner guests, she saw Richard Seymour, with his 
 usual dignified confidence, coming to claim her. 
 
 "When are you going to give me this?" He pressed her 
 hand as he bowed low and drew her arm within his own. 
 "I have made you a proposal of marriage. You may think 
 it sudden and you may think my words ill-timed, but I only 
 spoke from the great desire in my heart." 
 
 Unconsciously her fingers tightened on his arm. 
 
 "Oh," she whispered, "how could you? Please do not 
 speak of such things now." 
 
 He walked beside her in silence, but he was not discour 
 aged, though he seemed to have banished thoughts of love 
 from his mind. 
 
 During the dinner gayety reigned and all subjects were 
 discussed from social to political scandals, plays, sports,
 
 DIVORCE. 173 
 
 oven the fear Russia was supposed to feel, believing that 
 nihilists were passing in and out of her boundaries, in spite 
 of official vigilance. 
 
 Laying aside sentimentality, Seymour joined in the con 
 versation with quiet impressiveness and, contrary to usual 
 dinners which commence with gayety, the feast ended with 
 stiff ceremony. A constraint was felt a subtle change in 
 the social atmosphere when Seymour asked a few shrewd 
 questions regarding people and conditions. 
 
 Walter Brodie almost forgot his good-breeding as he im 
 pulsively pushed back his chair. With a smile of apology 
 to Anne, Seymour, who had noticed Brodie s movement, 
 exclaimed 
 
 " Please, pardon me. I am forgetting that this is a social 
 hour. I trust you will remember that I am deeply con 
 cerned in industries and conditions and make allowance for 
 my boring you." 
 
 Anne stared at him for an instant, then smiled. 
 
 It is not necessary to offer any excuses. I did not know 
 you were a socialist, but we all read the papers and the 
 whole world (even we weak women) are interested in the 
 problems. 
 
 "Anne is going too far," thought Miss Hamilton, who 
 was thoroughly enjoying herself. "She speaks like a suf 
 fragette." 
 
 With a laughing word to a lady across the table, Anne 
 rose and led the guests from the dining-room. Her social 
 experiences had been extensive and she knew that her 
 friends were interested in the amusing, not the serious, 
 things of life. She cleverly sent a word to the musicians 
 and the chamber music, softly played during the dinner, 
 changed to a dreamy waltz. Society has grown used to 
 dinner dances, and, with much delighted laughter, the 
 diners, including Seymour, turned into the music room. 
 
 Anne was dressed in a magnificent, lavender chiffon, em-
 
 174 RETURN OF "HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 broidered with gold thread. The tight-fitting gown, with its 
 slashes that permitted dancing, was exactly suited to her face 
 and figure and when she walked across the floor, her peculiar 
 Spanish grace of motion brought a glance of fervid admira 
 tion from Seymour s eyes when she approached him. 
 
 Miss Hamilton, cosily resting behind a palm and absently 
 wondering what Anne would suggest next, opened her eyes 
 wide when she hear a voice whisper : 
 
 "Ask me to dance. I love to dance with you." 
 
 It was Anne speaking, and without a word, Seymour 
 encircled her in his arms and they swayed to the music, their 
 pulses leaping as they glided around the room. Hope whis 
 pered to the man s heart. He had the woman he loved in his 
 embrace. He was not too old for romance and did not fear 
 youth s demand for youth. "A man is as old as he feels" 
 why, he was young strong a man, with youth s reliance. 
 
 At last the music stopped but a sweeter and closer inti 
 macy seemed to have established itself between them. Anne 
 felt it and wondered what had happened to change the world. 
 What did it mean ? She was almost irritable at the necessity 
 of entertaining when she longed to be alone and at liberty to 
 analyze ths new emotion which had miraculously given her 
 a victorious sense of power and rapture. 
 
 Seymour s face, flushed and smiling, wore a new expression 
 when, with a courteous gesture, he stepped aside for another 
 partner who was waiting for Anne. 
 
 With an inw r ard sigh she moved away, but the rhythm 
 seemed gone from the music and with a murmured apology 
 she laid her hand on her partner s arm. 
 
 "I do not feel well," she panted, her breath coming in 
 gasps. "Will you ask me again later?" 
 
 The youth, embarrassed and annoyed, was relieved when 
 she added softly, "and please don t misunderstand me. I 
 am very, very tired, and will you take me over to Margaret 
 Brodie?"
 
 DIVORCE. 175 
 
 ."I have brought you a splendid dancer, Margaret," she 
 cried, and smiled with relief when the young couple flashed 
 away over the polished floor. 
 
 "You did not finish your dance, Anne." 
 
 She looked up in response to the exclamation and accepted 
 Seymour s arm without speaking. Ignoring the rest of the 
 guests they walked to the end of the long music room and 
 entered a tiny east chamber. 
 
 "You are very white, dear," he said. "White and sweet as 
 a bride rose. I love you dearly, sweetheart, and my love will 
 never change. It is part of myself. Will you be my wife, 
 Anne?" 
 
 He held her hand and did not try to caress her but by 
 some mysterious comprehension Anne knew that her life 
 was complete. Her blood leaped madly. Within a few feet 
 of them the dancers kept time to the music, but no one seemed 
 to exist save herself and the man beside her. Her eyes grew 
 moist with feeling. 
 
 In consternation he saw the tears. 
 
 "You are not happy you do not care for me?" With 
 unconscious rudeness he demanded, "Are you grieving for 
 Crawford?" 
 
 No, she answered, seeing no impertinence in the question, 
 "I never want to see him again." She looked straight into 
 Seymour s eyes, "I don t know why I am crying. Perhaps 
 the strength of my love for you makes me weak." 
 
 "Anne." 
 
 He was white with emotion and folded her in his arms, 
 whispering words of tenderness and love words balm to 
 her heart. Eloquent outpourings of affection came from his 
 lips and the gates of bliss she had believed closed to her for 
 ever, were opened, longing and love overpowered her and she 
 clung to him,, their lips meeting in an ecstasy of emotion. 
 
 The music ceased and Anne grew a little calmer. At the 
 moment she did not think of the future : the present was seduc-
 
 176 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 tive enough to satisfy her restless soul. She did not think of 
 marriage, but revelled in the thought that she was truly loved. 
 
 A shade of impatience showed on her face when a youth 
 ful head thrust itself between the silken hangings. 
 
 "We want you, Mrs. Crawford," demanded the girl, and 
 with a gentle word to her lover, Anne. returned alone to her 
 guests. 
 
 "You shouldn t hide yourself, dear," Miss Hamilton whis 
 pered reprovingly. "Don t give people a chance to speak 
 unkindly of you." 
 
 "Let them talk," Anne laughed gaily. "Why shouldn t 
 they ? Speech is free whether silver is or not. 
 
 Her aunt was annoyed. 
 
 "You needn t be flippant or try to make fun of me," she 
 said, resentfully. "They want you at the piano. Margaret 
 Brodie has promised to sing if you will accompany her. 
 
 The rest of the evening passed like a dream. Seymour, 
 too deeply in love to think of returning to his club, ordered 
 his chauffeur to drive out of the city and, wrapped in his fur- 
 lined coat, smoked and dreamed. The night was cold and 
 bracing. A pale moon and myriads of stars decorated the 
 dark sky. Seymour did not notice how recklessly they were 
 speeding, nor did he know that the man at the wheel drooped 
 sleepily that his chauffeur had been drinking and was losing 
 control of the machine. 
 
 "My little Anne. I love her and will make her happy," 
 he murmured, as he leaned forward to give the order to re 
 turn to the city, there was a violent impact and then, for 
 him, oblivion. 
 
 When everyone had gone Anne stopped in her aunt s room 
 but did not sit down as usual to chat over the evening s 
 happenings.
 
 DIVORCE. 17U 
 
 "I m sure you re tired, dear," she said, quietly. "Go 
 right to sleep like a good little auntie and we ll talk in the 
 morning. 
 
 She wanted to be alone to recall the words of love and the 
 promises of fidelity and devotion Seymour had poured into 
 her willing ears. He had asked her to be his wife, but the 
 passionate joy seemed to have departed, and a premonition 
 that something was going to happen subdued her ardor. 
 
 A sub-conscious regret dampened her spirits and when she 
 fell asleep she tossed feverishly, and her dreams were not of 
 the present, but of her childhood days with Crawford. 
 
 When she awakened she sat up in bed and threw her hair 
 away from her face, then with a lithe movement she jumped 
 to the floor, and going to one of the windows, opened the 
 curtains, A desire for light and air, a longing for the open 
 country possessed her, and for the first time she was home 
 sick and wanted to return to La Conner. 
 
 Anne was emotional, and the silence of the room, broken 
 by the sounds of the city coming through the open window, 
 gave her a sense of annoyance. Accidentally her right hand 
 closed over her left, and her thumb rested on her wedding 
 ring. She had never removed the golden band which Craw 
 ford had placed on her finger, and a nervous thrill of un 
 easiness caused her to tremble. The words of the wedding 
 service strayed across her mind then the memory of her 
 love for Seymour, her promise, his looks, words and tender 
 hopes, swept over her. 
 
 She drew on a lacy bed-gown lying on the chair beside her, 
 and again threw herself on her bed. With her hands pressed 
 against her eyes as if to shut out unpleasant visions, she lay 
 white and still, while thoughts crowded like living things 
 forcing to be considered, and demanding her to decide the 
 question of her future. Her soul, under the dominion of her 
 early Presbyterian training, thrilled with condemnation and
 
 178 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 fear, and though the love she felt for Seymour remained, she 
 struggled with her conscience. 
 
 How volatile she was and how ineffectually she had 
 guarded her own destiny. She who had so bitterly criticized 
 Crawford for wanting a divorce. She who had once rigidly 
 condemned the remarriage of divorced people. 
 
 With a passionate feeling of self-disillusionment she crossed 
 the room and sitting down at her desk, opened the secret 
 drawer that contained Crawford s letters and the locket hold 
 ing his picture. "There is no thought of another woman," 
 she read. The words seemed to be a burning reproach. He 
 begged for forgiveness. He had not sought consolation in 
 new marriage ties. With a sense of shame she recollected her 
 flirtation with Charteris and every folly of her life during the 
 years she had been separated from her husband seemed to 
 stand accusingly before her, and her love for Seymour ap 
 peared base and wicked. Marriage was an obligation a sac 
 rament not to be set aside. 
 
 Her resolution was made, seriously and finally. She would 
 not see Richard Seymour again. With a glance at the face in 
 the golden setting, smiling at her with boyish satisfaction, she 
 seized her pen and wrote : 
 
 " Forgive me! I am ashamed heartbroken, but what we 
 dreamed of can never be. I cannot marry you, athough I 
 will always love you. 
 
 "There is only one way and that is the right way. I can 
 not see but right is light, though I seem to be lost in the gloom. 
 
 "If you love me, do not write do not try to see 
 
 "ANNE." 
 
 She rang for Dora, who came, bringing a message from Miss 
 
 Hamilton, but Anne interrupted. 
 
 "See that this goes at once. There is no answer." 
 
 Dora noted the tragic, white face with keen anxiety and 
 
 silently took the letter and left the room.
 
 DIVORCE. 179 
 
 For several moments Anne sat motionless, listening to 
 voices droning in the hall below and then silence. The 
 muscles of her face quivered and she broke down. 
 
 She did not know when Dora came back bearing a tray 
 laden with dainty silver and china, and the woman, wise and 
 loving, did not appear to notice that her mistress eyes were 
 red and swollen, but quietly arranged the delicious breakfast, 
 and, placing a vase of flowers in the center of the dishes, car 
 ried the tray with its costly adjuncts to Anne s dressing table, 
 said: 
 
 "Your auntie has a headache, and she is having breakfast 
 in her room. I thought you might be tired, too, Miss Anne, 
 and brought you something." 
 
 She received no answer and with slow steps descended to 
 the basement. Soon an awkward, tawny figure rushed by 
 her and disappeared upstairs; there was a throaty, impatient 
 whine outside of Anne s door and, with a wintry smile, Anne 
 turned the knob and Fifi jumped in, panting and dancing 
 around her mistress. Receiving no attention, she sat up and 
 waved her paws, trying to express sympathy, her wide, red 
 mouth gaping in smilelike perplexity and her tongue rolling 
 out, looking for all the world like a ridiculous gargoyle. 
 
 In spite of her sadness, Anne laughed and petted the cre 
 ature, her impulsive, affectionate nature responding to love 
 even the dumb devotion of a brute. 
 
 When her letter to Seymour had left the house, she felt 
 that a turning-point between right and wrong had been 
 passed. She believed it was not sinful for divorced people 
 to make other marriages if they accepted the new teachings, 
 but she would have felt guilty, and her life would have been 
 miserable. 
 
 She was tired and shaken, but still having enough courage 
 to rouse herself from lethargic despondency, slowly drank a 
 cup of coffee and went to her bath. Her ablutions brought 
 a freshness a delightful sense of relaxation and slipping her
 
 180 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 feet into softly padded mules, she wrapped herself in her loose 
 silken gown and returned to her bedroom. Listlessly walking 
 to the window which Dora had closed, she drew back its hang 
 ings of silk and lace and gazed into the street which was 
 almost deserted in the early morning hour; but she could 
 not control her thoughts from straying and with a sigh, 
 dropped the curtains and reflectively sat down at her desk. 
 
 Crawford s picture still smiled at her and with an im 
 patient exclamation she replaced it with his letters in the 
 drawer where it had rested during the years of their sepa 
 ration. She acknowledged to herself that she had sought a 
 divorce from Crawford only because her pride rebelled at 
 his attentions to other women. It was true she had flirted, 
 and amused herself with the follies of good society, had trifled 
 with conventions, and coquetted, and danced in pleasure s 
 wake, but she had not seriously cared about anything or any 
 body until the warmth of Richard Seymour s love won her 
 heart and brought her face to face with her conscience. 
 
 She had tried to blind herself to believe that his love for 
 her and her love for him, would bring perfect harmony into 
 their lives, and that Crawford s infidelities made her re 
 marriage justifiable; but when she was put to the test, her 
 eyes were opened to the truth and it only needed thoughtful 
 solitude, an old letter and a glimpse of the pictured face of 
 the husband of her youth, to awaken her moral sense and 
 scatter all her hopes into chaos. 
 
 It is possible that if Richard Seymour had again seen Anne 
 Crawford that his deep passion and personal influence would 
 have overcome her scruples, and they might have enjoyed a 
 happy married life together. She craved the domestic joys 
 such a union promised, and he was man enough to hold the 
 deep, mature affection he had aroused : but the great power 
 which determines all things, banished the question out of 
 Anne s life. 
 
 She was growing more composed when the telephone on the
 
 DIVORCE. 181 
 
 table lightly buzzed, and her heart stopped throbbing for an 
 instant. She was extremely nervous and unstrung, and vague 
 fear assailed her. She hesitated before lifting the receiver. 
 The thought that it might be Seymour, begging perhaps de 
 manding as his right, an interview, made her tremble. But 
 it was a woman s voice, deep and vibrating with resonance, 
 the tones so clear and metallic that they rang through the 
 room and Fifi, with a snarl, jumped toward the phone. 
 
 "Yes Anne answered, with her free hand quieting the 
 little beast. "Yes, this is Mrs. Crawford speaking. Oh, Mrs. 
 Brodie, how do you do? No, I have not read this morning s 
 papers An accident Why, no Richard Seymour killed! 
 Oh, impossible." 
 
 Her voice trailed into a wail of agony, but the compelling 
 desire to know the worst brought her mouth again to the 
 phone. 
 
 "Yes, I am still here Oh, it is dreadful I am " but she 
 could not stand the strain and with a whimpering cry she 
 dropped the receiver and fell to the floor. 
 
 The little yellow bulldog stood over her glaring at the 
 swinging tube beside her. Every hair bristled and a stiff 
 brush ran down her back. She sniffed and nosed, her black 
 muzzle twitching, as with nervous whinings she tried to rouse 
 her mistress, but failing to win the usual caress, the worried 
 animal lifted her head and howled, long and piteously, again 
 and again; the wail ringing through the house, each time 
 louder and more frenzied. 
 
 My heavens ! What has happened ? Miss Hamilton cried 
 as she burst into the room followed by Dora and the servants. 
 "Oh, God! Is she dead?" 
 
 She dropped on her knees and half lifted the unconscious 
 head. The lashes lay long and dark, veiling the loved eyes, 
 the features appeared shrunk, and the body was limp. Mo 
 tioning the servants out of the room, Miss Hamilton bared the 
 old breast and laid her devoted gray head over Anne s
 
 swooning heart. She could detect no pulsation, and with 
 working features and tear-dimmed eyes watched the fixed face 
 while Dora poured water between the pale lips. After 
 moments of anxious waiting, the fringed eyelids opened, and 
 with joyous relief Miss Hamilton heard the breath fluttering 
 from the drooping mouth. 
 
 He is gone. He is gone, Anne whispered and turned her 
 head closer to her aunt s breast. "Oh, auntie, thank God he 
 did not- get my letter: he is gone I will never see him 
 again." 
 
 Dora who was thinking of the letter she had taken to the 
 footman to deliver to Seymour, kept her eyes on the carpet. 
 
 "There, there, dearie," Miss Hamilton soothed, "every 
 thing is all right. Don t talk, darling, and try not to think." 
 
 Obeying a gesture, Dora assisted her in lifting the slight 
 form to the bed and sighing deeply, Miss Hamilton drew the 
 coverlit up with caressing fingers. 
 
 She glanced at the table and seeing that the breakfast tray 
 had been disturbed and coffee still remained in the cup, she 
 was at a complete loss to understand what could have oc 
 curred to cause Anne s f aintness or the reason for the strange 
 words she had uttered. 
 
 She turned from the bed to the windows, opening them 
 wide and grasping the curtains, held the cascades of silk and 
 lace in her hands, as they were caught by the draught and 
 billowed into the room like gorgeous balloons. But she sud 
 denly let them go when a newsboy passing the house on the 
 return from his morning rounds, called the sensational news 
 of the day. American troops still in Mexico. Our flag must 
 be saluted. Fatal accident to a philanthropist. Richard 
 Seymour killed in automobile wreck." "Oh," she murmured 
 in horrified tones, "Anne must have heard. Can it be possi 
 ble ? Oh, my poor little girl. I wonder 
 
 Her glance strayed to the desk where the telephone was
 
 DIVORCE. 183 
 
 placed, aiid shaking her head with a pathetic feeling of help 
 lessness, she heavily crossed the room and hung up the re 
 ceiver. 
 
 No one knew of Anne s affection for Seymour, so she had 
 no difficulty in hiding her sorrow, and the shock of his death 
 brought no apparent grief to the heart of the woman he had 
 loved with the single passion of his strong nature, but Anne s 
 life was changed, and all the homage and flattery she had 
 once enjoyed turned to dead-sea fruit. Her keen zest for 
 society and its allurements turned to indifference though she 
 did not remark the change in her nature. 
 
 Seymour s friends were deeply excited over the tragedy 
 and wondered if any secrets in the quiet man s life would be 
 disclosed, or if any claimants would appear if there had 
 been any scandal in his life. But Richard Seymour s papers 
 were found to be most uninteresting to society gossips. There 
 were letters, a few brief notes, and a rather lengthy but ex 
 plicit will, naming Alfred Barrett and another friend of long 
 standing, as executors. 
 
 There was no mention of the woman he loved, but the 
 remembrance of his affection was a treasure always to be 
 cherished in the heart of Anne Crawford. 
 
 Her aunt commenced to notice that while Anne entertained 
 as lavishly, went to dinners and dances, and attended formal 
 gatherings and entertainments, she had grown quieter. She 
 had lost the piquant recklessness of manner which made her 
 so original, and the quiet reserve, which she had thrown 
 aside when she separated from her husband, again showed 
 in her speech and behavior.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 An Accident. 
 
 185
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 
 
 "Well! What do you think of this? I have news that 
 will surprise you." Miss Hamilton looked over her glasses 
 to see if Anne was listening and, satisfied that she had 
 aroused sufficient curiosity, said importantly, "Mr. and Mrs. 
 MacVeety are going to honor us with a call. Ellen writes 
 that she has something beautiful to show us. I can t under 
 stand her letter; she writes very foolishly and mysteriously 
 for a woman of her years." 
 
