ARJADNE 
 
 ALLAN WATER- 
 
 siDNEY 
 MCCALL
 
 \ 


 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER
 
 " Come, my poor darling. Come, my little bruised white 
 rose," he whispered. FRONTISPIECE. See Page 239.
 
 ARIADNE 
 OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 BY 
 
 SIDNEY McCALL 
 
 AUTHOR OF " TRUTH DEXTER," " THE BREATH OF THE GODS," ETC. 
 
 WITH FRONTISPIECE BY 
 C. H. TAFFS 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 1914
 
 Copyright, 1914, 
 LITTIE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Published, April, 1914 
 
 Printed by COLONIAL PRESS: 
 C. H. Simonds C& Co., Boston, U. S. A.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 BOOK ONE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE pale glory of an early spring sun shone full on the 
 white pillars of the old Virginia home, casting a long 
 rectangle of shadow over kitchen, barn, smoke-house, 
 chicken-house, and various other outer buildings that 
 stood at the rear. 
 
 Beyond this cluster of humble roofs began the old 
 apple orchard, now in an ecstasy of bloom. The roseate 
 billows flowed into a gentle "dip," flooding the valley 
 evenly, and scrambling, in some disorder, the slope of the 
 further hillside. Near the top they paused abruptly 
 at sight of a menacing line of ragged, gray bowlders, 
 among which only a few young cedars had footing, and 
 these seemed to scowl darkly as if defying anything so 
 frivolous as a pink apple tree to gain their sky-poised 
 eminence. 
 
 On the flat altar of the nearest rock stood the blue- 
 clad 'figure of a girl, Ariadne, a slim young goddess of the 
 spring, giving and receiving homage. 
 
 As she looked now upon the massed flowers at her feet, 
 the child in her, nourished by fantastic stories of my- 
 thology, fairy lore, and old-world romances, began to 
 weave conscious similes. The trees, with their leaning 
 trunks and outspread branches, were court ladies in 
 lace and fluttering pink ribbons, assembled in an audience
 
 2 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 chamber before a throne ; and she, Ariadne, the young 
 queen. She smiled and stretched out arms of welcome. 
 Almost she could see the whispering beauties turn 
 powdered heads, nodding to each other in pleasure at 
 her graciousness. 
 
 Then she likened them to a mass of giant posies, 
 fashioned and afterward spilled by some careless servitor 
 on his too hurried way toward gilded cloud-castles be- 
 yond the hill. The birds darting among them were 
 butterflies. In the old days there were surely giants. 
 Even the Bible spoke of them. Was it not possible that 
 even now, somewhere, there lived a stalwart young giant, 
 beautiful as a tall tree, who could have stooped over, 
 snapped off a whole apple-bough as easily as she, Ariadne, 
 could pick a dandelion, and thrust it nonchalantly into 
 his green buttonhole ? 
 
 She laughed and let her fancies vanish. After all it 
 was sweeter to know them for just what they were, her 
 own dear trees, each one an individual as familiar and 
 distinct as the human folk who peopled her narrow world. 
 Now her arms fell. She was no longer a priestess or a 
 young sovereign. It was the smile of a girl who loved 
 them for themselves, that now deepened in the sunshine. 
 Finally, as if satiated with loveliness, Ariadne lifted her 
 eyes and gazed out across the orchard, the big white 
 house, and the wide grounds, straight to the east, to 
 taller hills crowned with a haze of dark cedars. 
 
 She had never been beyond those distant hills, nor, 
 indeed, had she ever longed to pass them. Here at her 
 feet was her heritage, kingdom, where she was the petted 
 queen. No other spot could be so beautiful. Even the 
 sun was but a part of it, and the blue span of sky above 
 as much her own as the green lawn about the Big 
 House.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 3 
 
 She drew herself more erect, taking in deep breaths of 
 morning air. She felt transparent, tinged throughout 
 with the gold of it. Life was so wonderful, so exciting, 
 that she wanted to laugh aloud, to cry, to fall upon her 
 knees, thanking the great Maker of it all. But, of course, 
 one fell to one's knees in church only, or by one's bed, 
 at night. She told herself to remember, when bedtime 
 came, to add a little postcript to her usual prayer, thank- 
 ing God for making the world so exquisite. She hoped 
 He wouldn't consider it familiar or a little disrespectful. 
 She must ask Grandma about it first. 
 
 Now she noticed, down among the apple trees, a small 
 brown figure, running. It was Mammy's little grandson, 
 Anguish. Evidently he had been sent to fetch her. 
 She watched him threading his way like an eccentric 
 shuttle. Anguish never moved in a straight line. In 
 spite of his characteristic diagonals of motion, there was 
 something unnatural about him something too busi- 
 nesslike and silent. Yes, that was it. The silence ! 
 She could not recall ever having seen him in the open air 
 when he was not either whistling or singing. Uncon- 
 sciously she frowned, and the smile fled from her lips. 
 
 "I wonder why he isn't singing?" the girl mused. 
 "Mammy hasn't walloped him this early in the day. 
 She's too busy getting breakfast." 
 
 Anguish was a sort of imp of laughter, a brown fiber 
 of restless merriment. His whistling embraced all the 
 notes of all known birds, not disdaining ludicrous imita- 
 tions of barnyard fowls. He could make a brood of 
 "biddies" leave the parent hen ; but his proudest boast 
 was that he could "fool er squinch-owl off'n its nest" 
 and lure it to destruction. With his possession of such 
 attributes, the perversion of his name by the other 
 negroes from "Angus" to the more euphonious but
 
 4 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 absurdly unsuitable "Anguish" became a lasting joy 
 to the entire neighborhood. 
 
 Anguish, long since, had caught sight of his young 
 mistress. Few things, indeed, escaped his beadlike eyes. 
 He ascended the farther slope at a run, his tongue hanging 
 out for breath, and the white rims around his beads 
 rolling ominously. He had been strictly schooled in 
 the etiquette never to "holler" at white folks; so now 
 it was not until he stood directly beneath the blue figure, 
 and had executed a queer little genuflection, that he 
 panted out : 
 
 "Ole Miss wants you, Miss Airey. She sez come to 
 breakfus right away. She's she's got a letter fum 
 yo ' Paw." 
 
 "Oh!" said the girl, scrambling down. "I didn't 
 know it was so late. Has Grandma been waiting long 
 for me, Anguish ?" 
 
 "Nome. She ain't set down yit," answered the boy, 
 not looking at her. " She wuz a-readin' de letter. She 
 
 she" 
 
 "She what?" cried Ariadne impatiently. Yes, there 
 was surely something wrong with Anguish. 
 
 "Ole Miss bin cryin' !" the boy burst out, and 
 then stood still, as if overpowered by his own words. 
 
 Ariadne, too, paused. She could scarcely believe it. 
 A second look at the small, upturned, frightened face 
 convinced her. She, too, was beginning to feel fright- 
 ened. Grandma crying ! Somehow she had not thought 
 that grown people knew how to cry. And as for grandma 
 
 why, that gentle face smiled even in its sleep. 
 
 "It is bad news about father," her heart whispered. 
 "It can't be anything else." 
 
 Now she began running. The boy kept swift silent 
 pace at her heels. She asked him no more questions.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 5 
 
 She was trying not to think, not to imagine things, until 
 she could reach home and learn the truth. 
 
 Under the apple trees the shadows were damp and 
 chill. She sped through them like a startled deer. The 
 outer buildings, too, were still in shadow. Old Uncle 
 Peter was smoking his corn-cob pipe on the kitchen 
 porch. She hurried past him into the house and flung 
 open the door of the breakfast room. 
 
 This, built as an annex to the main building and con- 
 sisting of but a single story, had been set at an angle 
 where the earliest sun-rays could find it, and was the 
 chosen spot of the household. First used for breakfast 
 only, a tentative luncheon had been served there because 
 "it was so cozy" and after that dinner, and grad- 
 ually it had become the general dining-room, while the 
 stately apartment originally intended for the purpose 
 was preserved for months at a time in shrouded grandeur. 
 Here the window-boxes flowered best, and the wood-fire 
 crackled most cheerily. Old Mrs. Bannister's ma- 
 hogany sewing-table with glass knobs stood in the sun- 
 niest corner, and over it hung a little rack containing the 
 favorite books of Ariadne's childhood. 
 
 As she now entered, breathless, she saw that her 
 grandmother stood before the mantel shelf. One hand 
 was upraised, moving among white roses, a bowl of which 
 was placed directly beneath a lifelike portrait of her only 
 child, Ariadne's dead young mother. The other, which 
 held a crumpled letter, was pressed down rigidly at her 
 side, half disappearing in the folds of her full black skirt. 
 Even at a distance the girl could see how this hand with 
 the letter trembled. 
 
 Ariadne did not wait, but cried aloud, in coming : 
 "Anguish said you had a letter. Oh, Grandma is 
 father sick?"
 
 6" ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "No, dear nothing of that sort. He is quite well," 
 the old lady answered, trying to smile at her. 
 
 The girl drew in a long shuddering breath of relief. 
 What else could matter if her father were well ? 
 
 "I was afraid Anguish was so queer and said you 
 wanted me at once," Ariadne explained, as if excusing her 
 indecorous excitement. "But it is all right now." 
 
 She went up to the old lady, putting slim young arms 
 around her, and kissing the soft cheek that always 
 seemed like a withered white rose. Then she turned to 
 the breakfast table, where the coffee was sending up 
 fragrant and inviting steam. Mrs. Bannister's glance 
 followed. She moved a little mechanically toward her 
 place at the head of the table, and as Ariadne held the 
 chair for her, laid the crumpled letter down. But when 
 she attempted to serve the coffee, her hands shook, and 
 after an effort to lift it, she replaced the heavy silver 
 coffee-pot and said : 
 
 "Ariadne, I must ask you to pour it. I find I am still 
 too much unstrung." 
 
 The girl moved to obey. In this stronger light she 
 saw the old grandmother's face clearly. The mark of 
 recent tears was unmistakable. The chin quivered and 
 would not be quieted, though it was evident that the old 
 lady was striving with all her power for self-control. 
 Fear came again to the granddaughter. She sank back, 
 forgetting the coffee. 
 
 "It is something bad, after all," she faltered. "Please 
 tell me everything, Grandma." 
 
 "Yes, in a moment," said the elder lady, pressing a 
 delicate handkerchief against her lips. 
 
 Ariadne held out her hand. " Shan't I read the letter 
 for myself ? You always let me read father's letters." 
 
 "No no " said Mrs. Bannister, covering the pages
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 7 
 
 with shaking fingers. "This time it is better for me to 
 tell you what he says. He asks me to break it to you 
 as I think best." 
 
 "To break it to me," repeated Ariadne, frowning. 
 She rested her arms upon the table and looked with 
 wondering, troubled eyes into her grandmother's face. 
 
 The old lady drew herself together with a great effort. 
 She sat upright, bracing her slender, silk-clad shoulders 
 against the old Gothic chair "There is no easy way of 
 saying it," she stated. "Your father is to be married 
 again." 
 
 "Married. Father married ? " repeated the girl. The 
 echoed words held, at first, no meaning. 
 
 Mrs. Bannister sank down a few inches and put the 
 handkerchief to her eyes. Ariadne stared on, unseeing, 
 at the spot where her grandmother's eyes had been. 
 That one word "married" reverberated in her mind as 
 through an empty room. There was nothing to connect 
 it with her father. What, after all, did it mean to be 
 married ? She had read but few novels, and those were 
 of Mrs. Bannister's choosing. In her fairy tales the 
 Prince and Princess always married as a matter of course 
 and lived happily ever after. That was the end of the 
 story. People on earth did it, too, she supposed 
 young, happy people, of a sort that never came to Allan 
 Water. Perhaps that was what had happened to her 
 own parents, years and years before. Grandma was 
 never tired of talking about the beautiful girl whose 
 portrait made of this little room a shrine of the way 
 that all who came near loved her of the young hus- 
 band's adoration and his tender and inconsolable grief 
 when she had been taken from him. Yet, until this 
 moment she had never thought of that exquisite vision 
 she called "mother" as ever having been married.
 
 8 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Now slowly Ariadne lifted her eyes and fixed them 
 upon the radiant, pictured face above. In it she saw 
 goodness, youth, and an immortal happiness. "So 
 she and father were married," thought the child. "Why 
 couldn't they have lived happily ever after? Why 
 did God take her away?" 
 
 The last words were whispered, but the grandmother 
 heard them. Their significance or rather what she 
 took to be their full significance combined with the 
 girl's upraised, adoryig look, broke down her last strong- 
 hold of reserve. Bending over, the old lady sobbed 
 aloud. 
 
 Ariadne sprang up and put her arms about the shaking 
 figure. "Why do you cry like this, Grandma? It is 
 terrible to see you cry. Does it mean something dreadful 
 for father to be married ? Will it make him different ? " 
 
 "No no. It isn't that, dear child," the old lady 
 said, trying to speak calmly. "It is the thought of his 
 bringing another woman here to this house to 
 take your mother's place." 
 
 "But how can anybody else take her place ?" the girl 
 questioned, with another glance up to the portrait. 
 " She she is everywhere ! " 
 
 "That is a very beautiful way of looking at it," replied 
 the old lady. "It comforts me. There, dear, don't 
 look so troubled. I shall control myself. Already I am 
 more composed. Ah, I hear Mandy coming in with the 
 rest of the breakfast. You must be hungry after your 
 morning's walk." 
 
 "I am. I'm 'most starved," said Ariadne childishly. 
 
 Mandy, a pretty, young mulatto girl, entered with a 
 large tray. Just behind her, like a shrunken shadow, 
 crept Anguish. He was peering in to see if "Ole Miss" 
 was still crying. Ariadne was conscious of a sudden
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 9 
 
 antipathy to the little creature, a feeling made poignant 
 by the fact that she, too, had known the sensation of 
 curiosity, almost of repulsion, at the sight of the old lady's 
 tears. She frowned, giving a quick, indignant gesture 
 to motion this "peeping Tom" away, then glanced 
 around to her grandmother to see if the action had been 
 observed. 
 
 To her relief the elder lady had seen nothing. She sat 
 a little stiffly upright in her accustomed manner, her old 
 face tranquil, and her hands moving with their usual 
 precision among the coffee things. As Mandy deposited 
 the last warm dish upon its mat, her mistress said 
 evenly: "I think that Susan will have to warm the 
 coffee. Miss Airey and I have let it grow quite cold." 
 
 The tension was over. Ariadne began with a relish 
 upon her hominy, scrambled eggs, and bacon. She did 
 not notice that Mrs. Bannister made a mere pretense of 
 eating. When the hot coffee had been served, and 
 Mandy been sent to the kitchen for the first batter-cakes, 
 the old lady remarked, quite casually : 
 
 "I must tell you something more of the lady your 
 father is to marry." 
 
 "Oh, please," said the girl eagerly. 
 
 Mrs. Bannister, without a tremor, unfolded the 
 sinister epistle, adjusted her gold-rimmed spectacles, 
 and glanced from the top to the bottom of the first page 
 with an air of expurgation. "She is quite young, Ran- 
 some says." 
 
 Ariadne beamed. 
 
 "Still in her early thirties." 
 
 The young face fell as suddenly. Thirties ! Why, 
 anywhere in the thirties was advanced middle age. "I 
 do hope she is pretty," said the girl in a slightly dejected 
 tone.
 
 io ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Um um ' murmured the reader, now turning 
 to the second page. "He doesn't say it in so many words. 
 But you may be sure that at this stage he would think 
 her good-looking whether she is or not." 
 
 Again Ariadne felt rebuffed. She had never heard her 
 grandmother speak in such a deprecating tone. She 
 cast about desperately for some new hope on which to 
 pin her faith. 
 
 "If father likes her well enough to to bring her 
 here," she cried, not being able yet to mention the 
 difficult word "marry," "I am sure she's pretty and 
 sweet and good ! Don't you think so too, Grandma ? 
 How long before she is coming ? " 
 
 "The marriage is to take place almost immediately," 
 transcribed the old lady in a colorless voice. "It seems 
 that she has few friends and no near relatives. She 
 visits about but spends most of her time in Charles- 
 ton." 
 
 She lowered the pages and looked over them and her 
 glasses at Ariadne. "At least we can be thankful that 
 she is a Southern lady." 
 
 The reading was resumed. " Her name is Miss Donna 
 Mayrant." Again a pause, followed by the comment : 
 "Her mother must have been a silly, sentimental crea- 
 ture. Perhaps she traveled in Italy. That's an Eye- 
 Italian name." 
 
 "Is it?" murmured Ariadne. 
 
 "They are to be married quietly at the home of a 
 Dr. Ravenal, who is her cousin twice removed. Then 
 they go to New York. Nellie Henry will know all about 
 them. She has visited in Charleston." 
 
 As she mentioned the name "Nellie Henry," Mrs. 
 Bannister gave a sharp exclamation. "Why, Nellie is 
 coming to spend the day with us this very day. It
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER n 
 
 had slipped entirely from my mind. I am to send Peter 
 to the station for her." 
 
 She began to move her chair back, at which Ariadne, 
 getting to her feet, ran to assist. The service was per- 
 formed somewhat mechanically, for the young girl's 
 thoughts were in a whirl. 
 
 So many new ideas had come crowding in at once. 
 The grandmother's phrase: "We can be thankful she 
 is a Southern lady," was the most mystifying of all. 
 Could it be possible that there were any ladies not "South- 
 ern" ? Her world was peopled entirely with Virginians, 
 or those in some way connected with Virginia families. 
 These were what the darkies called "quality" and old 
 ladies like Mrs. Bannister termed, complacently, " gentle- 
 folk." Aside from this class there were, of course, the 
 remote and admirable English from whom all Virginia 
 ancestry worthy of the name had been derived. Some- 
 where on the American continent was a race called 
 Yankees; but these were to be thought of as little as 
 possible. For the rest of the inhabited earth there were 
 merely "foreigners" aggregations of human beings in 
 various tones of white, yellow, red, and brown, who fore- 
 gathered in places so utterly unknown that they might as 
 well have been assorted on so many different planets. 
 Who but a Southern lady could be an inmate of Allan 
 Water ! 
 
 There was no time to lay this problem before a more 
 experienced mind, for Mrs. Bannister had already sum- 
 moned Mandy and was giving orders to have the phaeton 
 in readiness at once. 
 
 As the young negress went out, Mrs. Bannister folded 
 her hands and let them fall with a sigh of satisfaction. 
 "How dreadful if I had forgotten the dear girl alto- 
 gether !" she said. "Her note came with your father's
 
 12 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 letter, and it is not to be wondered at if I overlooked it 
 just at first. She is taking the nine o'clock train from 
 Culpeper. I am sure that Peter will get to the station 
 in time." 
 
 "Oh, Grandma, can't I drive to the station for Cousin 
 Nellie ? " pleaded the girl. 
 
 As the elder lady hesitated, she cried: "Did Cousin 
 Nellie say she was bringing little Dick Carter ?" 
 
 "She doesn't mention him, but she will, of course. 
 She never stirs without him. I do trust that the little 
 negress is along to keep up with the child. We are 
 unused to babies over here." 
 
 " I hope she does bring him," said Ariadne, her face 
 sparkling. " He is such a precious ! I wish he lived 
 here all the time." 
 
 From Mrs. Bannister's perturbed expression it could 
 be clearly seen that she did not share the girl's desire. 
 Her gentle old eyes were moving slowly around the 
 immaculate room. 
 
 "Yes," she murmured, as if to herself, " he is walking 
 now. I must have my sewing-tables turned around with 
 the knobs to the wall, and loop up the tendrils of wander- 
 ing-jew in all the window-boxes." 
 
 "But may I drive, Grandma? Now say yes, please. 
 You know those fat horses couldn't run away if they 
 tried." 
 
 "I suppose so," agreed the old lady, with a suppressed 
 sigh. Hers was a nature so timid of accidents that no 
 horse save a dead one could be trusted not to bolt. " But 
 stop a moment. The phaeton is not around to the front 
 yet. Old Peter gets slower every day. There's a special 
 message in your father's letter which you have not been 
 told. Perhaps you would like to read it for yourself." 
 
 Ariadne took the letter eagerly. The sight of her
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 13 
 
 father's bold clear writing gave a feeling of strength. 
 It was almost like a touch of his dear hand. 
 
 ''There, not so high up. Begin with the words: 
 'And say to my dear daughter- ' directed the old 
 lady, pointing. 
 
 Ariadne hastily lowered her eyes to the line. 
 
 "And say to my dear daughter that she is still to be 
 my little friend and comrade. Nothing is to be taken 
 from her. On the contrary, I believe that much is to 
 be added to her young life. It must have been at times 
 very dull for the child in the big house where all of us 
 were so much her seniors. Donna is near enough my 
 daughter's age to become a real companion. She 
 expresses herself as most anxious to win Ariadne's love. 
 This she cannot fail to do, for she is gentle, clinging, and 
 affectionate. Her life has been rather a lonely and un- 
 happy one. Her devotion to me is touching, and I 
 consider it a great privilege to be able to make up to her, 
 in some measure, for the unhappiness in her early life. 
 With regard to yourself, my dear mother, I most sin- 
 cerely hope that you will consider carefully what I have 
 urged in the earlier pages of this long letter, and will 
 continue to make your home with us. This is Donna's 
 desire as much as it is my own. We all need you. 
 
 "With deep regret for the distress which this news of 
 mine must inevitably bring, and renewed assurances 
 of my unaltered love, respect, and gratitude, I am, as 
 ever, your son 
 
 "RANSOME SKTPWITH." 
 
 Ariadne looked up with shining eyes. "Oh, isn't that 
 beautiful ? " she said with fervor. "It makes everything 
 seem right. She wants us all to love her. I believe I 
 do, already. I knew she must be kind and sweet."
 
 14 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Mrs. Bannister now stood erect. She watched the 
 changing face before her with a sort of tremulous inten- 
 sity. At the eager words, she tried to smile, an effort 
 that in some way appeared unspeakably pathetic. 
 
 "It's funny about father's asking you not to leave 
 Allan Water, though," mused the girl, her brightness 
 fading just a little. "Of course you wouldn't ! Why, I 
 couldn't live if you were away from me, Grandma. I 
 don't believe we have been apart a whole day in all my 
 life." 
 
 Now the answering smile was real, but despite tender 
 lips, a deeper sadness found harbor in the yearning old 
 eyes. 
 
 "That will all be decided in good time, my darling. 
 There are things you cannot understand just yet. 
 Now send the little frown away " she leaned over to 
 kiss it - "and run up-stairs for your sunbonnet. You 
 will need it. The glare is strong already. The horses 
 are at the door. I hear old Peter sneezing. He always 
 sneezes when I make him hitch them up early in the day. 
 He doesn't like it." 
 
 Ariadne, laughing once more, ran out into the hallway 
 and up the wide, curving stairs. Her feet sounded a 
 flying rhythm of youth and expectancy. She hummed 
 little snatches of her favorite ballad, "Allan Water." 
 
 Old Mrs. Bannister remained motionless, listening. 
 Her brave smile slowly quivered into lines of desolating 
 grief. For an instant she put both hands to her eyes as 
 if to shut out the future. Then, turning slowly, she went 
 up again to her daughter's picture, peering upward 
 dimly. She held up her arms as Ariadne, an hour before, 
 had strained her own outward to the beauty of the world. 
 She did not strive for speech. Even in the bruised old 
 heart there was no articulate petition. This thing had
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 15 
 
 fallen upon her all too suddenly. The two faced each 
 other silently immortal spring and a frail, withering 
 rose of a generation soon to pass. From both their 
 veins had come this new, clean, dew-sweet blossom, the 
 young girl, Ariadne. What would life bring to her ? 
 
 Again the twinkling feet, the lilt upon the stair, and a 
 blue bonnet thrust, for a fluttering instant, through the 
 doorway ! 
 
 "I'm starting, Grandma. Come out and wave good- 
 by!"
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 
 
 ARIADNE sat, poised like a bird about to fly, on the 
 faded tan cushions on the front seat. The over-fed 
 horses, Pitt and Fox, their glossy, distended haunches 
 swaying in unison, ambled submissively before her. 
 
 The old "double phaeton" which they drew, of a 
 pattern practically obsolete in more progressive localities, 
 was still considered, in Virginia, to be the one seemly 
 vehicle which a gentlewoman should drive. There was 
 really no necessity for the girl to hold the worn reins. 
 The horses knew quite as well as she the road to the 
 country station. 
 
 Above her young head, from which the sunbonnet had 
 already slipped, rose, high in air, a thin, flat top spread 
 evenly with black oilcloth, and surrounded by a greenish 
 fringe. Perhaps the fringe had once been brown 
 perhaps yellow. No one seemed to remember. This 
 cover, held aloft at the corners by very slender iron rods, 
 gave the conveyance a humorous resemblance to an 
 attenuated four-poster bed. 
 
 Ariadne, serene in her conviction that all was as it 
 should be, smiled under the tattered fringe and pictured 
 the coming meeting with Cousin Nellie and the adorable, 
 if naughty. Dick Carter. 
 
 As with all other material surroundings of her child- 
 hood, she accepted and admired the ancient carry-all 
 unquestioningly. Mr. Skipwith had, for his own use, 
 a high spring-buggy and its thoroughbred Kentucky 
 mare. Her drives in this winged chariot, taken gener-
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 17 
 
 ally under protest from the apprehensive grandmother, 
 were as different from the present decorous perambula- 
 tion as is the flight of a swallow to the mincing progress 
 of a tame pigeon. 
 
 Besides the phaeton and the buggy, there was an old, 
 two-wheeled farm-cart that tradition said had once been 
 blue. This was in the special charge of Uncle Peter, 
 as was also the gray mule, Jericho, which dragged it 
 rumblingly along the edges of the pasture or down to the 
 railway freight-shed to haul back sundry boxes. 
 
 These made up the stabling of Allan Water and were 
 therefore things in which to take pride. The home- 
 staying child had become, unconsciously to herself and 
 the elders who loved her, keenly possessive. The 
 humblest accessory of this, her allotted world, had the 
 glamor of intimate association. Things in themselves 
 transient, viewed in the retrospect of her brief but vivid 
 young existence, were literally " apparelled in celestial 
 light." She was given few chances for comparison. On 
 the rare occasions when Grandma had taken her to 
 spend the day with Cousin Nellie in Culpeper, she had 
 been too shy to make friends with other little girls, 
 brought in, arbitrarily, from neighboring houses, and 
 preferred to remain quietly within sight and hearing of 
 the safe, familiar figure of her grandmother, finding 
 sufficient amusement in looking out from various win- 
 dows. 
 
 The little city seemed a crowded, gray, forbidding 
 place. She pitied the people who possessed those queer, 
 tiny flower gardens, and such ugly, bare back-yards 
 held in by high board fences. Even in Cousin Nellie's 
 yard there was only a single tree, a disreputable, warty, 
 old he-mulberry the kind that Uncle Peter chopped
 
 i8 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 down scornfully, remarking that they were po' white 
 trash trees. It had always worried the child that rela- 
 tives of her own continued to permit the plebeian growth. 
 Not for the world would she have admitted to Uncle 
 Peter the fact of its existence. 
 
 Though she dearly loved Cousin Nellie and the tall, 
 grave "Cousin Judge" who was always so kind, and 
 though each of the excursions was begun with an almost 
 suffocating sense of excitement, returning made the 
 true glory of the day. The first sight of old Peter 
 waiting at the station thrilled her with the promise 
 of lost joys soon to be regained. And then the drive 
 homeward through wild, sweet-smelling, growing things ! 
 No place was here for a dusty, vagrant, old he-mulberry. 
 And then the first glimpse of the stately entrance 
 the long, curved driveway through the lawn and at 
 last at last the tall white pillars of her own dear 
 home, with Anguish turning handsprings in an ecstasy 
 of welcome ! 
 
 The child's love for Allan Water was becoming a sort 
 of passion. When Cousin Nellie came to them here, as 
 she would to-day, and now especially that there was small 
 Dick Carter, Ariadne felt that life had nothing better to 
 give. 
 
 She had passed the four square brick and cement posts 
 of the gateway, and soon, by a sharp turning of the road, 
 came into a little wood set thick with junipers. The 
 trees had been judiciously thinned from undergrowth, 
 making each one a stately green pyramid. Many of the 
 long lower branches skimmed the earth, and under one of 
 these a darker shadow suddenly moved. It was Anguish, 
 watching for a chance to indulge in a forbidden and 
 most precious pastime, that of "catching on behind." 
 She pretended not to see him, knowing that her spoken
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 19- 
 
 permission, instead of gratifying, would take off the keen- 
 est edge of joy. When they got home she would have to 
 intercede for him with Mammy, to divert the " wallop- 
 ing" he justly deserved ; but just now she wanted every- 
 body to be happy, even Anguish at the immoral price of 
 a stolen ride. 
 
 The day was so unspeakably beautiful, the scent of the 
 sun on the dark junipers so sweet, the whole of life, with 
 its new vistas opening before her, so wonderful and 
 strange ! 
 
 The woods were very still. On the sandy road the 
 thud of the horses' feet fell as upon grass. A sparkle 
 of bird-notes, flashing from one tree-top to another, 
 gleamed in the silence like motes in a sun-ray. She 
 heard the rush of the little negro's body, lithe and direct 
 as a lizard's predatory dart. She felt the slight impact, 
 as his claw-like hands leaped up and clutched the back 
 of the farthest seat. Her smile grew deeper. The 
 unconscious horses trotted in unbroken unison. Little 
 by little the tapping of small, horny, dangling feet, that 
 touched the fleeing road at intervals fell into rhythm 
 with the jogging steeds and the girl's low, crooning song. 
 Even the breathing of the conscious earth became a part 
 of it. Life sang in the girl's heart. 
 
 At the first covered bridge the spell was shattered. 
 Ariadne's song stopped, and she leaned over to grasp the 
 reins more firmly. The sound of hoofs, reechoed from 
 the boards beneath them and the flimsy, wooden arch 
 above, reduplicated into the roar of a cavalcade ; while 
 at the back of the vehicle hung Anguish, no longer pliant, 
 but gathered up into a knot of queer brown angles that 
 his "foots" wouldn't git splinters drove into 'em. 
 
 The bare little station was now in sight It stood like 
 a Noah's Ark anchored in a red-clay sea. All about it
 
 20 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 ran the deck of an uncovered platform, and near one 
 corner was planted a group of hitching posts furnished 
 with iron rings. Already there was tethered an archaic 
 buggy with a concave horse to match, and under the 
 nearest tree, a giant red-oak, stood several unharnessed 
 wagons. 
 
 At first no human being was in sight. Then, at the 
 sound of newly arriving wheels, a door at the farther end 
 of the building opened, and the small figure of a man 
 strolled out, shading his eyes for a recognizing squint 
 and then moving forward more briskly. 
 
 This was the station-master, Jasper Crane, as much a 
 part of the unpretentious edifice as the roof that covered it. 
 
 "Good mornin', Miss Airey," he called, stretching 
 out one hand for the reins. 
 
 The practiced horses curved smoothly and came to a 
 standstill within an inch of the platform's edge. Ariadne 
 sprang out, delivering the reins, as it were, in flight. 
 Anguish had already disappeared. 
 
 "Good morning, Mr. Crane," she answered brightly. 
 "How long before the train gets in ?" 
 
 "Oughter be here now, but o' course it ain't ! Come 
 to meet your Paw ? " 
 
 "No, Cousin Nellie Henry from Culpeper. She is 
 to spend the day. Dick Carter is coming, too." 
 
 Mr. Crane's somewhat serious countenance did not 
 reflect her pleasure. 
 
 "You'll have to keep a sharp lookout or he'll be under 
 them train wheels 'fore you know it. I never seen a kid 
 of his age could git into so much mischief. Last time he 
 sot in an open keg o' soft rosin." 
 
 "I remember," Ariadne laughed. "We had an awful 
 time pulling him out. Cousin Nellie thought one of his 
 legs might be left behind. But he is so cunning !"
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 21 
 
 "I don't know 'bout the cunnin'," said Mr. Crane 
 gloomily. "He oughter travel in a dog-basket." 
 