 "Oh, auntie! I am so glad," Anne exclaimed, a wave of 
 kindly interest lighting up her handsome eyes. "I have 
 never forgotten how sweet she was to me when I visited them 
 in New York. I haven t seen her since then since before I 
 was married. She is such a dear woman. We must make 
 their visit very pleasant. They must stay with us." 
 
 "I have never asked you why you kept away from the 
 Deaks I have tried never to force your confidence, Anne, but 
 I want you to tell me if there was any misunderstanding. 
 Why didn t you call on them or want me to see them, when 
 we were in New York?" 
 
 There was no getting away from Miss Hamilton s point- 
 blank question and Anne answered candidly. 
 
 "I was afraid they would speak of Hugh. Eleanor was 
 very familiar with our friends in Paris and I didn t want 
 to answer questions." 
 
 "When you were at school you were intimate with each 
 other and I suppose she would try to be inquisitive; but it s 
 easy to discourage unpleasant questions and she s a lady. 
 Very likely she d ignore the subject unless you brought it up 
 yourself." 
 
 187
 
 188 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 The bay window of the dining-room where they were talk 
 ing looked upon a tiny patch of garden and the bright light 
 poured directly upon Anne s face, making her black hair and 
 eyes contrast in attractive beauty against the clear whiteness 
 of her skin. She wore a dainty dress of pale blue woolen, and 
 Miss Hamilton regarded her with owlish solemnity for a full 
 moment. 
 
 Anne laughed at the silent scrutiny and her aunt s face 
 relaxed in a smile. 
 
 "You re going to be a beautiful old lady, Anne," she de 
 clared. "You improve as you grow older." 
 
 "If you speak like that I ll believe you are Irish not 
 Scotch," Anne answered, coloring with pleasure. 
 
 "Ellen writes that they will be here early in the after 
 noon," Miss Hamilton said, changing the subject and refer 
 ring to the letter in her hand. She was impressed by the 
 undercurrent of affectionate friendship running through it. 
 although it was written in an intentionally mysterious fash 
 ion. 
 
 The day following, the two women waited as impatiently 
 as children for the outspoken little woman they both loved, 
 and when a large automobile swept up the street and stopped 
 before the house, both Anne and her aunt were peering 
 through the curtains. 
 
 "For the land s sake," squealed Miss Hamilton, surprise 
 making her voice almost an octave higher than its usual low 
 pitch, "if they haven t a baby." 
 
 Andrew MacVeety, large and imposing, tenderly assisted 
 his wee wife from the car and Anne s lips grew cold when 
 she saw Eleanor Hardeen and little Phil follow. 
 
 In a few minutes the footman ushered in the visitors, but 
 Miss Hamilton brushed him aside with welcoming words on 
 her lips and the two older women kissed each other warmly, 
 while their faces glowed with feeling as they exchanged 
 greetings.
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 189 
 
 "It seems ages since we saw each other last and I couldn t 
 pass through Washington again without seeing you dear 
 people," Mrs. MacVeety exclaimed as she turned and clasped 
 Anne s hands. "And Eleanor wanted to have a talk with you 
 you haven t seen each other for years." 
 
 She turned her glance to Eleanor who nodded and blushed, 
 fearing her aunt s penetrating eyes. 
 
 It was true that Eleanor Hardeen and Anne had not met 
 face to face since their winter in Paris, and the remembrance 
 of her indifference to Hugh Crawford s wife and of which 
 she had repented, made Eleanor red with confusion; but 
 Mrs. MacVeety broke in upon the unpleasant moment. Leav 
 ing the two young women facing each other, she turned to her 
 friend. 
 
 Well, Mary Hamilton and this is the first time you have 
 met Andrew, or seen my baby, she burst out. She smiled af 
 fectionately at her husband then taking the child from the 
 nurse s arms, tenderly lifted the veil and disclosed a beau 
 tiful, smiling infant. 
 
 "Isn t she a beauty, Mary? I knew I d give you a sur 
 prise," Mrs. MacVeety cried, proudly returning Miss Hamil 
 ton s gaze of astonishment. "I wasted so many years dally 
 ing, before marrying Andrew, that the Lord punished me by 
 giving me no babies of my own, but Andrew and I both 
 wanted a child so we ve adopted our little daughter. She s 
 going to have red hair like her new papa and I think she 
 looks like Andrew." 
 
 At this astonishing declaration everyone laughed and the 
 atmosphere was cleared. With her talent for managing men 
 (and women) the middle-aged mother placed the baby in 
 Miss Hamilton s arms and told the nurse to amuse little Phil 
 who had grown into a lusty lad. Andrew MacVeety dis 
 creetly directed his attention to the pictures and superb fur 
 nishings of the white and gold drawing-room.
 
 190 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 Anne and Eleanor, their voices lowered, had retreated to 
 the inner parlor. 
 
 "You were surprised to see me, Anne?" 
 
 Eleanor put her hand on the other s shoulder. She noted 
 that Anne winced at the familiarity but she was going to do 
 what she could to regain her friend s good opinion. 
 
 "You purposely kept away from me whenever you were 
 in New York although we have frequently been very near each 
 other, and you did not answer any of my letters. I don t 
 intend that you shall ignore me any more." 
 
 Anne flushed with anger but did not speak. All the bit 
 terness and humiliation of her winter in France returned 
 with stinging memory, and she was still jealous of Eleanor. 
 She was fearful of betraying her feelings and drew a long 
 trembling breath before answering. 
 
 "Don t speak to me of Paris, I 
 
 You returned so unexpectedly that I had no opportunity 
 of seeing you," Eleanor purposely interrupted, "and I hoped 
 you would send me a line. I returned very soon after Mr. 
 Crawford was on the same steamer but I m a wretched sailor 
 and did not see him until the day we reached New York. He 
 was going to you, I suppose. He made his formal call before 
 he returned to Europe and I was sorry you were not with 
 him." 
 
 The few words cleared many suspicions from Anne s mind, 
 and Eleanor purposely ignored the estrangement between the 
 Crawfords, apparently unaware of the divorce. 
 
 "You have grown into a beauty, Anne. What has changed 
 the little mouse into a butterfly?" 
 
 She could have cried with relief when she saw a smile 
 across Anne s lips and felt more cordiality in Anne s man 
 ner. 
 
 "At heart I am anything but a butterfly, Eleanor." 
 
 Anne was wondering how she could blame Eleanor for 
 flirting. She who had been so frivolous and weak. "Very
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 191 
 
 likely I exaggerated everything," she thought, scornfully 
 blaming herself, and her lips parted in the smile that made 
 her really beautiful. 
 
 "Auntie and I have been veritable gypsies. We ve roved 
 all over the States during the past few years, going where and 
 when our fancy led. I m afraid we neglected many of our 
 old friends why we have not even been home to La Conner. 
 But I am very glad you came to see me. Won t you and little 
 Phil stay with us for a while?" 
 
 "Oh, thank you, Anne dear, I would love to, but father is 
 waiting for us in New York. He can t bear the boy out of his 
 sight they adore each other but some other time I will be 
 very glad." 
 
 Each knew that the barrier of misunderstanding was 
 broken down, and they carried restored friendship in their 
 hearts when they returned to the drawing-room where the 
 two older women were crooning over the baby, who regarded 
 them with great wondering, blue eyes. 
 
 "Anne, you are going to write to me? We re the same 
 good friends?" Eleanor whispered when they were leaving. 
 
 Yes, indeed I will, and thank you for coming, Eleanor. 
 There was a slight tremor in Anne s voice but her eyes 
 beamed with good will. "I m sorry we couldn t prevail on 
 YOU to remain." 
 
 When they were snugly settled in their car and on their 
 way back to New York, Mrs. MacVeety turned to Eleanor. 
 
 "Well! You crawled out of an unpleasant situation very 
 gracefully, dear. I didn t know you had so much diplo 
 macy." 
 
 "Diplomacy? What do you mean?" 
 
 "I suppose you explained that it was very proper and 
 usual for Anne s good-looking fool of a husband to follow 
 you across the Atlantic. I d like to see myself traveling with
 
 192 
 
 a maid and allowing Andrew to neglect me while he made 
 an ass of himself running after another woman." 
 
 Eleanor smiled into the wrathful face and her aunt added : 
 
 "You needn t grin." 
 
 "You re all wrong, aunt Ellen. I did not see Mr. Craw 
 ford but once during the voyage. We do not like each other. 
 He is not good enough for Anne." 
 
 "If I judged you wrongly, I want you to forgive me, but 
 it certainly looked suspicious. I m mighty glad if you didn t 
 help to put the tragedy I see in Anne s eyes. 
 
 Ellen MacVeety, her life tranquil and complete, forgot. the 
 conversation but Eleanor did not. 
 
 "I wish I had a baby," Anne declared after the friends had 
 gone. "I feel in love w r ith their little one. Didn t it crow 
 and gurgle when you held it?" 
 
 "If you ever marry again your wish will very likely be 
 gratified," Miss Hamilton smiled with perfect understanding 
 of Anne s outburst. You come of British blood. The old 
 country people usually have big families and are proud of it 
 and it s quite natural for a woman to want children. If I 
 had married, I would have prayed for a round dozen. It s 
 been a calamity to me that I have no children of my own. 
 
 "Never you mind, auntie," laughed Anne cheerfully, 
 "We re not dead yet." 
 
 She slipped her arm around Miss Hamilton s waist and 
 they ascended the stairs. Outside of her aunt s room she 
 said she was going to answer some long neglected letters and 
 thoughtfully went to her own suite. 
 
 Life seemed tame and uninteresting and Eleanor s visit had 
 awakened thoughts of the past. The years since their last 
 meeting had been full of excitement, dressing and dining, 
 laughing and dining, mingled with regrets and tears. They 
 had been unsatisfactory and after the tragedy of Seymour s
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 193 
 
 death, the daily round of social demands proved monotonous 
 and odious to Anne. She longed for a different life. Her 
 mind fluctuated between plans and projects. She was un 
 decided whether to remain in Washington or seek peace in 
 travel. Although she was homesick for the old home in La 
 Conner, she had not the courage to return to her friends who 
 were also the friends of Hugh. 
 
 She could not compose herself to write and, visibly de 
 pressed, returned to her aunt. Outside the door of Miss 
 Hamilton s rooms she tried to throw aside the melancholy 
 mood and something of the spirit of her adventurous for 
 bears showed in her restless eyes. In the afternoon light, the 
 rooms appeared very luxurious, seductive and beautiful, but a 
 wild desire for freedom from conventions a yearning for 
 adventure possessed her and she looked around discontent 
 edly. 
 
 "I m tired of everything! I want to get away from the 
 house." She took a swift step toward her aunt. "I m wasting 
 my life and yours. Nothing we do seems worth while, 
 auntie." 
 
 Miss Hamilton looked up with an instinct of alarm at 
 Anne s outburst, and though her heart was troubled, she was 
 aroused to angry response. 
 
 "You are talking at random. It s the selfishness of the 
 life you lead that makes you dissatisfied. You think only of 
 yourself and your own sensations. Go among the poor and 
 visit a hospital, or interest yourself in some of the helpless 
 children needing money and love. I was much more happy 
 before I came here to live. Washington is all right but I 
 prefer my old home. You prate about society here. Why, 
 there is no society as I know the word. It is all senseless 
 competition and ostentation. I don t find much friendship 
 beneath the fulsome attentions your money attracts." 
 
 "You scold me because you are homesick," Anne leaned
 
 194 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 forward. "Philanthropy is a species of self-indulgence too. 
 A selfish longing to please God and man, and a chance to 
 glorify yourself instead of your Father in heaven. Of 
 course I m not personal, auntie. I don t mean that you are 
 not always actuated by unselfish motives, for your life hag 
 been a proof of your loving kindness, but most people take 
 sociology as a tonic for tired consciences. I have nagged you 
 into a bad humor but when you get over it you will enjoy 
 the gay whirl again." 
 
 "For the land s sake, Anne Crawford," Miss Hamilton an 
 swered indignantly, do you think I m crazy or that I could 
 ever like this big city where humanity stews or freezes, and 
 you can live for years without knowing your next door neigh 
 bor? If it wasn t for you, I d go straight home as fast as 
 the Express could take me." 
 
 Anne sighed and looked solemn. She did not know it, but 
 society was as unsatisfying to her as it was to her aunt and 
 the influence of Seymour s teachings were bearing fruit. She 
 did not want to belong to the idle rich. She came from a 
 thoughtful, steadfast, brave race, and her ancestors had 
 known their convictions and lived up to them. The general 
 stir in the social world and the demonstrations she had seen 
 and heard of among the working people made her realize that 
 something was gravely wrong, and gradually she was awaken 
 ing to the uselessness of the life she led. 
 
 "I am proud and stiff-necked, and terribly selfish," she 
 admitted to herself. "Do you remember what Mr. Seymour 
 used to tell me?" she asked her aunt, "about tainted 
 money " 
 
 "My dear," Miss Hamilton answered sharply, "our money 
 is not tainted." 
 
 "I was only wondering " 
 
 "Well, don t wonder too much. You d find it mighty dis 
 agreeable to be without the mighty dollar. You can do your 
 duty without destroying the peace of mind a good income in-
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 195 
 
 sures." Miss Hamilton was very much embarrassed because 
 she was a church woman, an earnest worker among the poor, 
 and a greater philanthropist than was generally known. 
 She concluded that improper ideas of benevolence might de 
 velop charitable snobs. Remember your blessings and be 
 happy, to be merry does best become you, ! she quoted. 
 "Smile and restrain exaggerated fancies. You look as glum 
 as an owl." 
 
 "Let us go somewhere and make an evening of it among 
 new surroundings just you and I," Anne suggested. "Let 
 us make believe that we don t know a soul in the city and 
 are travelling, with a few hours and fewer dollars to throw 
 away. Let us ride on the street cars and go to a restaurant 
 downtown and visit the movies. 
 
 "But we wouldn t know how to get around. You wouldn t 
 know where to go." Miss Hamilton demurred, alarmed at 
 the thought of running around Washington after dark with 
 out an escort. "It seems very foolish to go to strange places 
 when you have every comfort at home and " 
 
 "But we can always have home, " Anne interrupted, "I 
 want to steal you away and see something different. I ll be 
 your beau." 
 
 In spite of herself, Miss Hamilton was delighted to see 
 the old cajolery returning to Anne s manner and beamed her 
 consent. The footman was very much surprised to see the 
 "ladies," plainly dressed, go from the house on foot, and 
 without leaving any instructions, walk briskly along the street 
 and turn the corner. 
 
 When they were out of sight he hunted up Dora, hoping 
 to enjoy a little gossip with the middle-aged woman who had 
 awakened ambitious sentiments in his youthful heart. But 
 Dora, although very much puzzled that her beloved Miss 
 Anne had not confided in her, did not appear pleased with 
 the man s inquisitiveness and loftily informed him that he
 
 196 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 was paid to be seen and not heard, and the knight-of-the- 
 front-door retreated, feeling very much like a reproved child. 
 
 "Hurry, auntie!" Anne saw an approaching car and 
 signalled it to stop. She did not dare to smile when she 
 bustled Miss Hamilton up the steps and paid the fare, for 
 the breathless lady was squeezed between two fat men. When 
 the conductor called their street they slowly pushed through 
 the crush of men and women, and stepped to the pavement. 
 
 Their first impression was of bewilderment but the subtle 
 pleasure of being included in the great work-a-day world 
 permeated them and joining the people passing and ignoring 
 them, they moved along with the crowd. 
 
 "Oh, my dear! What a dreadful hurry everyone is in," 
 Miss Hamilton cried with an excited laugh, "they all seem 
 to be going somewhere.," 
 
 "We re going somewhere, too," Anne flashed, "we re on 
 our way." 
 
 A brilliantly lighted restaurant, with white draped win 
 dows through which palms and candle-shaded tables could be 
 seen, conveyed an invitation. 
 
 "This place looks nice," Anne exclaimed impetuously, and 
 guided her aunt through the door. The head-waiter escorted 
 them with quiet ceremony to a small table at the side of the 
 long room, and a waiter brought napkins and glasses, leaving 
 a pencil and pad beside each plate. The place was almost 
 filled with quiet men and women, well-dressed and well-man 
 nered. 
 
 "Let us try their regular dinner," suggested Anne. "It 
 may be very good." 
 
 "We don t have to eat it if it isn t," her aunt answered. 
 "I suppose this is what is called being Bohemian. 
 
 Anne laughed merrily. She wondered what Miss Hamilton 
 would have said if she knew of some of the "Bohemian rev 
 els" Hugh had enjoyed in his student days, and which he had 
 explained to his wife with embarrassing frankness, but she
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 197 
 
 kept her thoughts to herself and looked with interest at the 
 waiters carrying dishes. Both women were hungry, and dur 
 ing the first portion of the dinner openly enjoyed its excel 
 lence. The service was admirable and when the coffee was 
 brought they were in splendid humor. It was almost eight 
 o clock when they left the restaurant, and they knew where 
 they would spend the evening. 
 
 Looking through the amusement column in the evening 
 paper they decided upon a picture house in the vicinity and, 
 after paying their bill, again joined the mass of men and 
 women walking in the street. 
 
 A group stood at the door of the theatre, and Anne drew 
 her aunt to the entrance, but she had forgotten to buy 
 tickets and had to retreat. 
 
 "Isn t it fun," she whispered. "I never realized how 
 useful a man can be. I feel a better appreciation of the 
 sterner sex." 
 
 But Miss Hamilton did not like to be pushed and crowded, 
 and was too worried to share Anne s joyous mood, though she 
 clung to the slim arm holding her own and intended to act 
 as if she were having a good time. 
 
 In a twinkling they were in the darkened playhouse and 
 seated. The tired woman settled herself in her chair and her 
 timidity gave way to delight, for the pictures Avere good, 
 portraying the minutest details of a rural romance. While she 
 watched the figures moving among the trees and long grasses, 
 she sank even more happily in her seat. Sunlight seemed 
 to be flooding the scene, and in the background, the perspec 
 tive rolled into promising harvests. 
 
 "It is beautiful," she whispered. "It reminds me of the 
 fields at home." 
 
 Anne made no answer, but squeezed her aunt s arm. She 
 liked the pictures, but was more soothed by the sweet persua 
 sive tones of the violin vibrating in a minor key, and her mind 
 was resting. She felt more tranquil than she had for months.
 
 198 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 . When they groped their way through the semi-darkness 
 and paused in the lighted foyer, the lights were bewildering. 
 
 "Are you tired?" she asked. "Where shall we go now?" 
 
 "Suppose we go home?" 
 
 "It has been quite an exciting day, and it will be nice 
 to get our things off. You ve been a darling to humor me." 
 
 They waited patiently for the street car. Time had crept 
 upon them unaware and it was after ten o clock before they 
 reached their residence. The few hours of different environ 
 ment awakened a curious, delightful appreciation of homo, 
 and Anne drew a long breath of satisfaction when she 
 entered the house. Contentment filled her heart and she 
 was in a tender mood when she insisted on Miss Hamilton 
 coming to her boudoir where she placed her in her own 
 favorite chair. 
 
 Now sit still and let me wait on you, she insisted, and 
 drew the pins from Miss Hamilton s hat. "You re not 
 afraid of being kept awake, are you? Would you like a 
 cup of tea?" 
 
 A decided tap came on the door and without waiting for 
 permission, Dora entered the room with a telegram in her 
 hand. 
 
 "This has just come, Miss Anne," she apologized. "I 
 thought you d want it at once." 
 
 Anne extended her arm and took the message. She 
 helped Miss Hamilton remove her wraps and laid aside her 
 own furs, while Dora made tea, then she carelessly tore off 
 the end of the envelope she had kept crushed in her hands. 
 
 As she read, her face seemed to age and grow black with 
 anger and her full red lips tightened into a red line. 
 
 "What on earth is the matter now?" Miss Hamilton de 
 manded irritably. "God bless us, Anne. You look like a 
 fury." 
 
 Anne put her hand to her throat as if to loosen the already 
 free collar. She was conscious of nothing but bitter rage
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 199 
 
 and satisfaction. At last she was going to have the gratifica 
 tion of returning the insults and humiliations her husband 
 had showered on her in this very house to which he now 
 desired to return the house where she had lived for six 
 long years, trying to forget him. 
 