 The girl's chin went up suddenly. She resented the 
 suggestion that a kinsman of her own, however youthful 
 and perhaps deserving, could be put in a dog-basket, 
 and she walked swiftly away, until the platform at the 
 further side, running parallel with the tracks, had been 
 reached. Two long whistles sounded from Wolf Ridge 
 to the right. 
 
 "She's comin' now," cried Mr. Crane. "I'll hang out 
 the green flag just to make sure she'll stop. Them en- 
 gineers like to play tricks on me." He hurried into the 
 small waiting-room, leaving the door wide. A small 
 stove, red hot with smoldering coke, stood in the center 
 of the room. Compressed and over-heated air rushed 
 out in a flood. 
 
 The station-master and his flag soon followed. He 
 came up close to Ariadne, unfurling the scrap of green and 
 gazing down anxiously upon it, as if he feared the color 
 might have changed in the night. 
 
 " I don't believe you will need it," said Ariadne. "No 
 train would keep on going if Cousin Nellie wanted it to 
 stop." 
 
 "Reckon you're right there, little Miss," grinned Mr. 
 Crane. " I'll jes' hang it out fer looks, though. Seems 
 sort of welcoming." 
 
 As he stooped, the woods again fell silent. The train 
 with all its herald warnings had apparently vanished 
 from the earth. 
 
 Mr. Crane shifted, at the same instant one baggy 
 trouser leg and a huge wad of chewing tobacco. 
 "Where's your Paw now, Miss Airey ?" 
 
 "In Charleston," she answered, just a little coldly. 
 Of course she had known Mr. Crane from childhood.
 
 22 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 As long as she could remember, he had petted her, saving 
 up pop-corn balls and glass pistols of variegated and un- 
 datable candy levied from train peddlers, to give her pleas- 
 ure. He was almost as much a part of her life as the 
 servants up at Allan Water, and yet he was not exactly 
 the person with whom, now that she had grown so tall, 
 she could discuss her family. Unhampered by these 
 delicate distinctions, the little man went on in an easy, 
 conversational tone. 
 
 "They tell me your Paw's gettin' real rich, Miss Airey. 
 Them West Virginia lands that him and Jedge Henry 
 took up has turned out reg'lar gold-mines fer coal. He's 
 allays flyin' about now, gittin' big orders. Jedge Henry 
 said as how they were tryin' fer a navy contract down to 
 Charleston. Reckon he's at it now." 
 
 Ariadne turned her back upon him, walked to the very 
 edge of the platform, and peered along the shining curve 
 of rails. 
 
 "The train surely is late to-day," she remarked imper- 
 sonally. 
 
 Mr. Crane pursued his thoughts aloud. "Some folks 
 gits all the luck," he reflected plaintively. "Now your 
 Paw and Jedge Henry and me wuz boys together jes' 
 plain, two-legged boys. We fished with the same sort 
 o' grasshoppers an' stole apples from the selfsame tree. 
 An' look at 'em now ! Both prosperous men, gettin' 
 richer every minute, wearin' fine clothes, travelin' in 
 drawin'-rooms, an', fer all I know, orderin' champagne fer 
 supper. Look at me ! stuck in this one-horse station 
 like a wood-sawyer in pine-bark watchin' the trains 
 go by an' punchin' tickets. That's all I do, punch 
 tickets ! An' I reckon I'll keep on punchin' until I 
 punch myself into my grave." 
 
 Ariadne had slowly faced him. There was something
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 23 
 
 of reproof in the poise of her young body, something 
 repressed and even a trifle hard in the flower-like face. 
 
 "How is your wife's neuralgia?" she inquired dis- 
 tantly. She might have been old Mrs. Bannister con- 
 descending to her overseer. Mr. Crane could no longer 
 ignore the childish hauteur ; but far from resenting, it 
 delighted him. This slip of a girl was already showing 
 herself to be "real quality." He chuckled a little to 
 himself before answering. 
 
 "It's doing middlin' well jes' now, thank you, Miss 
 Airey. As it happens, there ain't nothin' special she 
 wants to drive me into doin'. 
 
 "All wimen's like that," he went on meditatively, as 
 Ariadne vouchsafed no answering remark. "Some uses 
 tears and hystericks ; some takes to broomsticks and 
 the biscuit-roller; my old lady works neuralgy to the 
 bone. It's all fer the one purpose. They're jes' nach'- 
 ally set on gittin' their own way, an they gits it." 
 The last words came out with a heavy sigh. 
 
 Ariadne continued to remain aloof and unresponsive. 
 
 "It won't be long before you're startin' along that 
 same old road fer yourself, Miss Airey," he now asserted. 
 A twinkle which she disdained to notice made his small 
 eyes dance. "But if you keep on gittin' purtier and 
 purtier, like you're doin' now, you won't need any o' 
 them rude weepons. It'll be a case of Davy Crockett. 
 Jes' pint your finger, and your coon will drap." 
 
 "There is the train at last!" cried the girl in great 
 relief. Mr. Crane had never before been quite so 
 personal, so inexcusably familiar. She resented it 
 intensely. And yet those words "If you keep on getting 
 purtier and purtier" had a strangely alluring sound. 
 The phrase clung and would not be brushed away. 
 
 Could it be that she was growing to resemble the lovely
 
 24 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 young mother ? She thought of the picture with its dark, 
 smiling eyes, its rose-tinted cheeks, its masses of brown, 
 curling hair, and at the memory shook her own blond 
 locks in protest. No, she was pale, and had queer, chang- 
 ing eyes, and hair of no particular color just hair, 
 as Mr. Crane had said of two-legged boys. There was 
 not a ripple or a wave to it. She could never be pretty. 
 It was only the station-master's way of teasing her. 
 
 The train was almost upon them. Ariadne's eager 
 look swept down the row of shut glass windows. The 
 engine, with its deafening bell, rushed past. After that 
 came a baggage-car, then a negro coach, followed by a 
 " smoker" in which a few languid male figures sprawled 
 through a pent-up mist. After that was the ordinary, 
 local day-coach. The brakes grated harshly ; the train 
 came to a throbbing halt. 
 
 In the fourth car a child was beating frantically upon 
 a window-pane with some hard object. She could see 
 him jerked violently away. Surely that was Cousin 
 Nellie and little Dick ! In another moment a negro 
 porter sprang out, setting a dingy, carpet-covered stool 
 among the tracks, and Cousin Nellie emerged, fair, fat, 
 and smiling, a split basket on one arm and a huge bunch 
 of flowers in the other. 
 
 Behind her came a thin-legged little negress of about 
 twelve years of age, whose arms strained to hold a 
 struggling boy. She wore no hat, and her head was 
 covered closely by small, projecting knobs of black 
 wool, each wound tightly with a bit of old shoe-string, 
 a protection much needed at the moment, for Master 
 Dick Carter was pounding it with the same dark clod 
 that had nearly shattered the car window. 
 
 They had scarcely reached the ground when Mrs. 
 Henry, turning to the porter, commanded :
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 25 
 
 "Take that terrapin out of Dick Kyarter's hand and 
 put it in this basket. He'll kill the wretched animal ! 
 Never mind his yells, Loovenia, hold him tight and 
 climb up on the platform. Hello, Airey ! Thank you, 
 porter. I'd give you a quarter if I could open my purse. 
 Never mind, I'll leave it with Mr. Crane, and you can 
 get it on your return trip. Loovenia, for goodness' sake, 
 take him away quick ! He bellows like a bull. Hush, Dick 
 Kyarter, hush ! No, you can't have the turtle again. 
 You are a bad boy. Show him the train, Loovenia." 
 
 The jointed cars moved on, and in the puffing steam and 
 shuddering axles, Dick's shrieks of wrath were first 
 drowned and then soothed. With wide, brilliant eyes 
 he watched the fleeting monster, and Loovenia's timid 
 adjuration, "See de pritty chu-chu," was an encourage- 
 ment not needed. 
 
 " Well, thank heaven that is over !" said Mrs. Henry 
 fervently, as she adjusted her comfortable bulk to the 
 front seat beside Ariadne and placed the basket between 
 their feet. "I do hope that bottle of peach brandy 
 won't leak all over us. There are some educators for 
 the baby in there, and a lot of extra clothes. I'll declare, 
 Ariadne, that child would have to be dressed from the 
 skin out ten times a day to keep him clean. He's a 
 perfect terror!" She turned round to gaze upon the 
 "terror," who was now in Loovenia's lap, with the re- 
 stored terrapin in his chubby fist, a picture of seraphic 
 loveliness. "Mother's pet lamb," she murmured. 
 
 Ariadne turned, too. "Isn't he the dearest thing! 
 Every time I see him, Cousin Nellie, he seems to get 
 prettier and prettier." 
 
 At the repetition of these words her cheeks grew hot. 
 Her eyes fell with sudden shyness, and her lips trembled 
 at her own queer feelings.
 
 26 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Cousin Nellie was staring openly. She put one warm, 
 ungloved hand beneath the girl's chin and forced the 
 flushed face upward. The waves of color came faster. 
 She could not meet the kind, inquisitive eyes. 
 
 "Look at me, Ariadne. What on earth what have 
 you been doing to yourself, anyway ? You are a positive 
 beauty, yes, you are ! " 
 
 She dropped her hand, leaned back, and laughed for 
 sheer pleasure. "Somehow I never thought of your 
 being pretty," the rich, comfortable voice went on. 
 "Wouldn't Cousin Belinda be shocked if she knew I was 
 telling you so ? She belongs to that old-fashioned school 
 that doesn't believe in a girl's knowing when she has good 
 looks. But I do. If ever I have a daughter as pretty 
 as that thing on the back seat, I shall make it my busi- 
 ness to let her know it. Why shouldn't she? It is 
 nothing that she's done, only a gift that she can thank 
 her Maker for. It gives the right kind of a girl self- 
 respect. It teaches her just how to hold her head and 
 how to enter a room, which is something that few women 
 learn until they are so old that nobody looks at them. 
 
 " You know what I believe?" She paused dramati- 
 cally. 
 
 Ariadne was gazing back with all her eyes. She had 
 said to herself that they were colorless, but just now 
 tints and gleams of all the beautiful eyes in the world 
 seemed concentrated in them. Mrs. Henry caught her 
 breath a little. 
 
 "I believe you are going to be a ripping, raving, tear- 
 ing young beauty ! And I want you to remember that 
 it was your Cousin Nellie who first told you so." 
 
 Ariadne sat perfectly still. She did not know that she 
 held the reins or that the old phaeton was moving. 
 Something warm and fragrant caressed her young limbs,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 27 
 
 passing across her very heart. The color came and 
 went in her throat, her temples, her cheeks, never resting 
 in one spot but always shifting like the moving tones of 
 an opal. 
 
 "She's like a cameo coming to life," thought the elder 
 woman. 
 
 Now the girl tried to speak, but her voice was so 
 low and shaken that Mrs. Henry had to lean down to 
 catch it. 
 
 " Do do you think I can ever look like my mother ? " 
 She was overwhelmed by her own temerity in daring to 
 approach this ultimate standard of loveliness. The 
 answer came like a shock of cold water. 
 
 " Goodness, no ! You're not her type at all. She was 
 a pretty little thing, of course, and we all adored her 
 a regular brown-eyed, dimpled, Virginia pet but you 
 are growing up into the real thing, a tall, willowy - 
 
 She got no further. "But I don't want to be tall. 
 I'm growing too fast now !" 
 
 Mrs. Henry leaned back again and laughed aloud. It 
 was a good sound to hear. If one could imagine the 
 laugh of a large, ripe peach, the result would be much like 
 the contralto notes that abashed Ariadne. 
 
 "Now isn't that the funniest thing!" mused Cousin 
 Nellie. "I've never yet known a girl who wanted to be 
 tall. Now I never was what you would call a pretty 
 girl-" 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Nellie, I'm sure " Ariadne broke in with 
 genuine distress. 
 
 "No, I wasn't ! And it didn't bother me a bit. My 
 one beauty was a good figure. You wouldn't think, to 
 look at me now, that I was ever as slim as you are." 
 She chuckled appreciatively. "I was, though, pretty 
 nearly; and I naturally walked well. Judge Henry
 
 28 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 thinks I do yet. But instead of being grateful for what 
 I had, I used to go down on my silly young knees implor- 
 ing the Lord to let me shrink." 
 
 "Gracious! What's that?" she exclaimed, with a 
 startled turn of the head. A small brown shadow had 
 darted out from among the sassafras bushes and now 
 hung inert, dangling from the rear. 
 
 "It's only Anguish," laughed Ariadne. "That's his 
 chief joy in life stealing rides." 
 
 "He won't be left to this particular joy very long after 
 Dick Kyarter catches sight of him," remarked Cousin 
 Nellie. 
 
 Even as she spoke Dick Carter was writhing like a 
 cutworm in his efforts to stand up. One pink, baby 
 hand had grasped Anguish's bird-like claws, the tips of 
 which just showed above the cushions. 
 
 "Climb over, Anguish, and sit on the other side," 
 ordered Dick Carter's mother. "You can help Loovenia 
 hold him in." 
 
 "I skeered Mammy'll wallop me, Miss Nellie," said 
 Anguish in a high, thin voice that seemed to come from 
 far away. His bat-like face, with its crescent of glit- 
 tering teeth, rose gradually into view. 
 
 Dick Carter flung down his turtle and began to emit 
 ear-piercing shrieks of welcome, at the same time strug- 
 gling more fiercely to gain his feet. 
 
 " Get in at once!" repeated Mrs. Henry in a tone that 
 made the little darkie vault. "That child will be in the 
 middle of the road if you don't make haste. Mammy 
 shan't wallop you. I've brought her a bundle of quilt 
 pieces that will make her so happy she will never think 
 of it." 
 
 The speaker paused, smiling, yet a little anxious, until 
 she could see the absurd little group adjusted to her
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 29 
 
 satisfaction. Dick Carter had precipitated himself 
 boldly upon the newcomer and now gazed upward to the 
 elfin visage with the adoring eyes of a Holy Infant on 
 the Madonna's breast. Loovenia, resenting his defec- 
 tion, sat very straight, her pig- tails vibrant, the whites 
 of her large eyes rolling disapprobation ; while the turtle 
 upon the floor, poking out a battered yet hopeful skull, 
 scrambled off madly to the farthest corner. 
 
 ''He's all right now," murmured the mother fondly. 
 Facing about, she moved her shoulders a trifle and then 
 took up conversation on a new key. 
 
 "Grandma all right?" 
 
 "Yeh yes'm," replied Ariadne. "She hasn't been 
 sick any." 
 
 "Where is your father now ?" 
 
 " In Charleston." Ariadne leaned forward to do some- 
 thing unnecessary to the reins. Mrs. Henry noticed how 
 the embarrassed color flew into the girl's averted cheek. 
 
 "He's been going there a good deal lately," Mrs. Henry 
 now asserted. Her tone had not implied a question, but 
 Ariadne, growing more confused, answered hastily : 
 "Yes'm. It's something about selling coal to the Navy, 
 I believe." 
 
 Cousin Nellie straightened the locket on her breast. 
 It contained a beautiful miniature of Dick Carter. "He 
 and Judge Henry are making money hand over fist 
 out of those mines," she stated pleasantly. "It's almost 
 ridiculous to think of Virginians getting rich. The old 
 generation will consider us vulgar. They're sure to. 
 But I reckon we can stand it." She laughed softly. 
 "Just at the present day there's nothing quite so good 
 to have as money not even family." 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Nellie!" cried the girl in a shocked 
 voice.
 
 3 o ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "It's true as truth. But you needn't tell your 
 grandmother." 
 
 The brick gate-posts of Allan Water showed now 
 through the clustered junipers ; in a few moments the 
 white pillars of the house would appear. 
 
 "Cousin Nellie," began the girl, almost in a whisper, 
 "did you ever go to Charleston ?" 
 
 Mrs. Henry's shrewd gray eyes gave one flicker and 
 were instantly controlled. She did not look at the girl 
 but answered carelessly: "Why, yes, quite often. I 
 have visited there before my marriage, and since. Why 
 do you ask ? " 
 
 "Did you ever know a lady named Miss May-rant? 
 With a funny sort of first name, like Donna ? Yes, that 
 is it Miss Donna Ma>-rant." 
 
 Mrs. Henry all at once seemed to settle into a heavier 
 mass. "Donna May-raw/, it is. You emphasize the 
 second syllable. Yes. I have met her. So it's true !" 
 
 "What's true?" Ariadne faltered hypocritically. 
 
 "That your father is going to marry her." 
 
 The girl's eyes distended with excitement. "Then it 
 isn't a secret. Everybody has heard. Oh, please tell 
 me something about her, Cousin Nellie, everything ! I 
 am just crazy to hear." 
 
 Mrs. Henry turned a little slowly to the eager voice. 
 "When did Ransome write?" 
 
 "Only this morning. That is, Grandma got his letter 
 this morning. There was a long message in it for me 
 such a beautiful message !" 
 
 The elder woman's eyes were quite inscrutable. She 
 took Ariadne's free hand in both her own. 
 
 "I'll read it to you when we get home," the girl went 
 on brightly, after giving the warm, kindly hands a 
 returning squeeze. "At first it seemed so awfully queer
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 31 
 
 that father was to get married. Grandma doesn't like 
 it much. I didn't know that old people like father could 
 get married. But she isn't old !" 
 
 "No?" questioned Cousin Nellie softly. 
 
 "Not very," admitted Ariadne, trying to be truthful. 
 "She's in her early thirties. That's not very old?" 
 The sweet voice paused on a note of inquiry. 
 
 "No, that isn't old," replied Cousin Nellie, and then 
 again she laughed, but this time it was the laugh of a 
 peach on a lower bough that had not felt the sun. 
 
 "She's pretty and good and sweet and and 
 clinging. Father says so," declared the girl more ve- 
 hemently. There seemed a sudden, vague necessity 
 for her championship. 
 
 "Well, here we are!" cried Mrs. Henry briskly. 
 "There is the old house, bigger and whiter than ever. 
 I'll declare it seems to grow ! And there's Cousin 
 Belinda on the front porch, waiting. Bless her sweet 
 old face !" The last words choked a little. 
 
 Ariadne looked around, fearing her cousin had swal- 
 lowed an early gnat. But that energetic lady was now 
 waving a welcome. 
 
 "Hello, Cousin Belinda. We are all here and alive. 
 Didn't I pick out a pretty day for coming?" 
 
 Uncle Peter, Old Mammy Susan, and the maid, 
 Mandy, now appeared, having come humbly around the 
 corner of the house from the servants' quarters. A 
 wooden-bottomed chair was brought to assist the pas- 
 sengers in their descent. 
 
 At the last moment Dick Carter remembered his ter- 
 rapin. The unhappy reptile, dragged from the folds of 
 an old oilcloth lap-robe which had for a few blissful 
 moments afforded it a now-forfeited haven of refuge, 
 was put into the outstretched hands of its tormentor.
 
 32 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Dick fondled it with murmuring, baby lips, turning it 
 as a squirrel does a nut, that no spot should go uncaressed. 
 Had the turtle been quick-witted, here was its chance 
 for a hideous revenge ; but before either the opportunity 
 or Dick Carter's rose-like cheek could be seized, Anguish, 
 in a hoarse, terrified voice, was warning: "Don't you 
 hole dat turkle so close yo' face, Master Dick. Ef it 
 grabs yo' mouf, hit won't turn loose till it thunders !" 
 
 "That's right, Anguish. You're a good little boy. 
 I'll give you a nickel before I go home. Make him keep 
 the thing away from his face. I wish Randy Carr had 
 never given it to him. Now you and Loovenia take Dick 
 to the kitchen, so we can have some peace," said Mis. 
 Henry, all in one breath. 
 
 Relieved from the precarious delight of her son's 
 presence, Cousin Nellie became once more her genial 
 self. Greetings were exchanged, the contents of the big 
 basket apportioned, the lilacs and syringas, after their 
 meed of praise and delicate sniffing, placed in water, and 
 the two elder ladies, followed by Ariadne, made their 
 way into the sitting-room. 
 
 Cousin Nellie did not beat about the bush. Even 
 before looking about for a chair she announced cheer- 
 fully : "Well ! I've heard the news and I've come to 
 talk it over!" 
 
 Mrs. Bannister appeared to hesitate. Her own method 
 of approach would have been more gradual. She had 
 not asked "dear Nellie" yet how she stood the journey 
 over or inquired concerning Judge Henry's always excel- 
 lent health. These little formalities were dear to her 
 secluded life, and this somewhat ruthless overleaping of 
 them increased the agitation she was already striving 
 to suppress. 
 
 "Yes ah will you take this armchair, Nellie?"
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 33 
 
 she hastily suggested. "Or do you prefer a rocker? 
 This, as you know, is my usual nook, here in the chimney 
 corner." While speaking she had seated herself in a 
 high-backed, carved armchair that suited her as a medie- 
 val niche its sculptured image. She leaned back, care- 
 ful that the straight old shoulders should touch. 
 
 Mrs. Bannister had been reared in the belief that no 
 gentlewoman should relax except in the privacy of her 
 chamber. The modern method of slouching and throw- 
 ing one's self about was most reprehensible. As for 
 putting elbows on a dining-table ! One's feet would be 
 scarcely less vulgar. 
 
 The visitor, less than usually considerate of these 
 old-world prejudices, now drew forward the only rock- 
 ing-chair, deposited herself with a sigh of satisfaction, 
 and after a few slight lateral movements such as a hen 
 makes in her final adjustment to a straw-lined nest, 
 looked full at Cousin Belinda with an expression which 
 said: "Now for it!" 
 
 Ariadne, not daring to sit down till she was bidden, 
 hovered near. She longed desperately to remain and 
 was in corresponding suspense as to her probable banish- 
 ment. There were so many topics that her grandmother 
 considered her "too young to understand." 
 
 Mrs. Henry's kindly, shrewd eyes took in the situa- 
 tion. She held out a plump hand. "Come here, honey. 
 Pull up that cricket and sit by me," she said. 
 
 Ariadne flew to obey. At Mrs. Bannister's perturbed 
 glance, Cousin Nellie added, by way of explanation : 
 "The child is naturally dying to hear about her new 
 stepmother." Then, as the young back was turned, one 
 of those looks of fundamental intelligence flashed be- 
 tween the elder women. No megaphone could have 
 stated more clearly: "I won't say a thing before her
 
 34 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 that she shouldn't hear; but just wait till we are 
 alone!" 
 
 Ariadne literally flung herself on the stool. One 
 gingham-clad elbow was on Cousin Nellie's knee, and 
 the delicate, pink-shifting face showed upturned eyes 
 that were dark with expectation. 
 
 "To begin at the beginning," said the oracle in a tone 
 pregnant with things to come, "you'll remember, 
 Cousin Belinda, that when I went to the Virginia Female 
 Institute my roommate and best friend was Betty 
 Ravenal of Charleston?" 
 
 "Quite distinctly. You brought her here once or 
 twice. A very prepossessing young person." 
 
 "Of course that was years and years ago," said Cousin 
 Nellie, with a gesture that hinted her disdain of time. 
 "Well, she married much earlier than I did, and her 
 children began coming at once. She didn't have to 
 wait nearly ten years, as I waited for Dick Kyarter, 
 bless him ! I do hope those little darkies aren't feeding 
 him." A maternal frown gathered. She looked un- 
 certainly toward the door. 
 
 "Susan is competent to see that no harm comes to the 
 child," Mrs. Bannister assured her. There was a touch 
 of impatience in the gentle voice. The narrative must 
 not swerve, just then. 
 
 "Betty's husband, who was also her cousin, wasn't 
 very well off," the speaker continued equably. "She 
 was tied pretty close to home, so I did most of the visit- 
 ing. I've been there often the last time just about a 
 year ago." 
 
 Mrs. Bannister leaned forward. " And on these visits 
 -did you?" 
 
 She paused. Ariadne gave an excited gasp. The 
 butter was beginning to come.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 35 
 
 "I did!" announced Cousin Nellie dramatically. 
 "She was never a really intimate friend of Betty's, 
 though there is some distant relationship between them ; 
 but naturally, in a little place like Charleston, everybody 
 knows everybody else. I saw Miss Mayrant often, and 
 I heard well, I heard her spoken of." 
 
 "What exactly does she look like ?" breathed Ariadne. 
 
 "Let me see," considered the narrator, screwing up 
 her eyes as if for inward vision. "She's rather small. 
 Not homely in fact, I suppose she's what you'd call 
 sweet-looking." 
 
 "Of course," murmured Ariadne, with a smile. 
 
 "And she is blond yes, very blond." Another 
 pause in which Mrs. Bannister swiftly sought her cousin's 
 eyes. Again passed the look of cryptic understanding. 
 The old lady bristled. 
 
 "But did you ever hear her speak? Did you talk 
 to her, and did she have any idea you were kin to us ?" 
 the girl began in a torrent of unsatisfied questioning, 
 when suddenly from the kitchen wing came ominous 
 sounds, and in another instant Anguish, his face for once 
 answering to his name, had burst into the room. 
 
 "O-o-ole Miss," he stammered. "Mars Dick's done 
 drapped his turkle in de churn !" 
 
 "Great Heavens !" ejaculated the mother, getting to 
 her feet. 
 
 " An-an' fo' nobody could ketch him, he'd done popped 
 in atter it. De buttermilk is tricklin' off'n him, an'- 
 
 But no further words were needed. In at the open 
 door staggered baby Dick, his screams diluted by the 
 buttermilk, his curly head and clean linen suit plastered 
 as with a surface of greasy calcimine. 
 
 Loovenia, her orbs revolving with terror, came close be- 
 hind, making vague and futile clutches toward her charge.
 
 36 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Oh, Dick Kyarter, Dick Kyarter, you'll drive me 
 insane yet !" moaned Mrs. Henry. At the sound of her 
 voice, Dick made a lunge in that direction. Ariadne 
 was there in time. "Don't touch him, Cousin Nellie. 
 You've got on such a pretty new dress. I'll take him 
 up-stairs. He will go with me. Won't you come with 
 Cousin Airey, Dicky?" She knelt, holding out coaxing 
 arms. 
 
 Dick Carter nodded and sent an approving glance 
 through the buttermilk. He liked the taste, and had 
 now come to a standstill, and was occupied in holding 
 out his tongue, as clean and red as that of a young 
 puppy, to catch the buttermilk that rolled slowly down- 
 ward from his hair, his chubby cheeks, and his nose. 
 
 "All right," said Mrs. Henry. "But Loovenia had 
 better carry him up for you. She's already full of 
 buttermilk. Anguish, go right away and fetch a basin 
 of warm water and soda to wipe up these puddles. 
 They won't stain your floor, Cousin Belinda," she assured 
 the old lady, who had remained rigid and speechless 
 during this tempestuous scene. "I've had to learn the 
 way to remove every spilled liquid on earth, from ink 
 and shoe-polish down to smashed caterpillars." 
 
 When the spots had been successfully taken off and 
 privacy restored, Mrs. Henry, drawing her chair nearer 
 and speaking in a lower and more hurried tone, said : 
 "Wasn't it fortunate that Ariadne offered to take Dick 
 Kyarter? I didn't see how we were going to get rid 
 of the dear child without hurting her feelings, and 
 I simply had to get you alone. I've only begun to 
 tell you ! Oh, Cousin Belinda, it's awful perfectly 
 awful!" 
 
 "I felt it, my dear. I knew it," quavered the elder 
 lady.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 37 
 
 "She's a sentimental, die-away old maid, who has 
 been on a man-hunt all tyer life. Oh, I know my words 
 are indelicate !" The interpolation was occasioned by a 
 strangled exclamation from her listener. "But I can't 
 think of any other way to express it. She considers 
 herself a poetess, and gets little namby-pamby dabs 
 about her loneliness and when-will-the-fairy-Prince- 
 come-riding-by ? printed occasionally in the upper, 
 right-hand corner of the Charleston Times. Betty sent 
 me one a few days ago." 
 
 "Oh, not over her own name not over her own 
 name !" moaned Mrs. Bannister. 
 
 "I believe she does use a fancy pen-name Chris- 
 tabel, or Xenobia, or Casabianca, or something of the 
 sort," soothed Cousin Nellie. Instead of the last name 
 she had meant to say Cassandra, but this was no time 
 for classical niceties. 
 
 "But her position in life her her connec- 
 tions?" These to the aristocratic old questioner were 
 even more important than the fact of keeping her name 
 out of print. 
 
 "She doesn't seem to have any close ones, but drifts 
 around in spots, living on near relatives." 
 
 " My dear, that sounds like a pariah !" protested the 
 other. 
 
 Mrs. Henry shook her head. "I know. And even 
 then she quarrels with them. Betty says so. It is only 
 because they are so thankful to get rid of her that George 
 Ravenal and his wife have her there now, and are letting 
 her be married from their house. Kind-hearted Betty 
 put her up for a while, but when she found that the silly 
 creature burned joss-sticks before a portrait of Lord 
 Byron and confessed openly that she had read 'Don 
 Jew-an' till she could say it backwards, Betty felt that
 
 38 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 it was not right to her growing girls to keep such a crea- 
 ture in the house." 
 
 "Byron ! Don Jew-an," gasped the grandmother. 
 "Oh, my poor little Ariadne -my little innocent, 
 unspotted Ariadne," she wailed, and began to fumble in 
 her beaded reticule for a handkerchief. 
 
 Mrs. Henry's bright face clouded. "Yes, that is the 
 very worst of it," she sighed. "To have a lovely, just- 
 expanding girl like Airey come under such an unwhole- 
 some influence. What I am hoping for is that the 
 middle-aged love-birds will be so engrossed with each 
 other they will let Ariadne live with us. You are coming 
 to Culpeper at once, Cousin Belinda. That's under- 
 stood, of course." 
 
 Mrs. Bannister touched one eye and then the other 
 with the handkerchief. 
 
 "Thank you tenderly, dear child. It is very com- 
 forting to know that I shall not be entirely friendless. 
 But, as yet, I have given little thought to my future. 
 Perhaps I shall decide to reopen my own home, 'Little 
 Barton,' taking Susan and Peter with me. They are 
 Bannister, not Skipwith servants, as you know." 
 
 " Well, there's no need of worrying about that at 
 present. Such things work themselves out, and you 
 can't unscramble an egg," declared Mrs. Henry. "Now, 
 if you don't mind, I would like to hear exactly what 
 Ransome said of his coming marriage." 
 
 "The letter is here in my bag," said the elder lady, 
 again making the black beads wink and sparkle. "You 
 had better read it all." 
 
 Mrs. Henry skimmed rapidly through the pages. A 
 look, at first critical and then almost ironic, grew in her 
 pleasant, down-bent face. 
 
 "To be married immediately umph umph ! A
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 39 
 
 wedding journey to New York. That's to give Ransome 
 a chance to buy her trousseau. Just like her ! Sweet 
 - clinging wants Ariadne to love her mush and 
 molasses!" cried the exasperated reader, flinging the 
 pages down. " She's a bigger fool than I thought, 
 Cousin Belinda, and that says a good deal ! " 
 
 As Mrs. Bannister's startled eyes remained unen- 
 lightened, the other explained, more lucidly: "I mean, 
 in the way she is managing things. The engagement 
 should have been announced a month before, at least. 
 Some sort of invitations should have been printed. You 
 see, I know Donna Mayrant ! As for not insisting on 
 Ariadne's being present at the wedding, that is so stupid 
 that it's criminal. They should have tried to get you 
 there, too." 
 
 "Me !" echoed the old lady. Her mild eyes emitted 
 sparks. The slender figure grew so erect that it might 
 have crackled. Her chest seemed to expand. " Never ! " 
 
 Mrs. Henry laughed. " Well, none of us have been 
 urged," she said good-naturedly, "which is as much of a 
 relief to us as it is a fatal mistake for them. She's evi- 
 dently dished poor Ransome to a turn fried on both 
 sides with parsley around the edges." 
 
 "I don't see that it is exactly an occasion for levity,' r 
 remarked Mrs. Bannister, who did not like being laughed 
 at. But in a moment more her tone had altered. 
 
 "How could such a woman attract my son-in-law?" 
 she asked dejectedly. "A man so full of tenderness and 
 chivalry, so utterly devoted to his child ! As for me, 
 no true son could have been dearer or more considerate. 
 He worshiped his young wife, too. With his head 
 bowed upon my breast he told me that he never would 
 look at another woman." The scrap of handkerchief 
 came into renewed service.
 
 40 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Yes, and he was on your breast while he still thought 
 himself broken-hearted. Also he was just a little over 
 thirty. Ransome has reached the age where most men 
 make fools of themselves. I am keeping an extra eye 
 on Judge Henry, you can bet. I never expect to draw 
 a really easy breath until he is well over sixty." 
 
 Ignoring the shocked and stammering remonstrance 
 of her listener, Mrs. Henry went on in cool, practical 
 tones : "As for his tenderness, and sentiment, and chiv- 
 alry that's just what's done it. Donna Mayrant 
 has worked her forlorn condition to good effect at last. 
 A more worldly, ordinary man would have seen her for 
 just what she is a smirking, painted, little humbug !" 
 
 Mrs. Bannister gave a gesture and a low cry of protest. 
 
 "Stop, Helen! You surely did not say painted ! 
 Ransome would never touch a painted woman ! " 
 
 "Not if he knew it," said the other coolly. "But he 
 doesn't. That's just Donna's point. In these days 
 of white veils and pink-shaded lamps, any woman could 
 have fooled Ransome Skipwith. She's made him believe 
 that she's in the early thirties." 
 
 "Apparently she has. Is the deceitful minx much 
 over?" 
 
 "Thirty!" sniffed Mrs. Henry, with scorn. "That 
 woman will never see forty this side of the Happy 
 Land." 
 
 At this the old lady leaned back, speechless. The 
 heaped-up revelations smothered her power of thought. 
 Mrs. Henry rocked back and forth in the silence, then 
 she lifted her head. Sounds of young feet scurrying 
 up-stairs reminded her of things yet to be said. She sat 
 upright and shook out her feathers. 
 
 "I believe that's all," she remarked. "You know 
 as much as I do now. The prospect isn't cheerful, but
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 41 
 
 I think we both agree that Ariadne must not be preju- 
 diced in advance. She'll soon see through the creature. 
 In the meantime there are some practical things to be 
 done. The honeymoon couple won't be here for a 
 couple of weeks at the earliest. You're obliged to do a 
 little fixing up for them new hangings in the guest- 
 chamber, perhaps some new table linen, and most 
 important of all, new clothes for Ariadne." 
 
 Mrs. Bannister looked up wanly. 
 
 "I've brought the latest New York Kirby catalogue 
 along," asserted Cousin Nellie. She now began feeling 
 about in a large, blue leather shopping-bag, at the same 
 time hitching her chair, by inches, up to the elder lady's 
 side. "The fashions this year are perfectly lovely, espe- 
 cially for young girls. Have you noticed how pretty 
 Ariadne is growing ? " 
 
 "Sh-sh-sh !" warned Mrs. Bannister, coming back to 
 life and casting an apprehensive look at the door. "She 
 might hear you." 
 
 "What harm if she does?" 
 
 "My dear ! Would you brush away the charm, the 
 modesty that is the bloom of dawning womanhood? 
 Ariadne must never suspect 
 
 "That she's good enough to eat, this minute ? " finished 
 the other, laughing. "You don't mind hearing it, I see. 
 You are beaming like a row of hollyhocks right now. 
 Look at this little blue frock on page eleven. I have 
 already marked it." 
 
 Mrs. Bannister put on her spectacles and bent over 
 eagerly. 
 
 "Can't you just see Ariadne in it? And this wide 
 leghorn with the wreath of cornflowers and this little 
 white serge Norfolk jacket trimmed in blue - 
 
 "Yes, they are charming very sweet and girlish,"
 
 42 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 said the grandmother, flushing with increased pleasure. 
 Then her face fell. "But, Nellie, my dear, what prices ! 
 The hat alone is eighteen dollars. Eighteen ! Why, in 
 my day - 
 
 "But it isn't your day now, Cousin Belinda. It is 
 Ariadne's day. Her father has the money, and I don't 
 propose to have him sticking Paris hats all over Donna 
 Mayrant's peroxided curls, while his only daughter 
 wears sunbonnets !" 
 
 "Let us look at some of the other dresses, the more 
 expensive ones," cried the old lady feverishly. "And 
 I am sure the child needs several hats several !"
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE wedding which was to mean so much in Ariadne's 
 life had taken place. 
 
 As was its courtly wont, the Charleston Times gave 
 an impassioned, if verbose, account of the nuptial scene, 
 describing it as a "quiet hour of sweet solemnity, in 
 which the stalwart groom and dainty, blushing bride 
 plighted their troth each to each." 
 
 Mrs. Henry sent two copies of the newspaper to Allan 
 Water. The annotations in her vigorous handwriting, 
 scribbled along the edge of one, were for Mrs. Bannister's 
 eyes alone. 
 
 Existence in the old Virginia home just now was, in 
 spite of threatened changes, a busy and enjoyable 
 affair. Mr. Skipwith had urged, by letter, that no 
 expense be spared in the new decorations. Boxes 
 arriving constantly from New York contained not only 
 charming clothes for Ariadne, but handsome new window 
 hangings, bureau scarfs, napery, rich rugs, and ornaments 
 of a kind that never appeared in the shopping haunts 
 of Culpeper. 
 
 Ariadne, during these days of preparation, gained 
 vivacity and color. To the old grandmother's yearning 
 eyes she seemed to grow hourly more beautiful. 
 
 Now, from the blissful couple in New York, letters 
 began to arrive, and one on lavender-tinted paper scented 
 with the same perfume was directed to Miss Ariadne 
 Skipwith. Her young eyes devoured each comma. 
 She had never read such tender, endearing words before,
 
 44 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 nor had she been directly appealed to for her "love." 
 In fact this thrilling word, together with that other one 
 of "marriage," to which she had so recently become 
 accustomed, had been little used in the old-fashioned 
 household. 
 
 She had opened and read this letter in her grand- 
 mother's presence. As it was finished, she instinctively 
 held it out. Mrs. Bannister had been watching the 
 girl's flushed, tender face. At the sudden offering of 
 the fragrant note, the old lady's hand went forward a 
 few hesitating inches, and was then, more decisively, 
 drawn away. 
 
 " Thank you, dear," she said in a hurried and embar- 
 rassed tone. "But I feel that I should not read Mrs. 
 Skipwith's letter unless she has specially requested it." 
 
 Ariadne's eyes fell. Mrs. Skipwith had not requested 
 it, and after a few moments of silence, which both felt 
 to be prophetic of deeper misunderstandings, the girl 
 slowly refolded her precious missive and carried it off 
 to her room to be hidden away with the clipping from the 
 Charleston Times. 
 
 Left alone, the grandmother pressed her frail hands 
 against her breast. It perhaps had not been a wise or a 
 politic move to repulse the girl's confidence, and yet she 
 could scarcely have acted differently. Later on Ariadne 
 would understand for herself why there could never be 
 anything in common between her grandmother and the 
 new mistress of Allan Water. For the present she must 
 bear the child's hurt eyes and sweet face of reproachful 
 incredulity. 
 
 Later in the day Mrs. Bannister announced her final 
 decision to leave for Culpeper the morning after Mr. 
 Skipwith's arrival. Ariadne now acquiesced in silence. 
 Her protestations and childish arguments were exhausted.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 45 
 
 Even Cousin Nellie, who came as often as possible 
 to assist with the refurnishing of the house, assured the 
 girl that, under the circumstances, it was the only digni- 
 fied move for the old lady. 
 
 "Your father insists upon your remaining here," the 
 kindly soul added. "That is natural, too. But 
 Grandma and I hope to steal you often for little visits." 
 
 "All the world is changing," thought the child. "I 
 suppose this is only part of it." 
 
 At last came the exciting telegram: "We arrive to- 
 morrow by the five- thirty from New York." 
 
 Ariadne counted the hours out on her fingers. She 
 could scarcely sleep the night before. Next morning 
 at dawn, she woke, and moving softly with bare feet to 
 the window, pushed the green shutters gradually apart. 
 A longing so keen that it was almost a prayer came to 
 her lips and heart. The day must be beautiful ! The 
 sun must shine for an event so wonderful ! 
 
 As the clear pink light streamed full upon her, she 
 gave a little cry of rapture. The whole east was an 
 opening tea-rose. The earth smelled of it. High over- 
 head small, amber-colored clouds like moths dissolved 
 in golden light. The sun behind the farther hills waved 
 plumes of radiant triumph. 
 
 Slowly her eyes came back to more familiar things. 
 The great trees on the lawn had actually grown taller. 
 Surely the red-oak never held its head so high before? 
 The wide expanse of turf, cut by the long white driveway, 
 showed sparkling Stardust instead of ordinary dew, and 
 toward the valley there were slow shifting scarfs of 
 night mists, gray gossamer tinged with pink, moving 
 among the dark, sharp tips of cedars. 
 
 It was hard to wait there for the breakfast bell, but 
 she did so, busying herself with putting the room to
 
 46 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 rights, and pausing now and again to look at her father's 
 photograph or to read, once more, the letters that had 
 come to her from Donna. 
 
 She went down-stairs quietly, greeting the old lady 
 with the usual kiss and the inquiry : 
 
 " Did you sleep well, grandma?" 
 
 Something sweet and sensitive in the young heart 
 told her that on this, more than on all other days her 
 grandmother would wish the quiet routine of the house 
 preserved. 
 
 The morning meal passed without incident. Mrs. 
 Bannister made no reference to the approaching arrival, 
 though each knew that the other thought of little else. 
 
 Immediately after, Ariadne went into the garden for 
 an armful of pink roses. These she had begun to arrange 
 in the bowl under her mother's portrait when Mrs. 
 Bannister, entering by another door with a basket of 
 white lilacs, interrupted her, saying gently : 
 
 " Yours are for the bridal chamber, Ariadne. We 
 need white flowers here." 
 
 The girl took up the rejected blossoms and left the 
 room, her face downcast. Everything she did these 
 days seemed to give her grandmother fresh pain. Her 
 childish thought had been to let the young mother share 
 in the day's brightness, but grandma's tone had made 
 the desire seem disloyal, even indelicate. 
 
 After this the hours grew more and more interminable. 
 No matter how carefully she trod, there were always 
 nettles in the path. 
 
 Small frictions came unexpectedly, impatient words 
 were spoken, and for alternative there were dreary in- 
 tervals of silence that apparently were to have no 
 end. 
 
 Old Peter and Mammy could be heard quarreling in
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 47 
 
 the kitchen. Mandy went across the back-yard, tossing 
 her head ; and muffled shrieks from Anguish told of a 
 " wallopin' " which, for once, he probably did not deserve. 
 
 "I believe the horses are biting each other out in the 
 stables," thought the girl almost in despair, wandering 
 from room to room. As with her granddaughter, old 
 Mrs. Bannister could find no place of rest ; she who was 
 usually so placid did not remain seated for five minutes 
 at a time. Even her Bible failed to comfort her. 
 
 But, in their halting fashion, the afternoon hours 
 finally dragged through. At last it was time to start. 
 
 Ariadne was to wear the blue linen frock chosen from 
 the New York catalogue, and with it the wide hat 
 trimmed with cornflowers. In the white gloves de- 
 manded by this elaborate costume, she could not afford 
 to drive, so it became the proud duty of Anguish him- 
 self, resplendent in an entire new outfit, to "take Miss 
 Airey to meet her Paw and de lady." 
 
 Uncle Peter had already rumbled off in the blue cart, 
 which was to convey the bride's luggage. 
 
 " She's sure to have a dozen trunks all new," Cousin 
 Nellie had prophesied, with meaning. 
 
 Of the two young creatures in the phaeton it would 
 be difficult to say which one felt the greater relief. There 
 was no joy visible at first in either face. The gloom of 
 the day, compelled as it were by their elders, still clung 
 about them. Ariadne, when she had passed the gate, 
 drew a long breath that sounded like thanksgiving. The 
 little darkey rolled one eye toward her, then gave the 
 reins a vicious flap. 
 
 Ariadne for the first time glanced at him. There 
 was something comic and yet pathetic in the expression 
 of his small visage. It always reminded her, hi its 
 rare intervals of repose, of a pickled walnut. To-day
 
 48 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 the vinegar was very, very sour. Evidently old 
 Mammy's hand had been unusually heavy. 
 
 " That's a splendid new suit of clothes, Anguish," she 
 remarked, with the kindly impulse of cheering him up. 
 
 "Yassum," was the laconic reply. His nether lip 
 protruded still another inch. 
 
 "Was Mammy very cross to-day?" asked the girl 
 sympathetically. 
 
 Anguish rolled both eyes this time. 
 
 "Wuz she cross?" he echoed bitterly. "Miss Airey 
 Mammy's most done skuht me dat's what she's 
 done." 
 
 The girl suppressed an exclamation of condolence. 
 It would not do for the young mistress to encourage 
 rebellion against authority, yet she understood only 
 too well. In a more intimate and subtle way she also 
 had been pretty nearly "skunt." 
 
 "I'm sure that you have been naughty if Mammy 
 wished to skin you," she said rather tamely, and then 
 looked steadily away from him in order to prevent any 
 further confidences. 
 
 But Anguish was now vocal with his wrongs. 
 
 "I wuzn't doin' nothin' at all not nothin' ! Jes' 
 settin' in de corner snappin' snap-beans, like she done 
 tole me to. Some hot skillet grease popped out on 
 Uncle Peter an' when he cussed, Mammy jes' na'chally 
 turnt round an' beat on me !" 
 
 "Well, never mind," Ariadne could not refrain from 
 saying. "Father is coming; everything will be all 
 right when he gets here." 
 
 "I'se gwinter tell Mister Ransome on Mammy, too," 
 muttered the boy. 
 
 Ariadne remained silent. She had gone too far al- 
 ready. The absurd little shape beside her continued,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 49 
 
 at intervals, to mumble threats of vengeance, but she 
 pretended not to hear them. The smell of the woods 
 and the blue sky overhead were stealing from them both 
 the irritation of past trials. 
 
 At the station Ariadne found Mr. Crane in a cheap 
 suit of red-brown, the exact color of his largest freckle. 
 Mrs. Crane, also in a new Culpeper creation, a purple 
 cotton foulard with green pansies, vibrated near. Their 
 greetings to Ariadne were hushed and decorous. Already 
 their expressions had been adjusted to the importance of 
 the coming event. After a moment's struggle with her 
 sense of propriety, Mrs. Crane said in a loud church 
 whisper : 
 
 "We're all dyked up fer it, ain't we, Miss Airey? 
 That's a reel pretty dress you got on. Mine's from 
 Culpeper, too." She moved her white cotton gloves 
 caressingly across the gleaming folds of her skirt, and 
 the glance sent down among her staring pansies showed 
 that in their owner's eyes, at least, comparison did not 
 wilt them. 
 
 As the train came in and Ariadne saw her father's 
 tall and still athletic figure spring to earth and stand with 
 upraised arms, waiting, a feeling of shyness, almost fear, 
 drove her back to the shelter of the waiting-room door. 
 
 The Cranes, unhampered by timidity, rushed forward 
 in a brace. 
 
 "Why, hello, Jasper !" Ariadne heard her father cry. 
 "Madonna, this is one of my boyhood chums. Old 
 Jas' and I have been on many a 'possum hunt together. 
 And here is Mrs. Crane. How nice to see you both. 
 May I present my wife, Mrs. Skipwith?" 
 
 " I am always happy to meet any of my dear husband's 
 friends," said a thin, childish voice sweetly. 
 
 Ariadne peered forth a few inches. The voice had
 
 50 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 been to her a chime of silver. She saw a little figure 
 all in blue, of a tone so vivid that her own cherished 
 linen seemed faded, moving with pretty, timid steps 
 toward the Cranes. Mrs. Crane responded at once to 
 the cordial hand-clasp, but her lord, fallen suddenly shy, 
 looked down at the white kid morsel dubiously, until, 
 recalled to better manners by a scornful prod from Mrs. 
 Crane, he seized it feverishly and began pumping it up 
 and down. 
 
 "But where is my daughter? Hasn't she come?" 
 Mr. Skipwith was beginning, when he caught sight of 
 the shrinking, cornflower hat. "There she is," he ex- 
 claimed, laughing. "Come here, you monkey; what 
 are you hiding for? I want you." 
 
 She was in his arms now, clinging to him silently 
 tremulously. They had never been parted for so many 
 days. Even the new stepmother was for the instant 
 forgotten. 
 
 "Father father I've missed you so," she whis- 
 pered. 
 
 "And this is Ariadne !" cried the high, silvery voice. 
 A small white hand stole in between them. 
 
 "Let her go, Ransome. She belongs to me, too. I'm 
 crazy to see her ! Oh, you dear, pretty child ! You 
 will love me, won't you?" 
 
 Her arms, the wind-blown, fluttering veils of white 
 and blue, and the scent of violets closed about the girl 
 in one bewildering, perfumed cloud. 
 
 "Say you are going to love me," pleaded the little 
 figure, standing on tip-toe to kiss her daughter's cheek. 
 
 " Why yes of course I I do," stammered 
 Ariadne, leaning down farther. 
 
 Mr. Skipwith flung his strong arms about them both. 
 His eyes stung with happiness.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 51 
 
 "Pretty lucky fellow, don't you think, Jas' ?" he called 
 out boyishly. 
 
 Mrs. Crane gathered up her green pansies. She 
 thought Mr. Skipwith's exhibition somewhat undignified 
 the people in the train were grinning. She was 
 thankful that now it had started on its noisy way. 
 
 But Ransome Skipwith was beyond self-consciousness. 
 He longed to laugh aloud, to cry, to turn somersaults 
 or punch somebody, just as thirty years before he might 
 have done when he had been given a circus ticket. 
 
 Now he caught sight of Anguish grinning from ear 
 to ear. 
 
 "Anguish you black rascal that surely isn't 
 you?" he shouted boisterously. 
 
 " Yas, sir, Mister Ransun, hit's me." 
 
 "But you've grown since I saw you. You're 'most as 
 big as Mr. Crane now. And by the Lord Harry ! a 
 bran' new suit of clothes !" 
 
 Anguish, in his writhing ecstasy, bade fair to lose the 
 commended garments. 
 
 "Look at my shoes, Mister Ransun," he stuttered 
 hysterically, and thrust forth one tan-clad foot and then 
 the other. "Dey cost free dollars an' de shoe-strings 
 is got gold tassels." 
 
 Mr. Skipwith threw back his head and roared until 
 the boards shook under him, at which Anguish, now 
 frenzied with joy, executed a series of hand-springs, new 
 shoes and all, that very nearly precipitated him into a 
 red-clay gully. 
 
 The green pansies had withdrawn themselves. 
 
 "Mercy what is the creature doing?" cried Mrs. 
 Skipwith, as Anguish revolved past. She clung to her 
 husband's arm for protection. 
 
 "Only what I'd like to do myself," laughed Mr. Skip-
 
 52 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 with. "Well, we must see to your trunks and start 
 home. Doesn't that sound good, Madonna home!" 
 
 At his smile, she nestled even closer and touched his 
 shoulder with her veils. 
 
 " Here is old Peter," Mr. Skipwith went on. "Come 
 here, Peter, and be presented to your new mistress." 
 
 Peter came slowly ; there was dignity and a certain 
 protest in the shambling figure. 
 
 "I'ze pleezed to see yo', ve'y good health, Marse 
 Ransome," he said, ducking his woolly head. "An I'ze 
 proud to meet Mis' Skipwif. My mistus sends her 
 compliments and sez she is waitin' up at de Big House." 
 
 Mrs. Skipwith's trunks made an imposing pyramid on 
 the little platform. There was not a dozen of them, but 
 there were several, and each was newer than the other. 
 Peter needed assistance to fit them all into the once-blue 
 cart. 
 
 At the double phaeton, Donna, slipping into the back 
 seat, gave her husband a playful little push forward. 
 
 "You sit with the driver, Ransome," she commanded. 
 "I want Ariadne here with me." 
 
 The little journey, often a tedious, jogging affair, 
 passed for Ariadne like the flight of a tropic bird. 
 
 Gazing through the many layers of tissue at her step- 
 mother, she caught entrancing glimpses of red lips, 
 flushed cheeks, clustering, yellow ringlets and eyes held 
 very wide open, like those of little Dick Carter; one 
 small hand caressed her own. Madonna's' aura was 
 perfume, her sentences dripped honey. Again and 
 again she spoke of the affection which was to be theirs, 
 binding them forever; and each time the girl's timid 
 assent was given with increased sincerity. 
 
 "Oh, my dear, if you but knew how sad and lonely 
 my life has been, you would realize what this happiness
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 53 
 
 of winning a strong man's love, and now of having his 
 own dear child to cherish, must seem to me," the little 
 woman whispered. 
 
 Ariadne gazed back dumbly. She had no words, but 
 her heart ached with the new tenderness. 
 
 "Sometimes I have a dreadful feeling that it cannot 
 last," Madonna went on, seeing how earnestly her words 
 were being taken. "It is too much ! I am afraid every 
 minute of waking as from a wonderful dream." 
 
 "No, you will never wake," answered Ariadne, in a 
 voice that thrilled. "We are all going to be happy for- 
 ever and ever !" 
 
 "My little sister! My own precious little sister!" 
 murmured the other, and for a moment lifted the girl's 
 hand to her cheek. 
 
 Ariadne's eyes looked out a little wistfully. She had 
 said that all were to be happy. But what of Grandma 
 and the old, before-the-war trunks already packed? 
 
 She stole another look at her companion's pink-veiled 
 face. Her own cleared. No one, not even Mrs. Bannis- 
 ter, could long resist such pleading accents, or refuse the 
 affection so pathetically desired. 
 
 When the gateway came into view, and Mr. Skip- 
 with turned to announce it to his bride, her excitement 
 became intense. She moved her head all ways at once. 
 When the Big House appeared, its stately columns 
 draped as if in her honor with a tapestry of purple wis- 
 taria flowers, she clapped her hands and cried out her 
 admiration. 
 
 "Oh, it is even bigger and handsomer than I had 
 hoped !" she exclaimed. 
 
 "And there is Grandma, standing on the porch to 
 welcome us," added the girl. 
 
 The old lady, in her black silk and priceless laces,
 
 54 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 erect, slender, and patrician to her trembling finger- 
 tips, stood just beyond the curtain of amethystine 
 flowers. 
 
 Mr. Skipwith got from the phaeton first, and looking 
 up to her, bared his head and called the one word 
 "Mother!" The old lady smiled and bent her white 
 crown an inch. 
 
 Donna was lifted out bodily. As he set her down, 
 Ransome drew one arm through his own and hurried 
 her up the shallow steps. 
 
 Mrs. Bannister did not advance ; she extended one of 
 her hands to an unnecessary distance and said stiffly : 
 
 "Mrs. Skipwith, I believe? I trust your journey has 
 .not been too fatiguing." 
 
 " Madonna, allow me to present my mother-in-law, 
 Mrs. Bannister," said Ransome, even more stiffly. In 
 spite of his instantaneous acceptance of the old lady's 
 attitude, he could not restrain a glance of pained inquiry 
 toward Ariadne. Her young eyes were flashing. With 
 her head in the air she came swiftly to Donna's other 
 side. 
 
 " Supper can be served at once, if you are ready for 
 it," said the old lady. Then, with an increase of frigid 
 courtesy, she added, speaking directly to the little 
 figure : "Or perhaps Mrs. Skipwith prefers to go to her 
 room first." 
 
 " Yes thanks," murmured Donna. " I would prefer 
 that. Where is my hand-bag, Ransome?" 
 
 "I've got it, Donna," said the girl, speaking her step- 
 mother's name for the first time. "I'll go up with 
 you." 
 
 Donna smiled at her. 
 
 "Only to show me the way, dear. I must get the 
 dust of travel off alone. No, I don't want you, Ransome.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 55 
 
 I'm sure Mrs. Bannister has things to say to you. I'll 
 be down again in five minutes." 
 
 She and Ariadne hurried off, leaving a trail of violets. 
 
 Mrs. Bannister, putting her handkerchief to her nose, 
 turned and walked into the house. 
 
 Mr. Skipwith stared after her in silence. Astonish- 
 ment and incredulity made his face, at first, a blank. 
 Then anger came only a flash of it for pain, 
 swiftly following, blotted out all other expression. He lit 
 a cigarette, but almost immediately cast it down. At 
 last, with brows drawn heavily, he began a slow pacing 
 of the long veranda. 
 
 Within doors Mrs. Bannister, too, was walking rest- 
 lessly. For nearly fourteen years this man had been to 
 her as a devoted son. No words but those of affection 
 had ever passed between them. Now she had failed 
 him had seemed willing to give deliberate suffering. 
 It was a fitting climax to this most dreadful day. Well, 
 to-morrow she would be away, and the love-feast could 
 go on without interruption. Ariadne appeared at the 
 door an instant, and then, seeing that her father was not 
 there, hurried out to the porch to join him. 
 
 Mrs. Skipwith remained up-stairs much longer than 
 five minutes. Mammy Susan in the kitchen was grum- 
 bling that "de chicken would be tough ez turkey-buzzard 
 if it wasn't et soon." And Ransome had impatiently 
 lighted a third cigarette before he heard his name called 
 from the stairway. 
 
 He went in hurriedly to meet her, Ariadne at his 
 heels, and before entering the room where the austere 
 figure of Mrs. Bannister presided, took Donna into his 
 arms, holding her close in an unspoken apology. 
 
 It was a delicate and chivalrous act of homage, but 
 with a sort of nervous simper the little woman pushed
 
 36 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 him away, saying that he mustn't spoil her hair. At 
 the door she turned quickly and flecked the coat lapel 
 which her cheek had brushed. 
 
 Mrs. Bannister, bowing distantly, motioned the new 
 wife to the head of the table where she herself had always 
 sat. The tall, carved chair was moved now to the side, 
 facing the mantel and Virginia Skipwith's portrait. 
 
 Under the light of the swinging lamp, the table gleamed 
 and sparkled. Pink flowers were in the center, and the 
 old Skipwith silver shone. Most of the dishes were 
 cold. Hot rolls, fried chicken, and coffee were still to 
 be served. 
 
 The meal was to all interminable. Such conversa- 
 tion as could flourish in a soil so antipathetic was given 
 chiefly in the bride's praise of each new delicacy and 
 Mrs. Bannister's stereotyped demurs. The tension 
 increased at each moment, and once, at least, threatened 
 to snap. 
 
 During one of the deadly pauses, the newcomer's eyes 
 had strayed upward to the pictured face against the wall ; 
 seeing in it another topic for remark, her Lips had parted. 
 Suddenly Mrs. Bannister's fork dropped with a crash 
 a bit of the rare old porcelain was shivered. She made 
 no apology for the awkwardness but began to talk rapidly 
 to her son-in-law, detailing certain repairs upon the 
 place and some needed purchases. 
 
 For the rest of the time Donna sat in cowed silence, 
 and when at last it was over, said that she was more 
 fatigued than she had realized and would be glad to be 
 allowed to retire at once. 
 
 So the troubled little household soon dispersed, each 
 weary and still-excited soul being thankful that its 
 special ordeal was over. 
 
 Ariadne had thought to lie awake as upon the previous
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 57 
 
 night, but scarcely were her prayers whispered and her 
 young head with its two fair plaits upon the pillow, than 
 sleep found her out. She never knew that two hours later 
 her grandmother came softly into the room, stood at 
 her bedside, and gazed with desolate eyes upon the 
 " one ewe lamb" whom she had begun to lose. 
 
 In the morning, all traces of tears and sentiment were 
 gone. Mr. Skipwith and Ariadne both went with Mrs. 
 Bannister to the station. Mrs. Henry and "the judge" 
 were to meet her on her arrival at Culpeper. Fare- 
 wells were casually spoken, the old lady remarking more 
 than once that after all she was not going very far, and 
 she hoped that Ariadne would be allowed to come 
 often to see her. She did not falter, even at the parting 
 embrace, and Ariadne, waving her handkerchief toward 
 the smiling old face at the train window, felt a great 
 thankfulness that it had all passed off so quietly. 
 
 On the drive home, she clung lovingly to her father's 
 arm. Their talk was all of Madonna for so Mr. Skip- 
 with called her of improvements at Allan Water, of 
 gay little traveling excursions that the three were some- 
 times to make. New life, new opportunities, and best 
 of all, a new and loving intimacy with her father's 
 young wife, were held out to her smiling eyes. The 
 uneventful, happy days of the old grandmother's domina- 
 tion were already as turned pages of a book, that was to 
 grow more exciting with each new chapter. 
 
 The first week passed in a succession of joyous holi- 
 days. During the second week, Mr. Skipwith found that 
 he was compelled to take a flying trip to Charleston. 
 His wife insisted on going with him, and it was decided 
 that Ariadne should be taken as far as Culpeper, and 
 there left with her grandmother and Cousin Nellie 
 until the couple had returned.
 
 58 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 The visit was not altogether a happy one. Mrs. 
 Bannister still felt the effects of her recent uprooting, 
 and even Cousin Nellie, being harassed just then by the 
 fact that measles were abroad and Dick Carter certain 
 to catch them, was not her usual sunshiny self. 
 
 Also, Ariadne resented the tone in which the two ladies 
 always spoke of Madonna. Loyalty to her father's 
 wife led her into exaggerated statements of affection and 
 admiration, and the commiserating glances exchanged 
 between her listeners added fire to her vehemence. 
 
 She was a little surprised at her own willingness to 
 leave her grandmother and tried to soothe her conscience 
 with the belief that it was merely a natural longing for 
 the free air and wide, wind-swept spaces of her home. 
 But this scarcely explained the relief she felt when 
 Cousin Judge suggested that he, alone, should take her 
 to the station. 
 
 "Yes, Grandma, that will be lots better," she had 
 seconded with eagerness. "The days are getting hot, 
 and the station is so bare and dusty." 
 
 The train by which the couple would arrive, being a 
 fast express, stopped but a moment at so small a town 
 as Culpeper. Mr. Skipwith waited in readiness on one 
 of the vestibule platforms calling at sight of her to 
 "jump in." He and Judge Henry barely achieved a 
 hearty hand-grasp, while Donna waved coquettishly 
 from the drawing-room window. 
 
 Mrs. Skipwith welcomed her stepdaughter tenderly, 
 declaring that the few days had been months without 
 her. The red velvet seat, in a corner of which the bride 
 was curled up on one foot, was, for the rest of it, heaped 
 up precariously with books, newspapers, magazines, and 
 candy boxes. Half-wilted flowers stood in the drinking 
 glass, and lay sidewise in the toilet basin of the small,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 59 
 
 private dressing-room. Donna was in the highest 
 spirits. Her visit had evidently been a triumphal prog- 
 ress. "They all tried to eat me up, they pretended 
 to be so glad to see me," she assured Ariadne ; and then 
 added in a tone that somehow did not seem to be the 
 real Donna, "and maybe I didn't get even with one or 
 two of the old cats." 
 
 Mrs. Skipwith and Ariadne sat together, opposite. 
 The man laughed at the gay chatter of his "girls," 
 as he loved to call them; but Ariadne noticed how 
 often he leaned his head against the cushioned back, 
 closing his eyes as if to shut out a glare grown suddenly 
 too strong. 
 
 During one such interval she bent an anxious face 
 toward her stepmother. "How white and tired father 
 looks to-day," she whispered. "Didn't he feel well 
 in Charleston?" 
 
 Donna glanced up sharply. She frowned as if the 
 question had been a personal affront. "Certainly 
 your father was well. I never saw him better. Aren't 
 you perfectly well, dearest?" 
 
 Ransome opened his heavy eyes quickly. "What is 
 it ? Yes why of course I am all right, dear. The 
 sun was pretty hot, you know, and it seems to have 
 brought on a bit of a headache. It amounts to nothing, 
 I assure you." 
 