 She flung the message into Miss Hamilton s lap, crying, 
 "Read that." 
 
 The tired old woman wearily passed her glasses over her 
 eyes and read: 
 
 Am in New York. Will be with you to-morrow night. 
 
 HUGH CRAWFORD." 
 
 She forgot her fatigue and jumped to her feet. 
 
 Oh, Anne, she exclaimed, Have you been corresponding 
 with Hugh? Have you made up?" 
 
 No, indeed I have not ! " . Anne s face was distorted with 
 flaming anger. I have not heard directly from him for years, 
 and I have never answered his letters. I did not know he 
 was in America. But I am glad I am to have the chance to 
 show him how I despise him how I detest him." 
 
 "Don t see him, dear," her aunt pleaded. "He always 
 had a powerful influence over you and he was your husband, 
 but Anne, he is less than a stranger to you now. An inter 
 view will only re-open old wounds and it can do no good. He 
 wants something or he would not come to you. 
 
 "Of course he wants something," Anne answered quickly. 
 "Can t you understand that I m glad he s coming? What 
 ever he wants will be refused. I am a different being from 
 the girl he insulted and deserted, and I want to order him out 
 of my house. I want to hurt him humiliate him disgrace 
 him." 
 
 "Tut, tut!" Miss Hamilton objected. ""Melodrama is all 
 very effective in novels and with play-actors, but you re living 
 in the twentieth century and the laws of your country freed 
 you from him at your own request, and if you make a
 
 200 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 hysterical show of yourself, you ll be the laughing stock of 
 every one. If you don t want to see him, tell your butler 
 not to admit him or let me have a few words with him. It 
 would do us both good. 
 
 She turned to leave the room and Anne, seized with sudden 
 remorse, put her arms around the old lady s neck. 
 
 "We ll talk it over in the morning, dear," she promised. 
 "Dora will take your tea to you, now I want to be alone. 
 I m going to think it all out by myself, auntie, but I want 
 you to forgive me for bringing such trouble to you. Be 
 patient with me and love me." 
 
 "Why, bless you, child!" her aunt cried with streaming 
 eyes, "I d love you even if you were fool enough to re-marry 
 the wretch."
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 A Warning. 
 
 201
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A WABNING. 
 
 Since Crawford s last visit to Paris the seasons had passed 
 quickly and gayly ; spring, summer, autumn, and winter, com 
 ing with hopes and promises, and each in its passing making 
 room for its follower. The American, as well-groomed and 
 superbly conceited as ever, roamed from city to city, rest 
 lessly seeking amusement and self-indulgence. 
 
 He frequently spent a few weeks in Vienna when the 
 Ramoniffs were there, sunning himself in the warmth of the 
 smiles of the beautiful Sonia. He tried to appear indifferent 
 when she rallied him about his amours but his vanity told him 
 that a real jealousy lay under her laughing words. 
 
 "You laugh and drink and enjoy what you think is life," 
 she told him one evening when they were together in the 
 lovely gardens of her home in Vienna, but you do not know 
 yourself. You have never found the real Hugh. Life has 
 been too pleasant for you, and you need incentive, work, 
 struggle, to know the joy of living." 
 
 "You are growing very wise, my beautiful Sonia," Craw 
 ford replied as he guided her to a seat. The sweet, warm air 
 touched their faces as gently as a caress, and he smiled under 
 the cover of the shadows. "I don t say you are wrong and 
 you may be right, but don t think of sage advice, or common 
 sense. Think only of this wonderful night and sentiment, and 
 love, and think a little of my adoration for you." 
 
 She laughed lightly, but lay her hand wearily on his arm. 
 
 "Hugh, you do not really care for anyone. You cultivate 
 pretty women and are agreeable to them, as you are to me, 
 simply because you find us amusing, but you are never seri 
 ous." 
 
 203
 
 204 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "I am serious when I tell you that I love you," Crawford 
 protested. "You are too proud to me, Sonia. If you would 
 only give me proof that you cared for me, there never would 
 be anyone else." 
 
 He held her hand closely between his own and bent his 
 head to her, then lifting the soft fingers to his lips, kissed 
 each rosy tip. 
 
 Madame Ramoiiiff laughed, but did not withdraw her hand. 
 A fleeting impulse to send Crawford away a half-resolve 
 to break their friendship a consciousness that their esteem 
 was growing too much like love crossed her brain, but she 
 hesitated and the feeling was unheeded. With graceful im 
 petuosity she rose to her feet and, followed by the American, 
 wandered along the shadowy path that led to the house. 
 
 "You are unkind to me," he murmured while he walked 
 beside her. Crawford was weak by disposition and his passion 
 made him imagine he was madly in love, though in reality it 
 was the fever of desire the longing to possess this beautiful 
 woman, that consumed him. 
 
 "That is not true. I am very good to you always," she 
 responded with the brilliant animation that was one of her 
 many charms. "I think you should be the happiest man in 
 the world." 
 
 "Why should I be happy when the only woman I care for 
 in all the world, is not kind to me ? " 
 
 They crossed the threshold of the stately mansion and passed 
 up the ornately ornamented staircase. The magnificently 
 florid decorations, the effulgent chandeliers, the rare tapestries 
 and works of art, made a fitting setting for the splendid 
 looking man and superb woman. 
 
 Madame Ramoniff were a richly embroidered dinner gown. 
 She carried her train over her arm as she had lifted it in the 
 garden, and its pliant folds fell like a shimmering scarf from 
 her perfect arm. On the laces clouding her white breast,
 
 A WARNING. 205 
 
 diamonds sparkled and gleamed, and her eyes glowed brighter 
 than her jewels. 
 
 Boris Ramoniff watched her moving among their friends, 
 her cheeks glowing, and evidently delighted to be in the com 
 pany of the American. 
 
 She bowed carelessly to her husband when he came forward. 
 
 Sonia is very lovely, but she is also very foolish, he mut 
 tered to himself, and an amused tolerance showed in his wife s 
 smile when he calmly moved to her side, and with a word of 
 dismissal to Crawford, she turned from him to her husband. 
 
 "Where have you been, Boris?" she asked kindly. "Have 
 you too been in the garden? The night is perfect." 
 
 "I have been with the children," he answered coldly. "I 
 will be glad when we return to Russia." 
 
 An impatient reply rose to Sonia s lips, but she repressed 
 it. She knew that Ramoniff s words were intended to con 
 vey a reproof that he thought she shirked her duties and 
 neglected her children, but she answered pleasantly, 
 
 "You know I do not love Russia as you do, Boris, but it is 
 your country, and the children were born there. They are 
 always happy to return to Petersburg." 
 
 "Why not go with them to our estates in the Interior. At 
 this time of the year the country will be delightful. It would 
 please me, Sonia." 
 
 This is hardly the hour to speak of it, Boris, but I could 
 not think of going there now. You must consider my feel 
 ings a little." 
 
 Ramoniff reddened under his dark skin, but he was aware 
 that his amiable wife would allow nothing to interfere with 
 her amusements, and no thought of himself, or their two beau 
 tiful boys in the nursery, would influence her to change her 
 plans for a season of gayety. But he adored her, and though 
 chagrined at her constant disregard of his wishes, did not try 
 to assert his authority.
 
 206 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 She is the mother of my boys. She is my wife and she 
 loves me," he thought while he watched her moving awar 
 from him. 
 
 Sonia Ramoniff was sauntering through the rooms expect 
 ing to find Crawford waiting for her, but he had returned 
 to the garden. She wondered if he were alone and, with a 
 little laugh at her thoughts, joined a group watching one of 
 the card tables. 
 
 Boris Ramoniff watched, but did not again approach her, 
 and his thin face gave no indication of the thoughts teeming 
 through his brain. 
 
 In October the Ramoniffs were in Paris. Of course they 
 again met Crawford at the houses of mutual friends. They 
 dined and motored, and Boris Ramoniff spent many hours at 
 his clubs, and a few on the Bourse, while his wife was one 
 of the most admired beauties, apparently unconscious of the 
 admiring attention she excited whenever she appeared. Her 
 daring was marvellous and her vivacious animation astonishing, 
 but she did not consider that she was doing anything wrong in 
 taxing the toleration of her friends and her husband s patience. 
 
 When she motored through the Champs Ely sees with her two 
 boys beside her, she was a picture, sweet and maternal. 
 
 She was riding with her children on a crisp morning, en 
 joying the biting air, when at the entrance to the "Bois," 
 her car passed the coupe of the Marquise Tania. With a 
 haughty glance, Sonia Ramoniff looked at the mysterious and 
 elegant Russian woman she had frequently met when Boris 
 Ramoniff first took her as a bride to St. Petersburg, and witli 
 a shock, met Hugh Crawford s blue eyes. 
 
 He was seated by the Marquise, but with discretion, forced 
 his eyes to glance away from the lovely mother. 
 
 Sonia Ramoniff felt her lips grow cold. She knew the 
 history of the Marquise knew that she was ostracised by
 
 A WARNING. 207 
 
 society, and had been banished from Russia on account of 
 her intrigues, and Sonia indignantly wondered why Craw 
 ford should allow himself to be seen with her. 
 
 I will tell Hugh who she is. It is all very well to have 
 sympathy and to be generous, but he can find friends less 
 dangerous than the Marquise Tania. " 
 
 She did not know that jealousy prompted the sudden resolu 
 tion, and was quite unaware that Crawford s inclination for 
 the society of the Russian woman caused her to feel hurt and 
 offended. 
 
 That evening Crawford went to see her. She was alone 
 when his card was brought to her, and her face flushed and 
 her heart thrilled agreeably. 
 
 She saluted him graciously and smiled softly while she 
 fumbled with a string of pearls that caressed her throat and 
 fell belew her waist. 
 
 "There is something I want to tell you, Hugh," she said 
 hesitatingly, "It is about the woman I saw with you today, 
 the Marquise Tania. I want to give you a warning." 
 
 Sonia Ramoniff was dressed in a soft, silken gown of pink, 
 and the string of magnificent pearls around her throat were 
 her only jewels. Her face looked lovely, her hair more 
 tawny, her eyes more like sapphires and her beauty seemed 
 more alluring than ever to Crawford when he looked at her, 
 surprised that this aristocratic, delicate mondaine should 
 speak to him of Tania. He did not feel any affection for the 
 Russian, but he remembered her unfaltering fondness, her 
 unchanging good nature and flattering attentions. Tania had 
 treated him well had been more than kind to him, and his 
 American love of fairness made him resentful when her name 
 was mentioned unpleasantly, even by the woman whose favor 
 he was trying to win. He hoped Sonia was not going to tell 
 him any unpleasant history. He didn t want to hear it. 
 
 "She is not permitted to enter Russia," babbled Sonia, 
 "and her father was one of the most dangerous
 
 208 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 Oh, I say!" Crawford interrupted, flushing deeply. "I 
 won t ride with her if you don t want me to, but don t let us 
 discuss her, or her unhappy past. She has been uncommonly 
 pleasant to me, and you and she are as far apart as if you 
 lived on different planets." 
 
 "But she is under surveillance, Hugh." 
 
 "All right, dear! I ll be careful. Can t you understand 
 that I don t want you to speak of her. She s a good sort, but 
 she s on the wrong side of the fence. Tell me of yourself and 
 of your plans. When are you going to Russia ? 
 
 Madame Ramoniff smoothed a crease in her gown with a 
 rosy forefinger. 
 
 "We leave here in a month or six weeks perhaps before. 
 Are you coming to St. Petersburg this winter?" 
 
 Do you want me to ? There is nothing I would not do for 
 you. I would follow you to the end of the world for a word 
 of welcome." 
 
 "That is very sweetly said, but there are many attractions 
 in St. Petersburg, she replied. And you know I am always 
 glad to see my friends and especially you. Do you remem 
 ber when I taught you the mazouka ? You were such a hand 
 some boy. It was long before you were married." 
 
 " I do remember. I shall never forget when I first saw you. 
 I was heartbroken to learn that you had a husband, although 
 you were too noble too high for me," Crawford murmured 
 moodily. Love does not level rank in spite of intermarriages. 
 It is money that apparently equalizes classes." 
 
 "Oh, my dear, sad Hugh," she tantalized, "but I was mar 
 ried before I met you, and you did not marry your gentle 
 wife until long after. " She laughed musically. "So you were 
 not so much attached to me after all." 
 
 "Do not speak of my marriage or my wife," he cried 
 sharply, and Sonia was delighted to see an expression of pain 
 cross his face. She did not know of the serious trouble be- 
 between Crawford and Anne, and thought he repented his
 
 A WARNING. 209 
 
 marriage on her account. I have but one wish one desire, 
 Crawford continued passionately. It is to be near you. 
 Will you ask me to meet you in St. Petersburg ? 
 
 "I shall be glad to see you." 
 
 Was it the voice of destiny that whispered the sudden warn 
 ing that made her struggle against Crawford s influence. 
 
 "Yes!" she added clearly, "we both shall be very glad." 
 
 "Yes, we both shall be very glad." 
 
 Boris Ramoniff did not appear to notice the consternation 
 on the faces of the man and woman who looked at him with 
 amazement. Each was wondering how long he had been in 
 the room. But they need not have feared, for Ramoniff ha d 
 only heard, "We both shall be very glad," and the hus 
 band s heart was happy.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 The Revolutionists. 
 
 211
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE REVOLUTIONISTS. 
 
 Although he was being dragged into a net of alarming 
 circumstances and mysterious plots and catastrophe loomed 
 ahead of him, nothing unusual seemed to have happened 
 to Crawford. 
 
 He did not know that he was assistant and associate of 
 revolutionists and ignorantly served the cleverest and most 
 energetic society in Europe. 
 
 He abandoned himself to excesses, using up his splendid 
 vitality in eager but ineffectual efforts to forget the divorce, 
 and a vindictive hatred of Keene, who had sent him the 
 notice of the decree, rose up in him. For days he hid him 
 self in his charming apartment, watched over by the devoted 
 Saunders, until Paris gayeties gradually overcame his rnood- 
 iness, and he forgot a great deal even conscience and 
 self-respect. 
 
 He was a constant caller at the Marquise Tania s home. 
 
 There was no denying the beauty of the Russian woman 
 who used every charm to appeal to the American s senses 
 and, with tactful skill, held his confidence. Her rooms 
 were always gay and attractive, and often crowded with 
 men and women celebrated on the stage, or in brilliant, if 
 questionable society ; laughing, drinking, smoking and gam 
 bling. Many of the women were young and wore costly 
 clothes and many jewels, and the men, intelligent and 
 genial, joined them in flattering attentions to the wealthy 
 Crawford. 
 
 But he did not know that sometimes the Marquise Tania, 
 dressed as a servant, would e scape the watchful eyes of the 
 Paris authorities and leave the aristocratic neighborhood 
 
 213
 
 214 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 where she lived, and join the members of the Cause in the 
 poorest part of the city; but when special meetings were 
 called, the revolutionists gathered in the severely furnished 
 chamber in her apartment, some dressed as if for a night of 
 gayety and others as middle-class merchants, while many 
 wore the garb of servants or ouvriers. Among the zealous 
 workers could be found men trusted and honored in the 
 highest positions of State, whose intimate knowledge of 
 affairs made them powerful and invaluable members. Then 
 the doors would be guarde.d by stalwart men, and the 
 assembly would be seated before the mistress of the house, 
 gliding to her seat of honor, would still the murmur of 
 half-stifled whispers by a gesture which brought dead 
 silence, and with eyes challenging the burning eyes staring 
 at her, she breathed one word, which was answered by a 
 unanimous response. 
 
 Hugh Crawford would have been amazed to hear his own 
 name occasionally mentioned, although, as the "chien de 
 Tama," he was more frequently spoken of, for as the faith 
 ful dog who fetched and carried dangerous messages at her 
 command, he was scoffed at by this powerful society; not 
 because he served their leader, but because his weak suscept 
 ibility to flattery, and not his interest in any attacks on 
 individuals or governments, made him a helpful, though 
 unconscious agent. 
 
 It was early December and Crawford was preparing to 
 leave France for Russia. 
 
 The Marquise Tania knew of this and for that very reason 
 had called together the group of men united in devotion to 
 their Cause. The premeditated journey of the unsuspicious 
 American acted like a tonic to most of the faithful band 
 who had assumed the dangerous role of "Liberators" and 
 imparted new strength of spirit and energy of mind to 
 upset the nations, and in its place set up what they consist 
 ently believed to be liberty.
 
 THE REVOLUTIONISTS. 215 
 
 Down deep in the soul of every one lies a sleeping indi 
 viduality. Sometimes it is never awakened, and men live 
 and die without knowing their own characters, and have 
 no idea of their own capacity for good or evil. They are 
 enslaved by the bonds of habit and convention ; but the men 
 in Tania s apartment, looking at her with genuine affection, 
 knew the fierce contest of life, had been aroused against the 
 authority that seemed bondage to them and, desiring no 
 compromise or moderation, lived and struggled were pre 
 pared to die for their ideal. 
 
 Tania was the only woman in the room and all the faces 
 (Avith the exception of the girlish-looking Schmoltze) were 
 Russian. 
 
 We are facing a most critical period. 
 
 Tania spoke quietly and clearly, every word vibrating 
 like a bell. 
 
 As he slunk toward her, Schmoltze murmured a question 
 to which she smiled and nodded an affirmative before con 
 tinuing 
 
 "It is his wish and Schmoltze will be on the train with 
 Olga, when Crawford leaves Berlin. It requires great cool 
 ness and courage, but there is not one of us who would not 
 gladly sacrifice life for the benefit of mankind. Everything 
 is in readiness, and as soon as they pass the German border, 
 they will be with friends. Damisoff will be waiting at the 
 frontier. 
 
 "Are you sure of the American?" the chauffeur Gil 
 bert, still in his leathers, asked uneasily. "Crawford has 
 never carried anything so important as this. He may be 
 leading us into the hands of the police. He may have been 
 drawing us on, making us believe him ignorant so as to 
 gain possession of this very thing. 
 
 "He is an American and rich. He has never known the 
 struggle of life or the longing for liberty. He is arrogant 
 and self-satisfied, with an aversion to everything revolution-
 
 216 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 ary, but he is credulous and harmless. We have nothing to 
 fear from him. I stake my life on his safeness. " 
 
 With an impetuous gesture Tania pointed to a piece of 
 paper lying on the table in the centre of the room. It was 
 covered with minute characters and lines, and so thin that 
 it could be rolled into a wad the size of a good-sized bean. 
 The men left their seats and formed a circle, and when 
 Tania presented the sheet, they passed it from hand to hand, 
 silent and implacable, apparently still in doubt as to trusting 
 the precious script into hands not pledged to the Cause. 
 
 Suddenly she broke the circle and faced them like a 
 tigress. She was descended from a line of power-hating 
 ancestors, and her marriage into the v aristocracy had not 
 changed her, although in manner she was gentle and refined. 
 She was one of the most valuable workers, her suavity and 
 culture assisting her in her never-wavering loyalty and she 
 had converted her husband to the Cause. But her habitual 
 elegant blandness disappeared before the fierce, stern hatred 
 of the power which had sent her husband to slave and die 
 in Siberia and which had killed her father before her eyes. 
 
 "Ah, I know! You think I love the American too well 
 to put him in danger." She turned with blazing eyes to 
 Gilbert, who had been at the wheel of her car when she and 
 Crawford had frequently motored together. I do not deny 
 that I love him, but individual sentiments are not in ques 
 tion. I am only a unit. I promise that the paper leaves 
 Paris with Crawford and reaches Russia. My life to be the 
 forfeit if it arrives in any hands but Olga s." 
 
 "Do not forget that he surprised us once. Six years ago 
 he caught us unawares. He was suspicious then. He has 
 spoken of Marino s song 
 
 "Pouf ! He was not suspicious! He was inquisitive for 
 the moment, but he has forgotten that little scene. I 
 know it."
 
 THE REVOLUTIONISTS. 217 
 
 "What will you tell him? He will be here to-night, will 
 lie not . When will you give it into his possession?" 
 
 The speaker, Etienne Marenski, bald, blond, with droop 
 ing eyelids and moustache, looked at Tania with sharp 
 anxiety. 
 