 But now Mrs. Skipwith's face, too, was anxious. 
 She sprang up, precipitating the mass of periodicals 
 and boxes to the floor, and laid her hand upon her 
 husband's forehead. He smiled, pressing the small 
 gloved fingers closer. Ariadne, on her knees, was 
 reaching about for scattered chocolates. 
 
 Donna, thoroughly aroused, continued to question 
 him, and finally, seconded by Ariadne, persuaded him
 
 60 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 to lie full length on the couch and have a bandage of 
 iced water across his eyes. 
 
 "That does feel good," he murmured, and for the 
 remainder of the trip was silent. 
 
 That night he ate nothing, went to bed unusually 
 early, and in the morning appeared with large dark 
 circles round the eyes, which spoke of pain. But, 
 manlike, he refused to admit that anything was wrong, 
 declaring that the good night's rest had made him "right 
 as a trivet." 
 
 Rising from a scarcely tasted breakfast he said : 
 "I have promised old Peter to go with him on a tour of 
 inspection. He tells me that there are some fences 
 that need mending badly." 
 
 "Please take an umbrella then, father," urged Ari- 
 adne. "The sun is even hotter than it was yesterday." 
 She ran out into the hall to the old-fashioned, rosewood 
 hat-rack, which had large, zinc-lined holders at its 
 two ends, and came back with an ancient, green cotton 
 specimen that Mr. Skipwith laughingly declared would 
 frighten the cows from their pasture. 
 
 "I don't think you should go out at all," insisted his 
 wife. "You did not sleep well, and your eyes look 
 feverish right now." 
 
 "Give me the green umbrella," cried Mr. Skipwith, 
 in a tone of comic resignation. "I see that I'm to be 
 henpecked from the start !" 
 
 He hurried out through the back door, waving a 
 hand to them and calling loudly for Peter. The two 
 women who loved him watched with troubled eyes. 
 
 "I do wish he hadn't!" reiterated Donna. "But 
 men are so contrary. They never listen to advice." 
 
 She turned slowly. Ariadne slipped an arm through 
 hers, and they made their way into the pleasant, flower 
 bright living-room.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 61 
 
 In the corner, which for so many tranquil years had 
 harbored old Mrs. Bannister's mahogany sewing-table 
 with the crystal knobs beloved of small Dick Carter, 
 a dainty, three-shelved rack of gilded wicker-work now 
 stood, piled with materials for embroidery. 
 
 Scarcely were the two seated, and their pretty, useless 
 work begun when there was heard, from the hallway, 
 the scrape and slur of heavy footsteps. Both heads were 
 lifted. "Who on earth can that be?" exclaimed Ari- 
 adne. "I never heard that step before." 
 
 Mrs. Skipwith began to tremble. 
 
 "It's Ransome," she cried. "He must be worse!" 
 She jumped up from the low rocker, while thimble, 
 scissors, and colored silks flew to the winds. 
 
 Before it was possible to reach the door, her husband 
 stood there, his face of a greenish pallor spread with a 
 sheen of sweat. He attempted to smile, but pain 
 twisted his lips into a grimace. As Donna flung her 
 arms about him, he writhed and gave a cry, then, with 
 her weight dragging him down, stumbled across the room 
 and fell full length on the leathern couch. His wife 
 sank to her knees, hurling at him a hundred terrified 
 questions. 
 
 Ariadne stooping, whispered: "Don't try to ask 
 father anything now. Just wait a minute. I'll go 
 get Mammy." She sped like an arrow into the kitchen. 
 "Oh, Mammy-Susan," she gasped, "father is terribly 
 sick. Go in to him while I write a telegram for Mr. 
 Crane to send to Culpeper. I know that Doctor 
 Buford ought to come." 
 
 "Don't look so skeered, chile," comforted Mammy, 
 but nevertheless she had begun to strip the biscuit 
 dough from her fat black hands. "Yo' Paw ain't 
 dyin' ! Nobody don't die till dey time comes !"
 
 62 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Where is Anguish?" the girl went on. "He must 
 ride barebacked to the station." 
 
 "Ain't no trouble finding him. Jest look fer de lef 
 over breakfas' dishes." 
 
 Peter stumbled in at' the kitchen door. He was 
 mopping his forehead with an old red handkerchief. 
 "Marse Ransome wuz sho' took suddint ! Right down 
 byde " 
 
 "Nebber you mind whar he wuz took," broke in 
 Mammy rudely. "You stuff light- wood in under dat 
 kittle till hit screeches!" She now ballooned her 
 majestic way into the living-room. 
 
 Ariadne finished her note and went in search of 
 Anguish. For once he was not stalking food. She 
 discovered him halfway up the trellis that inclosed the 
 back gallery, peering in through the glass transom of 
 the dining-room door. 
 
 "Get down, Anguish !" she called indignantly. 
 
 The little negro dropped like a shot owl, striking the 
 floor with his flat, black feet. 
 
 "Go, catch the Kentucky mare, and ride as fast as 
 you want to. This is a telegram for Mr. Crane to 
 send." 
 
 Anguish disappeared with a whoop of joy. 
 
 Hurrying back to her father, she found old Peter and 
 Mammy in the act of carrying him up-stairs. He had 
 one arm about the bent shoulders of each and managed 
 to walk a little, though it was plain that every step 
 brought agony. The wife followed, whimpering and 
 wringing her hands. 
 
 "You stay down here, honey," advised Mammy, 
 catching sight of the girl. "I mout need you to fetch 
 somethin' up." 
 
 Ariadne threw herself to the couch, still warm from her
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 63 
 
 father's tortured body. With fingers pressed into her 
 ears she tried to shut out the sound of that slow, upward 
 progress. It seemed to take an hour, but finally the 
 muffled steps ceased, and she knew they had reached 
 the bedchamber. Old Peter came thumping down the 
 stairs again. She was at the foot to meet him. 
 
 "Law, Miss Airey," cried the old man at her sudden 
 apparition. "You sho' did scarify me. You is whiter 
 now dan yo' Paw. Don't you be shakin' ! Mammy kin 
 cure ennybody. She sont me down fer de kittle, and 
 she sez fer you to tote de mustard. Hit's in a yaller 
 box on de shelf behime de stove." 
 
 Possessed of these "first aids" the two began the 
 ascent. Mammy's turbaned head gloomed from the 
 upper railing. At sight of it, Ariadne, darting past old 
 Peter at the risk of sending him and the sizzling kettle 
 together down the steps, ran up to her, and questioned 
 breathlessly: "Oh, Mammy, what do you think is 
 really the matter with father?" 
 
 "Belly-ache. Jes' plain ole Mr. Belly-ache," an- 
 swered the old woman in loud and cheerful tones, to 
 which she added, somewhat cryptically: "Dey's more 
 green apples dan dem what grows on trees." 
 
 Peter ascended by slow and careful steps. The sound 
 of his fearful breathing could be heard. Mammy's 
 impatient head went farther out into the air. "Dey's 
 cold water up here already," she remarked caustically. 
 "Ennybody would think to see you dat you had nebber 
 toted a kittle till dis day ! " 
 
 "You needn't gallump lak a hopper-grass, needer!" 
 she called more sharply, when he responded by an 
 obedient spurt. "Fust thing you'll scald yo' fool 
 footses, an' den I'll hatter stop an' tie 'em up. Was 
 de water bilin'?"
 
 64 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Bofe my laigs is scalted through my pants," retorted 
 Peter, with a reproachful, upward glance. 
 
 "Dat's good ! Now tote it into de room and set it 
 on de hyarth. Don't slop none on de bran new kyarpit." 
 
 She was silent during the mystic fashioning of the 
 poultice. In the quiet, Mr. Skipwith gave a low, 
 smothered moan. Donna, echoing with a cry, crouched 
 on the bed beside him. Mammy looked around by a 
 few inches. "Don't do no good yo' settin' on him 
 when his belly hurts, Miss Skipwif!" she remarked. 
 Donna fell back a little. 
 
 The nurse in charge now bore down on her prey. 
 The plaster lay along her bared left arm ; her right was 
 hung with towels. 
 
 "Dear old Mammy," smiled Ransome, as she leaned 
 over him. "I'm sorry to give so much trouble. It's 
 really nothing serious, I know." 
 
 "Nuttin' or somethin'," silenced the kindly tyrant. 
 "You get yo' close off an' crawl under dem kivers. 
 I'm gwinter put dis mustard whar hit'll do mo' good 
 dan eatin'." 
 
 "Peter!" she commanded, "come here an' hep' 
 me strip my baby." Then, in a more significant tone : 
 "You gals ain't got no business here jes' now." 
 
 "Come into my room, Donna," said one of the re- 
 jected "gals" in haste. "Mammy will call us when 
 we are needed." 
 
 Mrs. Skipwith appeared to hesitate. She gave a 
 feebly defiant look upward to the stern, black visage, 
 receiving in return a large, Juno-like glance of scorn. 
 Ariadne took her stepmother's arm. 
 
 "It's de Lord's blessin' dat one of 'em's got de sense 
 she wuz born with," old Susan commented, . as the 
 two figures vanished.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 65 
 
 In Ariadne's chamber, the stepmother gave way to 
 more open remonstrance. She walked restlessly, refus- 
 ing to sit at all. 
 
 "I can't stay away from Ransome. That old woman 
 has no business sending me out. Oh, Ariadne ! Sup- 
 pose anything should happen!" 
 
 "You couldn't do anything just now, dear Donna," 
 said the girl, trying to pacify her. "Mammy is a 
 splendid nurse. She makes everybody get well. But 
 she has to manage in her own way. Don't go back till 
 she calls us." 
 
 "But this is torment. Must I be shut out while 
 hirelings minister to my darling? A wife's place is at 
 her husband's side." 
 
 "Not while his clothes are being taken off," said 
 Ariadne, with youthful candor. 
 
 Mrs. Skipwith was checked for an instant, then broke 
 out more vehemently. 
 
 "You don't understand anything about it ! You are 
 only a child ! You know nothing of the sweet intimacies 
 of love." 
 
 "Perhaps not, but I know Mammy!" said the girl 
 with meaning. 
 
 "You are all against me, I see that !" cried Donna. 
 For a moment she struggled between tears and anger, 
 then flinging herself to the nearest chair, she broke 
 into a passion of sobs.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 WHEN finally Doctor Buford came, even the dauntless 
 and dominant Susan was glad to welcome him. Her 
 hot mustard foot-baths and poultices, supplemented 
 by doses of queer-smelling herb teas, had not produced 
 the desired effect. The pain in Mr. Skipwith's side 
 increased steadily. 
 
 At first sight of his patient the old doctor, without 
 having asked a question, called for water and a glass 
 and poured into it a few drops of colorless fluid. 
 
 Not until Mr. Skipwith had been made to swallow 
 this did the physician slip on, as it were, his robes of 
 office and begin the usual formulae of questions and 
 replies. 
 
 Donna was upon the bed, her elbow in Ransome's 
 pillow. Ariadne stood near Doctor Buford's chair, 
 ready to be of instantaneous service, while across the 
 room hovered the dark and troubled shadows old 
 Peter and Mammy Susan waiting to hear what 
 "Marse Doctor Buford" was to say. All there, except 
 Donna, had been part of Ariadne's childhood. 
 
 Doctor Buford turned a little to pat the young girl's 
 hand. 
 
 "Looks better already, doesn't he, my dear?" the 
 old man asked, with a congratulatory glance back to 
 his patient. 
 
 " Oh, he does, indeed ! I am so thankful you've come," 
 answered the girl fervently. 
 
 A long sigh of relief came from the background, then
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 67 
 
 Mammy's muttered admonition: "Better git back to 
 yo' work, Peter I ain't got a stick er oak-wood to 
 cook my dinner with." 
 
 As they turned, the doctor called out genially : 
 
 "All you did was exactly right, Susan ! I wouldn't 
 swap you now for all the trained nurses in Culpeper." 
 
 "Thank you kin'ly, Marse Doctor," said Mammy, 
 her white teeth gleaming. 
 
 Old Peter ducked suddenly. Sometimes Mammy's 
 excitement took a belligerent turn. The two went 
 down the stairs together. 
 
 "Faithful old servants," murmured Doctor Buford. 
 "It is sad that their generation is so soon to pass. But 
 now to our patient. Seems to have been a pretty 
 sudden attack ; ever had one like it before, Skipwith ? " 
 
 "Never !" put in Donna hastily. 
 
 "No why, that is yes come to think of it. 
 I had entirely forgotten. This same sort of pain took 
 me in New York about two years ago." 
 
 "Was a physician called in?" 
 
 "Henry insisted on it Judge Henry of Culpeper, 
 you know. We were up there together on our mining 
 business." 
 
 A sudden recollection of the New York doctor's verdict 
 made the sick man give a warning look. 
 
 He added hastily: "It didn't amount to much - 
 I got over it in a couple of days and haven't thought of 
 it since." 
 
 Doctor Buford's practiced hands were stealing under 
 the bed-clothes. 
 
 "Oh, Doctor!" broke in the wife tremulously, "we 
 have all been so terrified ! You don't think it anything 
 really serious, do you ! I simply couldn't bear 
 
 "Now don't be in the least alarmed," interrupted the
 
 68 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 doctor, in his professionally cheery tone. "I only want 
 to make a slight examination 
 
 But Skipwith had writhed back from him. 
 
 "Not there don't touch me there I can't bear 
 it !" he gasped. 
 
 Doctor Buford rose and walked to the nearest win- 
 dow, staring down thoughtfully upon a lawn that he 
 did not see. He was vaguely conscious of a small 
 figure sprawling on the grass, but at first his eyes were 
 focused inward. 
 
 Anguish had been set to dig from among the grass- 
 roots the insidious crimson tentacles of a weed called by 
 the darkies "creepin' Jesus" a process of extermina- 
 tion that went on at the rate of one to each five min- 
 utes. Near him stood an old tin lard bucket that was 
 to be filled within the hour, or Mammy would know 
 the reason why. As yet the rusty aperture yawned 
 with emptiness. 
 
 The reluctant gardener squirmed, looking to the four 
 corners of heaven for a new excuse to shirk, and all at 
 once caught sight of the doctor. Now he bounded to 
 his feet and made a decorous if grinning obeisance. 
 The doctor barely moved his hand in acknowledgment. 
 Even Anguish could not make him smile. 
 
 Ransome, watching him hi silence, now whispered to 
 Donna that she and Ariadne had better leave. 
 
 As the door closed, the physician turned and came 
 back to the patient's bedside. 
 
 "Well?" said Ransome, with a note of sharpness. 
 "I can see that you think it serious. Please tell me the 
 facts exactly as they are." 
 
 "Pretty bad, Skipwith, pretty bad. Of course, I 
 may overestimate the danger, and I hope to God I 
 do ! But as things look to me now, I must tell you
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 69 
 
 frankly that it is an operation I don't want to undertake 
 alone." 
 
 "An operation? Is it as serious as that?" 
 
 "It is, and we haven't any time to lose, either. I 
 want to telegraph for a Richmond physician. I can 
 get him here by eight or nine, and I think I can hold 
 you over till then." 
 
 "Don't frighten the life out of me before he gets his 
 chance," said Mr. Skipwith, trying to laugh. "Send 
 off. the telegram, by all means. And, Doctor," he 
 added, as the old man reached the door, "if you really 
 feel there is any immediate danger, I want Henry 
 here at once. I have never made a will yet." 
 
 "Judge Henry and his wife left yesterday for Charles- 
 ton." 
 
 The sick man passed his hand wearily before his 
 eyes. 
 
 "Yes, of course, I remember now. He went in my 
 place. Between you and this infernal wild-cat gnawing 
 at my side, I haven't any mind left. But I've got to 
 have a lawyer. Send for that young cub of his, Ran- 
 dolph Carr. He has been admitted to the Bar and is 
 a notary as well. Henry thinks the boy has a brilliant 
 future, but all I need him for is to write down what I 
 dictate." 
 
 "I'll send a wire to him at the same time I get off 
 the one to Richmond. I'd better do it in person, too. 
 Old Peter will drive me to the station." 
 
 During the afternoon hours Mr. Skipwith was in less 
 pain. 
 
 Because of the reaction from an agonizing fear, his 
 wife's spirits returned with almost an excess of gayety. 
 She and Ariadne came and went freely. The doctor, 
 after an excellent luncheon, returned to the sick-room
 
 70 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 and stationed himself at the window, where he smoked 
 cigars and discoursed somewhat prosily of recent social 
 events in Culpeper. 
 
 With the decrease of actual suffering, Mr. Skipwith's 
 fever grew steadily higher. It restored color to his 
 sunken cheeks and brought such brilliancy to his dark 
 eyes that Mrs. Skipwith again and again called the 
 attention of the others to his altered looks. She was 
 now radiant and seemed to think the possibility of 
 danger already past, apparently not noticing how stereo- 
 typed and weary the doctor's answering assurances 
 had become. 
 
 But Ariadne was given no such respite. She knew by 
 instinct that her father was desperately ill. She moved 
 about silently, performing each allotted task with a 
 quickness and precision that drew forth the old doctor's 
 admiration. Once, as she hurried from the room to 
 fetch some needed article, he turned to the father, saying 
 with feeling : 
 
 "What a lovely girl Ariadne is becoming, Skipwith 
 a Virginia thoroughbred to the bone !" 
 
 "Indeed she is," smiled Ransome, "and as straight 
 and fine in character as she is in body. This little 
 woman here" he gave a loving glance toward his 
 wife "has found it out already, haven't you, Ma- 
 donna?" 
 
 Later on Ariadne could not fail to note how often 
 Doctor Buford had begun to consult the clock upon the 
 mantel, nor the frequency with which her father de- 
 manded the fluid that brought relief. Once, as the 
 doctor stooped to give it, she caught the glance be- 
 tween them, which seemed to say: "Hadn't we better 
 tell them now?" 
 
 Was it imagination, or did the doctor nod? And
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 71 
 
 did the bright, sunken eyes turn meaningly upon his 
 bride, with the unspoken request: "Get her first from 
 the room?" 
 
 A great trembling took the girl. For once she sat 
 down ; her knees threatened to give way. No, she had 
 not imagined the sinister exchange of signals, for now 
 Doctor Buford, advancing towards Mrs. Skipwith with 
 old-world courtliness, was asking her to take a stroll 
 with him upon the lawn. 
 
 The little woman, much surprised, was about to 
 excuse herself, when the sick man put in hurriedly : 
 
 "Yes, go, my dear. You have been cooped up in 
 this room all day. A little air is just the thing for you. 
 Take her along, Buford; Ariadne will stay here with 
 me." 
 
 As the two went, Ariadne rose from her chair, and 
 going up swiftly to her father said: "You wanted to 
 see me alone you sent Donna away on purpose." 
 
 He smiled at her intelligence. "What a smart little 
 girl it is," he mocked, trying to speak lightly. 
 
 " She she doesn't know how sick you are. Oh, 
 father, is it really serious?" 
 
 "Sit here on the bed beside me, little comrade. We've 
 had some good times together, haven't we?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" she breathed, looking down upon him 
 with dark, adoring eyes. 
 
 "And I hope there are lots more good times in the 
 future. I don't want to frighten you, dear child, but 
 I am in danger, and there are some things I want to 
 say to you alone." 
 
 "Yes, daddy, I'm listening," she answered, with a 
 pathetic effort to return his smile. 
 
 "Old Buford said you were a thoroughbred and you 
 are, God bless you ! Well, it's just this : if anything
 
 72 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 should happen, I want you to promise me that Donna 
 shall never be left alone." 
 
 As the girl found no words at once, he hurried on : 
 
 "There are no fears for you, Ariadne; Virginia is 
 full of friends and relatives. Fortunately, there will 
 be plenty of money for both of you. But Donna cares 
 nothing about that. It is loneliness I dread for her 
 poor little soul ! she is so happy." He shut his eyes a 
 moment. A little groan, whether of physical or mental 
 pain, came from his lips. 
 
 "I understand, dear father ; you want to be sure that 
 she will always have some one to love and comfort her." 
 
 "Yes, that is it. If I if I should not get well 
 her grief will be heartrending. I want you to promise 
 not to leave her." 
 
 "Oh, father! you know I never would! Even if 
 you had not asked it, I would always be with Donna. 
 She loves me next to you !" 
 
 "Dear little comrade," said the man again. "That 
 makes everything so much easier." 
 
 "Oh, father ! but you will get well," she pleaded, her 
 child's heart bursting now with personal grief. She 
 kissed his hands, his hair, his burning cheek. 
 
 "Of course, of course," he murmured a little thickly. 
 "But we must think of Madonna. Promise me that no 
 matter what happens, you'll never give her up." 
 
 "Never, never !" she said, struggling with her tears. 
 
 "No matter what happens," he reiterated. "No 
 matter what the others advise, or what the poor, dis- 
 tracted, little soul herself may do. You'll be with her 
 - holding up her hands " 
 
 "Yes, father!" 
 
 "She is not very wise," the stumbling voice went on. 
 "You are only a child yet, Ariadne, but in some ways
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 73 
 
 you are stronger. If you promise if you give me your 
 word I know that you'll keep faith." 
 
 "Why, I hear them coming back," said Ariadne, 
 sitting upright. "Somebody is with them." 
 
 The sick man's clutch on her two wrists was of burn- 
 ing metal. He, too, sat upright, his brilliant eyes 
 piercing her own. 
 
 "The promise you have not given it, Ariadne. 
 I want to hear you swear that you will never abandon 
 Madonna." 
 
 "Father, I swear it. You have my sacred promise 
 never to give Donna up, or let others turn me against 
 her." 
 
 "Say, ' So help me, God ' ! " 
 
 "So help me, God," repeated the girl in clear, unfalter- 
 ing words. 
 
 "Now I am satisfied," whispered Ransome Skipwith, 
 falling back as if exhausted on his pillow. 
 
 His wife flung open the door. 
 
 "Here's Mr. Carr, Ransome Randy Carr from 
 Culpeper. He says he has come over to see how you 
 are." 
 
 Ariadne, without pausing for the conventional greet- 
 ing, slipped past them to her room and locked the 
 door. 
 
 A few moments later she heard Doctor Buford going 
 alone down the broad stairway. Mr. Skipwith, Donna, 
 and the newcomer were left in the sick man's chamber. 
 
 Ariadne was thankful for this opportunity of being 
 by herself. Her bewildered thoughts, held back so 
 long as service was required of her, now swarmed like 
 bees about the spot where a familiar hive has stood. 
 
 It was not the promise, but her father's almost avid 
 demand for it, that terrified her most. Life had just
 
 74 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 begun for her, and now was she to learn so soon its 
 most fearful lesson ? 
 
 She clasped her hands, moaning low that the others 
 might not hear her. 
 
 There must be some place to turn, some power that 
 would avert so hideous and unbelievable a tragedy. 
 She went to a window that gave upon the kitchen yard. 
 Mammy was throwing scraps to a scrambling, rushing 
 mass of chickens; her gospel hymn, crooned in a rich, 
 throaty voice, came soothingly to the girl's ear. At 
 the corner of the kitchen porch old Peter, in full sun- 
 shine, smoked his old corn-cob pipe. Beyond it all the 
 apple orchard, now clothed in green with a myriad tiny 
 buttons that would soon be fruit, climbed to the other 
 side of the valley and paused at the ledge of rock. 
 
 Surely in all that peace and beauty the ultimate horror 
 could not find its way ! 
 
 Retracing her steps, Ariadne went to her door, and 
 partially opening it, listened for her father's voice. 
 Donna was speaking. Her high accents were unshaken. 
 The words, though indistinguishable at this distance, 
 sounded thoughtful even measured. Now Mr. Skip- 
 with answered. He, too, was calm and spoke with 
 his usual somewhat slow precision. A sudden murmur 
 in a third voice brought to Ariadne the forgotten fact 
 of young Carr's presence. She frowned a little, won- 
 dering how he had learned of her father's illness so very 
 quickly; doubtless Doctor Buford had told him as he 
 left Culpeper, and the boy had been sent over on some 
 important business by Judge Henry. 
 
 Satisfied by this explanation, Ariadne went back and 
 began to brush her long, fair hair, something she had not 
 thought of since morning. The businesslike voices, too, 
 had helped to restore her confidence. If father could
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 75 
 
 talk so long on a mere business matter, he was surely 
 in no immediate danger. 
 
 She had about decided to go down-stairs to find Doctor 
 Buford and urge him to tell her exactly what he thought, 
 when the door across the hall opened suddenly and she 
 heard some one, evidently young Carr, come out rather 
 quickly and begin the descent of the steps. Her instinct 
 of hospitality sent her flying after. No guest must be 
 allowed to leave Allan Water alone. 
 
 The young man reached the lower floor before she 
 could overtake him. There was something vigorous 
 and protesting in the swing of his gray-clad shoulders. 
 He went up to Doctor Buford, who had been walking 
 up and down the hall, and she heard his crisp voice say : 
 
 "Doctor, Mr. Skipwith wants you and old Peter to 
 sign a business document." 
 
 "I'll go call Peter," answered the doctor. 
 
 So she was right. It had been a message from Judge 
 Henry, who was her father's partner in the mines. 
 
 Young Carr, still unnecessarily energetic, reached for 
 his straw hat and was out upon the wistaria-hung 
 porch before Ariadne could accost him. 
 
 At the sound of her light, pursuing feet he paused, 
 turning. He did not smile even when, with extended 
 hand, she said to him: "I am Ariadne. I want to 
 thank you for coming." 
 
 He took her hand, bending on her a strangely troubled 
 glance. 
 
 "Is father worse?" she asked quickly. 
 
 "No, the pain seems to have left him completely," 
 he answered. 
 
 Her face brightened, but there was no response in 
 his. 
 
 "Won't you can't I get you some cake and wine ?"
 
 7 6 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 she asked a little timidly. She was not accustomed to 
 doing the honors of the house. 
 
 "Thank you, no," he replied almost brusquely, 
 "I'm just starting for the station." 
 
 "But you're not going to walk !" she protested, her 
 hospitality again in arms. "The phaeton can be 
 hitched up in a minute." 
 
 "I'd rather walk. There's a short cut somewhere, 
 isn't there?" 
 
 "Yes, I'll show you if you care to have me," said 
 the girl. Again she felt rebuffed . Young Carr, with 
 his hat still in his hand, drew aside into the swinging, 
 purple flowers that she might precede him. She hurried 
 down the shallow steps, wondering if all young men 
 were as preoccupied and stern. 
 
 " It's over here that little gate in the youpon hedge 
 under the wild cherry tree," she said, first pointing, and 
 then hurrying across the wide, irregular lawn. She 
 glanced back over her shoulder to see if he were follow- 
 ing. 
 
 The spring wind, fretting her blue skirts, gave them 
 the air of a ruffled morning-glory. 
 
 Her companion made his way more slowly. His 
 frowning eyes were on the moving earth, and his heels 
 dug somewhat viciously into the silvery tufts of "rabbit- 
 tobacco" which, with the tiny red explosions of "creep- 
 in* Jesus," were the chief enemies of the legitimate 
 grass. 
 
 "Hold on there a minute, please !" he cried-, as the 
 girl, having reached the gate, put a tentative hand to 
 its latch. "My train isn't due yet. I just had to get 
 away from that house. There is something I must say 
 to you." He drew out his watch, a handsome gold one 
 with chain attached. This had been his chief gift on his
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 77 
 
 twenty-first birthday an event less recent than he 
 would have cared just now to admit. He studied the 
 timepiece gravely, as he had seen older men do. 
 
 "To me?" exclaimed Ariadne in astonishment. 
 Then, as he said nothing, only continued his serious, 
 thoughtful study of her upturned face, she added ner- 
 vously: "If father is getting well, nothing about me 
 can matter." 
 
 "It can, too. It matters a lot; I want to explain 
 something to to 
 
 Now it was his turn for embarrassment. He looked 
 from side to side, and chancing to note the tree near 
 by, went up to it and leaned against the trunk. Un- 
 consciously she followed and stood directly before him, 
 questioning with wide, clear eyes. 
 
 "You see," he broke out rather unexpectedly, "we're 
 sort of kin. Your cousin, Judge Henry, is my cousin 
 twice removed I've never taken time to work it out 
 but we are. All Virginians can find themselves related 
 if they sit at it. Anyway, let's play we are ; it makes 
 things easier." 
 
 He raised a hopeful glance, but at her expression of 
 bewilderment gave a little gesture of impatience, not at 
 her but his own clumsy presentation of a subject he was 
 now determined to pursue. He frowned more heavily, 
 .and taking from his pocket an old clasp-knife a 
 beloved and battered relic of his school-boy days 
 began tossing it up and down unopened. 
 
 "Your father sent for me, you know," he began, on 
 a, new tack. 
 
 "Yes, about some business papers, didn't he?" 
 
 "Then he told you!" the boy exclaimed, his eyes 
 brightening. 
 
 "No, nobody told me; I just thought it," she an-
 
 78 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 swered, and then regretted the words which clouded the 
 first hint of radiance. 
 
 Young Carr drew a sigh of resignation. His frown, at 
 least, was disappearing. He now looked directly into 
 her eyes with his honest, hazel ones, and the expression 
 of his lips relaxed. 
 
 Half-unconsciously, he opened a blade of the old 
 knife and began clicking it with a sharp, metallic sound. 
 He slouched more easily against the tree, drawing back 
 one tan shoe to brace himself securely. 
 
 Ariadne watched him fascinated. In this quiet home 
 few young people came into her life. Now, though she 
 could not have said just why, the way in which he 
 snapped the knife-blade seemed in her young eyes a 
 very masculine, even a thrilling thing to do. There was 
 something attractive, gallant, virile in the way his 
 necktie hung, and in the soft, overleaning folds of his 
 white silk shirt, delicately striped with blue. 
 
 When he spoke it was in a tone evidently chosen for 
 the nature of his revelation. 
 
 "The fact is, Ariadne," he said, "I wasn't really sent 
 for. Your father wanted Judge Henry. He had just 
 left Culpeper on some other business, and since I'm 
 his cub partner, I had to come in his place, though God 
 knows I wish I hadn't." 
 
 The last words broke from the self-restraint and came 
 with such vehemence that his listener was startled. She 
 stared at him. 
 
 "I I don't mean that as rudely as it sounds," 
 lie pleaded, "only I don't like having been the one to 
 come. The truth is," he broke out again quite des- 
 perately, "I've just drawn up your father's will." 
 
 For a moment the girl could not speak. "Oh! 
 You said he was better. This sounds worse than any- 
 thing," she faltered.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 79 
 
 "Not at all," he hastened to assure her. "That's 
 because you are inexperienced. Every man should make 
 a will a decent will." He scowled, but at her puzzled 
 look resumed the brisk manner. "This little spell 
 has given your father a scare. He and his wife 
 decided to have the thing drawn up at once. Your 
 stepmother practically dictated it." Again the knife 
 clicked fiercely. 
 
 "Why, I didn't know that Madonna understood 
 wills." 
 
 The young lawyer gave an angry laugh. "She does 
 only too well. It's a beastly, rotten thing I've had 
 to do, Ariadne. Judge Henry would never have been 
 bullied into it. I tried to protest. Once I flung down 
 the pen. Your father called me a damned impertinent 
 young cub, and said I was there to write what I was told, 
 and not to offer unsolicited advice." He clenched his 
 fist at the thought. "So I went on. That's what it 
 means to be a lawyer. I'd like to get a job as dog- 
 catcher after this ! Doctor Buford and old Peter wit- 
 nessed it without reading a line, of course. It's 
 just this I want to talk about now. The whole thing is 
 abominably unjust to you, Ariadne. It must never be 
 probated." He wheeled around to the tree, and as an 
 outlet for his excitement, made a long, diagonal cut in 
 the silvery bark. A red wound grinned at him. 
 
 "I don't understand half of what you've said," came 
 the girl's clear voice. "I don't want to understand. 
 But nobody can make me believe that father is unjust. 
 I am sorry he was rude. You must have done something 
 very bad to make him speak that way." 
 
 "I didn't mean to criticize your father," protested 
 the youth. "It's all your stepmother's doing." 
 
 "I love Donna, too," said the girl haughtily. "She's
 
 8o ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 the sweetest thing you ever saw to me. She says I'm 
 like her own dear little sister." 
 
 " Her little grandmother ! " ejaculated the young man. 
 
 Ariadne ignored him. "Things written by a lawyer 
 don't count for much," she went on scornfully. "I 
 had a long, long talk with father before you came. I 
 have promised him if anything dreadful should ever 
 happen, I will never, never leave Madonna. And you 
 know I'll keep my promise." 
 
 "I can see that !" cried the other desperately. "But 
 what you don't realize is the fact that you are letting 
 yourself be bound tighter than any martyr to a stake. 
 No, don't try to stop me ; I must get this out. Your 
 father's property is to be left entirely in her hands ; 
 and if those West Virginia mines keep on at the rate they 
 are producing, he and his partner, Judge Henry, will be 
 millionaires. Even if you get married, you are still bound 
 to her. Every Virginia girl gets married. Your father 
 started to make it so that if you gave her up for any 
 cause whatsoever, you should lose all claim to his estate. 
 That wasn't quite so bad. I began to write like the 
 devil I beg your pardon ! like mad, to get it in 
 black and white ; but Mrs. Skipwith broke in and said 
 she'd rather have it dependent on your love and gener- 
 osity ; that if you ever gave her up, she'd be the one to 
 lose everything. Oh, she was wise the gay old bird ! 
 I'm just beginning to see how wise." 
 
 "Stop!" cried Ariadne, her face pale with anger. 
 "You should not dare to say such things. But I am 
 glad you did, for your own words show me how noble 
 Donna is. She trusts me as my father trusts me. After 
 this, do you suppose that anybody" and her slow 
 scornful glance seemed to add, "especially a slanderer 
 like you" " could turn me against my own people ?"
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 81 
 
 Randolph was goaded into self-defense. "But you 
 don't know," he began. 
 
 " As if I would ! " continued Ariadne, with a withering 
 glance. "Donna says that no man ever comprehends the 
 beauty and self-sacrifice of a woman's nature. And 
 now I can see for myself how true it is." 
 
 "Oh, Lord!" groaned the badgered youth. He 
 writhed under his sense of helplessness. Again the 
 unoffending tree received a vicious thrust. The second 
 stroke, joining at the top with the first, made a red 
 inverted "V." 
 
 Ariadne watched him for a moment, her small, dimpled 
 chin in air. "I must say good-by now," she remarked. 
 "Father may be needing me." The morning-glory 
 twirled, feeling a new indignation that the outstretched 
 hand of courtesy had been ignored. 
 
 "Please don't leave like this !" Randolph entreated. 
 "I'll be good; I swear I will. After all, you oughtn't 
 to be so hard on a fellow that only wants to be your 
 friend. If you go now, it shows that you hate me. I 
 don't want you to hate me, Ariadne. I've been hor- 
 ribly rough and stupid and hot-tempered, but it's all 
 for you. We're sort of cousins, you know." 
 
 The girl had paused. Randolph, watching under his 
 lashes, drew a breath of relief, for he saw her tense, 
 young figure relax and the spirited head droop just a little. 
 
 The young man cautiously pursued his advantage. 
 "I never meant to hurt or anger you cross my heart, 
 I didn't ! Please say that you forgive me." 
 
 The bright head went lower. She shot a little side- 
 wise look of hesitating friendliness. 
 
 "I'm sure it was those horrid, legal terms that sounded 
 the worse. For a moment I forgot that you could not 
 possibly understand them ; you're only a kid."
 
 82 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "I'm not a kid !" she cried, her former indignation 
 returning at the new affront. "I'm fifteen years old 
 this very day !" 
 
 "Oh, then, I beg your pardon !" exclaimed the boy, 
 trying hard not to laugh. "That's awful old, of course." 
 He fingered his watch-chain meaningly ; but the sig- 
 nificant gesture was lost. 
 
 "Mammy made me a birthday cake this big around," 
 she went on, determined to overwhelm him. With her 
 slim, outstretched arms she encircled an imaginary and 
 gigantic cake. "There are fifteen candles on it, all pink. 
 Cousin Nellie brought them over from Culpeper, and 
 a whole box of the loveliest hair ribbons. Donna gave 
 me this little turquoise ring with a heart on it ; she says 
 it is her heart." 
 
 For an instant the tall figure of the boy bent over her 
 outstretched hand. The tawdry little jewel looked like 
 Donna. 
 
 "We haven't even thought about cutting the cake," 
 the girl went on in a saddened voice. 
 
 "Fifteen to-day the twenty-second of the month 
 of May. I mustn't forget it, since we are to be good 
 friends. And you are a big child for your age, too," he 
 said condescendingly, wishing to tease her, longing at any 
 price to win the smiles back to her face. "I shouldn't 
 be surprised if you were nearly up to my shoulder." 
 
 His ruse succeeded. 
 
 "Up to your shoulder the idea !" she cried. "I'm 
 to your ear at least!" 
 
 He laughed, straightening himself against the tree. 
 With pretty eagerness she ran up to him, drawing herself 
 up to full height at his side. Strands of bright hair 
 blew out in a little gale across his coat. He looked down 
 with eyes that twinkled.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 83 
 
 "I could eat soup off of it," he said loftily. 
 
 "I don't believe it; you cheated! You were on 
 tip-toe," she protested, breaking away from him, and 
 putting her hand to a cheek that tingled strangely. Her 
 father's coat had never felt like that ! 
 
 "Oh, I say!" the young man exclaimed, with the 
 ardor of discovery. "You've got the prettiest hair I 
 ever saw ! If spiders could spin gold, I'd think about a 
 million of them had got busy with your head over night." 
 
 Before this na'ive admiration, Ariadne's last defense 
 went down. 
 
 "It it isn't pretty at all," she stammered, while a 
 crimson tide of pleasure surged up into her face. 
 "You're only making fun." 
 
 "I am not ; I mean it. You know I do. Oh, please ! " 
 he cried, springing forward as he saw her turn. "Don't 
 run away. I won't say it any more. There's something 
 else I want to ask you." 
 
 She paused, her back to him, her chin, smooth and 
 firm and pink as a just ripened nectarine, tilted high. 
 This she now turned in profile over her shoulder, and he 
 saw that her lips were quivering with suppressed laugh- 
 ter. There was a nervous little dimple at the corner 
 nearest him. 
 
 "Not another word about your bein' pretty, I'll 
 swear it," he began to plead. "I won't even mention 
 your dimple honest I won't. Being your cousin, 
 I have a right to inquire into your affairs. Now, be a 
 good child, come to Cousin Randy, and tell him what 
 you do with yourself in that big house all day?" He 
 nodded toward the solemn mansion. 
 
 "You're not my cousin Randy; you are just a big 
 boy trying to tease," she protested. Nevertheless, she 
 moved back toward the tree.
 
 $4 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "You haven't answered me. How do you get through 
 all the time down here?" 
 
 "Why, I never thought. We don't do very much. 
 I'm out in the garden and woods a lot. When I'm 
 indoors why, now that Madonna has come, we just 
 read and talk and sew a little, and just walk around." 
 
 "But surely you must go to some sort of school," 
 he said a little patronizingly. 
 
 "There isn't any school to go to," she replied. "Up 
 till a few months ago I had a sort of governess, a teacher 
 that lived here with Grandma and me." 
 
 "An impecunious relation, or I'll eat my hat!" he 
 put in, laughing. 
 
 "Yes, it was," she admitted. "Father never thought 
 she knew enough to teach, but Grandma said what 
 did that matter she was a Winston of Winchester 
 and needed our assistance." 
 
 "That's Virginia in a nutshell," cried the boy, straight- 
 ening himself for an oratorical gesture. ' ' Your education 
 didn't count ! It was the old dead-loss of a relative 
 that must be thought of. Well, I want to go to a place 
 where there are no relatives either to boost you or to 
 pull you down. I want to be what lean make of myself." 
 
 Ariadne could scarcely hold back her laughter. Such 
 vehemence, such sweeping gestures in that quiet spot 
 seemed so incongruous. Yet there was a something 
 in his voice that stirred her. 
 
 "You've decided to be a lawyer like Cousin Judge, 
 when you grow up, haven't you?" 
 
 The question brought him down to common earth. 
 For an instant his dark eyes flashed. "When he grew 
 up" indeed ! He gave a sound indicative of derision and 
 then, seeing that the girl's face sparkled with a thousand 
 gleams of laughter, threw back his head and joined her.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 85 
 
 "That's one on me for calling you a kid," he said 
 good-naturedly. "Yes, I am going to be a lawyer; 
 in fact, the Virginia Bar considers me one already." 
 
 "Not just like the Judge, I reckon," he went on in a 
 more chastened manner. "That's rather a large order. 
 He's a big man, Judge Henry is. Why, I don't believe 
 that all the money in the world would make him take on 
 a case that he didn't know was straight or write a 
 document a will, for instance that he thought 
 unjust to anybody." His face clouded suddenly, and 
 he turned, making a thrust at an unoffending green 
 lizard now turning from green to silver against the 
 cherry bark. 
 
 Ariadne held her breath until she saw the intended 
 victim leap back unharmed into the hedge, and then she 
 asked : "Do lawyers get money for doing such things ?" 
 
 "Great heavens !" said Randy, staring in wonder at 
 such primitive ignorance, "do they get money ? That's 
 all that most of them care about. What do you expect 
 them to live on?" 
 
 "I don't that is I didn't know," she faltered. 
 "Now you are making fun again; it's in your eyes." 
 
 "Your question rather knocked my wind out, I'll 
 admit. I've got to earn my living through the Law - 
 as much as Mr. Crane earns his in being station-master. 
 My one doubt is whether I can. The fact is, Ariadne, 
 I've made up my mind to leave Virginia." 
 
 "Leave Virginia!" she echoed. Her voice rang 
 with incredulity. It was as if he had said "leave Para- 
 dise." 
 
 "Yes, I do," he repeated shamelessly. "What's 
 the use of practicing law in Culpeper? Nothing ever 
 happens there but niggers shooting craps or being run 
 in for 'fragrancy' - - which is what they call 'vagrancy.*
 
 86 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 And besides, if I ever do get a real case, everybody 
 there is more or less kin to me, and I couldn't charge 
 them anything." 
 
 "Of course not," said the girl hastily. "But it's 
 awful to think of going away from your own home 
 and your people and everybody." 
 
 "It won't be a picnic," admitted the youth soberly. 
 "But the very loneliness will make a fellow work hard. 
 Judge Henry and his wife know how I feel, and they are 
 with me. By the way," he added, before the girl could 
 speak, "isn't your Cousin Nellie a trump?" 
 
 "Oh, isn't she? " responded his companion, clasping 
 her hands with charming eagerness. " Everybody loves 
 Cousin Nellie and little Dick Carter ! " She drew a 
 long breath, as if Dick Carter's charms were beyond the 
 power of speech. 
 
 Randy laughed. "That kid's a terror, a perfect 
 terror. I've had to take to going to my office by a 
 back street. He got to watching for me and yelling 
 out 'Wandy! Wandy!' until the Fire Brigade used 
 to come." 
 
 "Now wasn't that precious !" cried the girl, her eyes 
 shining. "You gave him a little tortoise once, didn't 
 you?" 
 
 "I did," admitted Randolph darkly. "That was the 
 beginning of his onslaughts. How did you know?" 
 
 "He brought it over here with him," she began. 
 And then, with many interruptions of young laughter, 
 she told him the history of the turtle's dreadful day. 
 In finishing, she added : "The poor little thing is around 
 here somewhere now, that is, if he managed to live after 
 the buttermilk. Cousin Nellie said she wouldn't have 
 it tortured any more, so Anguish and I washed it under 
 the pump and turned it loose among the bushes."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 87 
 
 She stooped over, peering among the thick stems of the 
 hedge as if hoping for a miraculous appearance. 
 
 Watching her, Randy thought that any beast with 
 eyes and ears might well be lured. She was prettier 
 now than any girl in Culpeper, and he was just planning 
 a crafty scheme by which Cousin Nellie should get 
 Ariadne over there for a long visit, when the girl stood 
 upright, and making a forlorn and most entrancing little 
 grimace, said plaintively: "It isn't there." 
 
 "Of course it isn't, goose!" he answered. The 
 words were not chivalrous, but he had suddenly dropped 
 the knife and now had her two hands in his. He bent 
 down that his eyes might look straight into her own. 
 She gave a tiny gasp and then stood very still. It was in 
 his lean, boyish face that the blood now surged. 
 
 "Remember I'm your friend, your best friend, Ari- 
 adne ; a fellow that wants you to give him a chance of 
 undoing a beastly thing he was forced into something 
 he feels unfair to you. I am your best friend; say it, 
 Ariadne !" 
 
 "Ye-es," she answered, shrinking a little from the 
 eager brightness of his eyes. "After father and grandma 
 and Donna and Cousin Nellie Henry - 
 
 "Never mind about calling out the entire population," 
 he laughed, though with the underlying note of earnest- 
 ness. "Outside of that bunch, then, I am your very 
 dearest friend in all the world?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 He gave her a long, remembering look, and then, 
 freeing her hands, began a search through various pockets. 
 "I wish I had known about your birthday," he said in 
 a regretful tone. "I'd have brought you a present, 
 sure. I wonder if I've got anything about me that 
 would do?" He drew out a crumpled handkerchief,
 
 88 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 some letters, a small packet of beer-tickets which he 
 hastily concealed, a box of cigarettes and some matches, 
 a leather pocketbook which seemed to have been diet- 
 ing, his return railway ticket, and after that only a 
 button and a few loose coins. 
 
 "Not much in exhibit 'A,'" he said ruefully. "If I 
 even had my scarf-pin on ! We ought to have something, 
 if only as a reminder." 
 
 "I shan't need a reminder, Randy," said the low, sweet 
 voice. The unfamiliar name was whispered with 
 exquisite shyness. 
 
 He flashed a look of quick gratitude. "Now you've 
 simply got to have a fairing !" he said. "Here's a coin 
 rather a bright one ; suppose we divide it ? " 
 
 As she did not answer, being in fact ignorant of what 
 he meant, he went on apologetically: "Of course, it's 
 an awful chestnut. Everybody does it in novels and 
 on the stage, but we shall make it real. Now to get 
 the darned thing broken!" 
 
 He put it between his strong, white teeth, at which 
 Ariadne gave a protesting cry. Next, and with great 
 effort, he bent it slightly between his fingers. "No 
 good that," he murmured. Then, stooping for the 
 knife, he thrust the small piece of silver into an open 
 groove, and began twisting vigorously. "This does the 
 trick," he announced joyously. "I thought it would. 
 Only I don't want the edges to be left too straight. 
 You know, they ought to wriggle, so that when the 
 time comes for us to fit them together, there can't be 
 any mistake." 
 
 "I see now what you mean !" cried Ariadne, thrilling 
 at the romance of the situation. "Why, I've never 
 even heard of breaking a coin before ! " 
 
 "So much the better," remarked this incipient Chief 
 Justice.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 89 
 
 The girl watched every movement with breathless 
 interest. How strong Randy was ! How sure of 
 himself ! How determined to have things yield to his 
 wishes ! Even her father, who until this moment had 
 been her one idea of manly strength and excellence, 
 seemed just a little deliberate and worn beside this 
 ardent spirit. 
 
 "There!" exclaimed Randy, holding a half of the 
 coin up in either hand. "It's got a bully edge. Looks 
 like a camel bit it. Now you're to keep your piece, and 
 I'll keep mine, and no matter how many years off it 
 may be, or what distance is between us, just send me 
 this, and I will come to you. Will you promise to 
 remember?" 
 
 He handed her one half with solemn courtesy. 
 
 "Oh, yes," declared the girl, taking it and then 
 looking up with earnest eyes. "How wonderful you 
 are ! I'm very glad you want to be my friend." 
 
 Randy, incredibly pleased, 'yet at the same tune 
 more incredibly embarrassed, turned for refuge to the 
 mutilated tree. 
 
 "Why, here's something else I can do!" he cried 
 joyously, "I've almost made an A without knowing it. 
 I'll finish up and carve the date in after. The tree will 
 keep it for us." 
 
 "Poor tree !" sighed Ariadne. "Look how you have 
 made it bleed already." 
 
 "It ought to be proud of the chance to bleed for such 
 a cause," said Randolph gallantly. "Yours is the 
 loveliest name I know !" 
 
 "Oh ! But your own hands are red with it." 
 
 "That shows I am branded forever as your knight." 
 
 "Listen !" the girl said, throwing her head back like 
 a deer. "Isn't that the train?"
 
 90 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Randolph, too, listened. A faint hooting came from 
 distant hills. 
 
 " Jimmininy, it is ! It's climbing Wolf Ridge now. 
 It's me for a sprint." 
 
 "I'm sorry, but good-by." 
 
 She laid her hand in his, but for some absurd reason 
 could not force her eyes to meet his own. 
 
 As he hurried through the gate she ran to it, and 
 waving, called once more: "Good-by, Sir Knight of 
 the Cherry Tree." 
 
 He turned among the sumach bushes. His eyes 
 gleamed like the brown creek of Allan Water over its 
 golden sands. 
 
 He bowed in exaggerated courtesy, making at the 
 same time a wide, sweeping gesture with his hat. 
 
 Ariadne felt the swish of the long white plume. 
 
 "Good-by, fair lady, my Ariadne of Allan Water !"
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ARIADNE danced back across the lawn. The air 
 held strange sparkles ; she was sure now that, things 
 were corning right. She looked up at the closed blinds 
 of her father's room, almost believing, in this new rush 
 of hope, that his dear face would smile down upon her. 
 
 The shutters of one of the windows were suddenly 
 thrown back, the head of Doctor Buford, a silver sphere 
 in the white, afternoon light, showed for a moment and 
 vanished. There was nothing to excite alarm ; the old 
 man had been swift and unnecessarily direct, it is true, 
 but there might be a dozen reasons for his celerity. 
 The girl listened keenly. No sound came from the 
 room, but far off, apparently in the valley, something 
 again hooted, and gave a long, derisive wail ending in a 
 shriek. It was only Randy's train slipping down the 
 nearer incline of Wolf Ridge, but in that arrested silence 
 it seemed the triumphant cry of an approaching fury. 
 Ariadne's feet froze to the damp earth beneath them. 
 Her mood of joy became a shattered vacuum, into 
 which rushed all her past terrors with a legion in pursuit. 
 Her sky darkened, and a thousand bat- winged fears 
 beat in her face. She struggled to move ; the numbness 
 of her feet spread upward. Now she cried aloud, 
 stretching her arms toward her father. As if her voice 
 had cut the terrifying, unseen hindrance, she gave a leap 
 forward and ran toward the house. 
 
 The lower floor was empty and suffocatingly still. 
 She paused at the foot of the stair. Footsteps hurried
 
 92 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 above her. For an instant she clung, half-fainting, to 
 the newel-post, and then, under a new spur of premoni- 
 tion, began a frantic ascent. 
 
 Before she could reach the top, a dreadful scream 
 seemed to slit through the very tissue of her soul. 
 
 "Donna!" she answered. Then, with a cry almost 
 as terrible, "Ma-donna!" 
 
 The days that followed were like some endless, mid- 
 night storm, pierced by the sudden lightning of a woman's 
 desperate cries. For Donna was a creature gone mad 
 with hysterical grief. 
 
 Ariadne moved through the blackness, her childish 
 hands outspread, groping always for that other one who 
 needed her. She slept with Madonna now, and often, 
 when the slight, cowering form had sobbed itself into 
 exhaustion, the girl lay awake, staring upward, and 
 wondering how it was possible for the two to endure 
 such suffering and remain alive. 
 
 Somewhere through the dark the dear old grandmother 
 had found them, taking up in pitying silence a routine 
 of existence she had thought forever forfeited. Judge 
 Henry and Cousin Nellie also came and went, and 
 once young Randy Carr. But this time Ariadne did 
 not see him. He sent a great cluster of old-fashioned, 
 white moss-roses to her room, knowing their inevitable 
 destination. The girl's tears fell on his flowers. Grandma 
 was asked to voice her thanks. 
 
 In spite of his sincere liking for the girl, he was intensely 
 relieved when she excused herself. He was there to 
 fight her battles, arguing strongly with Judge Henry 
 against the probation of Mr. Skipwith's will, and he 
 knew that he could have no opponent more vehement 
 than the girl herself.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 93 
 
 Mrs. Skipwith remained apathetic and indifferent. 
 When forced into expression, she would weep quietly 
 and repeat : 
 
 "Ariadne and I want things as her father wished 
 them." 
 
 The burden of this decision lay heavily upon Judge 
 Henry. He recognized to the full what injustice the 
 legal clinching of this bond would mean to Ariadne, and 
 yet, on the other hand, as he stated to his indignant and 
 bellicose young "cub," with such a girl the official docu- 
 ment meant nothing. "If we, for her sake, attack my 
 poor friend's will, we merely cast dishonor upon one who 
 can no longer protect himself, and as far as the spirit of 
 his wishes is concerned, alter nothing. It is her spoken 
 promise that binds Ariadne, and that no legal process can 
 withdraw." 
 
 So at last the document was filed. Mrs. Skipwith be- 
 came sole beneficiary of her husband's rapidly-increasing 
 interests. To Ariadne these worldly considerations 
 were less than the dead autumn leaves that now began to 
 drift across her father's grave. 
 
 Randy Carr came no more to Allan Water, and no one 
 either missed or spoke of him. Cousin Nellie was, as 
 ever, their most cherished visitor. Both she and Mrs. 
 Bannister were now very kind to the widowed bride. 
 Even their indignation when the will was read, and their 
 suspicion that it was all "Donna Mayrant's doings," 
 could not permanently alienate their sympathies. 
 
 "The poor soul's grief is genuine," old Mrs. Bannister 
 had said one day, as Mrs. Skipwith in her vague, irreso- 
 lute way had risen, moved aimlessly about and then 
 vanished. "She has received a mortal blow." 
 
 Because she was young and normal and lived much in 
 the open air, Ariadne slowly, and with bitter, inward
 
 94 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 upbraiding, realized that she was lifting her storm-beaten 
 head to the sun ; that her young heart was still open to 
 the beauty of the changing seasons ; that even at careless, 
 unguarded moments she could laugh. 
 
 Such lapses were invariably followed by hours of 
 repentant weeping. She tried to scourge herself back to 
 her first despair and looked with humility and something 
 approaching worship to the white, unchanging mask of 
 grief that Donna wore. 
 
 There had never been a lovelier autumn : the gold and 
 scarlet and russet tones of the trees sang, as it were, an 
 orchestrated triumph of color. The dark fringed gen- 
 tians, lifting blue eyes among the yellowing ferns, sur- 
 prised Ariadne with joy. The sudden flicker of a scarlet 
 tanager was a little torch that she would not have dared 
 to hold against her heart. 
 
 But Donna practically never left the house. Most of 
 her time was spent in the room where her husband had 
 died. This was her special shrine. Photographs of 
 Mr. Skipwith, beginning from his very infancy, were set 
 about in silver frames. An enlarged portrait hung at the 
 foot of the bed, swathed in crape. The little woman 
 grew thinner and developed a cough which she refused to 
 treat or to have Doctor Buford advise upon. 
 
 Mrs. Bannister became seriously alarmed. As in all 
 such emergencies she wrote to Cousin Nellie, receiving 
 promptly the setting of a "day." 
 
 Ariadne was, naturally, even more anxious than Mrs. 
 Bannister concerning her stepmother's health, and in 
 driving Cousin Nellie from the station talked of little 
 else. 
 
 "Well, my dear, I am glad to see you," the old lady 
 cried, in welcoming her. "Somehow, the very sight of 
 you brings energy."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 95 
 
 "You'll think so to-day, I'm sure, when you hear what 
 I've been planning," retorted Mrs. Henry, with a wrinkle 
 of mischief. "Where is Donna ? " 
 
 Mrs. Bannister sighed, and her gentle smile fled. 
 
 " Up-stairs as usual, rearranging flowers before all those 
 photographs of poor Ransome. She begins to make a 
 fetish of her grief." 
 
 "Shall I come with you?" asked Ariadne, as the two 
 ladies moved toward the living-room. 
 
 "Yes, come along," said Cousin Nellie, reaching around 
 and drawing the girl's hand through her arm. 
 
 Again she laughed mischievously. "Grandma's a 
 little afraid when I begin to talk plans," she confided to 
 the girl in a stage whisper. 
 
 "You do sometimes appear to old-fashioned eyes a 
 little impulsive, Nellie dear," deprecated the old lady 
 with a faint, backward smile. 
 
 "This time it isn't impulse," averred Mrs. Henry, 
 when at last the three were seated and both doors closed. 
 "I've been thinking about it for weeks, and have talked 
 over every point with Judge Henry. It's a matter of 
 plain common sense." 
 
 "Out with it, then," encouraged Mrs. Bannister, 
 feigning a lightness that she did not feel. 
 
 "It's more for our girl here than for the wretched little 
 creature up-stairs," fenced Cousin Nellie, smiling affec- 
 tionately on Ariadne. "But Judge Henry and I have 
 come to the conclusion that the two simply must be 
 taken away from Allan Water." At the shocked simul- 
 taneous looks, she amended hastily : "Not for good and 
 all, of course. Just for a visit : to keep Donna from 
 rooting herself like a mandrake." 
 
 "On a visit," murmured the old lady, when her breath 
 came back.
 
 96 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "We have consulted Doctor Buford, too. He says it 
 is absolutely necessary for Mrs. Skipwith to have a 
 change. If she doesn't" in the pause she gathered 
 her full meed of horrified attention "he will not 
 answer for the consequences." 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Nellie! I'm sure I can persuade her. 
 She'll do almost anything for me !" cried Ariadne, spring- 
 ing to her feet. She was for darting up the stairs at once 
 and bearing her charge off in her strong young arms. 
 
 "Stop stop, my dear," quavered the grandmother. 
 "Hand me my salts; I am quite overcome. We must 
 think first where you are going. Was it Culpeper you 
 had in mind, dear Nellie ? " 
 
 "Culpeper! No! That would only be a smaller 
 puddle in the Slough of Despond. They want to break 
 away entirely : new scenes, new influences, no fa- 
 miliar perches for the widow-bird to sit on. Judge 
 Henry and I want them to go with us next week to New 
 York." 
 
 Again old Mrs. Bannister was speechless. Ariadne 
 fell back into her chair, but the name had already begun 
 its magic work. 
 
 "We can find them some quiet, homelike lodgings," 
 continued Mrs. Henry. "And I think they had better 
 stay there until very nearly Christmas. Of course, they 
 would want to be back in Virginia then." 
 
 "You do make things seem unstable," murmured Mrs. 
 Bannister. "I can see that the move may have advan- 
 tages, but it appears to me a very grave responsibility to 
 assume." 
 
 "That may be," admitted Cousin Nellie, "but it 
 isn't good for Ariadne to be always with that human 
 watering-pot." 
 
 "I'm not sure Donna will go so far, even with me,"
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 97 
 
 Ariadne hesitated, her troubled, young eyes turning to 
 the speaker. 
 
 " She's sure to object at first, but it will be as futile 
 as the kicks of a rabbit when you hold it by the ears. 
 If the rest of us decide upon it, she'll go." 
 
 "But but what would become of me, alone in 
 this big house?" asked Mrs. Bannister, in a plaintive 
 voice. 
 
 "If you don't want to come back to us at Culpeper - 
 and I know you don't oh, my feelings are not hurt in 
 the least," she laughed, as Mrs. Bannister made a gesture 
 of protest and murmured "My dear !" "It's like living 
 in a monkey cage, when Dick Kyarter and his friends 
 are on the war path. You are better off and happier 
 here. Do you remember Cousin Agnes Hill?" she 
 questioned, with apparent irrelevance. 
 
 "Certainly! We were girls together at the White 
 Sulphur Springs. Agnes Yarrow was quite a belle." 
 The old lady tossed her head at the memory. She 
 could well afford generous tribute to Agnes, for it was 
 well known that she herself, in that far-off season, had 
 been the toast and beauty of the countryside. 
 
 "It's hard to believe when you look at her now; 
 that school-marm daughter-in-law dragged her through 
 the briars backward, or so people say. Of course 
 Cousin Agnes never mentions it. She's too much of 
 a lady." 
 
 "Naturally," said Mrs. Bannister. 
 
 "Now no one has to be told that you were a beauty, 
 Cousin Belinda," the flatterer went on, with a naughty 
 little wink at Ariadne. "You are a beauty still. Why, 
 old Colonel Randolph says you broke enough hearts to 
 pave the streets of Culpeper." 
 
 "Nonsense, my dear!" laughed the old lady, a slow
 
 98 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 pink flush making her face charming. "An aged woman 
 like me, who has long since put by all vanities ! But 
 tell me more of Agnes Yarrow." 
 
 "That son in Chicago with whom she lived finally died. 
 He never amounted to much, at best. There was a 
 small life insurance to be divided between his widow and 
 his mother. The wife took up her old work of teaching 
 school, and Cousin Agnes, after all these years, is back 
 home in the South. It is perfectly pathetic to see her 
 joy in it ! There really is no permanent place for her, 
 poor dear. We have all had her for little visits, but that 
 isn't like a home. It would be an act of charity for you 
 to invite her to spend the winter at Allan Water. Well, 
 what do you think of it ?" 
 
 She leaned forward, watching the changing expression 
 in the elder face. 
 
 "I've never been very closely associated with Agnes, 
 in spite of our kinship," Mrs. Bannister said doubtfully. 
 "She was rather a a frivolous young person, as I 
 remember." 
 
 "She got over that during the last century. Now 
 she's meeker than Moses. You see, we've had her at the 
 house, and I have been sizing the dear old soul up just 
 for this purpose. She plays checkers and bezique as 
 well as you do perhaps even better." 
 
 Mrs. Bannister raised her eyebrows, at which the 
 feminine Machiavelli before her had to stoop for a 
 handkerchief that had not fallen, in order to conceal a 
 disrespectful grin, and Ariadne suddenly rose and went 
 to a window. 
 
 "That is as may be," said the old lady stiffly. "But 
 what is far more important is she a reverent woman, 
 Nellie ? After all these years in the north and west 
 does she still read her Bible ? "
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 99 
 
 "Night and morning. She would as soon go to bed 
 without washing her face." 
 
 Mrs. Bannister could not conceal her satisfaction. 
 
 "It would seem quite a providential arrangement," 
 she conceded. 
 
 "There is one favor she would ask only one," said 
 Mrs. Henry quickly. 
 
 The elder lady grew alert. 
 
 "A favor ? Of what nature, my dear ? " 
 
 Ariadne turned a little anxiously. 
 
 "I told her that you didn't like animals very much, 
 especially dogs. Neither does she, with the exception of 
 an old cat to which she is devoted. She calls him 
 'Doctor Johnson.' She wouldn't be willing to go any- 
 where without her cat." 
 
 Ariadne, remembering a long succession of banished 
 kittens, held her breath for the next words. Perplexity 
 struggled plainly on the old lady's visage. Of course, 
 cats did not go mad or bite, and there were no sleeping 
 infants near whose innocent breath could be sucked, 
 yet to harbor for an indefinite visit an unknown 
 quadruped ! 
 
 "What a nice, dignified name Doctor Johnson," 
 the girl remarked, as if to the window, while Cousin 
 Nellie, with a cunning less obvious, murmured: "Re- 
 member what trials the poor soul has had. It's pitiful 
 to think she has had to concentrate her love upon a tom- 
 cat." 
 
 The elder lady was won ; the conspirators exchanged 
 triumphant glances. But in capitulating, Mrs. Bannister 
 had a doubt still to be solved. She looked toward Mrs. 
 Henry earnestly and asked : "Is Doctor Johnson a well- 
 mannered cat?" 
 
 While the laughter following Cousin Nellie's affirmative
 
 ioo ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 still echoed, Donna came into the room, shrinking a little 
 as she heard the sounds of mirth and caught sight of Mrs. 
 Henry's glowing countenance. 
 
 The New York project was laid before her to be met 
 at first by the prophesied demurs. 
 