 "To-morrow I shall take it to him. Gilbert and Marie 
 will be with me. It will be safer with him than it is with 
 us." 
 
 She was bitterly disappointed that her judgment in choos 
 ing the American to be the messenger was challenged. They 
 were not dealing with a woman, but the representative of 
 a power, and she had diplomacy enough not to betray her 
 reproach. "Do you think I forget how Michael died?" she 
 cried. "Do you imagine I forget my father?" Her beauti 
 ful lips trembled when she breathlessly continued : This 
 Crawford has been useful to me ever since he brought the 
 letter of introduction from our comrade in Berlin. He is 
 not a bad sort and has frequently been kind to me, but he 
 is the slave of passion. At present it is Sonia Ramoniff. 
 She is drawing him to Russia. He has never been my lover, 
 but if he were my life my all I would sacrifice him to 
 the Cause. War is approaching rapidly it is inevitable. 
 Germany has been preparing ever since William ascended 
 the throne but we too have been preparing. Our failures 
 have not discouraged us, and we are stronger than ever 
 before. When the Russians take up arms and make a rush 
 for the south and west, the persecution and surveillance 
 of our comrades at home will temporarily cease. The world 
 thinks we are so weak that we dare not strike, and do not 
 recognize that the revolutionary spirit is imperishable and 
 our comrades are distributed all over the civilized world. 
 The principles of peace admit the necessity of revolution, 
 and when these plans are in the hands of the Cause in 
 Russia, they will wait until after war is declared, and then 
 find the opportunity of striking decisively."
 
 218 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "But suppose Crawford is suspected? He is known to 
 be your friend. What if he is caught with the paper in 
 his possession?" Marenski compressed his lips and looked 
 questioningly into the faces around him and, finding an 
 swering nods encouraging him, turned directly to Tania. 
 Why send the plans at present ? The Czar and the Kaiser 
 will not impulsively plunge the nations into war. Their 
 own countries will not be left without military protection. 
 
 "Many things happen unexpectedly," Schmoltze broke 
 in. "Tania is under surveillance, but they have never been 
 able to substantiate their suspicions, and she is allowed to 
 live here and is not restricted. She is cool-headed and 
 has planned this coup and will not invite failure by pre 
 mature action. She deserves our trust and confidence. She 
 has given her pledge to the Cause and has dared torture, 
 peril even death, for no reward; for we offer 110 reward 
 for zeal, save loyalty to each other and the joy of being 
 faithful to what we believe is right and death awaits 
 traitors. It is evident that Crawford is not under suspicion, 
 but, on the other hand, why should he have the honor of 
 carrying this paper? Let me do it. I am not afraid of de 
 tection. No one will dream I am other than a woman." 
 
 "Perhaps you could get through, though I doubt it, and 
 you would be missed from Paris. Questions would arise. 
 You cannot leave here until the day after Crawford goes. 
 If you are taken that would not be all." Tank s eyes filled 
 Avith tears. "Our plans would be found our hopes de 
 stroyed our revolt doomed to failure. We can take no 
 chances. Crawford s German sympathies and German 
 friends among the aristocracy will divert suspicion, and 
 he alone can carry the paper through Germany under the 
 arrogant, penetrating, ever-watchful Germans at the Capitol. 
 Schmitt will meet him and Olga will get possession of the 
 precious document after he leaves Berlin. Are you satisfied? 
 Do you approve?"
 
 THE REVOLUTIONISTS. 
 
 219 
 
 They assentingly nodded and gathered around the slender 
 woman while the guttural Russian language lost its throati- 
 ness and seemed to sing with Italian sweetness from her 
 lips when she said 
 
 "Come, comrades, it is getting late and others will be 
 here. We have been true and faithful and we are going to 
 make history that will reach from St. Petersburg to the 
 centres of civilization. Right will prevail." 
 
 She swept from the room where the secret meetings were 
 held and, with an inscrutable smile wreathing her lips, 
 turned to the salon where, calm and apparently unruffled, 
 she prepared to receive the guests of the evening.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 The Japanese Idol. 
 
 221
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE JAPANESE IDOL. 
 
 That night nothing especial happened and when Crawford 
 reached the Rue Cherche Midi, which he did late that even 
 ing, he told Tania that he intended leaving Paris the fol 
 lowing afternoon. He declined to join the card players and 
 laughingly declared that he wanted to have a heart-to-heart 
 talk with the Marquise. 
 
 Tania was disturbed beyond all expression and felt real 
 regret that he would not wait for the merry supper which 
 she served at midnight, but she did not insist, and only 
 sighed with a charming air of disappointment. 
 
 Crawford looked, and felt, relieved. Tania was a splendid, 
 sweet woman, he said to himself, and, though she did love 
 him, she did not try to make him uncomfortable by expect 
 ing him to return the affection. He would not let her suspect 
 that he was going to drop her out of his life and told him 
 self that it would be easy to forget to call on her when he 
 returned from Russia. He hated the trouble of making 
 explanations or excuses and he didn t intend to offer any. 
 During the hour he spent with her he let her do most of the 
 talking, but when he rose to go, looked at her rather wist 
 fully. He remembered her constant good nature, and it 
 was on his lips to tell her that he would come to her on 
 his return from the north, but he had promised Sonia 
 Ramoniff that he would break his intimacy with the Mar 
 quise and went away without committing himself. 
 
 When he turned into the street he breathed in great 
 draughts of the frosty air. The scented, heated atmosphere 
 of Tania s apartment and the noise and music had made 
 
 223
 
 224 
 
 him nervous and, with a curt order to the chauffeur, he 
 entered his car. 
 
 The next day was clear and sunshiny, and in the fore 
 noon the coupe of the Marquise Tania drew up before the 
 American s apartment and the Russian sent her maid with 
 a note to Crawford, requesting a moment s conversation. 
 
 "Poor Tania," he said softly, and smiling and in high 
 spirits, impetuously descended to the street. He looked 
 with amazement at the Marquise, who patiently waited for 
 him. Her black eyes, encircled by dark rings, looked caver 
 nous, and her usually pale face was flushed, but she had 
 wonderful self-control and the supreme tact to act and speak 
 naturally, and exclaimed in a deprecating voice 
 
 "My Hugh, you have been so very, very good to me that I 
 have the courage to ask you another favor." She spoke 
 simply and her voice had not a tremor to betray her agita 
 tion. "You tell me that you would like to be of use to me 
 and I want to give a present a little bibelot, to a friend 
 in St. Petersburg. I forgot to mention it last night, and I 
 must show it to you before I part with it. It is wonderful 
 and most precious. 
 
 Only too glad, Crawford responded, watching her while 
 she unwrapped a tiny, carved, ivory figure of the Japanese 
 god of good luck. It was a beautiful specimen of minute 
 carving, and she held it out for Crawford s scrutiny, smiling 
 when he declared his admiration as he examined the triflo. 
 
 If the truth were known, Crawford was thinking to him 
 self that these constant little errands were a nuisance, but 
 he was naturally gracious and declared his pleasure in 
 serving her. 
 
 Again wrapping the image in its embroidered silk bag,, 
 Tania handed it to Crawford, whose strong white hand 
 completely covered the toy. 
 
 "It is for my friend Madame Linoff and if it is possible 
 she will see you personally. She is very beautiful and most
 
 THE JAPANESE IDOL. 225 
 
 anxious to meet my handsome friend. I have written her 
 the same address you gave me when you were last in 
 Russia. I suppose you are going to the Hotel d Europe?" 
 
 With the subtle charm which Crawford could never de 
 fine, she won a gracious reply and with perfect intuition 
 said, I must hurry along. I am sure you have much to 
 attend to. I wish you a safe journey and a happy return." 
 
 Crawford kissed her hands with quite courtly French 
 grace. He opened his eyes wide with surprise when Tania 
 drew her fingers from his clasp and with a muttered Rus 
 sian word to her maid dreAv herself back among the cushions 
 and from the shadow of the coupe whispered huskily, "Bon 
 voyage, et bon succes." 
 
 Passers-by smiled at the fair-haired man standing in the 
 sunshine, gazing with an amused look after the receding car, 
 but Crawford did not notice them and, with a shrug of his 
 shoulders, returned to his apartment. 
 
 Saunders had left his master s traveling bag open on a 
 chair and CraAvford tossed the tiny packet Tania had given 
 him into the half-packed valise then he called the man 
 to put the remainder of his things in order. 
 
 Saunders was devoted to the American and despaired 
 because he was being left in Paris. He believed that Craw 
 ford would need him especially if he continued drinking 
 heavily, but he did not dare express his opinions. 
 
 "I won t be away long I may be back at any time, 
 although St. Petersburg is at its best in winter," CraAvford 
 remarked as he watched the valet quietly laying aside sonic 
 belongings. "I hope the cars will be properly heated." 
 
 "I hope so, Sir." 
 
 Crawford yawned and looked at his watch, which still 
 contained a picture of Anne in its case. He studied the 
 dark, frail face, and in spite of drink-deadened nerves and 
 vain egotism, felt compassion and regret. He was confident 
 that in spite of her demand for a divorce she still loved him
 
 226 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 and believed he had wrecked her happiness. For a long 
 time he sat looking at the picture, meditating on the past 
 and conscious that in spite of wealth and powerful acquaint 
 ances, he was lonely and solitary. Frowning at the irony 
 of it all, he returned the watch to his pocket and a decided 
 expression of determination changed the whole character 
 of his face. 
 
 "I m a fool," he muttered, "fancying myself unhappy 
 and forsaken just because I have lost Anne and forgetting 
 that Sonia and she is going to be my Sonia is waiting 
 for me." 
 
 His fluctuating moods changed and he felt ready for con 
 flict, glad to think that he would have to battle for the love 
 of the woman he coveted. 
 
 When his trunks had gone he went sloAvly to the street, 
 Saunders following with his valise, entered his waiting 
 car and lighted one of his big, black cigars. 
 
 "I expect I ll miss you, Saunders," he said standing in 
 front of the door of the Berlin Express. "See that my mail 
 is forwarded at once. I ll send a wire before I return." 
 
 "Yes, sir, and a pleasant journey." 
 
 "Thank you, Saunders. Good-bye." 
 
 The porter locked the door of the compartment, and Craw 
 ford, craving new delights new experiences thought of 
 Sonia Ramoniff and his vanity expanded at some remem 
 bered evidence of her interest. He smiled fatuously while 
 he leaned one arm on his valise and promised himself that 
 he was going to find life worth living and that he was going 
 to reap the reward for his years of devotion. He was going 
 to Russia. 
 
 His fancy rioted in joyous anticipations and he almost 
 regretted his promise to spend a day with student friends 
 in Berlin, but when he arrived at the clean, military German 
 capitol and found that his friends had prepared everything 
 for his enjoyment, oven to selecting his suite at the Hotel
 
 TO OUR LITTLE FATHER! 
 TO OUR CZAR!
 
 THE JAPANESE IDOL. 221 
 
 Bauer, and arranging for a gay evening at the Theatre 
 Unter den Linden with a supper to follow, he forgot his 
 impatience to get to St. Petersburg and gave himself up to 
 pleasures of the moment. He drank heavily and was pale 
 and haggard when he resumed his journey. 
 
 A woman clothed in the unprepossessing dullness of con 
 ventional mourning occupied a seat in the compartment, 
 while another female, apparently an upper servant, was 
 seated in the corner. In spite of a headache, Crawford 
 looked apprisingly at them, but the outlook for a flirtation 
 did not appear attractive. He saw nothing to amuse and, 
 putting his bag on the vacant seat beside him, settled back 
 in his chair and looked out of the window. But the scenery 
 did not interest him. The snow dazzled his eyes and made 
 them ache horribly and gradually the lids drooped and he 
 slept the heavy sleep of exhausted nature. 
 
 "It will be easy. He is like a dead man." 
 
 As she spoke the woman in the black garments threw 
 aside her heavy crepe veil and straightened her bent form. 
 Her whole appearance would have delighted the beauty- 
 loving heart of Hugh Crawford, for she w r as a splendid 
 animal, a perfect specimen of the Circassian woman, un 
 tamed, queenly, tall and powerful as a man. Her splendid 
 teeth bared in a snarl as she muttered to the woman-servant 
 who moved in advance of her and who, with large, power 
 ful, curved hands ready to grasp and kill stood over 
 Hugh Crawford while he slept. 
 
 They anxiously watched the door, fearing the guard 
 would pass through, but he did not appear nor did the 
 rumbling of the wheels or the motion of the train disturb 
 the sleeper, but the servant stared into the unconscious face 
 with anxious, cold and cruel eyes while the blond woman 
 searched Crawford s pockets. 
 
 "It is not on him. The Germans have secured it," she
 
 228 
 
 hissed through her teeth, then stifling an exclamation, she 
 drew the American s keys from his pocket. 
 
 He moved but did not awaken. 
 
 The woman did not betray any haste but, selecting a key, 
 succeeded in opening Crawford s valise. She groped among 
 the contents until she found a small packet, then carefully 
 replaced the disturbed articles and, secreting the tiny packet 
 in the folds of crepe covering her bosom, she locked the bag 
 and returned the keys to Crawford s pocket. 
 
 No words were exchanged when the two women resumed 
 their seats, but the black-robed woman drew her veil over 
 the upper part of her figure and seemed to shrivel. Again 
 she appeared old and uninteresting. 
 
 The servant opened the window beside her, letting in a 
 rush of icy air and she did not seem aware that the cold 
 atmosphere aAvakened Crawford who, glaring at her while 
 he thrust his hands in his pockets and jangled his keys, 
 muttered strong American oaths referring to car hogs. 
 
 But the short sleep had quieted his nerves and he again 
 thought of Madame Ramoniff. He knew she would be glad 
 of his coming and he wondered if the great attraction of 
 the glorious woman lay in her elusiveness, for, with all her 
 audacity, she would give no favors, but "she is a woman, 
 therefore, to be won," he quoted in his mind. 
 
 When the train pulled up in Vierzhbolovo, he glanced at 
 Jiis passport and, leaving the car with the two women trav 
 elers, noticed that the one dressed as a servant walked 
 quickly toward a man who came in her direction, and Hugh 
 Crawford saw something change hands, while in the frm 1 - 
 tion of a moment, the man, humming softly and twirling his 
 heavy cane, sauntered past the officer guarding the door, 
 suddenly jumped into a waiting sleigh and disappeared 
 around a corner. 
 
 The American looked to see if the black-garbed woman
 
 TEE JAPANESE IDOL. 229 
 
 had witnessed the strange by-play, but she too had disap 
 peared perhaps among the crowd pouring into the Customs 
 Hall. 
 
 It was all over so quickly and there Avas so much noise 
 and confusion around him that Crawford did not notice the 
 large man in uniform who followed him, and started nerv 
 ously when he was addressed by the official. No one seemed 
 aware of his angry astonishment and the army of porters 
 carried and sorted the luggage while the officials at their 
 tables examined passports, methodically registering and 
 stamping and paid no heed to the American escorted by 
 the commanding official. 
 
 "Please come with me, Monsieur Crawford," the man 
 said politely. We must not waste time. 
 
 What do you want with me ? I am an American citizen. 
 
 Crawford tried to preserve his self-control, but his limbs 
 trembled. He wished he had brought Saunders and re 
 solved never again to travel without his man. 
 
 "You have a paper. Give it to me and save yourself 
 trouble. You will be searched if you do not immediately 
 produce it." 
 
 "You are mistaken. I have nothing. Send for the Amer 
 ican Consul. You mistake me for someone else." 
 
 A profuse perspiration spangled Crawford s forehead, and 
 his hands trembled while he held them over his tortured 
 eyes. The pain was almost intolerable for the moment, and 
 suddenly a dreadful thought, gradually changing to a con 
 viction, darted through his brain. Tania! The little Japa 
 nese god! He had forgotten the Marquise and her present 
 for her friend, but it dawned on him that he had been carry 
 ing a token a symbol something that meant danger, and 
 when they opened his valise he would be lost. 
 
 He trembled like an aspen leaf when he handed his keys 
 to the grim official, not knowing that by a fluke, by a sod 
 den sleep, he had been saved from death at the hands of
 
 230 
 
 his companion de voyage, and by a kind turn of fortune s 
 wheel escaped ignominy and death. Still shaking with ter 
 ror he could think of nothing but the terrible danger he was 
 in if his suspicions proved to be correct if Tania had 
 treacherously led him into the hands of the dreaded Russian 
 police; but a ray of hope lighted his gloom when, after 
 removing everything from the bag and carefully searching 
 every article, his belongings were replaced. They had not 
 found the idol. Although left in charge of an officer he 
 quietly watched the official depart to search his trunks. 
 Knowing there was nothing to be found in them, Craw 
 ford s hope and courage revived, but he still had sensations 
 which he could not keep from recognizing as fright. He 
 tried to remember that he was an American and a man 
 and told himself that he would not show the white feather. 
 But his years of dissipation had weakened his courage and 
 his manner was not formidable when the official returned 
 and with profuse apologies escorted him to the train for 
 St. Petersburg. 
 
 Crawford did not listen to the murmurs of "rules of the 
 service" and "thousand pardons," but before the man in 
 uniform closed the door, he whispered, with a look in his 
 eyes before which the nervous American quailed 
 
 "It will be wise to forget this little episode. It is not to 
 be mentioned." 
 
 "I have already forgotten it, monsieur." 
 
 Crawford s reply was uttered with as much dignity as 
 he could muster, but his lips were white and trembling 
 and he did not make a brave showing. 
 
 The train moved quietly out of the station, the paneled 
 car was softly lighted and, ringing the bell for service, he 
 ordered the silent train servant to bring vodka. He gazed 
 into the night, but all was blackness and mystery and 
 whenever the train stopped he shivered with nervous dread, 
 fearing he knew not what. He could not imagine where
 
 THE JAPANESE IDOL. 231 
 
 the idol had gone and at last decided that it had accidentally 
 been left in Paris when Saunders packed his bag. 
 He hoped it had been swept aside and destroyed, and 
 heartily wished himself safely out of Russia. 
 
 When morning came and he saw fir trees growing beside 
 the track, the evergreen branches reminded him of Christ 
 mas of America of Anne. He wondered if she would 
 marry again, but remembering her religious beliefs decided 
 that she would find it hard to subjugate her scruples and 
 share her life with another man. 
 
 A fellow traveler asked some information, but Crawford, 
 remembering his experience at the frontier, was afraid to 
 answer and turned his back to the offended man and the 
 journey was continued in silence. 
 
 Exactly on the minute of 2 :45, the train drew into St. 
 Petersburg and half an hour later Hugh Crawford drove 
 down the Nevski to his hotel. The sight of the huge police 
 men dotted along the street made him nervmfls. To the 
 American they looked very military very like the officer 
 who had bid him forget.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The Way of the Transgressor. 
 
 233
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR. 
 
 When Crawford reached the Hotel d Europe, he was as 
 signed to rooms on the second floor the same suite he had 
 occupied on his last visit to Russia, and something in the 
 familiar and agreeably well-chosen furnishings, suggested 
 comfort and rest. He was dead tired, but reminding himself 
 of his obligations, sent a messenger with a note to Sonia 
 Ramoniff; then he threw himself on a couch and closed his 
 eyes. They were blinking and twitching, and his nerves 
 jumped. Finding it impossible to compose himself, he rose 
 and went to the writing table. Using his doctor s authority, 
 he wrote a prescription for morphine, and ringing for a serv 
 ant, ordered his bath prepared and the narcotic to be brought 
 to him. 
 
 It was with a keen sense of creature comfort that he donned 
 his pajamas and crept between the sheets of the great bed in 
 the delightfully quiet bedroom. The morphine was slowly 
 overpowering him and a delicious drowsiness was succeeded 
 by a heavy slumber. 
 
 When he opened his eyes it was early morning of the fol 
 lowing day. His head ached, but after drinking a glass of 
 brandy, the pain passed and he raised his eyes to look at him 
 self in the full length mirror, opposite his bed. His color 
 had returned, he commenced to feel refreshed, and smiling at 
 his own reflection, he lazily stretched himself and rang for 
 the hotel valet. 
 