 "But I want to go, Donna," urged her stepdaughter, 
 not realizing the full intent of truth in her statement. 
 "I have never seen New York. I want you to take me 
 there." 
 
 "I suppose it doesn't matter where I really am," said 
 the widow at last. "My heart will always be in Ran- 
 some's grave." 
 
 Mrs. Henry squirmed suddenly then told herself not 
 to be a fool. 
 
 "So it's all settled !" she cried in her brisk, practical 
 voice. "Have your trunks at the station next Tuesday 
 at eleven. Judge Henry and I will pick you up on our 
 way from Culpeper. Ariadne can play with Dick 
 Kyarter on the trip." 
 
 "Oh, I shall like that !" said the girl. 
 
 "You'll get an overdose by the end of the first hour," 
 said Mrs. Henry. "But we'll have the drawing-room 
 and can lock him in when he becomes too awful. Now, 
 Donna," she said, turning directly to the little widow, 
 "you won't back out? I can count on you for next 
 Tuesday?" 
 
 "I only live for Ariadne," said Donna. "It shall be 
 as she wishes." 
 
 "I will stay on in New York until I can see you com- 
 fortably settled ; and the minute I come home, I'll run 
 over here for the day, Cousin Belinda, and tell you all 
 about them. Now, what do you say to a nice game of 
 four-handed bezique?" 
 
 In contrast to the long series of empty days which had
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 101 
 
 preceded it, the little flurry of preparation for the North- 
 ern trip seemed an orgy of excitement. 
 
 Whenever she felt herself becoming too much inter- 
 ested, the widow counteracted the fancied disloyalty by a 
 pilgrimage to her husband's grave. But the packing 
 went on, and though on the appointed morning both 
 Donna and Ariadne were in tears, the station was reached 
 in good time. Once in the train, with Dick Carter falling 
 from all the seats in turn, sentimental regrets had no 
 place in which to flourish. 
 
 Cousin Agnes, " Doctor Johnson," and one modest, 
 oilcloth trunk had made their appearance at Allan 
 Water the day before. 
 
 The two old ladies settled down at once into a reestab- 
 lished friendship and a new association that was to last 
 for the rest of their gentle lives. 
 
 Ariadne's first letter was short and rather full of the 
 bewilderment caused by this sudden advent into the great 
 city. Mrs. Skipwith did not write; this was no sur- 
 prise to Mrs. Bannister, but when two weeks passed 
 and there was no word from Nellie Henry, she began to 
 feel some uneasiness. In a postscript to the girl's latest 
 letter were the words : 
 
 "We are just home from a matinee. Madonna feels 
 that it is doing her good to go to places." 
 
 "A matinee !" repeated the old lady, as she read the 
 letter to her receptive companion. "Surely, Agnes, that 
 means something at a playhouse ! " 
 
 "It does," said Cousin Agnes. "It is a theater in the 
 middle of the day." 
 
 Mrs. Bannister frowned. 
 
 "It does not seem possible that a woman scarcely six 
 months widowed would go to a play." 
 
 "Anything is possible in New York or Chicago," said
 
 102 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Mrs. Hill, with a reminiscent sigh. "They are not 
 Virginia." 
 
 "I shall be most anxious until Nellie Henry comes," 
 frowned Mrs. Bannister, compressing her lips. 
 
 A few days later a very brief note from Culpeper 
 stated the fact that Mrs. Henry had arrived and would 
 "be over" at the first possible moment. Apparently 
 the moment found obstacles in the way, and it was fully a 
 week before Mrs. Bannister was asked to have Anguish 
 and the phaeton in readiness to meet a particular train. 
 
 Mrs. Henry arrived, basket-less, Dick Carter-less, and 
 clothed in garments of a somber gray. Her cheeks were 
 less rosy than usual, and her pleasant voice had a chas- 
 tened tone. In fact, there was about her an air of hu- 
 mility so unusual and yet so unmistakable that both old 
 ladies felt in advance a touch of apprehension that her 
 first words changed to alarm. 
 
 "I might as well come out with it : I've been a fool ! " 
 said Nellie Henry, sinking to the corner of the sofa and 
 looking as if it were a dentist's chair. "You are right, 
 Cousin Belinda. I do plunge into other people's affairs 
 too recklessly." 
 
 "But what has happened, dear Nellie?" besought 
 Mrs. Bannister. "Don't keep me in suspense. Is 
 Ariadne ?" 
 
 "Nothing has happened yet. Ariadne's all right," 
 said Mrs. Henry. "It's the other one, and what may 
 happen in the future ! Could I have a glass of your black- 
 berry cordial, Cousin Belinda ? I need it." 
 
 Mrs. Bannister rose hurriedly and touched the bell. 
 Her face expressed merely a troubled questioning. 
 Cousin Agnes, having served her turn in the great world, 
 felt by instinct what was coming. 
 
 "That wretched little Donna," cried the visitor, when
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 103 
 
 a glass of the rich, spicy wine had been drunk, "has 
 already begun to paint and blondine her hair again." 
 
 "No !" gasped Mrs. Bannister. 
 
 "It is the truth! And that is not the worst. Far 
 from moving into the quiet house I found for her, she 
 has taken, by the month, one of the best suites at the 
 Quaza. She says she likes it, and that it cheers her up." 
 
 "Cheers her up !" reiterated the speaker, echoing her 
 own words with scornful bitterness, for by this time her 
 listeners were incapable of anything but gasps and 
 ejaculations. "I should think it might, to the tune of 
 hundreds of dollars a week !" 
 
 Mrs. Bannister's eyes seemed to glaze. She fell back 
 in an attitude of exhaustion. 
 
 "That's nothing for a fashionable hotel," piped Cousin 
 Agnes, "and of course that means the apartments only, 
 no food at all." 
 
 Mrs. Henry nodded. "But that is not the worst yet," 
 she continued. "She has begun to make eyes at men 
 again !" 
 
 At this a hollow silence grew ; the old lady gave a sort 
 of shudder and then became rigid. It is to be feared that 
 Cousin Agnes was enjoying herself. 
 
 "She has begun to dress the part, and when I left was 
 prancing up and down Fifth Avenue with gardenias 
 pinned to her bodice ; looking out sidewise from under a 
 new widow's bonnet that cost just eighty dollars. And 
 there is a man, a sleek, treacherous, foreign-looking 
 creature, young enough to be her son, who is following 
 her about." 
 
 Mrs. Bannister revived with a shock. 
 
 "Ariadne must be sent for at once, at once. My 
 granddaughter cannot be allowed to remain in such 
 surroundings."
 
 104 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "That's the real tragedy," commiserated Cousin 
 Nellie. "Ariadne is bound to her stepmother, hand and 
 foot. She begins to see now what the probating of that 
 dreadful will is going to mean for her." 
 
 "But surely," argued the old lady feverishly, "Ran- 
 some had no thought of such a thing as this. He would 
 be the first to wish Ariadne removed." 
 
 "In law there are no provisions for 'might-have- 
 beens/ " said Mrs. Henry. "I know enough about it for 
 that. All of you, with Judge Henry leading, insisted on 
 accepting the will. Randy Carr and I were the only 
 ones with common sense. Now it's too late to interfere. 
 Ariadne is chained like a prisoner to a cart. No matter 
 if that silly woman Donna married again, Ariadne is 
 still her slave. Oh, where I blame myself," she broke 
 out passionately, "is for not seeing what is now so 
 odiously clear : that it was inevitable for some adven- 
 turer to marry Ransome's widow for her money. She is 
 too easy a victim to escape." 
 
 "That man who you say is following her, is he good- 
 looking?" asked Cousin Agnes a little timidly. She 
 feared the fire hi Cousin Belinda's eyes, and yet the sub- 
 ject had a fascination. Cousin Agnes still read novels. 
 
 "Yes, he is," admitted Mrs. Henry with angry em- 
 phasis. "In his own repulsive way he is one of the most 
 beautiful creatures I have ever seen. His face is almost 
 perfect, the dark, sleepy type that schoolgirls and old 
 fools like Donna Mayrant go wild about. The very 
 sound of his creamy voice infuriates me. Oh, he'll get 
 Donna's money if he decides that she has enough to 
 make it worth his while." 
 
 The old lady vibrated with indignation. 
 
 "I can scarcely believe that it is I, Belinda Bannister, 
 who sit here listening to such unspeakable possibilities.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 105 
 
 That Mayrant woman must not be allowed to marry 
 again." 
 
 Mrs. Henry shrugged. " Who is going to prevent it ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 "Yes who?" murmured Cousin Agnes. She 
 stooped down to lift Doctor Johnson, who was purring 
 about her knees. Mrs. Bannister's haggard, restless 
 eyes unconsciously fixed upon the cat. Unmoved and 
 careless of the turmoil all about him, the large, slow 
 creature turned in his mistress' lap, revolving majesti- 
 cally as to the sound of a fluted minuet unheard by 
 grosser human ears, gave now a dainty pat, and then a 
 tentative clutch, under which the meager limbs of Cousin 
 Agnes flinched, and finally, having trodden the full 
 measure of his mystic convolutions, settled all at once 
 into a sleeping, furry ball of indifference. 
 
 After an interval Mrs. Bannister remarked in a quieter 
 voice: "Even if there is nothing to be done just now, 
 Christmas is not so far off. Ariadne will insist upon 
 coming home for that date, I know. Perhaps we can 
 then regain some influence over this woman who 
 who " Words failed her. She drew a long sigh and 
 then looked somewhat wistfully from one to the other 
 of her companions. 
 
 Early in Decembe'r Mrs. Bannister wrote a personal 
 letter to Mrs. Skipwith, entreating her to return to Allan 
 Water for Christmas. The reply was from Ariadne, a 
 suppressed, pathetic little letter, written evidently in a 
 mood of intense homesickness, and saying that Donna 
 thought it would be bad for both of them to come back to 
 a place so full of sad memories. 
 
 Only a few weeks later the blow fell. "Donna is to 
 marry Mr. Martel in a few days," Ariadne wrote. After 
 a honeymoon of two weeks, they were going abroad and
 
 io6 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 insisted that Ariadne go with them. In the interval she 
 was to return for a brief visit home. 
 
 When the girl arrived she seemed in a sort of daze. 
 Her reluctance to discuss her stepmother's affairs was 
 obvious. To Mrs. Bannister's many anxious questions 
 she replied as briefly as possible. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Martel was kind to her. He treated her 
 like a very little girl and wanted her to stop wearing 
 black dresses. She had been compelled to refuse this. 
 He was always very polite, though." 
 
 When the old lady attempted to force an opinion of the 
 marriage, the girl hung her head, and as though in per- 
 sonal shame, murmured : 
 
 "I cannot understand it at all, Grandma. They say 
 it is because I am a child yet. Oh, I don't want to talk 
 about it!" 
 
 When at last the summons came calling Ariadne to 
 join her stepmother in New York, all the suppressed 
 bitterness in old Mrs. Bannister's heart found voice : 
 
 "It is impossible for you to throw in your young, un- 
 spotted life with such people, Ariadne. Your father 
 himself, were he alive, would forbid it. There is no one 
 who will blame you. In his name as well as my own I 
 authorize you to refuse to go with them." 
 
 "I must go, Grandma, I must," the girl insisted 
 hopelessly. 
 
 "There is no must about it. You are a child and 
 should be protected from yourself. You cannot be 
 dragged around Europe by an adventurer like that man 
 Martel and the woman who has bought him." 
 
 "I was more of a child when father asked me for my 
 promise," she asserted. 
 
 The old lady struck her hands together. 
 
 "Your father must have been in delirium. If he could
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 107 
 
 have dreamed what awful consequences were to follow, 
 he would have bitten his tongue out first." 
 
 "He asked me never to leave Madonna." 
 
 "She doesn't need you now. The creature may not 
 even want you. She has lost her head completely over 
 that low man." 
 
 "She says she wants me," the girl protested. "And 
 if I leave her, she loses all the money." 
 
 "She has a husband such as he is." 
 
 "But he hasn't any money, either. Donna told me 
 so." 
 
 "And you a Skip with of Virginia you must go 
 about with such outcasts, so that they may spend your 
 father's wealth. It is intolerable !" 
 
 Ariadne answered nothing. Her small, white face 
 showed the dumb suffering of her heart. 
 
 "I can't endure it; I can't endure it, Ariadne!" 
 cried the old lady, her voice suddenly breaking with 
 sobs. "You are all I have in the world. I would 
 rather rr- almost see you lying there in the hillside, 
 safe, by your young mother's side." 
 
 "I would rather be dead, too," sobbed Ariadne, 
 flinging her arms around her .grandmother and giving 
 way at last to her own tears. "I don't want to leave 
 you. Somehow, I am afraid of Mr. Martel. I don't 
 believe he loves Donna as she loves him. I don't 
 understand things, I know, but somehow I feel that 
 Donna needs me more than ever." 
 
 "Is there nothing nothing to be done?" the 
 old lady wailed ; but the hopelessness of her own voice 
 answered her. 
 
 "Maybe they won't stay in Europe very long," 
 said Ariadne, when her hysterical sobs had been quieted. 
 "Donna says they will never live here. He hates the
 
 io8 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 country. If they are in New York I can be at home 
 lots. Don't cry any more, Grandma. It hurts me so 
 to see you cry. We'll just keep on hoping that they 
 will get tired of Europe and come back." 
 
 "Heaven grant it," said the old lady, wiping her eyes 
 and feeling just a little comforted. "For the rest, you 
 can only bear in mind that you are a child of gentle 
 birth, and that no external defilement can really sully 
 a heart that is in itself fine and pure. Promise me, 
 my child, that you will read a chapter of your Bible 
 every night." 
 
 "Oh, Grandma, you know I will !" 
 
 "And that you will never fail to say your prayers, 
 my darling !" 
 
 "As if I could," cried Ariadne, smiling through her 
 tears. "I don't believe I'd sleep a wink." 
 
 "I, too, shall pray, with all the strength that is in 
 me, for our Heavenly Father to have you in His keep- 
 ing," faltered the old lady, beginning to weep again. 
 
 "Then nothing can hurt me," whispered the girl 
 just a little shyly, for these were things of which she 
 had never spoken. "And my dear father who was 
 here on earth, maybe he will know that I am keeping 
 my promise and be glad."
 
 BOOK TWO 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE month of May, which in Ariadne's secluded and 
 fanciful childhood had seemed a miracle wrought for 
 Allan Water and herself alone, had trailed its fragrant, 
 flower-embroidered scarf through many alien lands. 
 
 The girl had learned, in these years of wandering, 
 that spring brought a universal ecstasy. Yet, since 
 it was her birth month, there was still in her heart a 
 conscious, personal singling of it out from all other 
 seasons. The fiber of her thoughts grew, as it were, 
 more sensitive. Her eyes saw beauty clearer; but 
 though best-loved, it always brought, with heightened 
 poignancy, the yearning for her far-distant home. 
 
 Roses breathed a common language ; the upturned 
 faces of children, whether they were plucking green 
 iris from Italian hills or dusty dandelions from arid, 
 Spanish soil, answered her smile with the same shy 
 friendliness. The round world was more beautiful 
 than she had ever dreamed. Yet, with increasing 
 frequency of late, her very soul grew sick, as at this 
 moment, for the sight of white clouds drifting above her 
 own homeland, for the sound of mocking-birds and the 
 scarlet tanager among familiar junipers. She longed, 
 almost with physical anguish, to fling herself upon the 
 sanded paths of Allan Water, and hear her own voice 
 sobbing, "I am at home, at last!"
 
 no ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Now May was here again. She sat alone upon a 
 tiny, iron-fenced balcony, staring out on a scene so 
 utterly unlike Virginia that it was hard to believe it 
 part of the same green world. 
 
 This, the seventh of May, had been an unusually 
 warm and beautiful day. Across Dutch meadows, 
 gilded with a rime of close-set buttercups, the spring 
 wind blew with a gentleness it might have borrowed 
 from those distant American hills. The great, round 
 sun which had risen gloriously now sank to a still more 
 radiant retreat. 
 
 Less than a week before they had reached the en- 
 dearing little town of Dordrecht. It was seldom, in- 
 deed, that Mr. Martel, whose wishes, or rather whose 
 sudden caprices, formed the one determinative factor 
 in their wandering lives, condescended to patronize 
 such small communities. He loved the big, Conti- 
 nental capitals, the gaming-tables, the glitter of new 
 hotels, and the subdued excitement of crowded dming- 
 halls. Ariadne knew well that his visit to this ex- 
 quisite, old-world niche had been the direct result, as 
 it were, of a careless phrase of approbation flung toward 
 it by a red-faced Englishman at Brussels. " Quite a 
 jolly little hole, don't you know," Sir Hedworth-Lam- 
 son had drawled. "And, by the way, Lady Lamson 
 and I expect to turn up in that neighborhood some- 
 where near the middle of the month in our yacht, the 
 Olivia. If you chance to care for such things, I'll have 
 you and the ladies out for a sail." 
 
 This invitation, though casual, had proved a social 
 crumb which, unlike many others, had not been snatched 
 away in the very moment of grasping. The Hed- 
 worth-Lamsons had "turned-up," and a few hours 
 earlier Ariadne, thankful that her own excuses had
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER in 
 
 prevailed, watched the jovial little party embark. It 
 had been months since she had known such respite. 
 Even the two servants had disappeared Cummins, 
 the English maid, and the unpleasant smiling, quick- 
 eyed valet, Francois, whose deferential manner toward 
 Martel was in such sinister contrast to the under- 
 lying intimacy that seemed to bind the two men to- 
 gether. 
 
 From the first moment when she stepped into the 
 flower-ringed space before the railway station, Ariadne 
 had loved this little Dort. No wonder it was called 
 "the Artists' Town"! The brooding tenderness of 
 old Dutch masters hung over the quiet streets. Each 
 opened window was a screen pulled back from a mag- 
 nified De Hooch, and each unexpected doorway a 
 canvas by Vermeer or Jan Steen come suddenly to life. 
 Even at this late day one needed to be careful in turn- 
 ing corners, lest a precarious easel be upset. 
 
 With an interest that the great capitals had never 
 aroused in her, Ariadne began to learn the ways of the 
 small, Dutch town. 
 
 For hours at a time she would watch the boats making 
 slow progress into or out of the main artery of a canal, 
 turning it into a perpetual market, where purchasers 
 leaned over to haggle at the unstable booths, and chil- 
 dren were continually being plucked back by volumi- 
 nous Dutch petticoats or trousers, that they might not 
 fall head-first into some crevice of dark water. 
 
 She learned for herself that early morning is the true 
 time to catch all the latent loveliness of Holland ; and 
 more than once was standing on her chosen bridge as 
 the first vegetable-laden barge pushed through the 
 mists. Under the dawn-glamour the little fleet of ped- 
 dlers looked like an argosy bearing gems. The dripping
 
 ii2 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 cucumbers were of jade and onyx; the long, bunched 
 carrots gleamed like bars of gold; and the bloated, 
 purple cabbages, under their frost of dew, looked much 
 more like great, rough-hewn amethysts than their 
 humble selves. Soon she began to recognize some of 
 the children by sight, and shyly made friends with 
 them, offering crisp wafflejes and hands full of brown 
 hoppjes, as she might scatter corn to a covey of dis- 
 trustful pigeons. 
 
 And yet, after each delightful venture, whether be- 
 side the stone-walled canals or along narrow, fascinating 
 streets, she would return to her own little nook, feeling 
 that here the natural beauty of the place offered its full 
 splendor. 
 
 Her room was at a corner of the old hotel, two floors 
 up, facing the confluence of rivers that was, indeed, 
 little Dort's chief glory. One long window, opening 
 to the floor, gave upon a narrow balcony. At her left 
 the railing, making a sharp angle, ran back to the 
 weather-beaten wall, forming the corner niche which 
 had become her favorite seat. To the right the ve- 
 randa extended, without interruption, along the water 
 fagade of the building. The other windows, opening 
 like her own, belonged to the suite that Mr. Martel 
 and her stepmother now occupied. Directly under- 
 neath, starting apparently from the narrow, curved, 
 stone pier, three splendid streams appeared to branch, 
 and one, the widest, ran straight out to the heart of the 
 sunset. 
 
 Low marsh lands, level across the surface as a newly 
 clipped lawn, bound the bright, restless waters. Across 
 them she could see, here and there, clusters of trees, 
 blue-green with distance, and standing inevitably near 
 a squat church-tower in keen silhouette, while a little
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 113 
 
 apart moved the long, wedge-shaped flanges of a sleepy 
 windmill. 
 
 In all her wanderings no other country, not even 
 poetic Italy, 'had touched the girl's heart and imagina- 
 tion as did these little "Nederlands." "What makes 
 you so precious ? " she sometimes whispered to it. After 
 all, it was only part of the ordinary earth made up of 
 meadows and cows and buttercups and villages and 
 dear, stolid, human people; but to eyes once streaked 
 with its magic, the cows all turned to ivory and jet, so 
 sleek that the buttercups could almost see themselves 
 reflected in recumbent flanks; the meadows became 
 Olympic terraces, where daisies, dandelions, and butter- 
 cups rested like stars, quivering upward at night to 
 their allotted places in a purple sky. Even the village 
 bricks could never have been fashioned from dull clay, 
 or being so, the charm of centuries had changed them 
 into cubes showing a silvery and carnelian bloom. 
 
 As for the people was there another race which so 
 intrinsically possessed, and was in turn possessed by, 
 its inheritance? Holland had literally been made by 
 those whose children now maintained and worshiped 
 her. She had been fought for not only against human 
 enemies, but the eternal menace of the sea. It was a 
 conflict never to be ended. Perhaps because of it one 
 felt that here a love of country, like the quiet, unsleep- 
 ing vigilance against encroachment, was part of the 
 people's soul. The little, red-tiled cottages, always so 
 gayly painted, the wide-flung tapestries of tulips and 
 narcissi, the endless turning of guardian mills, the 
 clothes and strange gold ornaments of the peasant 
 folk, no less than the pink flesh of their children, were 
 all integrally and fundamentally fibers of a living 
 whole.
 
 H4 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Of such things was the young girl dreaming as she 
 sat on the balcony alone. Each moment the descend- 
 ing sun grew a deeper gold; the long shafts of light 
 quivered across a faintly rising mist ; out on the watery 
 highways dull orange sails were drifting. The scene 
 was so beautiful, the "holy time" so still, that she felt 
 herself almost happy. 
 
 "If only " she sighed aloud. Somehow there 
 must always be for her those words, "if only." For a 
 moment the bright head drooped. Then, with a little 
 shake of resolution, she lifted it. This day of solitude 
 had been welcomed not only as a boon, but for the 
 opportunity it gave of thinking out a something a 
 dreadful creeping something that could no longer be 
 ignored. 
 
 Soon Sir Hedworth and his guests would be return- 
 ing. She had fought the crouching thing all day, or 
 rather, turned her back upon it. Now it must be faced. 
 During the sunlit hours introspection was impossible. 
 She had heard children's voices and met the smile in 
 their blue eyes. Now they were all in bed, each tucked 
 away the darlings ! in the snug cupboard of a 
 Dutch "interior." This was the time to think. 
 
 As if longing, even now, for respite, the girl stood 
 peering to the left and right, and then, with shaded 
 vision, out along the molten surface of the widest stream. 
 There was no sign of the Olivia. 
 
 She sat down again, drawing in a long, tremulous 
 sigh. Her eyes, deliberately withdrawn from beauty, 
 turned shrinkingly to the dark menace that lay within. 
 "I must have imagined it," she whispered despair- 
 ingly. "Perhaps I live in myself too much. There is 
 never any one whom I can talk to. I may be growing 
 into one of those morbid, modern women whom novelists
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 115 
 
 are now writing about. It may be only my nerves, 
 and a doctor would be able to help me." 
 
 She stared out, frowning. As if in answer, the image 
 of Martel slowly took shape before her. His beautiful, 
 dark head blotted the sunset. Again his red lips smiled. 
 One delicate hand went up to caress the small mustache, 
 and from under the long lashes he sent again that look 
 that turned her heart to ice a slow, possessive look 
 that somehow waited ! 
 
 She crouched down in her chair, covering her eyes. 
 "Oh, I am surely losing my senses," she shuddered. 
 "He is my stepfather, married to my own dear father's 
 wife. Although during the first long years with him I 
 hated him and was sometimes rude, he was merely 
 indifferent and kind. I blamed myself for not respond- 
 ing to his friendliness. When did this dreadful change, 
 this thing that is in my veins like an eating acid, when 
 did it first begin?" 
 
 This was her present task : to trace, no matter with 
 what loathing, each step in a process which had trans- 
 formed her feelings from shrinking tolerance into a 
 definite, haunting, ever-present fear. 
 
 The stepmother had evidently noticed nothing. She 
 appeared to consider Ariadne still a child. The fact 
 that confidences and querulous complaints of "Con- 
 nie's" neglect were poured into her inexperienced ears 
 made no difference in the attitude. A chiropodist 
 would have served had Ariadne not been near. 
 
 Perhaps the first suggestion of evil had been his gift 
 of a little book, a French translation, setting forth the 
 full history of the nymph Ariadne. 
 
 The incident had taken place at Nice. Mr. Martel 
 and his valet had just returned from one of those myste- 
 rious trips to Paris which, at that time, were of frequent
 
 n6 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 occurrence. At the ensuing luncheon where Mrs. Martel, 
 .as was her custom on such occasions, chattered inces- 
 santly of her rapture at her husband's return, he had 
 drawn from his inner pocket a small book, exquisitely 
 bound. Throwing it on the table near his wife, he had 
 remarked carelessly : "Here's a neat little thing I picked 
 up on the Rue de 1'Opera." 
 
 Donna seized it eagerly, thankful that the clear, 
 -gold type did not necessitate the adjustment of her 
 glasses. "How sweet and kind of you, Connie darling ! " 
 Then her face fell. "The Loves of Ariadne," she read 
 aloud. "Then it's not for me. You mean it for 
 Ariadne." 
 
 "I would have to get an edition de luxe of the old 
 masters to do justice to your name, Madonna. As 
 you surmise, that is intended for Ariadne. I heard 
 her say, not long ago, that she was ignorant of the ad- 
 ventures of her name-nymph. Ariadne of Naxos ! I 
 have always thought it a most alluring sound." His 
 long eyes, that always held a hint of mockery in the 
 blue-green depths, smiled across the table. 
 
 Donna, completely pacified, held out the charming 
 little volume. 
 
 "Is it really for me?" cried the girl, flushing with 
 pleasure and surprise. Gifts were an unusual happen- 
 ing with her. "That was very kind of you, Mr. Martel. 
 I will read it the minute I have finished luncheon." 
 
 "I am glad that you like it so much, my dear. 
 Only " he added, with a queer, low laugh, "I must 
 warn you that I do not hold myself responsible for the 
 morals of your classic sister." 
 
 So Ariadne, all impatient for the moment, had hurried 
 to her little room to read. When her cheeks burned, 
 she angrily called herself a prude, a conventional young
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 117 
 
 idiot. Of course, as Mr. Martel had been thoughtful 
 enough to state, the adventures of a charming, pagan 
 myth were not to be taken personally. 
 
 Nevertheless she felt an unconquerable embarrass- 
 ment at the thought of next meeting him. She dreaded 
 the coming dinner hour, and when the little, triangular 
 party was at last seated, went into a small panic at each 
 pause, for fear that now he was going to question her. 
 
 But the courses came and went, and Martel made no 
 allusion. It was characteristic of his wife that she 
 should already have forgotten. Her chief topic, and 
 one which evidently aroused in her the deepest excite- 
 ment, was the approaching marriage of a certain Euro- 
 pean princess. Mrs. Martel subscribed to more than 
 one court journal. She referred to all members of 
 royalty by their Christian names, and could, at any 
 moment, have passed a brilliant examination upon 
 their ages, personal appearance, and intricate relation- 
 ships. 
 
 Neither at that time nor afterward had Martel alluded 
 to the book, and while at first the omission brought 
 to the girl only a shy relief, she had later begun to realize 
 that in the man's mind his gift, and her reading of it, 
 had established a new and ineradicable bond. 
 
 Other suggestions, even more vague, had followed; 
 a clasp of the hand, less careless, in assisting her from 
 carriages; more frequent and direct appeals to her in 
 conversation which often, now, he led into less personal 
 and more interesting paths, and visits to picture galleries 
 where he would pause long before certain canvases, 
 most of them representing subjects she had been taught 
 to ignore. 
 
 He began, with no apparent cause, to frequent con- 
 certs, a whim unknown to their first six years together,
 
 n8 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 l 
 
 and while Mrs. Martel drowsed happily at his other 
 elbow, would talk eagerly and often with deep insight 
 about some marvelous passage that had just been 
 played. Sometimes he would refer to the human ex- 
 periences of great musicians, pointing out love as the 
 true inspiration of all supreme art. Each hint was so 
 brief, so delicately worded, that a Lady Abbess could 
 scarcely have taken offense. It was only in retrospect, 
 in the placing of one film above the other that the sum, 
 held up against the clear light of reason, took on a dark 
 and menacing outline. 
 
 Once, driving home from the opera when the girl sat, 
 as usual, on the small, adjustable taxi-shelf facing her 
 stepmother, Mr. Martel had made some trivial excuse 
 for changing places with his wife. Ariadne, still drowned 
 in harmony, had scarcely noticed the move. It was 
 only when a warm, lithe, silken ankle brushed her own 
 that she came to herself with a start and hurriedly 
 drew her foot away. Martel sat motionless, his face 
 turned. As their little party descended, he did not 
 even touch her hand. Ariadne, hot with shame and 
 indignation, tried to persuade herself that it had not 
 been intended. Surely to no decent girl did such things 
 happen by design ! An increase in kind indifference on 
 Martel's part did much to strengthen the desirable 
 belief. 
 
 Yet now that she was gathering up her disquieting 
 evidence, the incident would not be put aside. After 
 all was it, as she had so persistently tried to hold, an 
 accident, or merely the snapping of another twig in a 
 jungle ? 
 
 Mr. Martel, after this, made only very occasional 
 trips to Paris. For six months she had seen him practi- 
 cally every day and often late into the night. He and
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 119 
 
 Donna loved artificial hours, and the girl could not 
 always find excuses for staying at home. She noticed,, 
 too, that he had become more considerate of his wife, 
 bringing her small gifts and often anticipating her 
 pleasures. Ariadne sometimes sickened under the out- 
 pourings of her stepmother's fatuous adulation. Her 
 love for the man was an obsession. She shivered with 
 ecstasy if he chanced to touch her. Her foolish, faded 
 face which, by now, had lost its last youthful contour 
 in a mass of unhealthy-looking flesh, turned to his care- 
 less words as to a sacrament. 
 
 Ariadne was forced to see it all ; and as she watched, 
 she seemed to herself like some hunted thing that cowered 
 behind frail, intangible defenses, while nearer, every 
 moment, crept a poisonous night. Out there in the 
 darkness something stole toward her, a something un- 
 named and terrible, with fangs already bared to strike. 
 She could not flee. All paths were shut to her. She 
 did not even know from which direction the dread might 
 spring. Only it was there somewhere in this ghastly 
 and newly-created universe, and its most awful attri- 
 bute was its very formlessness. 
 
 Again the girl looked up, pressing cold fingers against 
 her throat. "It is not possible!" she moaned. "No 
 girl should have such fears. I will not think. Dear 
 Lord, cleanse me from these wicked imaginings !" 
 
 But then, if all these other fears were demon whispers, 
 what of that book of poetry she found last night upon 
 her pillow ? And the carnation, mate to one in Martel's 
 dinner coat, whose hard-pressed petals dyed its pages ? 
 The stain had pointed to verses which no clean-minded 
 girl should have been asked to read. 
 
 Beaten back now, helpless and faint before the ac- 
 cumulated horrors, Ariadne drooped and for a blessed
 
 120 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 interval ceased, in reality, to have the power of logical 
 thought. 
 
 From the little town behind her she could hear the 
 sleepy jangle of the one street-car, and the clip of the 
 old horse's hoofs upon the cobbles. She felt, rather 
 than saw, the deepening of the sunset glow. The air 
 was growing cooler. She was grateful for the reviving 
 freshness, and lifting both hands, pushed back the heavy 
 locks of hair. 
 
 Unnoted by her in this tortured reverie the first little 
 river-boat was stealing home. She watched it now with 
 eagerness. Silent as a shadow, it moved toward her 
 and the leaning posts that ringed the little pier. Almost 
 furtively, as if ashamed to be taking an early advantage 
 of its comrades, it neared the pilings, then suddenly 
 backed a little, like some great water-beetle with in- 
 visible antennae, and reassured, came back, settling 
 itself with businesslike deliberation into a chosen 
 nook. 
 
 A small, shaggy dog rushed to the tip of the up-curved 
 prow, and bracing his small forefeet, set up a furious 
 barking. The old fisherman at the pole gave a gruff, 
 Dutch admonition, at which the dog, after a sheepish 
 glance as if to see whether the foreign girl had noted 
 his humiliation, skulked with dejected tail along the 
 deck and appeared to fling himself into the cabin. 
 
 Ariadne laughed; then, startled at the sound, drew 
 herself up to wonder how she had done it. But the 
 question got no farther. Her eyes looked full into the 
 sun's bright face, and before his majesty all personal 
 thought fell away. 
 
 Now, almost touching earth, the lower edge was 
 blurring. Quivering marsh-mists seemed drawn up into 
 the sphere, quenching its fire and slowly filling its
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 121 
 
 smoldering outline. It was a great smoke-bubble, 
 like those her father used to blow for her upon the hearth 
 at Allan Water. Now it was going to strike the green 
 rug of the marshes. Would it break or flatten itself 
 elastically, as those bubbles of her childhood used to do, 
 bounding disdainfully aside before its silent detonation. 
 
 Suddenly it was gone. Three bars of light capped 
 by a yoke of living gold were pressed down into purple 
 darkness. The roses in the sky turned ashen, and in 
 the throbbing gloom one great star took its place, throw- 
 ing a javelin of light upon the river. Ariadne stared 
 hard at the reflection. The ripples broke and toyed 
 with it. There, just beyond the shortest piling, was the 
 spot where she had hurled the insulting verse. She 
 could see it now, rocking upon the tide and tossing 
 defiant pages, to one of which still clung the red 
 carnation. 
 
 She stirred impatiently and turned her face toward 
 the opened window as if considering whether or not the 
 dim room might prove a safer retreat from memory. 
 Half rising, she looked up and down the several streams. 
 There was no hint or sign of the Olivia, but now, from 
 all directions, dark shuttles of small craft moved, con- 
 verging toward the pier. For all the river boats were 
 hurrying home to bed. Such a sleepy, childish, little 
 flock they were shoving black noses one against the 
 other, elbowing rudely, each determined to push past 
 the rest. 
 
 Now a whole covey wedged itself into a common 
 helplessness, held for an instant silent, as its members 
 realized the small catastrophe. Then such a sound of 
 struggle, such plunging of black poles, with grunts and 
 gratings and sharp whistles, a discord made more poign- 
 ant by the barking of rival dogs. With angry churn-
 
 122 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 ings of the water, a small steam tug detached itself, 
 and before the heavier boats could interfere, had rushed 
 into the wharf with a loud hoot of triumph. 
 
 A little farther out in the stream a group of white, 
 two-storied, excursion boats, each the property of that 
 mysterious aquatic potentate, "Fop Smit und Zoon," 
 drew to a decorous pause like big sisters at the far end 
 of a nursery. Glancing across electric lighted shoulders 
 to the squabbling infant crew, they seemed to shrug 
 disapprobation, and then, binding themselves together 
 in aloofness, formed a white, brilliant island in the 
 Merwede's center. 
 
 Ariadne smiled at the quaint, human comfort of it all. 
 This had become a favorite hour with her. As in the 
 case of the village children, she had begun to know 
 many of the little craft by sight and name. Merwede 
 was the favorite appellation. There were Merwedes 
 I, and II, and III. She had counted up so far as 
 seven. Having herself become a lover of the parent 
 river, she understood their loyalty. Many of the 
 other boats bore women's names, Lyspeth, Juliana, 
 Betje and the inevitable Maria; while not a few of 
 the others were called after flowers. 
 
 She rose at last, and passing into her room, turned 
 on the one feeble electric light and saw, by her traveling 
 clock, that it was nearly nine. "I knew it was getting 
 late. I had my dinner hours ago," she murmured. 
 "They ought to be bringing Donna home, for the night 
 air is so bad for her rheumatism." Yes, they would 
 soon be here. 
 
 The faint, sick feeling swept across her heart. She 
 drew a chair up under the poor light and tried to in- 
 terest herself in a recent American magazine that Mrs. 
 Martel had finished and passed on to her. The date
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 123 
 
 was a little old; all of their magazines were old, but 
 that made no difference, as these readers were already 
 so entirely out of touch with anything at home that it 
 was like being interested in the affairs of a separate 
 planet. 
 
 The first story that she opened began with the words : 
 "All day the Winston children had been out gathering 
 chinquepins." She shut it together with a snap. Chin- 
 quepins ! At that moment the prickly, green burrs 
 were swelling on the Virginia hillsides. How many 
 happy times in her own lost childhood had she gathered 
 them. She lifted her hand as in a dream, moving slow 
 fingers as though to feel a something against her throat. 
 So many, many times there had swung from it a long, 
 brown rosary of chinquepins, strung for her by Anguish. 
 The very taste of the hard, sweet kernels grew on her 
 tongue. No, the brown, autumn necklet was not there ; 
 her fingers closed only about the usual little chain of 
 silver, a mere gleaming thread, from which hung the 
 half of a broken coin. 
 
 She opened the magazine once more and this time 
 warily, as if in fear that a memory, too keen, would 
 spring from it. On the following page was an illustration 
 of an old Virginia homestead. It might have been 
 Allan Water. She sprang up with a sob, letting the 
 pamphlet fall. She could not read that story- not 
 to-night ! 
 
 Hastily darkening the room, she went again upon the 
 balcony. Her eyes, fixed on the purple silence, saw at 
 first only the one great star. Slowly the earthly outlines 
 grew familiar, the straight marsh-banks holding in 
 darker rivers, and the boats now all asleep. But very 
 close to her, almost beneath her feet, a dim, yellow 
 radiance set in the heart of a huge, pointed shadow,
 
 124 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 had nearly touched the pier. She knew it was not the 
 Olivia, for that always anchored farther out. It was a 
 last, belated boat, seeking a place to rest. 
 
 She could see it now quite plainly. The master, tall 
 and with a quick grace of motion that betrayed his 
 youth, leaned far out and tethered his little home in 
 silence. Immediately the tide swung it sidewise, so 
 that through the squat -cabin's opened doorway could 
 be seen a young Dutch mother nursing her child. Over 
 her hung the small oil-lamp, whose glow Ariadne had 
 first seen ; but on the sweet, homely face another and 
 more beautiful light was resting. Something warm 
 and tremulous rose to the watcher's throat. The young 
 fisherman went down softly into the cabin. He leaned 
 over, putting a hand upon the sleeping babe, and his 
 wife raised smiling eyes to him. 
 
 All at once the scene was blotted out in tears. The 
 girl felt that she could have fallen to the feet of that 
 humble, holy family. Again she put her hand to her 
 throat, this time to check its throbbing. Her hand 
 closed on the coin. "Randy, Randy," she whispered. 
 "Have you forgotten?" 
 
 The light in the cabin suddenly went dark. She 
 heard the rude door fastened. Clutching the railings 
 fiercely, she stared across the water, terrified by her 
 own emotions. Why had she thought, just then, of 
 Randy ? Why had she called his name ? It was years 
 since she had heard from him. Just after Donna's 
 second marriage he had sent a letter so filled with in- 
 vective against the stepmother and the "Levantine 
 Mixture" she had chosen, so passionate and unrestrained 
 in argument that Ariadne should ignore her father's 
 will and refuse to associate her life with "unnatural and 
 immoral vagabonds whom no decent man or woman
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 125 
 
 either should ever tolerate," that the girl felt a reply 
 impossible. 
 
 Since then no word had come. She learned through 
 Cousin Nellie's infrequent and always hasty letters 
 that he had carried out his plan of going to New York 
 and had recently been made junior partner in a promi- 
 nent law firm. But all this gave no answer to the startled 
 query : Why had his name risen involuntarily, that 
 moment, to her lips ? 
 
 Even in the cool, night air her cheeks were like fire. 
 "Oh!" she cried out, in desperate self-explanation. 
 "It is because he is clean, and good, and honest. A 
 girl whom he loved would be proud of it. Because he 
 is my friend and said to me: 'If ever you need me, I 
 will come.'" 
 
 And now she needed him. More than ever before 
 in all her life she starved and suffered for such friendship, 
 but now, as always, she could not summon him. Donna 
 and her promise to a dying father stood between. Even 
 had she not been so restricted would it be possible, at 
 this late day, to claim his fealty ? It was a boy who had 
 so earnestly declared: "No matter how old we are, or 
 how many miles apart, I'll come." 
 
 Life, in his chosen groove, could not have used him 
 hardly. Other gifts had probably been showered upon 
 him. Perhaps even now, in the twilight, there was 
 some one near him with upraised eyes, happy as the 
 little Dutch wife yonder ! The girl stirred wretchedly. 
 She felt the knife as it rent the cherry-tree. Her head 
 went down in humiliation, and she longed consciously 
 that the dark, cool waters of the Merwede could close 
 above it. 
 
 The swift panting of a gasoline launch and the sound 
 of distant laughter from the river brought her thoughts
 
 126 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 back with a shock. The Olivia had returned. With 
 her long, white flanks and lifted prow she seemed a 
 sort of greyhound of the deep. The launch drove like 
 an arrow toward the shore. The girl rose like a hunted 
 thing, and again entering her room, threw herself face- 
 down upon the bed, and lay there in darkness, quivering, 
 until she heard Donna, puffing and chattering, begin 
 the ascent of the hotel stairs. 
 
 "Ariad-nee !" came the high, thin voice. 
 
 Ariadne rose and dragged herself toward her step- 
 mother's apartments. Just as she entered, that ex- 
 hausted lady had fallen, rather than seated herself, 
 upon the nearest cushioned chair. Martel, a dark 
 shadow at which the girl did not look, stood somewhere 
 near. 
 
 "Well, I am tired!" exclaimed Mrs. Martel. "I'm 
 just about ready to collapse. But we have had the 
 most wonderful day, haven't we, Connie?" 
 
 As Connie did not answer, she hurried on as well as 
 she could for gasping. "You certainly missed it by 
 staying away, Ariadne. You would have loved the 
 sunset. But, after all - " here she laughed consciously. 
 "It was a rather highly seasoned party for a girl. I 
 never drank such champagne in all my life, and Sir 
 Hedworth took good care that our glasses should not 
 stand empty. I am afraid we all had a little more 
 than we should, even Connie, bad boy that he is!" 
 She turned to shake a playful finger at her husband. 
 "It was Lady Lamson who insisted he should drink. 
 The creature actually made love to him under my very 
 nose. And Connie is generally so abstemious ! " 
 
 The silhouette of Martel's figure appeared to sway a 
 very little. Reaching out, he found a chair which he 
 drew up just behind that of his wife. Donna began to
 
 127 
 
 unfasten her collar at the back. Her hand was evi- 
 dently unsteady. 
 
 " Where is that Cummins?" she questioned fretfully. 
 
 " Shall I try to find her for you?" asked the girl, 
 thankful for the opportunity to escape. 
 
 "Yes, dear, if you will." 
 
 Martel rose also. Ariadne drew back. She had 
 caught a glimpse of his face, which instead of showing 
 its usual cool pallor was flushed to a dull red. His 
 eyes were strangely unsteady. They moved swiftly 
 from side to side like those of a pinioned snake. She 
 determined not to pass out into the corridor with him 
 and now waited to see what his next move would be. 
 
 Continuing to ignore her, he leaned down to his wife. 
 "I do feel a bit heady after all that wine," his soft voice 
 told her. "I think I had better take a turn in the fresh 
 air." 
 
 "Yes, darling. You'll sleep better for it, I know," 
 she encouraged, tenderly. As he went, her pale, adoring 
 eyes followed him. She drew an enormous, lingering 
 sigh, whether of love or fatigue Ariadne did not try to 
 guess. 
 
 When Cummins was discovered flirting under the 
 hotel arch with the Dutch car-driver and sent up to 
 her mistress, Ariadne again sought the shelter of her 
 little room. Sleep was, for the moment, impossible. 
 Without turning on the light, she stole softly to the 
 balcony. At first she moved with caution, peering down 
 into the street to see whether Martel had gone out to 
 the pier. There was no human figure, only the gaunt, 
 leaning piles and the tethered flock of sleeping boats. 
 
 The peace of the starry night was hers once more. 
 From along the balcony came Donna's tired, carping 
 voice, giving directions to her maid. The girl tried
 
 128 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 not to listen. Resting one arm along the balcony rail, 
 she bent her head to it, and then curving the other arm 
 laid it against her ear, so that the soft flesh dulled her 
 sense of hearing. She did not try to think now or to 
 struggle against her terrors. She knew that she was 
 afraid, utterly, unspeakably, impotently afraid, and the 
 sight of that drunken face had made the horror tangible. 
 When she was not so tired and cowering, she would plan 
 a way to go off to herself, if only for a week. The prom- 
 ise to her father did not preclude an occasional ab- 
 sence. Perhaps she could even get home for a little 
 visit to Virginia. At this her courage rose. Yes, she 
 would demand it. The strain had become too great to 
 endure without a respite. She would talk to Donna the 
 first thing next morning. Her nerves and these spells 
 of faintness would serve for an excuse. 
 
 Feeling at last comforted, and believing that she could 
 now find rest, she was about to lift her head when a 
 shiver, running along the veranda floor, made her 
 start up quickly. 
 
 A man's figure was stealing toward her, finding its 
 way by the outstretched fingers of a hand against the 
 wall. 
 
 He had just passed Donna's closed shutters and 
 advanced now with a panther-like celerity. 
 
 The girl sprang to her feet, and seeing that he had 
 already blocked the entrance to her room, stood at bay. 
 Her first thought was: "No matter what his wicked- 
 ness, or how drunk he may be, he cannot really harm 
 me here." She braced herself tightly in the corner of 
 the balcony, her hands, at each side, fastening upon the 
 iron railings. 
 
 Martel caught with such unexpected strength and 
 suddenness at one of them that her hold was torn away.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 129 
 
 He grasped her wrist in metal fingers, then tried to gain 
 the other hand. This she kept fast as though it had 
 become part of the old wrought iron. Now he bent 
 down his face. The feverish breath, heavy with alcohol, 
 poured full upon her. She heard the whispered triumph : 
 
 "Oh, my Ariadne mine at last! It is your vine- 
 wreathed Bacchus who pursues you. Don't turn from 
 me. Give me your lips your young lips Ariadne 
 of Naxos !" 
 
 She did not try to speak. In his drunken eagerness 
 it was not difficult to elude the intended caresses. Her 
 mind grew sharp and clear. It told her that she must 
 not make a sound that might bring Donna to the win- 
 dow. From the first hideous instant she had realized 
 that she must strike the man, but even now, in the crux 
 of it, caution whispered that it must not be his face. 
 Unseen by him she moved her left hand from the railing, 
 sending it, by stealthy inches, toward the chair. The 
 back of this she grasped that it might not fall and clatter 
 upon the floor. Then, gathering the full strength of her 
 healthy, lithe, young body, she freed the other hand 
 and with it struck him full upon the heart. He reeled 
 back, clutching at his breast in agony. Like herself, 
 he had given no cry. Slowly, without effect of haste 
 or agitation, she now walked past him, and entering 
 her room, bolted the heavy blinds. 
 
 In the morning Cummins, entering with tea, informed 
 her that Mr. Martel and Francois had left by an early 
 train for Paris, and that "Madame had took on some- 
 thing dreadful."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE little portier, patron saint and referee for half 
 the migratory denizens of earth, stood in the doorway 
 of his castle, or, to be more accurate and less grandilo- 
 quent, at the entrance of the famous Hotel Vieux Doelen 
 at the Hague. The granite doorstone on a level with 
 the small-bricked pavement had been worn to a hollow, 
 most inconvenient for holding rain, but becoming thereby 
 a boon to thirsty dogs. 
 
 Before him spread the great, tree-set Tournooiveld, 
 once the open playground of a brotherhood of gay 
 knights, who here held jousts and shot at painted "Doe- 
 len" targets, retiring after the sport, to drink and loiter 
 in the spacious Doelen-haus, passing, a rustling, silken, 
 merry company, through this same door where now a 
 solitary figure seemed keeping watch. 
 
 In spite of the wrinkles about his kind old eyes, and 
 the gray hair which stuck out thinly like iron filings 
 from a highly magnetized egg, the portier, in these sur- 
 roundings, had an air of modernness and youth. To 
 himself he was very old. For nearly fifty years, as he 
 will tell you if he ever gets a chance, he had been part 
 of the old Doelen; first as an apple-cheeked page-boy, 
 and afterwards, through gradual stages, to the all- 
 powerful eminence of portier. He could speak a little 
 of all languages and in each understood much more 
 than it was sometimes prudent to admit. In spite of 
 his small, Dutch cottage with a red-bricked courtyard,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 131 
 
 which Peter de Hooch surely must have seen, in spite 
 of the fat Dutch "Vrouw," his wife, and the little or- 
 phaned grandchild who was the core of their united 
 hearts, the little portier felt that the big hotel was more 
 fundamentally his home. 
 
 Near his feet lolled his inseparable companion, a 
 whitish, amorphous, female dog of a breed so indeter- 
 minate that all the canine strains of Europe must have 
 met, somehow, in her small, overfed body. The May 
 sun felt good to her. Sometimes she rolled over slowly, 
 at which her master half unconsciously put out a pudgy 
 foot, pressing down the well-covered ribs gently and 
 murmuring some Dutch endearment. 
 
 The old man's pleasant wrinkles suddenly converged. 
 Through the trunks of the lindens he had caught sight 
 of the hurrying figure of a girl in a long, gray coat. Her 
 soft walking hat was of the same color, and had for orna- 
 ment two long quills, one blue, the other of a glowing 
 orange, thrust through the upturned brim. On seeing 
 him she smiled and waved a dull red paper parcel. Her 
 other hand held lilies of the valley. 
 
 "Has Mrs. Martel asked for me?" was her first eager 
 question. 
 
 "Nay, mademoiselle, I t'ink not so. De Engleech 
 maid go for a small walk after de luncheon and tell me 
 she will coom back at five o'clock to fetch Madame's 
 tea. Until den, Madame iss not to be disturb'." 
 
 "It must be getting toward five now," conjectured 
 the girl. "The sun is already tossing about in the 
 linden boughs. I stayed away longer than 1^ expected, 
 but I just couldn't leave that fascinating little bazaar 
 on the Lange Pooten ! See, here is something that I 
 have bought." 
 
 She gave him her lilies to hold, and bending over,
 
 i 3 2 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 her cheeks flushed by shyness rather than with the in- 
 tricacies of Dutch knots, unfastened her parcel and 
 disclosed a doll brilliantly dressed in complete native 
 costume, even to the wooden sabots and a copper milk- 
 pail on each arm. 
 
 "There!" she exclaimed, holding it up for him to 
 admire. " Isn't she a darling? I got it for Betje. 
 Will you take it to her with Miss Skipwith's love?" 
 
 The little portier looked as if he were going to cry. 
 "But, Mademoiselle," he stammered, "it is too gran', 
 too splendide, for a small meisje of de peoples, such as 
 my gran'daughter !" 
 
 "Nothing could be too pretty for Betje!" asserted 
 the girl, laughing at his pleasure and her own. "She 
 is the dearest, gentlest, little thing ! I want you to 
 bring her to see me again, please. She is getting over 
 her timidity with me. And look!" Once more she 
 bent to the package, drawing forth this time a gaudy, 
 illustrated primer. "This is for Betje to begin giving 
 me the promised lessons in Dutch." 
 
 "Your heart, like to de face of you, is an angel, Made- 
 moiselle," choked the old man. " Ya, she shall be brung ; 
 wid de bes' sabot cap upon, and in her arms de beauteous 
 poppen. An' vill she be happy ! Ah, Mademoiselle, 
 you vould haf to be born de Dutch kind to know how 
 happy!" 
 
 "I would like to sit right down here under the trees 
 and play with that poppen myself," confessed Ariadne 
 with a shy laugh. "I have never got over wanting to. 
 I don't like to be grown up. But I am !" She gave a 
 little sigh of exaggerated regret, while her eyes still 
 sparkled. 
 
 "That makes me think ! Is there no letter for me 
 yet, portier?"
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 133 
 
 The old man shook his head. He longed for a ple- 
 thoric bag of them to offer. "Nay," he said mourn- 
 fully, "not even one ; an' de next post, he is of morning." 
 
 Stifling a sigh which this time would have been gen- 
 uine, she mounted the two flights of stairs somewhat 
 pensively. She did not doubt for an instant that 
 grandma had remembered. This would not be the 
 first of her itinerant birthdays on which the distant 
 home greetings had been late. 
 
 Pausing at her stepmother's door, she listened for a 
 sound. All was quiet as a crypt. Mounting a third 
 flight, narrow and ridiculously steep, she gained her 
 own small chamber. This was at the very top of the 
 old-fashioned edifice and formed one of a series called 
 somewhat ignominiously, the "Maids' Row." Cum- 
 mins occupied a similar apartment at the other end of 
 the corridor. 
 
 When Mrs. Martel two weeks before, the day, in 
 fact, after her husband's hasty departure from Dor- 
 drecht, had moved on to the Hague, this was the only 
 sleeping place available. Having once unpacked her 
 few personal effects and become accustomed to the tiny 
 room, Ariadne found herself reluctant to leave it, even 
 for a more desirable chamber. 
 
 She liked the one square window with its jutting sill, 
 and the outlook across the wide Tournooiveld. In 
 Dort she had watched the ebb and flow of liquid tides, 
 and from this new eyrie she could follow the whole life 
 of a city as it drifted by. Noisy tram-cars clanged and 
 whizzed among the rigid tree-trunks. A string of 
 rusty, antiquated landaus that pinioned dejected horses 
 stood in an unbroken line toward the center of the space. 
 Apparently they were never employed, and yet from 
 dawn until late into the night they formed a hopeless
 
 i 3 4 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 battle-front against taxicabs and despair. Flower ped- 
 dlers and small milk-carts, often drawn by dogs, stationed 
 themselves in the shadows of the lindens. Through 
 wind-swayed branches the girl could see the unpreten- 
 tious fagade of the Queen-mother's city home, differen- 
 tiated from its sober colleagues only by a pair of little 
 soldiers, each with his absurd small pepper-box of a 
 sentry-house to which he was privileged to retire in case 
 of rain. 
 
 There were statues in the square, bronze blotches 
 held up high on granite pedestals. No one ever seemed 
 to look at them, not even on market days when each 
 cliff-like base rose from a new-spilled sea of red gera- 
 niums. One little pot of the scarlet flamers now stood 
 in Ariadne's window. 
 
 The girl threw her hat on to the bed and dropped her 
 coat on the nearest chair, from which immediately it 
 needed to be removed. 
 
 There was but one chair in the room, and Ariadne 
 now required it for a window-seat. She drew it up and 
 looked out with eyes which were, at first, unobservant. 
 A little calendar hung on the wall near by. 
 
 "The twenty-second of May, and I am twenty-two," 
 her lips murmured. The words had become a sort of 
 dolorous refrain. That morning, on first waking, she 
 had smiled at a childish, fluttering hope that somehow 
 would not be denied. There seemed a mystic signifi- 
 cance in the repeated number. Surely something good 
 must come to her on such a day. But the sun which 
 had risen gloriously would soon go down behind the 
 lowest of the staid, Dutch houses opposite, then a few 
 hours of deepening twilight, and then the dark. Noth- 
 ing had happened, unless she were to count as fortune's 
 gift the continued absence of Mr. Martel.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 135 
 
 Earlier in the day her stepmother had received a 
 letter from him, one so disturbing that the nervous 
 headache had been a direct result. There had been 
 something about a pressing demand for money. He 
 had met with losses. All financial matters being an 
 unknown language to the girl, she had not been able to 
 affect any special interest. The words that brought 
 her personal alarm were these: "You may expect me 
 to join you now at a few hours' notice." 
 
 Before he came, she must force herself to speak with 
 Donna about her own affairs. The desire for a few 
 weeks of freedom, which became a conscious thought at 
 Dort, had grown since into a passion of longing. How 
 could she face Martel so soon and take up the old desul- 
 tory life as if nothing terrible had happened ? 
 
 Cummins stood primly in the doorway. 
 
 "Madame's compliments, Miss Skipwith, and would 
 you care to 'ave tea with 'er in 'er sitting-room ? " 
 
 Ariadne sprang to her feet, her face brightening. 
 "So she is up ! I'm very glad. Of course I will come 
 at once." She caught up the lilies-of-the-valley, drying 
 the water from their succulent stems. "Does the 
 headache seem quite gone, Cummins?" 
 
 "So Madame says," answered the woman doubt- 
 fully. "But in my h'eyes she looks bad. There is 
 something more the matter than 'eadache, I'm thinking." 
 
 "I do wish we could persuade her to see a doctor," 
 frowned the girl and then, not waiting for a reply, 
 went past the maid and down to Donna's sitting-room. 
 
 Mrs. Martel was seated in a crimson velvet armchair 
 near a window. Her lounging robe of mauve crepe 
 turned the pallor of her face to a ghastly yellow. 
 
 "Oh, I am all right again," she asserted, in response 
 to her stepdaughter's inquiries. "Those powders and
 
 136 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 the long nap have driven the worst of the pain away. 
 My eyes still feel a little heavy. Will you sit over 
 there and pour the tea?" 
 
 "Here are some flowers I have brought," said Ariadne, 
 offering them a little timidly. "I know they are your 
 favorites." 
 
 "Thank you," said Mrs. Martel, accepting the gift 
 without effusion. " Get some sort of a vase that 
 drinking glass will do and don't set them down too 
 close to me." 
 
 "Yes, they are my favorites," she vouchsafed later, 
 gazing moodily across the room at them. "They always 
 make me think of tears a woman's tears." 
 
 Ariadne achieved a soothing murmur as she took her 
 place at the tea-table. Having heard this lachrymose 
 comparison many scores of times before, she was unable, 
 at short notice, to offer a more satisfactory response. 
 
 "I bought them from a poor old blind man in that 
 long arcade that leads from the Veenstraat. You 
 know the one that bends in the middle and has such 
 pretty shops." 
 
 "I can't remember these Dutch places," said Donna 
 fretfully. "But it was sweet of you to bring them. 
 Any token of affection is especially grateful to me to- 
 day. This letter of Connie's has nearly driven me 
 mad." 
 
 "I am sorry. I hope I haven't made your tea too 
 sweet," murmured the girl, rising to place the cup at 
 Mrs. Martel's elbow. 
 
 "What on earth can he want with twenty thousand 
 dollars all at once?" 
 
 Ariadne wished to appear sympathetic, but there 
 seemed nothing that she could say. 
 
 "Oh, well," sighed the other, "there's nothing for it
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 137 
 
 but to do as he suggests and write an urgent letter to 
 Judge Henry. Not that I believe it will do any good 
 -the old skinflint!" 
 
 "You have no right to speak that way of Cousin 
 Judge, Donna," cried the girl. "He is the most gener- 
 ous, upright man possible. I have heard you say more 
 than once that he is sending you bigger payments all 
 the time." 
 
 "That's because he can't help himself," retorted 
 Mrs. Martel. "The income is mostly from those mines, 
 and they were as much Mr. Skipwith's as his. He 
 wouldn't dare keep back any of my half !" 
 
 Ariadne swallowed her tea hastily. It had a bitter 
 taste. She knew that her stepmother's accusations 
 were unfounded and unjust, but had no argument with 
 which to combat them. 
 
 Mrs. Martel watched the changing expressions. At 
 first her own discontented eyes expressed merely petu- 
 lance, but slowly there crept into them a look of cunning. 
 
 "I suppose if I do decide to write," she began, and 
 as she spoke she folded a thin slice of bread together so 
 that the buttered surfaces would stick, "you are willing 
 to sign your name along with mine?" 
 
 The girl's astonishment was obvious. "How could 
 my name help? I don't know anything about your 
 income, not even when you get it !" 
 
 "And quite properly, too," affirmed the elder woman, 
 "a child like you !" For all her confidence, Mrs. Martel 
 was annoyed to feel that she was reddening. 
 
 Ariadne fixed clear and quiet eyes upon her. "I 
 am not a child, Donna, even though you still call me 
 one. Long before my age my young mother was a 
 married woman, and I was a baby more than a year 
 old. I am twenty-two this day."
 
 138 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Mrs. Martel emitted a sound of shocked surprise. 
 "Is this your birthday! Why, of course. I can't tell 
 you how sorry I am that I forgot it, Ariadne. If it 
 hadn't been that I was beside myself over this letter ! " 
 She lifted to view, in demonstration, the open page that 
 had been hidden hi the folds of her purple robe. "Never 
 mind, I'll get you something really handsome in the 
 morning the very first thing ! " 
 
 "That is kind, but please don't bother," Ariadne 
 said gently; "I have more pretty clothes and orna- 
 ments now than I can wear. But, Donna, if you really 
 are sorry, if you want to make me very, very happy 
 She broke off, frightened by the imminence of the hazard. 
 Already she could see how Donna shrank and put up her 
 defense. 
 
 "Something," the low voice hurried on, "that would 
 give me more happiness than anything else on earth 
 
 "Well, let us have it!" challenged the stepmother 
 sharply. 
 
 "It is to make a little visit somewhere by myself 
 maybe as far as Virginia. I have been dreadfully home- 
 sick of late and 
 
 "You want to go away from me and Connie !" the 
 other struck in, as if doubting her own sense of hearing. 
 
 "Only for a few weeks. I shall come back. My 
 absence will not make any difference in in busi- 
 ness," the girl finished despairingly. 
 
 "It is simply not to be thought of !" ejaculated Mrs. 
 Martel, turning down a metaphorical thumb. "I am 
 surprised that you should be unkind enough to suggest 
 it, when you see that I am worried to death already. 
 Why, such a trip would take hundreds and hundreds of 
 dollars ! Please don't distress me by referring to it 
 again."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 139 
 
 Ariadne sat silent. It had been a feeble little flame 
 at best. Now she could feel it sinking, dying within her 
 heart. 
 
 The elder woman strove for an air of virtuous indigna- 
 tion. Her stout shoulders moved restlessly from side 
 to side. 
 
 "It isn't the money only," she compromised, after 
 an arid pause, "but I don't think that you should be 
 willing to leave me when you know that I am not well. 
 I have suffered to-day not only with a headache, but 
 that other thing I told you about." There was a quiver 
 of self-pity in the thin voice. 
 
 Ariadne lifted her face from an altar on which the last 
 spark had died. 
 
 "I can be of no help to you even in this, Donna," she 
 said wearily; "you will not listen when I urge the only 
 thing to do." 
 
 "No, I don't intend to have any of these foreign 
 men who call themselves doctors poking over me. Con- 
 nie says they are all a set of frauds. Please dress to- 
 night, Ariadne. I am going down to dine. These 
 private meals without Connie are too dreadful !" 
 
 "I will be ready at eight," agreed the girl in a lifeless 
 voice. She rose, moving slowly, as if vitality and even 
 youth had fled from her young limbs. In passing her 
 stepmother she paused. Donna, still fidgeting, kept 
 her eyes among the tea-things. Inwardly she cowered, 
 for she was not, integrally, a valiant soul. When 
 Ariadne spoke, it seemed to be from far away. 
 
 "I think that in all the years we have been to- 
 gether, this is the first thing I have ever asked of you, 
 Madonna." 
 