 It was after luncheon before Sonia Ramoniff answered his 
 note, but Crawford smiled at her show of indifference, re 
 membering a look he had seen in her eyes, and a conversation 
 a half promise. 
 
 235
 
 236 
 
 Human desires have changed little since the days when 
 great, hairy men descended on an alien tribe to steal the 
 women they coveted, only now the assault is made with gor 
 geous gifts, glittering gold, and graceful gallantries, but the 
 result is the same and beneath the surface of conventionality, 
 the struggle is as pitiless. 
 
 Crawford s friendship with Sonia Ramoniff had been inti 
 mate and delightful. She was a proud woman, but not too 
 proud to thrill with passion and appreciate his admiration. 
 She knew why he had followed her to Russia and that a 
 man cannot be played with forever. He felt pleasantly mas 
 terful, and believed he w r as deeply in love, though he caught 
 himself wondering if she would prove to be the one woman 
 to hold his fancy captive. 
 
 His strong aristocratic figure appeared to splendid advan 
 tage, he held his head high, and a genial smile overspread his 
 handsome face when the valet assisted him into his mink-lined 
 overcoat, and when he started for the Ramoniff mansion on 
 the Moika, he had forgotten old regrets; life was full of joy, 
 and imagination stirred him to build wonderful air castles. 
 
 "After all, it is just as well that Anne sought the divorce. 
 I know she loves me in spite of everything poor little girl, 
 but it is better that we should be free, he thought magnani 
 mously. In his happy, joyous mood he decided that he would 
 devote a few years to freedom and pleasure, and then resume 
 the study of his profession, and win the University degree 
 which had been the great desire of his mother s heart: but 
 now he was going to Sonia. The thought of her dazzling 
 beauty her blooming, stimulating vivacity and health, made 
 him thrill. Crawford did not know it, but Sonia Ramoniff 
 was the only woman who made him forget himself. 
 
 The thoughts of her were still running in his mind when he 
 passed through the office of his hotel. An invitation for a 
 banquet in the hotel where he was staying was handed to 
 him. A friendly note accompanied the formal card which
 
 TEE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR. 237 
 
 mentioned that Eigo and his musicians were to play, that 
 the fete promised to prove amusing, and the hope that Craw 
 ford would accept. The American knew that the invitation 
 came through the Ramoniff influence and the knowledge 
 added to his elation. 
 
 The St. Petersburg home of the Romaniffs was situated on 
 the magnificent Moika, and stood large, sombre and impressive. 
 It was celebrated for its magnificent art gallery, and Boris 
 Ramoniff had spent extravagant sums to make his Russian 
 home luxurious and perfect. But in spite of its splendor, 
 Sonia Ramoniff hated it. 
 
 She was not a disagreeable woman and kept her opinion 
 of her husband s ancestral pile and gorgeous splendor, locked 
 in her heart and appeared absolutely happy and contented 
 when she received all St. Petersburg as represented by the 
 owners of titles and lands, who came and went through the 
 portals of her home. 
 
 When Crawford was announced, she showed no great pleas 
 ure, merely treating him with usual attentive courtesy, and 
 he meekly murmured a few words of greeting and devoted 
 himself to an old acquaintance. But he was not deceived 
 by Sonia s coldness and waited for a chance to gain a private 
 word. 
 
 "Monsieur Crawford," she exclaimed artlessly, smiling at 
 him from her position near the door and flashing a look into 
 his eyes, I trust you have no other engagement. We are to 
 have a dance tonight here at my home. If you can tear your 
 self away from your other friends and the clubs, I shall 
 be glad if you will come. 
 
 "I shall be honored, Madame," Crawford responded with 
 simple dignity. He knew he was expected to retire grace 
 fully that his first call must be brief and formal, and with a 
 few well-chosen words, he bowed ceremoniously over the dainty 
 hand of Sonia, and left the heated rooms. 
 
 At first he was chagrined that she had not managed to
 
 238 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 speak with him alone, but with a gleam of sense, he remem 
 bered that she was very conspicuous and acknowledged her 
 display of discretion. 
 
 He repaired to the club where a Russian friend had put him 
 up almost seven years before. His mind revelled in romantic 
 raptures and he hid himself in a quiet corner, but he was well 
 and favorably known, and acquaintances disturbed his dreams. 
 With admirable astuteness he joined in the conversation 
 around him without betraying the vexation he felt. 
 
 As he did not intend to remain long in St. Petersburg, he 
 had thought of living at the club, and now he flattered him 
 self on his good judgment in installing himself at the hotel. 
 There were times when he wanted to be alone free to come 
 and go, without running into a lot of "good fellows," and 
 club life was too sociable to please Crawford. 
 
 He found great allurement in leading the life of a bon 
 vivant, and intended making quiet visits which concerned no 
 one but himself. The women of Russia had always appealed 
 to his imagination, and their languorous grace and peculiar 
 charm of manner, fascinated him. The refined profligacy of 
 Russian society had taken hold of him during his previous 
 visits to St. Petersburg, and he liked the atmosphere that 
 blended Asiatic indolence with European vivacity. 
 
 Being acquainted with many of the aristocrats in this north 
 ern capitol, he had been flattered by the favor and smiles of 
 many a haughty society woman, but while their beauty was 
 alluring, and their eyes full of passionate mystery, their 
 soft hands seemed as capable of holding a dirk as of flirting a 
 fan, and Crawford was extremely cautious. 
 
 It was almost six years since he had been in America al 
 most six years since he had seen Anne, but in spite of the mad 
 life he had led, and was still leading, he was the same mag 
 nificently handsome man, although the freshness of perfect 
 youth and health had disappeared, and his face was delicately 
 chiselled into sterner outlines. His luxuriant blond hair was
 
 THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR. 239 
 
 commencing to thin over the temples, his brow was higher, 
 and the trouble with his eyes growing more serious, but he 
 was still compellingly, amazingly, good-looking. 
 
 When he left his hotel that night and his sleigh dashed over 
 the frozen streets to the Ramoniff mansion, he found that in 
 stead of a small dance, Sonia Ramoniff was giving a ball. 
 
 The street was lined with equipages and after dismissing 
 his driver with instructions to return early, Crawford en 
 tered the great gates and soon was bowing over Sonia 
 Ramoniff s jeweled hand. 
 
 It was a dazzling and brilliant scene that met his eyes in 
 the splendid mansion with its high-ceilinged and brilliantly 
 lighted rooms, filled with fashionable, radiant men and women. 
 
 Sonia Ramoniff had never looked more lovely. 
 
 When she greeted the American, his ardent looks of pas 
 sionate admiration brought a responsive glance from her dark, 
 sapphire eyes, and she found the opportunity of whispering 
 a few words. 
 
 With a gratified smile, Crawford bowed and passed on. 
 
 Among the men, most of whom wore gorgeous uniforms, he 
 moved dignified and conspicuous, and Sonia s glance followed 
 him when he greeted old acquaintances, and after a few 
 words, offered his arm to a titled woman whom he guided 
 through a stately dance. 
 
 "I see that Sonia Ramoniff is still in love with her Ameri 
 can," one of her friends whispered, looking at Sonia who 
 stood in her wonderful beauty, attired in white velvet and 
 blazing with the Ramoniff diamonds ; a vision of snowy, pure 
 fairness, her golden hair crowned her provocative face, and 
 she looked like a proud queen, dominating the scene by the 
 power of her perfect beauty. 
 
 "She is mad to entertain when Boris cousin is not cold in 
 his grave. No! Boris will not be pleased," the other woman 
 gossiped, "and Sonia insists that she will not wear mourning 
 save for the Court."
 
 240 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "She is dreadfully imprudent and impulsive." The first 
 speaker, genuinely good-natured and fond of Sonia, smiled 
 kindly. "But she is as pure as gold. She is not wise, but 
 she is a good woman and a very, very beautiful one." 
 
 "Of course," answered the Baroness Chernee rather tartly. 
 "She is good, and well-born, and well-bred, but the Germans 
 by temperament and habit are arrogant and insolent. A Rus 
 sian woman would never defy public opinion or bring her 
 husband s honor into question, although she might be gener 
 ous and not cruel enough to drive her lovers to despair but 
 Sonia our new Countess Ramoniff is too incautious. 
 
 Sonia s friend sighed. She was an experienced woman and 
 knew when to be silent and she also recognized that Sonia 
 Ramoniff was reckless in obstinately defying society s laws 
 but she resented the Baroness Chernee s criticism of her 
 friend. She laughed nervously when she saw Sonia draw her 
 full under lip under her white teeth and anxiously search the 
 salons until her eyes met Crawford. With a glance she beck 
 oned him and eagerly waited until he came near, then with a 
 radiant smile she accepted his arm, and crossed the room to 
 join the dancers in the ball-room. 
 
 Crawford guided his lovely partner down the long hall. 
 Life was perfect and brighter than he had ever known it. 
 Many eyes watched him while he danced the mazouka with the 
 beautiful woman. They looked the embodiment of joyous, 
 excited happiness, and "all the world loves a lover," (espe 
 cially in Russia.) 
 
 The deep caressing tones of the stringed instruments ceased 
 and withdrawing his arm from her waist, Crawford bent 
 to whisper, "Sonia, I must see you alone. Please tell me 
 when where." 
 
 "Suppose we go to the supper room," she suggested. "It 
 is early, but we can have a glass of wine." 
 
 She spoke with elaborate unconcern, and with Crawford 
 at her side, moved out of the ballroom and down the corridor.
 
 THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR. 241 
 
 The door of a small reception room, was open and with a 
 sudden motion, Sonia stepped inside. The pupils of her 
 eyes were dilated and she brushed her shoulder against the 
 American s arm. 
 
 "I will be alone to-morrow, at two by the clock," she mur 
 mured, and suddenly lifting her head, exclaimed, Oh, Hugh ! 
 I am so happy that you are here." 
 
 He did not speak, but with a swift movement clasped her 
 suddenly in his arms, bent her head backwards and laid his 
 face against hers but he did not kiss her, and the next in 
 stant freed her from his embrace. 
 
 Every nerve in her strong, supple body was trembling when 
 she drew away from him and with remarkable self-control, 
 gracefully walked into the corridor. But there was a gleam 
 in her eyes, a smile on her lips, and Hugh Crawford, subtle 
 and unusual lover, proudly followed. He was quite satisfied 
 that he would win the proof of her love, and with the patient 
 egotism of his nature, was content to wait. 
 
 Sonia felt her pulses beating and her whole being tingling 
 with the excitement of the emotion that had almost over 
 powered her but misgiving clouded her joy. She remem 
 bered Crawford s fickleness his unexpected marriage and his 
 one-time devotion to the lovely Mrs. Hardeen, then her face 
 cleared. She believed in her own power. She would make 
 him love her make him forget everyone but her. 
 
 She mingled with the guests and accepting the arm of a 
 diplomat, returned to the supper room and drank some cham 
 pagne and under the exhilaration of the sparkling wine, 
 laughed a great deal. 
 
 At this time Sonia Ramoniff was at the height of her beauty 
 and charm. She was very favored at Court where her merry 
 disposition, unchanging good nature and elastic vivaciousness 
 made her welcome. Her very recklessness was charming and 
 her renowned beauty added to her fascinations. It must be 
 admitted that she was careless, selfish, and haughty, but not
 
 242 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 unpleasantly so, and dancing, skating, swimming or riding, 
 she was a joy to the eye, and so sweetly womanly that she 
 captivated the hearts of both men and women. 
 
 She was a little older than Hugh Crawford. They had met 
 when the American first arrived in Berlin, and had done more 
 toward ruining his nature than she ever knew. She had done 
 him incalculable harm by turning the conceited, but simple 
 and youthful Adonis, into a blase man-of-the-world, encourag 
 ing his attentions and ignoring his weaknesses, exciting his 
 admiration and laughing at his passion, and now, after years 
 of playing with this man s emotions, the tables were turning, 
 and her head, crowned with its diamond tiara, swam with jeal 
 ousy and a desire to hold his fickle fancy. 
 
 "Verily the way of the transgressor is hard."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 Sonia, Countess Ramoniff. 
 
 243
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 SONIA, COUNTESS RAMONIFF. 
 
 Time seemed to make as little change in Sonia Ramoniff as 
 it did in Hugh Crawford. The gay Viennese remained the 
 same bewitching, tantalizing, joyous butterfly, and she still 
 amused and scandalized her friends. 
 
 Boris Ramoniff grew less taciturn as his wife grew more 
 reckless, and often displayed his displeasure, but his disappro 
 bation only irritated her and she gave no heed to his remon 
 strances, although once she had quailed before the angry, dan 
 gerous look in his face when he demanded that she devote more 
 time to their children and show more respect to his people. 
 
 "Boris would like me to go with the children to his estates 
 in the Interior and bury myself away from my friends," she 
 said with an angry laugh. 
 
 But although she imperilled the happiness of her married 
 life by ignoring public opinion, laughed aside the protests 
 of her friends and carried on outrageously foolish flirtations, 
 she had never dishonored her husband and she really loved 
 her children. "Boris is entirely different from what he was 
 when we were first married. He doesn t understand me. He 
 does not consider me he thinks only of his sons." 
 
 She did not realize the influence Crawford had gained over 
 her. She only knew that he was patient with her vagaries, 
 did not show resentment when she made new friendships and 
 bowed to her will with such charming indifference that, in 
 stead of offending her, he aroused a piqued desire to break 
 down his complaisance. 
 
 "I ve never done anything really wrong and I hate phleg 
 matic people and conventions," she thought passionately when 
 
 245
 
 246 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 her husband rebuked her for some trifling fault. Boris some 
 times treats me as if I needed a chaperone. 
 
 She was getting into the dangerous habit of criticizing her 
 husband and did not know that Crawford was subtly seduc 
 ing her into over-estimating his own devotion to her and ex 
 aggerating Boris Ramoniff s morbid, temperamental chidings. 
 
 However it was not in Sonia s nature to dwell on disagree 
 able things and ignoring her husband s disapproval, she led 
 the maddest revels, never dreaming that she was courting dis 
 aster. 
 
 Ramoniff had given her the entire love of his heart. He 
 was a silent man, believing nothing until proof was given him, 
 and like all taciturn men, whether Russian or not, he was dan 
 gerous when roused to anger. The rumors of his wife s flir 
 tations with different men had reached him and while he be 
 lieved it was her beauty that fed much of the envious gossip, 
 he concluded that the time had arrived to put an end to her 
 indiscretions. He was in a gloomy, dangerous mood when he 
 was called to the deathbed of his cousin, and in the enforced 
 solitude of his surroundings, became low-spirited and feared 
 that someone might alienate her love from him. 
 
 .It is merciful that we do not foresee tragedy. 
 
 Fate had always been favorable to Sonia and she was 
 wholly unaware that her husband was becoming violently 
 and ferociously distrustful. 
 
 She was more fond of Crawford than she supposed she was, 
 and since coming to Russia, the American spent many hours 
 in her company and Sonia was on the verge of making a 
 mistake. 
 
 On the very afternoon that Ramoniff intended returning to 
 St. Petersburg, Hugh Crawford had an appointment with his 
 beautiful friend. He knew the way to her boudoir knew 
 she was waiting for him and smiled when Sonia s maid opened 
 the door and discreetly disappeared down the private corridor 
 loading to her mistress rooms.
 
 SONIA, COUNTESS RAMON IFF. 247 
 
 At the end of the hall was a narrow flight of stairs, guarded 
 by a tapestry covered door. They led to a side street and 
 Sonia had given Crawford permission to use this private en 
 trance. 
 
 She was sitting on a couch between the deep windows, 
 resting indolently among the silken cushions. Her beautiful 
 amber colored hair hung in two Marguerite braids, giving her 
 a charmingly youthful air, and she did not turn her head to 
 greet Crawford. 
 
 He stood behind her for a moment, then reached one arm 
 so that it encircled her waist and drew her face back to his 
 own and whispered, 
 
 ;<My Sonia!" 
 
 Response flamed in her look, but she spoke with a calmness 
 her glance belied, 
 
 "You are incorrigible, Hugh. Don t forget we are old mar 
 ried people/ 
 
 "Marriage makes no difference in my feelings for you, ma 
 mie. 
 
 "Oh, but it should," Sonia declared. "You should be less 
 impatient and more careful. I am afraid I allow you too 
 many privileges, especially when Boris is growing so impossi 
 ble. He is so unreasonable that I tremble every time I talk 
 with a man and we are in his country. We are in Russia. 
 
 "There is safety in numbers! I d rather you said when 
 you wanted to talk with men, instead of with a man, Craw 
 ford answered with becoming sullenness. 
 
 She smiled into his eyes. 
 
 "Don t be silly, dear. You were never jealous of your wife, 
 and even when you were quite mad over Mrs. Hardeen, you 
 did not fear rivalry, so do not try to make me think you are 
 troubled by the green-eyed monster. And Hugh tell me, 
 did Mrs. Hardeen rebuff you or did you tire of her? I am 
 afraid your wife does not find you a perfect husband."
 
 248 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "Don t tease me, Sonia, and don t speak of my wife. T 
 want to forget everything everybody when I am with you. 
 You are the real love of my life. 
 
 "And you are the same delightful trifler. Experience does 
 not change you at all." She moved, drawing her garments 
 closely around her, as she made room for him beside her. She 
 knew his inconstancy, but his words were so different from 
 the stilted utterance of her other admirers, and Crawford 
 was so wrapped up in himself, that she was delighted with any 
 evidence that she could move him. 
 
 She did not care that she was playing with fire, and thrilled 
 with the excitement of this dangerous friendship, pretending 
 to herself that there was no wrong in the reckless rapture 
 that threatened to break down all barriers. An emotion very 
 like love, but only the degrading semblance of the grand 
 passion. 
 
 "No, I do not change, dear, and I am here in Russia and 
 with you. Be kind to me, my darling. Don t you love me 
 enough to trust me?" 
 
 She laughed and drew away from him, cuddling into a cor 
 ner of the padded couch and curling her silken shod foot on 
 the hassock at her feet, her pose revealing the lovely curve of 
 her limbs as the shimmering silk was tightened by her uncon 
 scious movement. 
 
 "Of course I trust you, Hugh," she said. "How dramatic 
 you are today. I had no idea of such hidden fire. You com 
 mence to be une vrai flanneur with your intense enjoyment 
 of emotions. Are trying to make me think you are fond of 
 me when you married for love and, after winning your wife, 
 devoted yourself to newer fancies?" 
 
 She betrayed such womanly jealousy, though she leaned 
 away from him and tried to laugh carelessly while she re 
 proached, that Crawford felt that he had really gained con 
 trol of her wild heart. His patient waiting would be rewarded
 
 SON I A, COUNTESS RAMON IFF. 249 
 
 Sonia was jealous. But lie did not smile and not a glance 
 betrayed his elation as he gazed at her with apparent serious 
 ness. 
 
 There was a sparkle of malicious humor in her eyes when 
 she returned the steady look of the physically attractive man, 
 but in her heart she gloried in the knowledge that he had fol 
 lowed her that he aspired to love her. 
 
 "You are grave as an owl," she pouted. "You can be 
 happy in spite of your inflammable affections although you 
 may have difficulty in believing it. You have always been 
 spoiled, and I am so good-natured that you impose on me." 
 
 Crawford paid no heed to her words. He was not re 
 markable for wit, and his masculine mind was dwelling on 
 a more interesting subject. He remembered that the maid 
 was waiting to let him out of the private door, for Sonia 
 and he were to meet at the banquet at the Hotel d Europe, 
 and time was flying, but his passion outran his prudence, and 
 he pleaded, 
 
 Let me come again to-morrow, dear. Make me happy and 
 trust me. We are not to blame for our feelings. Forget your 
 scruples and put love first." 
 
 Good gracious, Hugh ! You are a monster of indiscretion. 
 You must have more self-control. You must think of appear 
 ances. 
 
 Crawford flushed with annoyance. In the past they had 
 defied conventions and spent hours together, and now she 
 spoke of appearances. He was too shallow to understand her 
 sudden fear. 
 
 You do not care for me. You only amuse yourself playing 
 with my feelings," he cried passionately, then a wave of jeal 
 ous rage struck him. Sonia, if I thought is there someone 
 else?" 
 
 She was furious at the insult. 
 
 "Try to be a gentleman, mon ami," she said, intending to 
 make him uncomfortable. "You always were unreasonable,
 
 250 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 Hugh, but for heaven s sake do not develop into a jealous 
 swain. The role does not become you. You look quite dan 
 gerous, and big and fierce." She smiled into Crawford s face 
 with adorable impertinence. "Now, my dear boy, I will tell 
 you the reason for my sudden thought for les convenances. 
 First, the children are here with me. Boris insists that they 
 go wherever I go. That is one reason and the second is that 
 the unexpected death of Boris cousin has brought us nearer 
 Court. The death was very unexpected, and Boris, being heir 
 to the estate and titles, had to wait over the funeral. He 
 wanted me to go with him and Hugh I cannot understand 
 Boris. It may be that he has developed a new love for me, 
 for he is jealous as a Moor." 
 
 "But you are alone now," Crawford interrupted eagerly. 
 "He is not in St. Petersburg." 
 
 "But he may return at any time," she whispered and 
 gave an inarticulate cry, for Crawford had caught her to him. 
 He kissed her, murmuring endearing names and felt her heart 
 fluttering when he whispered, 
 
 "Sonia, darling! Let me come to-morrow?" 
 
 In the madness of impulsive passion she raised her head 
 from his shoulder and promised, "As you wish to-morrow 
 but Hugh, I am afraid. After to-morrow I will not see you 
 again alone, until we leave Russia." 
 
 His heart beat exultingly. He rose and lifted her to her 
 feet and held her soft warm arms around his neck while she 
 clung tightly to him, as if in fear. 
 
 To-morrow I will have a kiss for every moment of unhap- 
 piness you have given me in the years I have adored you. 
 
 He whispered the words with passionate fervor as she leaned 
 heavily against him, for she suddenly felt nervous and un 
 strung. 
 
 " Hugh, " she breathed almost inaudibly. "I am afraid. If 
 Boris should return no, no, you must not come I am 
 afraid."
 
 SON I A, COUNTESS RAM ON IFF. 251 
 
 "Do not be absurd, my darling. There is nothing to fear. 
 Ramoniff is far away. He always advises you of his coming, 
 and he is too aristocratic to do anything unexpected. He is 
 not going to change the habits of a lifetime by surprising 
 you. Don t think of him. Don t think of anything but our 
 love." 
 
 Whispering caressing words he bent his head and kissed 
 her red, luscious mouth, their lips meeting in rapturous sweet 
 ness. 
 
 To-morrow. 
 
 1 To-morrow, she repeated after him and gently disengag 
 ing herself from his arms, stepped to the door that led into 
 the private hall where the maid was waiting. When Crawford 
 passed through, she sighed and silently turned the key in 
 the lock. 
 
 She moved languidly. A nervous chill made her shudder 
 and she felt horribly alone when she walked into her dressing 
 room and sat down at the table, resting her arms on its heavy 
 lace and embroidery. There was a torment in her soul, a sad 
 longing to get away from herself and to rid her brain of hys 
 terical fears that unexpectedly swept over her. Somehow it 
 did not seem true that Hugh loved her and that she loved him. 
 Had she promised to sacrifice her self-respect her husband s 
 honor ? 
 
 "I will see him again in a few hours. We will meet at the 
 fete and I will tell him that I have not the courage that I 
 am afraid that it would end in misery." 
 
 She toyed with the silver ornaments on the table, nervously 
 placing and replacing them, sad but determined to be true 
 to her marriage vows. She felt that when she closed the door 
 on Crawford, she freed herself from his influence. "What 
 power is it that fascinates me ? It is not love it is something 
 we dare not mention, even to our own hearts," she thought 
 as she wearily rested her head on her hand and glanced into 
 the mirror before her.
 
 252 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "Lieber Gott!" she cried, staring at Boris Ramoniff s face 
 reflected in the glass. She almost fainted. 
 
 Rainoniff had not removed his fur coat and the collar rose 
 like a black cloud around his white face. His moustache and 
 pointed black beard seemed to bristle and, in spite of fear, 
 a thought that her husband looked like Mephistopheles, flashed 
 through Sonia s mind. But the seriousness of the situation 
 came upon her with full force when she saw the deadly hatred 
 in the cruel, cold, mirrored eyes and although powerless to 
 move without trembling, she tried to think clearly. 
 
 How long had he been in the room ? Had he seen Crawford ? 
 She must save Hugh. A sudden realization that she did love 
 the American, shocked her almost as much as her husband s 
 surprising appearance and for the first time in all her life, 
 actual terror assailed her, but she laughed a little shallow 
 laugh of nervousness and conciliation. 
 
 "Why, Boris," she cried eagerly, trying to speak naturally, 
 though apprehension was creeping over her. "When did you 
 return? I did not get your message." 
 
 "I did not send one." 
 
 His voice was concentrated and vibrated with rage and he 
 continued to gaze at her fixedly, his eyes flaring maniacally. 
 Who was the man with you ? 
 
 Sonia s heart leaped. He had not seen Hugh. He had 
 not recognized the American s voice. She felt as if she had 
 escaped from danger, and drawing herself to her feet, turned 
 toward her husband, erect and with laughter lurking in her 
 eyes. Her beauty enraged Boris Ramoniff to white fury. 
 
 "Who was here? Answer me at once," he again demanded, 
 the veins on his brow swelling like cords. "Who was it?" 
 
 "I am not accustomed to such a tone, mon cher," she an 
 swered steadily. "You must be dreaming. I am alone." 
 
 "Sonia, I heard a man s voice." 
 
 Her eyes still mocked him and without another word, Ra 
 moniff went into the outer room and locked the door leading
 
 SON I A, COUNTESS RAMON IFF. 253 
 
 I to the main hall. He was alone with his wife, free from in 
 terruption, and returned to the dressing room through which 
 Crawford had passed such a short time before. He carefully 
 removed his overcoat and laid it on a chair, and stood before 
 her. Now Sonia Ramoniff did not try to smile and it was 
 her husband s eyes that mocked. 
 
 They stood face to face, she, battling with wild despair, and 
 he with the cold glitter in his eyes that told her that all 
 time for argument, all hope for love and mercy, was gone. 
 She was almost delirious and seemed to hear Crawford s voice 
 whispering "To-morrow." But she would never see Hugh 
 again they would not dance the mazouka at the fete there 
 would be no to-morrow. Her wandering wits came back and 
 she looked solemnly into her husband s face, reading the peril 
 at hand ; knowing there was no chance to escape from his mad 
 ness. Fear told her that Ramoniff believed her wanton, and 
 that nothing would change his belief in her guilt. He knew 
 she had used the private entrance to hide her visitor s coming 
 and going from the household, and he would never believe 
 that she had only been silly, weak, even wickedly indiscreet, 
 but that she had never given herself to another. All his affec 
 tion and trust was killed, and the implacable hatred in Boris 
 Ramoniff s heart claimed vengeance the end had come the 
 end of life. Horror chilled her when she listened to his voice. 
 
 "Are you going to tell me who was with you? Do you 
 think I will learn from your maid the servant w r ho is your 
 confidant?" 
 
 "There was no one no one was here," she lied doggedly, 
 setting her teeth in determination as grim as his own. "I 
 swear it, Boris." 
 
 "Why do you try to deceive me further? You, my wife, 
 the mother of my children, the beautiful, witty, Countess 
 Ramoniff. Do you lie to shield your lover? The hound who 
 holds rendezvous with a wife under her husband s roof?
 
 254 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 Sonia, I want no man s plaything for my wife. You will not 
 disgrace me again." 
 
 Her breath came in little gasps and she pressed both hands 
 against her heart. 
 
 Once you loved me, Boris. You love me now, dear. 
 
 "Love you," he cried, "Yes, I love you as much as you 
 love me. I love you so well that I am going to take you away 
 from the world and its temptations. You are too beautiful 
 too kind and I am going with you on a long journey." 
 
 She stole a glance at his face and saw an awful tempest of 
 feeling sweeping over him. His stertorous breath came in 
 gasps and drawing something from his pocket, he leaned to 
 ward her. 
 
 A dog howled in the distance. 
 
 She read the warning in his face and knew what was coin 
 ing she saw her doom in the burning depths of his eyes. 
 
 "Say your prayers," Bamoniff commanded. "Pray that 
 we both may be forgiven." Then rage made him frenzied 
 and he breathed so loudly that he panted like an animal. 
 "You demon," he cried. "You who have blasted my life 
 and disgraced my children. You shameless wanton, you 
 
 Everything turned red with the surging of blood in his 
 brain and he tottered wildly with outstretched arms, gasped, 
 dropped his revolver and fell like a log helpless at his wife s 
 feet. 
 
 Every nerve in Sonia Bamoniff s hair seemed to bristle and 
 quiver. She looked like a tawny tigress and her eyes grew 
 smaller with some thought. She imagined Bamoniff had fainted, 
 and stealthily picked up the weapon he had dropped, and hid it 
 in the drawer of her dressing table, then gliding swiftly back 
 to him, she knelt beside him. 
 
 "Boris! Boris!" she wept. "I am yours yours only 
 and forever. Take me away. Take me where you will. I love 
 you* All I want is you. Think of the children. Believe me 
 trust me do not ruin our lives and theirs."
 
 SON I A, COUNTESS RAMON IFF. 255 
 
 She cried wildly, holding him in her arms and in her frenzy 
 kissing Kamoniff s cold face again and again, but he did not 
 move. Something in the dead silence of the room caused her 
 to lay his head gently on the floor and she leaned on both 
 hands, staring and panting into the face beneath her. 
 
 He was harmless now. Something told her he was dead and 
 in her mad relief, she flung herself across the body, looking 
 into the eyes rolled upwards until only a portion of the iris 
 could be seen. His black hair fell grotesquely on one side of 
 his face, away from the baldness he had tried to cover and 
 his jaw dropped in a hideous smile. 
 
 "He is dead," she whispered, and gave a whimpering cry, 
 still kneeling beside him, her yellow braids falling over her 
 shoulders and around her face, while she clasped her hands 
 tightly. She must be calm. She must think. 
 
 "There will be no scandal," she gasped. "I must call the 
 servants." 
 
 Like all persons with strong intellects she unconsciously 
 debated with herself in the moment of danger. She nervously 
 rose to her feet, still trembling violently, and her glance 
 wandered around the chamber while she thought out a plan 
 of action. 
 
 Hastily putting everything in the magnificent rooms in per 
 fect order, even going into her sleeping room and smoothing 
 the already creaseless couverlit of the canopied, massive bed, 
 she returned to the boudoir and unlocked the door. Then 
 she roused the house by calling for her maid and violently 
 ringing the bell. The servants hurried to her, but she brushed 
 them aside and spoke to her maid, 
 
 "The Count is ill. Bring Doctor Alt at once. Hurry- 
 hurry and return to me." 
 
 The frightened woman disappeared and, forgetting the rest 
 of the servants who hung around the door, Sonia struck her 
 hands together in another paroxysm of agony. Live wires
 
 256 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 seemed to be running through her hair and the shocking scene 
 with Ramoniff, the fear of violent death and his sudden seiz 
 ure, broke her nerve and appeared to have blighted all her 
 beauty, and withered her youth. She tried to gain control of 
 herself, but burst into violent weeping. 
 
 " Boris, oh, my God!" she cried. "My poor Boris." 
 
 As do most Russian families of wealth, the Ramoniffs kept 
 their own physician in the house, and the maid returned with 
 the doctor. He had been with the Ramoniffs for years since 
 long before the marriage of Boris, and had attended Sonia 
 during the birth of her children. He cast a startled look at 
 the distraught woman standing with her hands tightly clasped 
 over her breast, then he knelt down beside the motionless form 
 on the carpet. He lifted the head for an instant before gently 
 laying it back and opening the clothes and fumbling over the 
 silk and linen over the heart. His examination was brief. 
 
 "Heart failure," he declared solemnly. "I warned him. 
 Nothing can be done. 
 
 Sonia heard the directions given to the servants and saw the 
 body of her husband lifted and borne from her dressing room. 
 She attempted to follow but the physician held her back. 
 
 "You can do nothing, madame. You must remain here," 
 he said with quiet authority. "I will attend to everything 
 and you must obey me." 
 
 "Send my boys to me," she cried, then changed her mind. 
 "No, I do not want to see them. I want to be alone." 
 
 Doctor Alt was very much moved and said comfortingly, 
 
 "I am positive the Count did not suffer. Yes, it is best 
 for you to be alone," and seeing her shiver as with cold, he 
 added gently, "You must be strong and try to compose your 
 self." 
 
 He left a sleeping potion on the dressing table, and after 
 whispering instructions to the maid, hurried away. 
 
 Sonia Ramoniff stood quite still until her maid disrobed
 
 SON1A, COUNTESS RAMON IFF. 257 
 
 her and then sent the woman away. Her glance wandered to 
 the gilded mirror over the table where she had seen her hus 
 band s face reflected such a short time before. Would she 
 ever be able to forget the hate in the face ? Wearily she turned 
 to one of the windows and gazed over St. Petersburg, already 
 commencing to sparkle and glitter with its thousands of lights. 
 The short afternoon was past and her chamber grew dark, but 
 she did not draw the blinds, and she commenced to feel ex 
 alted mad. 
 
 She had been near to disgraceful death, and felt that she 
 had conquered fate in the face of defeat; then she shuddered 
 when she recollected how near she had been to accompanying 
 Boris Ramoniff on his journey on his journey to the great 
 beyond. The mood passed, and the hours dragged miserably, 
 although she bathed and tried to compose herself, but in spite 
 of the draught the doctor had left for her, she could not sleep. 
 Whenever she shut her eyes she could see the face of her dead 
 husband, but at last the narcotic soothed her and towards day 
 light she fell into a trance-like slumber. 
 
 But in a few hours she awakened and memory returned with 
 crushing force and she was torn between grief and remorse. 
 
 When her woman brought her chocolate and papers, she 
 gave Sonia one startled glance and nearly dropped the tray 
 she held in her hands. Hastily placing it on a table near the 
 bed, she stood open-m6uthed, staring at her mistress. 
 
 "Your hair, madame!" she cried. "Oh, madame! Your 
 beautiful hair!" 
 
 Tremblingly Sonia put her hand to her head, then sharply 
 called for her mirror. Her glorious, burnished hair was white 
 as snow would be an ever-present reminder of the hour of 
 agony and fear she had passed through, but she impatiently 
 laid aside the hand-glass after an amazed glance at her re 
 flection, and eagerly scanned the writing on the envelopes in 
 her mail.
 
 258 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 A thrill of pain passed through her when she found Craw 
 ford s card and a note, brief but eloquent to Sonia Ramoniff. 
 The few lines bore no heading and she read, 
 
 "Am returning to Paris immediately. Faithfully, 
 
 Hugh." 
 
 The tears ran down her pale cheeks. The enormity the 
 sickening horror of the tragedy that had come between Craw 
 ford and herself was revealed without any extenuating com 
 fort. She knew that an impassable gulf separated them. 
 They had outraged the dead man, if not in act, they were 
 guilty in desire and intention and she was too frank to deny 
 her wickedness. She had not loved Ramoniff as he deserved, 
 but too late, she appreciated the pathetic devotion he had given 
 her, and he was the father of her children. 
 
 Without touching her breakfast, she dressed and went to 
 the chapel of the grand mansion where her husband was 
 resting. She moved silently, looking like a spirit in her trail 
 ing white woolen robes and crown of white hair. 
 
 Bending over the casket, she held the dead face tenderly be 
 tween her slender hands and whispered, "I will be good, 
 Boris. I am sorry, dear. Forgive your Sonia who will pray 
 for forgiveness and rest for your soul every day until she 
 dies." 
 
 In her grief, the children that Sonia had selfishly kept out 
 of her daily life, crept into her heart and brought solace. 
 
 The days following the death of her husband, dragged with 
 leaden feet and when the period of waiting prescribed by the 
 custom of the country and Romaniff s rank were ended, the 
 body of Boris Ramoniff was taken to his estates in the In 
 terior, and deposited beside the cousin he had so lately wept 
 over, in the vault that had been the resting place of the 
 Romaniffs for generations.
 
 SON I A, COUNTESS RAMON IFF. 259 
 
 The widow, enveloped in crepe, with her two little boys be 
 side her, was profoundly moved, and her figure trembled con 
 vulsively while she assisted with an aching heart to the beau 
 tiful, impressive service of the Russian Church. 
 
 Her life would be one long regret and expiation, and every 
 word of the solemn burial service scorched her soul.
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 St. Petersburg. 
 
 261
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ST. PETERSBURG. 
 
 When he left Sonia, Crawford followed the maid down 
 the narrow stairs, slipping a gold coin into the woman s 
 hand before he walked quickly through the arched door. 
 Now that Sonia had given him her promise, he experienced 
 no anxiety about the danger she might experience and 
 tranquilly considered her husband a mere shadow between 
 them. 
 
 The cold, stinging air of the winter s afternoon swept up 
 over the canals and cut around the buildings, but Crawford 
 did not seek the protection of a sleigh or carriage and 
 swung along the Moika. Love is heady wine and he was as 
 happy as it is possible for a person to be. 
 
 The face and form of Sonia Avas like a picture before his 
 eyes. He could see the ropes of tawny hair, feel the pink- 
 tipped fingers caressing his face. He thought of the volup 
 tuous figure of the woman he now loved, and the red lips 
 ready for his kisses. Slave as he was to his passions, some 
 thing of the old, wild spirit of his pioneer forefathers made 
 him want to go back, and, in spite of her husband and the 
 world, carry her away with him. Then his eyes almost closed 
 with their rapid blinking and he tried to control the confusing 
 thoughts that dazed him and he walked on and on. He did 
 not hear the traffic nor notice the animation of the thorough 
 fare and did not see the people passing him, hurrying before 
 the cold wind. 
 
 "Whenever a chill blast from the north pierced him, he 
 went into a restaurant and drank a vodka, tipped the waiter 
 and returned to the street and, at first, the fiery liquor did 
 not seem to dull his faculties. 
 
 263
 
 264 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 He must walk. He must have action, and he strode along 
 the Nevski and past the barracks. The low buildings looked 
 bare and deserted and he wondered how many prisoners 
 were confined there. He remembered that Sonia had warned 
 him against the Marquise Tania and wondered if Tania s 
 husband had been imprisoned there or sent to Schlussel- 
 burg and what crime the Marquise could have been guilty 
 of. He couldn t understand why a man with immense 
 wealth such as Tania s husband had possessed and with 
 titles and estates could be so unwise as to mix up with re 
 formers and revolutionists. Tania must have been in serious 
 trouble when, in spite of her great wealth and influential 
 friends, she could not return to the country she belonged 
 to and adored. 
 
 He recalled his unpleasant experience at the frontier, 
 but concluded that he had exaggerated its seriousness. At 
 any rate, there was no danger now, and after to-morrow 
 Tania would be relegated to past experiences. Still, he 
 could not help feeling sorry for her. No doubt she was the 
 tool of some terrible society who used her money and 
 talents Avithout her knowledge as to the real danger. All 
 women have fads and it wasn t much more serious than 
 joining the militant suffragists and she loved him de 
 votedly. Poor Tania. 
 
 He was in a peculiar mood. He commenced to feel drowsy 
 after he reached his hotel and slept for half an hour. When 
 he awakened, happy and keenly vigorous, he took a cold 
 plunge and, putting on the clothes the valet had laid out, 
 went down to the foyer to join his friends and drink an 
 American cocktail. 
 
 He felt fresh and exhilarated when he entered the beauti 
 ful rooms leading to the banqueting hall. 
 
 The Hotel d Europe is celebrated for its luxury, and when 
 Crawford walked through the immense chambers, white, ex-
 
 ST. PETERSBURG. 265 
 
 quisitely delicate, and brilliant with light, the lines of Dry- 
 den sung through his mind 
 
 "A very merry, dancy, drinking, 
 Laughing, quaffing, and unthinking time" 
 
 and he was joyous and self-sufficient in spirit when he 
 passed the servants in livery, standing watchful and atten 
 tive. 
 
 Most of the men were in uniform and their military dress 
 contrasted with the entrancing loveliness of the women, 
 who, blazing with jewels, made an impression of extrava 
 gant beauty. 
 
 The strains of the celebrated orchestra floated on the air 
 and Crawford felt the stimulus of the music. 
 
 When a delicate and lovely woman came toward him, 
 smiling and bowing on the arm of a grave old General whose 
 breast was covered with medals, the American knew that 
 her salute was an invitation to join her, but he chose not to 
 see it and merely bowed low. 
 
 He was waiting for Sonia Ramoniff. But she did not 
 appear and no one seemed to note her absence, save Craw 
 ford. He wondered what was detaining her, and even 
 among the inspiriting company around him could not banish 
 her from his thoughts. He pictured her arrival and knew 
 her face, so tenderly dear and sweet, would be raised to 
 his, and glorying in his power over her, he looked very 
 handsome and eager while he watched the arriving guests. 
 
 "Monsieur Crawford is impatient. Sonia is late," laughed 
 a tall woman, gorgeous in white satin and emeralds. "Per 
 haps she is not coming. 
 
 "Oh, she will be here. She is coming with the Bashskis, 
 and they are always late," her fresh-colored escort replied 
 as he carelessly glanced down the rooms. The scene was 
 getting more animated and everyone was preparing to go
 
 266 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 to the splendid gold dining-room which had been decorated 
 for the evening, and, offering his arm, he whispered 
 
 "It is a pretty sight, et tu est ires en beaute si soir." 
 
 A young Duke passed with a vivacious French woman 
 on his arm. He was making himself exceedingly pleasant, 
 and laughed delightedly at some remark of the woman who 
 was a recognized wit. 
 
 The tables in the dining-room gleamed with costly glass 
 and silver, and under the exhilaration of the mirth, music 
 and champagne, the diners extracted all the pleasure of 
 the hour, and it is doubtful if the gold salle-a-manger ever 
 hfld a merrier party. The dinner was even gayer than it 
 promised to be and the spoiled darlings of caste and wealth 
 found everything up to even their prodigal expectations. 
 
 Among the ladies was a gifted and fascinating young 
 woman one of the Imperial Ballet mingling among them 
 and being petted and admired. She was a favorite at Court 
 and enjoyed the intimate friendship of many aristocrats. 
 Her beautiful figure shoAved to advantage when she superbly 
 walked through the rooms on the arm of a high official, and 
 the haughty men and women looked at her with expressions 
 of admiration. Russian nobles have been known to gain 
 much valuable information from Imperial dancers. 
 
 The Bashskis had arrived without the Countess Ramoniff 
 and with much gay talk and musical laughter the dinner 
 progressed to an end. When Comte Bashski rose to his feet 
 and lifted his hand the musicians stopped playing. 
 
 "A toast," he cried in rich, ringing tones, "to our little 
 Father. To our Czar." 
 
 Every man was on his feet and drained his glass, watch 
 ing Bashski and simultaneously with the comte s movement, 
 crushed his empty, frail goblet on the table the musical 
 crash of splintered crystal surprising Crawford into terror. 
 He had forgotten the peculiar custom and stood transfixed,
 
 ST. PETERSBURG. 267 
 
 nis empty glass in his rigid hand until his neighbor gently 
 took it from him and broke it. 
 
 "Why do you do that?" Crawford burst out. "I do not 
 understand. 
 
 "It is apparent, n est-ce pas?" the laughing woman replied, 
 amused at the American s expression. "The glasses are not 
 to be used again after being honored by a toast to our 
 Czar." 
 
 Crawford s nerves w r ere beating horribly and his eyes 
 dimmed, but, although he was almost blind for the moment, 
 he managed to smile. When the company left the table he 
 took his companion to the white salon, where the guests were 
 drawing together in groups; some to dance, others to 
 gamble, and a few to listen to the music of the orchestra 
 and celebrated artists who had been engaged to sing a 
 few solos. 
 
 Sitting beside a stately dowager and trying to be enter 
 taining, although Sonia s absence weighed heavily on his 
 spirit, Craw r ford was transfixed to hear a voice behind him 
 whisper 
 
 "Have you heard the shocking news? Boris Ramoniff is 
 dead. His poor wife was alone with him. She is pros 
 trated." 
 
 "It cannot be possible," another voice exclaimed. "Why, 
 I did not know he was in St. Petersburg. He was not ex- 
 Dected." 
 
 No, he returned unexpectedly. The Countess intended 
 coming with us to-night and we heard of the tragedy 
 when we called for her. Doctor Alt has telephoned the 
 news to the authorities." 
 
 Crawford turned and saw that Comte Bashski was speak 
 ing. 
 
 He tried to speak to the lady beside him, but the breath 
 seemed to have left his body and he gasped and closed his 
 eyes.
 
 268 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 The dowager, who had not heard Bashski s words, thought 
 the American had been drinking too freely and smiled at 
 him with tolerant kindness. She had sons of her own and 
 Crawford was still young and very good-looking, so the 
 gentle old patrician pretended not to see the pale face of 
 the almost unconscious man and, joining a passing friend, 
 walked away. 
 
 To his dying day Hugh Crawford could never understand 
 why no one mentioned or seemed to notice the emotion he 
 must have betrayed when he sat huddled in the chair, trying 
 to overcome the haziness that blurred everything and every 
 body into ghost-like mysteries. But he sat still until he 
 succeeded in drawing his wits together and gradually his 
 sight returned. 
 
 In spite of the momentary blindness, his doctor s warning 
 was forgotten in the shock of the terrible news he had 
 heard. When did Ramoniff return? Did he kill himself 
 or but he dare not think what might have happened since 
 he left Sonia. 
 
 Gossip of the death ran through the rooms bringing re 
 gret and oppression and more than one pair of eyes stared 
 queerly at Crawford, who was known to be devoted to 
 Sonia Ramoniff. 
 
 I wonder if they suspect me ? " he thought with affright, 
 but with astounding self-control he managed to appear cool 
 and calm when he sought his host and, pleading illness, re 
 tired from the salon. 
 
 "I understand," his friend whispered sympathetically. 
 "I will see you in the morning. It is most unfortunate." 
 
 When Crawford disappeared the man added, No wonder 
 Crawford is ill. I wonder how much he is to blame. Per 
 haps it was suicide." 
 
 For the first time in his career Crawford folt that he was 
 under distrust and his mind Avas filled with agony and 
 alarm. He had received such unexpected blows from fate
 
 ST. PETERSBURG. 269 
 
 that the chill of suspicion seemed to break his spirit. Hop 
 ing to free himself from oppressive thoughts he ordered 
 brandy, and dismissing the valet, shut himself in his rooms 
 and drank himself into a sodden sleep. 
 
 On waking, his first thought was of Sonia. He recalled 
 her promise, then a blasting recollection of the tragedy 
 struck him with odious force. 
 
 The fear of Eussian hatred and suspicion the possibility 
 that he might be implicated or that Sonia s maid might 
 mention his visit and the use of the private door, made him 
 shudder and he intended to leave St. Petersburg and Rus 
 sia flee from the land so full of wealth and woe and tor 
 menting terrors. 
 
 He rose from his bed and, lifting the inside sash, unfast 
 ened a pane o$ the outside window, and while his glance 
 strayed into the street, a company of cavalry dashed by. 
 
 To the nerve-shattered man their appearance contained a 
 menace, and his face, pale and bloated from the night s 
 drinking, turned chalky in its pallor. He telephoned the 
 office for a waiter. He did not want to go among strangers. 
 He wanted his breakfast served in his rooms. 
 
 "I was a fool to come here and now I will never see 
 Sonia again. Ramoniff will ahvays be between us," he 
 cried, tears of self-pity in his eyes. "He was a good man, 
 and I how much am I to blame for his death? He died in 
 Sonia s rooms and she did not expect him." 
 
 He clasped both hands over his aching head, frightened 
 to death by his fears, and when the servant came and gave 
 the generous American a smiling glance, Crawford imag 
 ined the man was watching him with diabolical suspicion. 
 
 "I am in great danger," he muttered when the waiter 
 left with the order. "Ramoniff was a patriotic Russian and 
 had friends in all walks of life. I may be assassinated. 
 There have been mysterious disappearances."
 
 270 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 He was still trembling under the thrusts of guilty con 
 science and wondering why he had been so reckless and 
 careless of danger when the waiter knocked at the door. 
 The servant re-entered the room, bringing a tray and 
 arranged Crawford s breakfast on a table near the window. 
 He moved quietly, vaguely conscious that his presence dis 
 turbed the American, and with a deprecating cough asked 
 if he should pour the coffee. 
 
 "Yes, then bring me a time-table." Crawford sat down 
 and laid his napkin across his knee. The hot coffee helped 
 restore his natural poise, and when the man was leaving 
 the room the American spoke in his usual tone. "You 
 need not return. Tell the valet to bring me the railway 
 schedule. 
 
 Crawford was surprised to find his appetite had returned 
 and with it a little of his lost confidence and when the valet 
 came with the time-table, he looked it over and solemnly 
 finished a hearty breakfast. 
 
 Having found that an early train left for Berlin, his brain 
 became alert and, impelled with a desire to retire grace 
 fully, he wrote a line to Sonia, and, although it was still 
 early morning, ordered that it be delivered immediately. 
 
 Unpleasant emotions were allayed and the oppressive fear 
 and loneliness had left him. The proud air of assurance 
 characteristic to him came back and he thought quizzically 
 that he had escaped dangerous complications; his love for 
 Sonia appeared to have been perilous, but destiny had been 
 kind and he frankly fled, without recognizing that selfish 
 misgivings dominated his humor. 
 
 From the table beside him he picked up the morning 
 paper and read the mention of the sudden death of Count 
 Boris Ramoniff and the widow s great sorrow, but there was 
 nothing sensational. It was merely the passing of a prom 
 inent and beloved nobleman who had been cut off in the
 
 ST. PETERSBURG. 271 
 
 best years of his life by a visitation from the Almighty, and 
 the journal expressed satisfaction that Ramoniff had left 
 sons to inherit his titles and estates. 
 
 While the valet was packing the trunks, the young Rus 
 sian who had given the banquet the night previous, strolled 
 into Crawford s rooms. He liked the American and felt 
 sorry to see him preparing to leave, but he thought Craw 
 ford was doing the proper thing to drop out of sight. If he 
 had been in the same position it is what he would have 
 done. 
 
 "I am leaving St. Petersburg to-day by the earliest 
 train," Crawford said. "I am greatly indebted to you for 
 many courtesies and hope to reciprocate. I am going 
 directly to Paris." 
 
 "If you will permit I will go to the train with you," the 
 young man volunteered amiably and an hour later the two 
 men entered the station, chatting animatedly and promising 
 to see each other in France. 
 
 When the train started, Crawford settled back in the 
 comfortable plush chair, his strained nerves were relaxed, 
 and he plumed himself on his successful escape from a dan 
 gerous entanglement. He drew the newspaper he had 
 already glanced through from his overcoat pocket where 
 the valet had thoughtfully stuffed it and he was rudely 
 awakened from his complacency when his eye caught the 
 censored mention of a discovered revolutionary plot and he 
 seemed to collapse when he read 
 
 "Police discover a new revolutionary plot. A number of 
 arrests have been made. Damisoff and Schmoltze captured 
 in the home of Olga Linoff. Incriminating papers inculpating 
 several members of the duma secured and complete plans of 
 the Czar s winter palace found secreted in a small Japanese 
 toy. Underground entrances discovered in the nick of time. 
 Gigantic plot to kill the royal family, frustrated. The notori-
 
 272 
 
 uus Tania Cherimiski, widow of the Marquis Michael Cheri- 
 miski believed to be instigator of the conspiracy. More arrests 
 expected. 
 
 Hugh Crawford was on the verge of prostration. He 
 clutched the paper with his left hand, shaking as with 
 ague, his jaw dropping in amazement and his right hand 
 laid over his eyes. His alcohol-soaked brain teemed with 
 horrible fantasies. Perhaps something would detain him 
 in his infernal country would the train never start? 
 
 "The Japanese idol! The Japanese idol!" he groaned. 
 With shaking hand he drew his w r atch from his pocket. It 
 must be time to start. His thumb touched the spring and he 
 saAv a dark, sAveet face looking at him from the case of the 
 time-piece. 
 
 "Oh, there is no one else who really cares but she. I ll go 
 back to the States. I ll go home. I m going back to Anno."
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 Burning Bridges. 
 
 273
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 BURNING BRIDGES. 
 
 "I m going back to my own country. I m going to 
 America," Hugh Crawford told his man one day after he 
 had returned to Paris. "You will have three months ad 
 vance salary. That will give you plenty of time to go to 
 England or find another place here. "Would you like me to 
 write you a letter of recommendation?" 
 
 "I suppose you won t take a man with you to America, 
 sir?" asked Saunders meekly. "I have been with you for a 
 long time, sir." 
 
 "But you wouldn t want to live in the States, would 
 you?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. I would be very glad to, sir. I hope you won t 
 think I have been taking a liberty, sir, or 
 
 "You haven t been getting into trouble while I was away, 
 have you?" 
 
 Crawford spoke irritably. He feared anything unusual 
 and a sense of failure burned in his heart. He had been 
 defeated, routed, discomfited by fate, and the future loomed 
 dark and troublous and his one great desire was to get away 
 from Europe. 
 
 "What do you mean by taking liberties, Saunders?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," Saunders blushed furiously, 
 "but I wrote Miss Dora that I would come to the States at 
 the first opportunity and " 
 
 "Miss Dora!" burst out Crawford. "Who in the devil 
 is Miss Dora? A woman doesn t want you for a valet, does 
 she?" 
 
 275
 
 276 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 No, thank you, sir," the man answered. "I would like 
 to be her husband if you don t mind. She is Mrs. Craw 
 ford s woman." 
 
 The ghost of a smile flitted across Crawford s face fol 
 lowed by a rush of blood and for the first time since leaving 
 Russia he laughed loud and heartily until the tears stood 
 in his eyes. 
 
 Instead of being resentful or mortified, Saunders was de 
 lighted to see the pall of gloom lifted and smiled sheepishly. 
 
 " I m not so sure she will have me, sir, he confided. She 
 told me she d not want to leave Mrs. Crawford." 
 
 She told you?" exclaimed Crawford. "When did you 
 ask her?" 
 
 "It was love at first sight with me, sir. I asked her in 
 London when you first took me into your service." 
 
 "Well, I ll be dashed!" Crawford s eyes met the older 
 man s steady gaze and he was not above asking questions 
 when occasion demanded. "Did Dora write you anything 
 about my wife? I suppose you exchange letters, and, of 
 course, you know there was a misunderstanding between 
 Mrs. Crawford and me. You couldn t help but know it." 
 
 "I never know anything, sir, but Dora did write me that 
 Mrs. Crawford is very gay and admired. Several very in 
 fluential gentlemen have tried to court her but it may be 
 only servants gossip." 
 
 "Of course it is, " Crawford answered indignantly. "But 
 I m glad I won t have to look for another valet. I m not 
 sure I could get along without you, Saunders. T regretted 
 not taking you with me to St. Petersburg." 
 
 "Thank you. You make me very proud, sir." 
 
 Crawford decided to keep his furnished apartment in 
 Paris. It was a delightful pied de terre and would be ready 
 if Anne wanted to take a run over to France. 
 
 He realized how blind he had been in imagining that the 
 Marquise Tania had ever looked upon him as other than
 
 BURNING BRIDGES. 277 
 
 a simple tool. Her apartment in the Rue Cherche Midi 
 was closed and most of her acquaintances seemed to have 
 disappeared and the ones Crawford accidentally ran across 
 avoided any mention of her name. No one cared to be 
 known as the friend of the dangerous woman who had 
 nearly dragged Crawford into public disgrace, and the 
 world was still appalled by the daring of the plot which 
 had been so near success. 
 
 "It s a clean slate for me," he communed. "I ve sown 
 my wild oats. I m going to settle down." 
 
 He watched Saunders arranging furniture and furnish 
 ings for the inspection of the agent who was to take charge 
 of the apartment. Among other things the man collected 
 photographs and personal treasures that he knew Crawford 
 would not leave, and when he placed some portraits in a 
 folio Crawford growled 
 
 "1 want to look through that. Put it on the table and 
 you may go. I ll ring when I want you." 
 
 Dignified and silent, Saunders obeyed and left the room 
 to go about the dismantling of other personal decorations 
 in the apartment. 
 
 Since his return to Paris, Crawford had been drinking 
 more than ever, but though the liquor benumbed his facul 
 ties and he sometimes mingled with the old crowd who wel 
 comed him with open arms, he seemed to have lost his zest 
 for license and wild living. In spite of his natural weak 
 ness he was changed and for the better. 
 
 His intention of going to Washington to seek his wife 
 and ask her love and forgiveness imbued him with ambition 
 to "brace up," leave the foolish and contaminated past be 
 hind and live a clean and honorable life. If the trouble 
 with his eyes would only leave him he would take up his 
 profession in earnest. He knew it had grown to be a jest 
 among his friends, but ho would show them that his mother s
 
 278 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 belief in him had been right and he would make Anno 
 proud of him yet. 
 
 When he thought of her now he was surprised to feel 
 ambitions surging through his brain. He had neglected 
 her apparently forgotten her existence for years but now 
 that fate rebuffed him and nature threatened to take her 
 revenge by dimming his sight, he turned to her with satis 
 fied belief in his power over her and confidence that she 
 would forgive and forget be glad to re-marry him. 
 
 "My little Anne," he muttered, and lifted a handful of 
 photographs from the table where Saunders had left them. 
 He looked long at a picture of Anne. It was the one she 
 had sent him from La Conner before coming to London and 
 he stared remorsefully at the sweet young face. "I ve been 
 a miserable cad, but she loves me and she ll forgive me. I 
 wonder if it wouldn t be best to write her that I am coming. " 
 
 He sat at his desk and wrote a lengthy and eloquent 
 letter, breathing words of love and passion, for Crawford 
 was now a master at writing love-letters. "You have 
 always been such a good, true woman, dear," he wrote. 
 "When I hold you again in my arms I know you will heap 
 coals of fire on my head by forgiving me and take me 
 back into your life. The letter continued with expressions 
 of sweet and tender fondness and was the only real love- 
 letter he had ever written to Anne. 
 
 In the days of their engagement he had never felt like 
 writing long or frankly affectionate missives. He had always 
 left a loophole of escape. But it was different now, and 
 Crawford contentedly sealed the letter and carelessly threw 
 it over to the table. 
 
 He did not see that when he lifted up the sheaf of por 
 traits the letter he had written to Anne had been caught 
 between two pictures which he brushed aside with the palm 
 of his hand. He searched until he collected all of Sonia
 
 BURNING BRIDGES. 279 
 
 , 
 
 Ramoniff s likenesses and, with a curious feeling of regret, 
 laid them on top of the uneven pile. 
 
 One long glance he gave at the beautiful, smiling face, 
 and, bending down, he kissed the pictured lips as sadly as 
 one kisses the dead. Then he rang for Saunders and or 
 dered him to burn the mass of cardboard. He shut his 
 teeth as if in pain when the man started to leave the room, 
 but resisted the impulse to call him back. 
 
 With a deep sigh he called himself an idiot and reached 
 out for the bottle of Scotch whiskey near his elbow and 
 drew it toward him. 
 
 "I ll take a drink to my new resolutions," he laughed 
 grimly. "Good Lord, but I ll have to forget a lot if I am 
 going to live happily with Anne. 
 
 But his better judgment asserted itself and he left the 
 whiskey untouched. He felt a craving for exercise work 
 air, and hurriedly putting on his heavy coat, descended to 
 the bleak, wintry street and proceeded to his bankers. 
 
 Now that he had made up his mind, he was wild to get 
 started. The thought of the sea voyage lured him and the 
 necessity for arranging his affairs was irritating to the impa 
 tient man. He found no satisfaction in the expressions of re 
 gret from the friends he had once cultivated so sedulously 
 and who hated to lose him from their gay circles. He was 
 truly "burning his bridges" and in his heart wondered at 
 the change in himself. 
 
 He engaged passage on the Normandie. When he was 
 leaving Paris he found a crowd of good fellows Avaiting to 
 bid him "bon voyage" and hoped they would not offer to 
 go with him as far as Havre, but he need not have worried, 
 for Avhen the train pulled out they waved their hats, cried 
 their good wishes, and returned to their usual haunts. 
 
 It was in the small hours of the following morning when 
 the Normandie lurched from the huge dock, and Crawford,
 
 280 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 who had not slept during the tiresome night s journey from 
 Paris, did not seek his stateroom. 
 
 Standing by the railing, he watched the lights and shad 
 owy shores of France fading in the distance. Until six 
 o clock he remained immovable, then he went below, where 
 he found Saunders waiting for him. He freshened himself 
 and became conscious of hunger, and turned into the dining 
 salon where breakfast was being served. 
 
 The sea was rough, but he was a good sailor and he spent 
 hours in his deck chair, wrapped in furs and gaining nervous 
 and physical benefit from the salt air. 
 
 "Everything is going to come out all right, but my folly 
 might have cost me dearly," he reasoned. "I ll telegraph 
 to Anne just as soon as we get into New York. And I m 
 going to win her respect. I want that as much as her love. 
 
 He would have been less confident had he known that his 
 letter explaining pleading and promising, had been 
 burned with the photographs of the woman he hoped to 
 forgot.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 An Old Wedding Ring. 
 
 281
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 AN OLD WEDDING RING. 
 
 A small domestic Avar was raging in Anne s Washington 
 home. Her anger against Crawford blazed with a fury that 
 hurt and her soul raged in indignation that cried out in 
 terror when she thought of his unexpected return. Miss 
 Hamilton was perplexed and gloomily morose and Dora 
 well, when Dora with tears and embarrassment confessed 
 that she and Mr. Hugh s man had corresponded for years 
 and that she had promised to marry him, Miss Hamilton was 
 furious and astounded. 
 
 "I don t know what the world is coming to," she de 
 clared. "Dora is as old as Ellen MacVeety. It doesn t 
 seem natural or nice for old maids to think of marriage, 
 and I don t know how Anne can get along without her. 
 Dora wouldn t marry when she was young. She said she 
 never would leave us and why in the name of common sense 
 should she want to marry when she s middle-aged and set 
 tled. She s as silly and sentimental as Ellen was. Fancy 
 how absurd it would be for me to trot up to the altar and 
 swear to love, honor and obey some old coot who had flat 
 tered me into the belief that he couldn t live without me 
 and who would revolutionize my whole life. She tried to 
 smile at Anne, but failed miserably. "I offered to see Hugh 
 when he comes, but I hope it won t be necessary. I d prefer 
 to stay in my rooms." 
 
 "Do whatever suits you best, dear. I have asked too much 
 of you already." 
 
 "You couldn t do that, but I m jealous. I can t bear the 
 thought that you are going to receive him again. I m 
 afraid. 
 
 283
 
 284 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "There s nothing to be afraid of. He is not coming to 
 make trouble. He wants a favor. Oh, auntie, I know him 
 so well, but I can t understand why he didn t write and 
 prepare me." 
 
 "Perhaps he didn t think it necessary. Dora has been 
 so deceitful in not telling us that she exchanged letters with 
 that gentleman s gentleman/ very likely Hugh knows every 
 move you ve made." 
 
 "Oh, no. Dora wouldn t do anything like that. She s 
 been devoted to me, auntie you don t know how thought 
 ful. I think she must have been afraid to tell us she wanted 
 to marry." 
 
 "What made her so courageous all of a sudden?" Miss 
 Hamilton snorted. It seems very peculiar to me. 
 
 "Saunders must have written that he was coming to 
 America with Hugh and perhaps her love was stronger than 
 her fear. Let her be happy in her own way and don t bor 
 row trouble. She may not like him so well when she sees 
 him again." 
 
 "Oh, yes, she will. There s no fool like an old maid in 
 love." She changed the subject by asking, "What time 
 will the train be in ? " 
 
 There is one at seven-fifteen. I hope they come on it. 
 
 "You re a strange woman, Anne, and I ll be thankful 
 when this night is past. I can t understand your anxiety to 
 see Hugh. I wish you wouldn t. " She leaned forward and 
 pressed Anne s hands. Don t think I am hard, but I hate 
 him. He almost ruined your life and I m afraid you still 
 love him." 
 
 She dropped her hands with an almost hysterical gesture 
 of passion. 
 
 "You don t know me," Anne exclaimed contemptuously. 
 "Love him? Why I hate him! During the years since I 
 last saw him I thought I was enjoying myself that I had
 
 AN OLD WEDDING RING. 285 
 
 forgotten and all the time I was waiting and hoping he 
 would conic back and give me my revenge only I didn t 
 know it. 
 
 "I ll admit I never did understand you, dear. I was 
 always afraid you would do something mad." Miss Hamil 
 ton rose clumsily from the deep chair and moved toward 
 the door. She looked tired and old. "I m going to my 
 room. I m worn out with this nonsense and I won t want 
 any dinner." 
 
 Anne moved softly to her and slipped her arm around the 
 old lady s waist. 
 
 "I ll send Dora with something. Now, don t worry, 
 darling. You re not going to have a headache or a heart 
 ache and I will go to you and tell you all about everything 
 after Hugh goes, you dear, darling auntie." 
 
 Miss Hamilton passed through the doorway without 
 ansAvering. 
 
 Anne exhaled a long sigh of relief and threw herself on 
 the couch. Her hands were cold and she wanted to cry. 
 At luncheon she had eaten nothing, and the elderly butler, 
 discreetly appearing bereft of sight and feeling, saw that his 
 lady was laboring under some great excitement, and when 
 he went to the kitchen, confided to the cook that "things 
 looked queer" and his belief that "the ladies must have 
 had a row." 
 
 There was a knock at the door and Dora came in. 
 
 "I want some tea hot." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Anne." 
 
 After drinking a steaming cup, Anne felt refreshed and 
 told the woman to lay out a white crepe gown. Then she 
 sent Dora away and dressed herself in the soft, clinging 
 silk, draped with cobwebby lace, and which enveloped her in 
 misty, cloud-like beauty. 
 
 It was the first time she had worn a white dress for years, 
 and she hoped the gown would make Crawford remember
 
 286 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 their meeting in London. She piled her hair high on her 
 head and stared approvingly at her image in the mirror. 
 She knew she looked well, and, with her long train curling 
 gracefully behind her, descended to the same room where 
 she had waited in happy expectation for Hugh Crawford 
 six years before. 
 
 She believed that Miss Hamilton s door was open and that 
 the anxious woman was listening, and smiled in sympathetic 
 understanding. She wished her aunt would volunteer to 
 come downstairs, for she missed the energetic presence and 
 she had grown used to depending on her in anxious moments. 
 
 The bell rang several times, and at each peal she shivered, 
 but she had given instructions that she was home only to Craw 
 ford and nine o clock struck, and he had not come. 
 
 She almost resolved to go upstairs to her aunt and refuse 
 to see him when the bell again rang loudly and the footman 
 opened the door. Anne heard a well remembered voice and 
 overcome by her feelings, turned to the window and threw 
 aside the hangings, trying to breathe in the cooler air. 
 
 And Hugh was in the room, looking peering at her. 
 
 He was tired from his journey and still wore his travel 
 ling clothes. He had entered the room without ceremony, his 
 nerves strained to their highest pitch and Anne stepped back 
 closer to the curtains with a sudden instinct of terror. 
 
 At first glance he appeared the same. The years of absence 
 had not seemed to alter him, but the second look showed his 
 countenance pale and chiseled with lines of dissipation. Anne 
 noticed the wrinkles about his eyes such tired, haunted eyes, 
 and her fear was dispelled, for they no longer flashed compell- 
 ingly into hers, and he looked what he was, a man young in 
 years, but weary and world- worn. 
 
 And Hugh Crawford. The dreaded mist came across his 
 eyes when he entered the room and to his darkened vision Anne 
 looked as young and alluring as a girl, while for the second
 
 AN OLD WEDDING RING. 287 
 
 time in his life, he thought her the most desirable woman in 
 the world. 
 
 Anne, he cried in his familiarly musical voice, and hum 
 bly as a child stumbling toward her, "Oh, Anne, why don t 
 you come to me? Don t you forgive me? I need you so." 
 
 Sonvething snapped in his head and a shudder ran through 
 the strong man while he groped in frenzied horror. 
 
 "Oh! Oh! this is terrible! What is the matter? What is 
 it?" Anne exclaimed. 
 
 Her voice broke and her anger was overcome by surprise 
 and pity. Her face was pitifully distorted and she instinc 
 tively seized Crawford s hands while she gazed into the sight 
 less eyes with astonished amazement. 
 
 She did not know that the sword had fallen that the 
 threatened affliction had come. 
 
 "Anne! Anne!" he cried wildly. "It is dark I cannot 
 see I am afraid. It was never like this before. Help me 
 help me. What shall I do!" 
 
 "Please please try to be calm I beg of you, Hugh." 
 
 "Do not leave me. I will die without you, Anne." 
 
 She put her arms around him with a sudden, fierce move 
 ment, as when a mother guards her babe from disaster and 
 tears streamed down her face. 
 
 "I am here don t be frightened, Hugh," she said quietly. 
 "I will not leave you. Where is Saunders I must send for 
 a doctor." 
 
 "Anne!" His arms tightened around her, "You are my 
 wife?" 
 
 "Yes," she tried to utter a word of endearment, but could 
 not, though all her hate and bitter hopes of revenge were lost 
 in compassion. 
 
 For an instant Crawford stopped shaking and sobbing 
 while he felt the comfort of her arms, but the silence was 
 only momentary and he flung his arms wildly, clasping and 
 unclasping his hands, frenzied by the fearful darkness.
 
 "It is the end. I know it is the end. I was warned 
 but it is too late now it is too late now," he wailed, then 
 his mood changed into fury, the obstinacy and unreason 
 ableness of his nature aroused his old self still clinging to 
 him. "I will kill myself I will not live" but again the 
 fury was spent and he knelt at her feet crying the awful, 
 gasping sobs of a desperate man wailing his misery. I am 
 blind! I am blind!" 
 
 He clung to her in wild appeal and Anne s heart was 
 almost bursting and she stooped and kissed his wet eyes. 
 She was not surprised to see that her aunt was in the 
 room. 
 
 "Send for Doctor von Soiron, auntie, and come back to 
 me." 
 
 Anger was forgotten and Miss Hamilton hurried away to 
 return in a few minutes and quietly shut the door. 
 
 "Auntie is here with us, Hugh," Anne said. "You must 
 } e brave. We will be with you and the darkness will soon 
 pass," but in her heart Anne Crawford knew that it would 
 not. 
 
 Promise me, he pleaded, pitifully. Promise me, dear. 
 
 "I will not leave you. I promise," she answered dis 
 tinctly. "Don t give way, Hugh. Be a man for my sake. 
 It is not like you to fear. How long have you been like this 
 and where is Saunders? He should not have left you." 
 
 "It was never like this before never. I am afraid." 
 
 She drew him to his feet and led him to a chair which 
 Miss Hamilton drew forward and stared into the sightless 
 eyes that held such blank misery in their blue depths, com 
 prehending that Hugh Crawford might never escape from 
 the terrible blackness. 
 
 "Anne, will you marry me again? Will you? Will you?" 
 
 She closed her eyes with a feeling of desperation and Miss 
 Hamilton s eyes narrowed with emotion. 
 
 "We will go back home together, Hugh. Back to the old
 
 AN OLD WEDDING RING. 289 
 
 place iii La Conner and you will be well and happy again. 
 You are worn out that s all. We ll go back to our old 
 friends to our own people." 
 
 Miss Hamilton with bent head silently left the room, one 
 hand held to her heart and in her eyes a world of sorrow. 
 
 Saunders was dumfounded at his master s affliction and 
 coughed and shivered out in the cold, while he watched for 
 the doctor. Dora, wrapped in a shawl shivered beside him. 
 
 "Perhaps it s just a nervous attack," he said pathetically. 
 Go back into the house, Dora, my girl. Go to her the poor 
 thing. It s very sad for the mistress." 
 
 When von Soiron came in immediate response to Miss Ham 
 ilton s message, Saunders opened the door of the car and the 
 great man carefully listened to the words of the valet. 
 
 "I m afraid it has gone too far, but I must see him. The"re 
 may be a chance for him yet. 
 
 He was talking to himself for Saunders with averted face 
 x was walking sorrowfully towards the servant s entrance. 
 
 When von Soiron entered the drawing-room, Anne ran 
 to meet him. Her face appeared to have shrunk and she 
 looked as helpless as a child but her heart was strong and a 
 bewildering gratefulness that Hugh had reached her, mingled 
 with intense pity. Again he was hers. Her man. 
 
 When the doctor finished his examination he took Anne 
 aside and looked down at her, pityingly. 
 
 Nothing can be done at present, I am grieved to tell you. 
 There will be no pain but he will suffer horribly from nerves. 
 I will send medicine that will quiet him for a few hours and 
 his man had better remain with him. A nurse would irritate 
 him. He is going to find it very hard to become used to the 
 darkness and I am very sorry for you, Mrs. Crawford. It 
 is too bad it happened here for I m afraid to excite him and 
 he should stay here for a day or until tomorrow. He must 
 have absolute rest."
 
 290 
 
 "We are going to be married tonight so there will be no 
 necessity of his leaving his home. He is my husband, doc 
 tor." 
 
 "Well! Well!" gasped the friendly German. "I am very 
 glad of that. Try to keep up his courage. Won t you find it 
 a heavy task, Mrs. Crawford?" 
 
 "I am not afraid," Anne answered with gentle dignity. 
 
 It was almost midnight and Crawford, pale and with white 
 lips, was lying back in a great chair, but Anne s eyes shone 
 like stars as she nestled against his shoulder, her heart beat 
 ing with yearning the wild, wonderful, tender, maternal 
 love of a wife. 
 
 Crawford commenced to murmur prayers for forgivenness, 
 but Anne, whose soul had endured such agony, stooped her 
 head and stopped his words with her face against his lips. 
 
 "Everything is gone and past. You are again my boy 
 lover, my husband, and at last you have come for me and we 
 are going home together." 
 
 They were waiting for the clergyman, and to Anne it was 
 the longest hour of her existence. 
 
 "If I could only live over some of the years of my life," 
 Crawford said remorsefully. "I have burned the candle at 
 both ends and bring only the remains to you, dear, and I 
 promised to love and protect " 
 
 "Don t! Oh, Hugh, don t! Everything is going to be 
 different now." 
 
 "But I d rather be honest and tell you everything." 
 
 "I don t want to know." 
 
 She put her hands across his lips. 
 
 The minister had arrived and was coming into the room 
 with Miss Hamilton, Dora and Saunders to act as witnesses. 
 
 Anne looked like a girl dressed for her bridal, with her 
 white, filmy dress falling around her, and bravely stood beside 
 the tall, handsome man with white face and sorrowful eyes. 
 
 For the first time she removed her wedding ring from the
 
 AX OLD WEDDING RING. 291 
 
 finger on which Crawford had placed it seven years before. 
 She slipped it into his hand and when the pastor closed the 
 Bible and gave his blessing, Hugh Crawford held his wife 
 again in his arms and whispered : 
 
 "For better and worse, my darling." 
 
 "Until death us do part," she answered, and turned to 
 place her aunt s hand in Hugh s, but the much-tried woman 
 reached up and kissed him heartily and gave place to the two 
 servitors who had been with Anne and Hugh Crawford dur- 
 ii-jr i|: r ji stormy past.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Successful. 
 
 293
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 SUCCESSFUL. 
 
 Hugh Crawford s unexpected blindness upset all Anne s 
 plans and carried her out of herself. With the sensitive 
 ness of her affectionate nature she divined the miserable 
 shrinking that made him nervous and held him aloof from 
 everyone but herself and she talked cheerfully of the things 
 around them, never taking the attitude that she was sorry 
 for him or remembered his blindness. 
 
 Her tender consideration was balm to his soul and drew 
 him out of the depths of morbidness and melancholy. He 
 learned to love the sound of her voice, to listen for her foot 
 step and a feeling of triumph gladdened him that, in spite of 
 his affliction, she loved him. 
 
 Doctor von Soiron s words, "I am afraid nothing can be 
 done at present," beat through Anne s head during the 
 months following. "I am afraid that nothing can be done at 
 present," was not a positive declaration that all hope was 
 gone and a wild desire to have the great occulist take up Craw 
 ford s case, made her decide to plead with Hugh to submit to 
 another examination and perhaps an operation. 
 
 A sense of fear and pity held her back from taking action. 
 Suppose her hopes were unfounded? Was it more merciful 
 to leave him alone? he was becoming accustomed to the 
 darkness. She put aside her doubts and made up her mind to 
 speak to him. 
 
 I have been to see Doctor von Soiron and he wants to ex 
 amine you again there may be hope, she said, breathlessly. 
 
 Crawford s face grew anxious eager, yet there was fear 
 and indecision in it. Suddenly he held out his hand in the 
 pathetic, uncertain way of the blind. 
 
 295
 
 296 RETURN OF HUGH CRAWFORD 
 
 "Anne, I don t believe there is any hope," he cried, "but 
 I will do just as you say. Do you want me to consent to an 
 operation ? 
 
 Yes, dear. You will never know anything about that part 
 of it. The doctor will know exactly what to do and when to 
 do it. Operations are not what they used to be and there 
 will be little or no pain. And we would be sure. It is better 
 to know the truth." Her voice was tragic. If God in His 
 mercy restored Crawford s sight, he would not need her 
 would not be dependent on her, but, with a sob in her throat, 
 she cried impulsively, "Yes, I do want you to consent. I am 
 convinced you will see again." 
 
 But if it should fail ? " he said, in an anguished voice. If 
 your hopes were false?" 
 
 "Oh, Hugh, take a chance," she begged, impulsively. "Take 
 the risk!" 
 
 Crawford, pale and trembling, exclaimed, "Yes! yes! I 
 will. I want to see again. Oh, God in heaven, give me back 
 my sight." 
 
 Thus his consent was gained and the operation took place 
 in September, for von Soiron, while not holding out hope, said 
 there might be a chance. The operation proved a startling 
 success and the doctors were of the opinion that Crawford s 
 sight would be fairly well restored though he would have to 
 exercise great care and wear special glasses. 
 
 A week passed and tests had been satisfactory and in a 
 month the swathes were to be taken from his eyes. Gradu 
 ally glimpses of light were allowed and the bandages were re 
 moved for a few minutes just to let him realize that he could 
 see and after each experiment von Soiron was more and 
 more certain that the operation was splendidly successful. 
 When the bandages were lifted Crawford had been permitted 
 to see the doctor and nurses, but he had not seen his wife. 
 Now they were to be removed for a quarter of an hour.
 
 SUCCESSFUL. 297 
 
 It was a clear, sunshiny morning. The doctor bent over 
 Crawford, looking into his face as the nurse removed the soft 
 strips of cotton until almost all were removed, then he silently 
 left the white hospital room where Crawford was patiently 
 sitting with his back to the window and motioned for Anne 
 to enter. Very slowly the last bandage was removed and 
 Hugh Crawford looked into his wife s face. 
 
 "Anne," he sobbed. "Thank God, I can see you, my dar 
 ling," and as she slowly drew nearer, his face whitened. He 
 made a quick movement and gathered her in his arms, looking 
 into her beautiful eyes burning with love and pride. 
 
 "Oh, I will never run away from you again I can t live 
 without you, Hugh." She whispered something that brought 
 an exclamation of delighted surprise from Crawford s lips 
 and under the bewildered happiness of his gaze, Anne s cheeks 
 flushed and her eyes grew misty. I did not want to tell you 
 before and I was not sure, but that is why I wanted the 
 operation now I wanted you to see." 
 
 "I can t believe it all," he cried. "I never hoped for this 
 and to think that I should learn of it on this blessed day. 
 
 There was something so full of absolute happiness in Anne s 
 face that Crawford was silenced for the moment. 
 
 In the next room the doctor waited until the minute hand 
 registered the quarter hour, then he closed his watch and with 
 a cheery word on his lips, entered the room and re-adjusted the 
 bandages over Crawford s eyes. 
 
 But in the darkness Hugh Crawford could picture his 
 wife s face and with unspeakable happiness and exquisite 
 tenderness he felt her hand in his and realized that his love 
 for her had made the world a paradise.
 
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