 When she had gone the elder woman leaned back 
 defiantly. A thousand justifications and resentments
 
 140 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 rose to her mind. Ariadne had been strangely incon- 
 siderate, even cruel. This was the girl's return for all 
 the stepmother's devotion, for the money lavished on her 
 clothes. Desperately she swung the flagellating phrases. 
 Across the room stole the faint perfume of the lilies. 
 Mrs. MartePs face suddenly went down. The little 
 that was real in her knew she had bruised a flower and 
 was ashamed. 
 
 More than an hour before she needed to dress, Ariadne 
 was thinking, as she looked at the traveling clock upon 
 her quaint Dutch mantel shelf. "Well, I am glad. 
 Perhaps after a rest I shall not feel quite so miserable." 
 
 Now she removed the street dress and took down the 
 long, heavy hair. Again she went to the window. 
 The big square had grown quiet. The Dutch dined 
 early. The leaves of the lindens, moving softly, made 
 a subtle rhythm in the wind. White clouds, gilded 
 from underneath by a vanished sun, drifted like golden 
 barges heaped with snow, less tangible than had been 
 the hope just shattered by her stepmother. 
 
 And yet something, perhaps the ghost of the vanished 
 hope, persisted, tugging at her as a fretful child at its 
 mother's skirt. Even though the stepmother had re- 
 fused, was dull submission the one alternative? Why 
 should she not write in her own behalf to Cousin Judge ? 
 He was her kinsman and her father's friend. If this 
 desire of hers was indeed, as Donna claimed, ungrateful, 
 he would gently tell her so and would maybe advise 
 her how best to face the dreary outlook. If Randy 
 were in Culpeper, she knew how ardently he would 
 plead her cause. But Randy had gone to big New York 
 and forgotten, most likely, that she ever had existed. 
 
 The young Virginian had been in her thoughts since 
 morning. It was always specially the case on her birth-
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 141 
 
 days. She loved then consciously to recall each word 
 of their interview at the youpon hedge, and with each 
 year the memory, far from paling, gained a more vivid 
 tone, as every added league of air spreads deeper blue 
 upon a distant mountain. 
 
 She took her elbows from the window-ledge. They 
 were pink and wrinkled from pressure on the stone. 
 She felt them ruefully, and then tilting her chair, with 
 feet braced against the edge of her steamer trunk, put 
 up her arms and slowly lifted two long, bright wings of 
 hair. Her silken kimono sleeves, slipping downwards, 
 left the young arms free. 
 
 At their extreme reach the fingers could still inter- 
 twine the fine-spun meshes, and she held these lines 
 horizontal, while from them looped and shimmered a 
 golden web. Even in so dim a light it glittered, as 
 though it had ensnared memories of the sun. She 
 brought the left hand nearer, poising it above her head, 
 and saw the lindens through a mist of yellow light. 
 The sparkle for an instant was reflected in her eyes, then 
 again they grew somber. 
 
 "What's the use of its shining like that?" she asked 
 herself forlornly. "I'd chop it all off with a hatchet 
 this minute for just one day at home !" 
 
 She let it fall and rose to her feet to begin the monoto- 
 nous evening toilet. All at once there came a loud 
 "honking" from the court below, and the whizz of an 
 approaching motor. The old white dog gave her hollow 
 bark of welcome. A dreadful premonition sent the girl 
 speeding to the window. Forgetting her bright dis- 
 array, she leaned far out and paused there in the sudden 
 relief of seeing that the newcomer was a stranger. She 
 did not realize that the person in the taxi had his eyes 
 fixed upon her, that he had stared, transfixed, and then
 
 i 4 2 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 suddenly pulled down the tan traveling hat with apolo- 
 getic vehemence. 
 
 Indeed, Ariadne had not seen his face at all. The fact 
 that he sat in the cab, with his modest hand-luggage 
 on the seat beside him, and a single small trunk propped 
 up by the driver's knees in front, had been enough to 
 quell her fears. She did not need to let her gaze skim 
 past him in search of a second vehicle, which would 
 have been piled high with costly "boxes," and presided 
 over by a swarthy, black-eyed valet. 
 
 She caught back the golden veil, flinging it past her 
 shoulders, and again leaned over, but now with caution, 
 to watch the arrival of the guest. 
 
 The little portier stood in readiness, making now and 
 then a gesture to silence the barking dog. A little 
 "buttons" appeared at the portier 's elbow. The pas- 
 senger already had a lean, ungloved hand upon the 
 carriage door. Ariadne had thought from the cut of 
 his traveling coat that he might be English, but she 
 knew now that he was surely American. Only Ameri- 
 cans abroad ever do things for themselves. 
 
 Almost before the car stopped he was out of it. But- 
 tons, jabbering excited Dutch, strove valiantly with the 
 traveler for his handbag. 
 
 "All right, sonny, if it's that much to you," said a 
 voice rich and now vibrant with amusement. 
 
 "An American !" whispered Ariadne, rocking her arms 
 at the discovery. "I believe he is a Virginian, too." 
 
 The newcomer now produced a pocketbook and ad- 
 vanced to pay off the driver, which he did, remaining 
 oblivious to the portier's reiterated protests that "de 
 hotel do all such t'ing for M'sieur." 
 
 A second page, clambering into the vacated taxi, got 
 on his knees to peer into each corner, even reaching down
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 143 
 
 under the seat, as if perhaps a collar button or a hoped- 
 for coin might have gone astray. 
 
 At length the small procession defiled within doors. 
 Ariadne, listening, heard them coming up the perpen- 
 dicular flight of steps to her very door. They paused, 
 and the mingled footsteps retreated to the other end of 
 her corridor. 
 
 She rang for hot water. Somehow the necessity of 
 dressing had begun to seem less arid. Dipping the dusty 
 elbows in a basin of water, she was surprised to find her- 
 self smiling. It was absurd that an incident so trivial 
 and so far apart from her own concerns should have 
 become of real interest. She had watched the arrival 
 and departure of a thousand hotel visitors without 
 having given them a second thought. But now, all 
 through the stages of her toilet, recollections of the tall 
 youth beside the taxicab register, his business-like 
 scrutiny of the handful of unfamiliar coins, and the 
 intent, pained faces of the surrounding menials, returned 
 to her in dimples. 
 
 "I suppose it is because I am so homesick that every- 
 body looks like Randy," she sighed, opening the tiny 
 wardrobe where her evening gowns hung. 
 
 She drew out one of delicate green, made in the latest 
 mode and trimmed with an exquisite embroidery of 
 gold, just touched with black and a few threads of a dull 
 orange. Holding this up by the shoulder-rack, she 
 slowly revolved it and then shook her head. It was too 
 decollete, and besides, she did not feel like green. Next 
 she took down the frock that was her favorite, a long, 
 straight gown with very simple, flowing lines. Its 
 color was that of a wild morning-glory, edged with a 
 delicate, dew-like tracery of small, crystal beads. The 
 pointed neck came high enough to conceal the pendant
 
 144 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 coin. She wore no other jewelry, and the simple 
 curves of her hair were held in place by pins of a bluish 
 mother-of-pearl. When all was finished, she stood 
 gazing a little wistfully at her reflected image. Even 
 the jaundiced tones of the glass and its sadly spotted 
 surface could not hide the fact that she was beautiful. 
 But, as she had said about her hair, what was the use ? 
 At Cummins' summoning knock she caught up a scarf 
 of white tulle, and flinging it loosely about her throat, 
 joined her stepmother in the lounge that gave into the 
 great dining-salon. 
 
 As she followed the stately, if squat figure, robed in 
 amethyst and glittering with cut-steel sequins, Ariadne 
 felt rather than saw that the tan-clad stranger, now in 
 conventional evening dress, was already seated at a 
 corner table. When the two ladies were in their ac- 
 customed places, the girl's back was turned to him and 
 Donna, on her left, sat in profile. Ariadne could not 
 have said just why, but she hoped that her stepmother 
 would not stare at him as she often did at newcomers, 
 lifting her jeweled lorgnon with a manner borrowed 
 from haughty, titled dames. Each time that Donna's 
 gaze appeared to wander, her companion leaned forward 
 quickly, forcing attention back upon herself. 
 
 Always she was conscious of that slender, silent figure 
 in black, with the high white collar and shirt front. 
 Once she found herself listening as he gave his waiter 
 an order, and then with an inward exclamation asked 
 herself what had come to her that she should be seized 
 by this vulgar and unusual curiosity. 
 
 Since Mrs. Martel possessed two interests only, her- 
 self and her Connie, the girl was hard put to it for in- 
 telligent topics of conversation and was finally driven to 
 the overworked theme of her stepmother's "symptoms."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 145 
 
 "I can't say that I actually suffer," that lady was now 
 explaining in answer to a sympathetic query, "I have 
 always been a victim to these wretched nervous head- 
 aches, as you know. My soul and body are very sen- 
 sitively attuned. But I don't feel right. I'm sure 
 these places on my neck are swelling. Help me to 
 remember to get out my pearl dog-collar before Connie 
 comes. Don't you notice what I mean ? Here, on the 
 left side, especially." She turned her ornamented head 
 far to one side and slowly pivoted the distorted column 
 of her throat. In doing so her eyes met, straight and 
 full, those of the young man in the corner. She straight- 
 ened with the shock of surprise. 
 
 "Why, Ariadne!" she gasped, "I do believe there's 
 Randy Carr ! It is. He's bowing to me. Mr. Carr !" 
 she cried excitedly, while waiters and the other diners 
 stared. "Come over here at once !" 
 
 Young Carr, his face the color of one of the immense 
 strawberries he had just been eating, rose and moved 
 swiftly across the room. 
 
 "Sit right down and have your coffee with us," Mrs. 
 Martel commanded hospitably. "Of all people ! Where 
 on earth did you come from ?" 
 
 While answering these and similar banal questions, 
 the young man's gaze went constantly to the girl on his 
 other side. The chair which an assiduous waiter had 
 instantly placed for him had been between the ladies, 
 on the matron's right. Ariadne had no chance of speak- 
 ing, but her eyes seemed to grow, at every instant, 
 larger, deeper, and more brilliant. No one had thought 
 of shaking hands. One loses the way of it upon the 
 Continent. 
 
 In the first pause, Randolph leaned eagerly to her. 
 "So it was you with the hair !"
 
 i 4 6 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "The hair!" echoed Mrs. Martel, and looked sus- 
 piciously from one glowing young face to the other. 
 "What on earth do you mean, Mr. Carr ? You couldn't 
 very well see Ariadne without her hair." 
 
 "I hardly know what I do mean," laughed the Vir- 
 ginian. "The sight of you two has nearly knocked me 
 off my pins ! How long are you staying here?" 
 
 "We never know," answered the elder woman with a 
 resigned gesture. "It all depends on Connie that 
 is, my husband, Mr. Martel, you know." 
 
 "He is not with you now?" 
 
 "Not at present, I am sorry to say; but we are ex- 
 pecting him at almost any time." 
 
 Still Ariadne had not spoken. Indeed she had no 
 power of words and no desire to speak. Randy was here, 
 beside her. She scarcely dared believe that it had really 
 happened. She feared almost to move, lest the appari- 
 tion might dissolve. He had come on her birthday, too. 
 The wakening hope had not been, after all, a mockery. 
 
 But how much older and more dignified he had grown ! 
 Surely at Allan Water he had not been half so handsome ! 
 The clear brown-red of his skin, the eager, hazel eyes 
 and the thick, short hair colored like new bronze, had 
 all gained depth and tone and a certain unity which in 
 his boyish comeliness had merely been suggested. 
 
 Mrs. Martel's loquacity gave no surcease. Her ques- 
 tions crowded forth, seldom pausing for a full response. 
 She complimented the young man on his personal ap- 
 pearance, at which inwardly he swore, and inquired 
 after his Virginia relatives in a way which showed that 
 she still thought him a resident of Culpeper. He was 
 not given the opportunity of enlightening her on this, 
 or indeed, on many other points. When she demanded 
 of him, more intelligently, whether he still continued to
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 147 
 
 practice law, he answered lightly: "That is what I'm 
 supposed to do." 
 
 At this Mrs. Martel grew thoughtful. 
 
 "Then maybe you can help me out," she said in a 
 bantering tone, which, nevertheless, had a ring of earnest- 
 ness. Before he could reply, she added: "Yes, I be- 
 lieve you are the very one. You're in Judge Henry's 
 office yet, are you not?" 
 
 "I haven't lived in Culpeper for six years," the 
 lawyer replied quickly. "I'm in New York." 
 
 "Oh, I am sorry," exclaimed Mrs. Martel in evident 
 disappointment. 
 
 A brief silence fell, in which he turned again to Ariadne. 
 "One great hope I had in coming over," he began, speak- 
 ing as if to the elder lady, but with eyes that smiled on 
 Ariadne, "was that I should have the good fortune to 
 run across Miss Skipwith. It's been a mighty long time 
 since I last saw her." 
 
 "Seven years," breathed the girl, as if he had com- 
 pelled the words from her parted lips. 
 
 Randy drew out a hidden watch and, for an instant, 
 displayed it beneath the screening table-edge. From 
 the black fob hung the half of a silver coin. 
 
 "It is hot!" remarked Mrs. Martel innocently. 
 "Both your faces are as red as fire. I feel that mine is, 
 too." 
 
 She made a motion to rise. The young man, hastily 
 ramming the watch back to his pocket, went to her 
 assistance. 
 
 "Thank you, and good night, Mr. Carr," she said 
 graciously. "It has been very pleasant to see you, 
 though, of course, the memories - Her voice 
 quavered. 
 
 "But you're not going to run away like this !" Ran-
 
 148 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 dolph protested in dismay. "I haven't begun to see 
 you, yet." 
 
 "I am sorry, but I happen to be something of an in- 
 valid just now. I know it is better for me to retire 
 early. You will be here for a day or two longer, won't 
 you?" 
 
 "My movements, like your own, are an uncertain 
 quantity," fenced the young lawyer. 
 
 The three passed out of the long room together. At 
 the foot of the steps Randolph boldly took the girl's 
 hand in both of his. 
 
 "At least I must congratulate my little Virginia 
 cousin on her birthday," he said gently.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 UNTIL now a restless night was an affliction unknown 
 to Randy Carr. As in younger days he might inelegantly 
 have expressed it, he always slept like a "nigger full of 
 possum." 
 
 After a desultory unpacking of his bags, followed by a 
 succession of cigarettes warranted to undo the soporific 
 effects of many possums, he had at last got to bed. 
 
 "Talk about gridirons and potato sacks!" he mut- 
 tered, plunging about like a dolphin on the excellent 
 Doelen mattress. 
 
 Turning on the electricity an hour later, the light 
 showed a bed that resembled a collapsed balloon. In 
 desperation he rang the bell and demanded a whisky- 
 and-soda. The waiter, a recent importation from 
 Bavaria, brought him a whisk-broom. Randolph hurled 
 it from him and made gestures to indicate a sudden and 
 overwhelming desire for strong drink. The trembling 
 menial fled, returning later with his national panacea, 
 Munich beer, and nodded with satisfaction as he watched 
 the liquid disappear. He knew well its soothing qualities. 
 
 Catching sight of the bed, he spread it back into order 
 and finally departed, sending a commiserating glance 
 toward the agitated, but very generous young Herr, who, 
 as his sentimental nature whispered, must surely be in 
 love. What else could have such power to disturb one 
 so young, apparently so wealthy, and so very good to 
 look upon ?
 
 150 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Ach Gott !" murmured the lad as he lifted the glass 
 and drained the few remaining drops. "The Flower- 
 maiden ensnares us all ! Where is my Gretchen?" 
 
 Under the double alleviations of the beer and sheets 
 newly smoothed, Randolph fell at once into a heavy sleep, 
 from which he was awakened by the clatter of the out- 
 side world. He reached out for his watch ; it was only 
 six o'clock. He lay back on the pillow and slowly drew 
 the fob through his fingers until they reached the coin. 
 He smiled at the jagged edges. Did Ariadne wear hers, 
 too? He had noted the thread-like, silver chain, but 
 had scarcely dared to hope that his boyish gift still found 
 a resting-place so hidden and so pure. He closed his 
 eyes now, recalling the contour of her delicate face. 
 She was almost unnecessarily beautiful. Even in his 
 dreams she had never grown into such white and gold 
 and jeweled loveliness. He sighed; somehow her 
 beauty troubled him. 
 
 "Ariadne of Allan Water!" How the name suited 
 her ! , "My lady, Ariadne," he whispered ; then his eyes 
 clouded. But what companionship ! He marveled 
 that she had been able to endure so many years of it, 
 remaining, as he had seen, still exquisite and uncon- 
 taminated. 
 
 To remain longer in bed was an impossibility. He rang 
 for a bath, then shaved and dressed slowly, as he thought. 
 Hopefully he lifted his watch ; it was barely seven. 
 
 "I suppose nobody in their senses ever has breakfast 
 here until eight," he thought, scowling out across the 
 Tournooiveld. "I'll go out for a sprint ; I need it !" 
 
 At this moment there emerged from the hotel doorway 
 one of the smart, green-clad, bright-faced pages, known 
 as Peetje a name so delightfully appropriate one 
 grieved to learn that it, along with the rosy boy, would
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 151 
 
 some day pass into an adult Peter. He bore rather care- 
 fully a newspaper held together by the corners. In 
 walking he had made little sound ; not the ghost of a 
 whistle had issued from his lips, and yet, as if to a 
 summons, all the sparrows in the world or so it seemed 
 to the astonished watcher from above dropped simul- 
 taneously from the trees and encircled the boy in a 
 screaming, chirruping, brown cloud of feathers. Had 
 they been parrot-green instead of brown, one might have 
 expected to see the tree-limbs bare of foliage. 
 
 Unmoved by their excitement, the boy continued his 
 progress to the foot of the tallest linden and there, stoop- 
 ing, let one corner of the parcel fall, depositing a heap of 
 bread-crumbs, bits of toast and cake. The birds in- 
 stantly hid the food from view, while at the sound of their 
 shrill wrangling still other sparrows from more distant 
 boughs shot through the morning to hurl themselves in 
 clusters upon the protesting mass of greedy birds. 
 Peetje stood up, folded the paper neatly, and went back 
 into the hotel, this kindly function being obviously but 
 a part of the day's routine. 
 
 Now the old portier strolled out. In his mouth was a 
 gigantic cigar as brown as one of the twittering sparrows. 
 He gazed around condescendingly upon the universe at 
 large, then bent his head, and folding his hands behind 
 him in a Napoleonic pose, commenced a slow, thoughtful 
 pacing back and forth. Behind him the white dog 
 trotted, turning as he turned, and lifting her plebeian 
 countenance now and then for a look or nod of recog- 
 nition. 
 
 "Me for the open road !" exclaimed the young Ameri- 
 can, and hastened down the stairs with a careless buoy- 
 ancy that brought smothered curses from behind more 
 than one closed door.
 
 152 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 At the sight of him the portier advanced. "Ah! 
 Monsieur, annuder early one!" he greeted pleasantly. 
 "You do well to seek de day when he iss new, monsieur, 
 so many stupid ones dere are to sleep." He gave a wave 
 of humorous contempt upward to the fagade of the 
 building, where indeed but two of the many windows 
 showed their thick curtains drawn. 
 
 "Yes, it was too jolly for bed. I felt I must be out. 
 Where can I take a stroll and not lose myself ?" 
 
 The portier appeared to be considering ; old Machem 
 rubbed her head against the young man's trousers. He 
 stooped for an instinctive pat and a "Good old doggie." 
 
 "You will go to de Vyver," said the old man with 
 decision. "He is not far; you can see de shining through 
 de trees at der end of dis square. Ja, you will like our 
 Vyver!" 
 
 As Randolph thanked him and swung his broad 
 shoulders along the close-set pavement, the portier's 
 smiling wrinkles very nearly sent his glasses to the 
 bricks. Machem looked up inquiringly. The portier 
 stopped to pat her as the young man had done. 
 
 "We know a good heart when it opens to us, do we not, 
 my Machem ? " he murmured in Dutch. 
 
 The old dog wagged what was meant to be a tail. 
 She loved to hear her master use that tone. It sounded 
 like her favorite kind of cake. 
 
 "Now what in thunder is a Vyver?" young Carr was 
 speculating. "It might be a statue, or a town-hall, or a 
 cemetery ! Anyway, I'll keep on until something 
 happens." 
 
 It had happened ! Randolph came to an ecstatic halt. 
 "So this is why the portier' s eyes were dancing !" 
 
 Ariadne stood alone at the brink of an inclosed rec- 
 tangle of shining water, looking out apparently to a small,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 153 
 
 wooded island in its midst. Over her head pink-flower- 
 ing chestnut trees, the color of crape-myrtle blossoms at 
 home, spread broad, low branches. Now and again a 
 floret, overcome by curiosity, loosed its tiny clutch and 
 fell reeling dizzily upon her. 
 
 He cared no longer for the Vyver and its meaning. 
 Now he walked cautiously. He wished to come upon her 
 unawares, to see whether her face would flash sponta- 
 neous welcome. It was hard to move slowly. The gravel 
 squeaked like so many tiny bagpipes. He was sure at 
 every inch that she would hear the noise and turn. 
 
 She continued to stand motionless, her eyes fixed 
 outward. The hands hanging loosely at her sides were 
 gloved in gray. The one toward him held a letter. At 
 this sight Randy's heart went down like lead. Of 
 course it was from some " fellow." A girl like that would 
 have admirers by the score. 
 
 His chastened steps reached her without betrayal. He 
 was at her side, the tan hat lifted, before she recognized 
 the presence of an intruder. It gave him a little stab of 
 pain to note that she had instinctively drawn back. 
 
 But now the smiles sparkled. She ran to him, her 
 hand outstretched. "Oh ! it is you !" she cried, with a 
 note of joy that thrilled him. "I am so very glad !" 
 
 He took the little hand, holding it close. "Now at 
 last I can really 'ax you howdy, '"he responded warmly. 
 
 "Don't." She checked him with a short sob. "I'm 
 deathly homesick already. This this " - she lifted 
 the opened letter "has just come from Grandma." 
 She drew the other hand from his and began searching 
 for her handkerchief. "Don't mind if I cry a little 
 more," she begged. "They really are happy tears." 
 
 His keen glance had detected signs of weeping, and 
 he had burned with new hatred of the one who had
 
 154 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 written words to cause her grief. After all, it was only 
 " Grandma." The reaction made him quite light-headed. 
 How joyously the Vyver ducks quacked all at once ! 
 
 "It wasn't only the letter, but this came in it," she 
 went on tremulously, unfolding a small but exquisite 
 collar of rosepoint. "It was grandma's and my 
 mother wore it, too." 
 
 "There is something in the folds," said Randy, not 
 daring to touch the fragile strands. 
 
 "That is what really made me cry," the girl whispered. 
 Her eyes brimmed, and to hide it she bent over, pressing 
 her lips to the withered flower. 
 
 "It is just a rose, a little cinnamon rose from 
 from The voice died in a sob. It could not utter 
 the name of that sacred garden-spot. 
 
 "I think I know," said Randy, swallowing hard. 
 "And what a lovely thought to send it for your birthday, 
 yesterday." 
 
 "Yes ! You remembered ? " 
 
 "Did you expect me to forget?" he retorted almost 
 brusquely. "Look here." He lifted the watch fob. 
 His half-coin had been set in a cipher of aluminum. It 
 looked like a very mountainous new moon in the arm of 
 the old. 
 
 "I wear mine too, always," confessed the girl, her 
 drooped face flushing. She put her hand to the thread- 
 like necklace, drawing a loop outward above her 
 collar. 
 
 Randoph was dumb ; so his hope had not been pre- 
 sumptuous ! In the strange shyness which encom- 
 passed him, he stooped for a pebble, and leaning over 
 the water, dropped it upon the back of a hungry, 
 expectant fowl. 
 
 The duck turned an indignant, twitching tail upon
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 155 
 
 him and sped off to the island, followed by an inquiring 
 string of congeners. 
 
 "You mustn't do that," protested the girl, laughing 
 but still at struggle to withhold the tears. "Yes, you 
 did understand about the rose. But now tell me 
 were you at home in your home, Culpeper, before 
 you came over here ? I want to know everything about 
 my kindred." 
 
 "You bet I was, just before sailing, which isn't quite 
 two weeks." 
 
 " So short a time," wondered Ariadne. "And America 
 seems to me so far, so very far away." 
 
 "Nothing is far away these days," the traveled youth 
 informed her. "Distance is shriveling up at such a 
 rate that soon there won't be any." 
 
 "And I feel as if there wasn't anything else," sighed 
 the exile. Then, as if determined to put aside repinings, 
 she asked quickly: "What was the last you heard of 
 Grandma and Cousin Agnes?" 
 
 "I didn't have to hear," boasted her companion. "I 
 was at Allan Water." 
 
 "You you came straight from my home?" she 
 gasped. "Oh, how did it seem; and how was 
 Grandma?" 
 
 "Just as chipper as the day you said good-by. She's 
 a wonderful old lady ! And she and Mrs. Hill have 
 grown to be twin souls." 
 
 "This is such good, good news," sighed the girl hap- 
 pily. "Of course she writes cheerful letters, but she 
 might do that anyway. It is not like hearing from 
 somebody who has seen her with their own eyes." 
 She looked up now to the anointed eyes, and her own 
 were so tender and so beautiful that Randolph's heart 
 seemed about to dissolve before their gaze.
 
 156 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "There's another place I went; you know," he ap- 
 pealed boyishly, pointing to the withered rose. "The 
 place where it grew." 
 
 "Oh ! Randy !" she breathed, and could say no more. 
 
 "The queerest thing happened to me while I was 
 there" it was almost as if the words were spoken 
 against his will "I don't know whether I am doing 
 right to tell you, but somehow I must. 
 
 "It was just before sunset. I had left your grand- 
 mother out in the garden, near that old Judas-tree by the 
 corner of the house you remember ?" 
 
 "Do I remember!" 
 
 "Of course, what an ass I am ! Well, Grandma had 
 given me permission to go. I held the key to the big 
 iron gate in my hands. I went through the youpon 
 hedge gate. You see, I'm not asking if you remember 
 that" he flashed, with a grin that showed teeth as white 
 as those of Anguish. "And I had just reached the 
 bottom of the hill and was starting up the other side 
 among the pine-needles, when now, here's the spooky 
 part I heard your voice calling 'Randy'! I don't 
 wonder that you look as if I had poured cold water over 
 you," he laughed. "I hardly believe it myself, but I'll 
 give you my solemn oath that it was as real, as audible, 
 as the cry of that milk-girl yonder with her cart." 
 
 "Was it that one time only?" asked Ariadne, with 
 lips that began to feel stiff and cold. 
 
 "No, it was just the beginning. I hurried on up the 
 hill, calling- myself a fool and a few other things. But 
 as I unlocked the gate, you said it over twice. It 
 sounded as if you were in trouble and needed me. 
 
 "I went inside and sat near your mother's grave. 
 The whole world smelled of cinnamon roses. The sun 
 was low, and I can see now those long, yellow streaks of
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 157 
 
 light on the brick wall opposite. Of course, it was only 
 natural that I should be thinking of you there, but some- 
 how it wasn't thinking it was feeling being Oh, 
 how can I express it ? I never had such an experience 
 in my life ! Please don't think me a beast of a coward 
 if I admit that, at one time, my hair stood up, and I felt 
 as if beetles were doing the 'grizzly' along my spine. 
 For after a while it wasn't your influence I felt, though 
 yours remained throughout the strongest but but 
 I seemed to know that your father, and even the young 
 mother who had been asleep so long, that they, too, were 
 'alert and aware,' trying to tell me that you needed me. 
 
 "Just then a dreadful something came into the air, 
 or rather, the reflex of a horror for it was you way 
 over here that was fighting back the horror. 
 
 "I got up on my feet and found that my hands were 
 clinched like this." He held up two vibrant, bronze 
 fists. "I wanted to pitch into somebody, though I 
 couldn't say whom. Then the worst part faded, and 
 peace fell on the little burying-ground again. But 
 when I started down that hill, my knees were so shaky 
 that I thought they'd give under me at every step. 
 
 "I went back to New York in the morning, and the 
 first piece of news handed out was that I must catch 
 the next steamer for Europe. Now, what do you make 
 of that for a pipe-dream?" he demanded, trying to 
 speak lightly, though the muscles of his face still twitched. 
 
 "You said it was about two weeks ago ?" 
 
 "Yes, just. Wait a minute ! I can tell you the exact 
 date. It was Wednesday, the seventh of May." 
 
 "And the hour was sunset?" 
 
 "A little before. I should say that the time was 
 about half-past five. I didn't have enough sense left 
 to look at my watch."
 
 158 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "In Holland that would be about half -past nine, 
 wouldn't it?" 
 
 "Search me!" demurred Randolph slangily. "I 
 haven't been on this side long enough. The sun appears 
 to be up to some queer old tricks, though. As far as I 
 can see, these twilights last until next morning." 
 
 "Yes, they do linger for many hours," she murmured 
 faintly. 
 
 He looked at her sharply. "Ariadne ! Dear little 
 girl ! You are shaking as if you had a chill. There, I 
 knew I should not have told you that grewsome story. 
 I'm a bonehead ! Matteawan should be my middle 
 name ! Come, let us go over to that bench." 
 
 He stooped for the fallen letter, and taking his com- 
 panion by the arm, assisted her across the few yards 
 of distance. 
 
 For a long time both were silent. The Virginian, if 
 one judged from his scowl, was still engaged in calling 
 himself an idiot. What the girl beside him felt could 
 not be fathomed. Her head was lifted, and her face 
 was very pale, but its whiteness was translucent, hint- 
 ing of radiance from a hidden shrine. 
 
 Slowly her breathing became regular, and a faint 
 pink stole back to her cheeks. 
 
 "How did you happen to find the Vyver?" she asked 
 in a natural voice. 
 
 "But have I found it ?" the young man laughed. He 
 was thankful to speak again on ordinary matters. 
 
 "Why, yes didn't you know ? This is the Vyver." 
 She made a comprehensive gesture. "The water that 
 you see is all that is left of the old Binnenhof moat." 
 
 "And what is the Binnenhof? It sounds like a beer- 
 garden." 
 
 "It is that group of old, old buildings that you can
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 159 
 
 see rising above newer ones. I don't know its history 
 myself, but it has been a place of Dutch government 
 and law-making forever. Their parliament still meets 
 in it, I believe." 
 
 "Hope they make better laws than some of ours," 
 muttered the young advocate. 
 
 Ariadne turned serious eyes to his. "There is one 
 thing more I want to ask you. No, not about that ter- 
 rible and beautiful thing!" she interpolated quickly, 
 as she noted, the protest of his gesture. "Why was it 
 that you had to come abroad?" 
 
 The lawyer's direct gaze did not falter, though above 
 it his brows came together in a troubled way. "It's 
 about a lawsuit a pretty unsavory one, too. I 
 mustn't talk about it until I am sure, but I can tell you 
 this much in confidence : there's already very little doubt 
 in my mind that the l Levantine Mixture ' is the man I'm 
 rounding up." 
 
 "You mean Mr. Martel? About that money he has 
 just lost in Paris !" 
 
 Randolph jumped. "What do you know about 
 Martel and Paris ?" 
 
 "Only what Donna read me from his letter," answered 
 the girl in some confusion his eyes were so quick and 
 hard. "He he speculated or something, and must 
 have twenty thousand dollars at once." 
 
 "You are positive that is the sum?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. Donna was in a frightful state of mind all 
 day over it. That's what she meant last night when 
 she referred to your being a lawyer and could give her 
 advice." 
 
 "So that was it !" Again he pondered thoughtfully. 
 "I'm afraid the poor woman is in for a dreadful time. 
 But look here, Ariadne, don't let's spoil our morning
 
 160 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 by thinking about ugly facts. Why shouldn't we have 
 a little Dutch breakfast somewhere, all to ourselves? 
 I'm a distant relative, you know. Not very distant at 
 this moment, thank the Lord!" he supplemented 
 fervently. 
 
 "We should," seconded the girl, springing to her feet. 
 "Will you put my precious letter hi your pocket? I 
 know just the place to go." 
 
 "Lead me to it," quoth Randy, in the vocabulary of 
 his native town. 
 
 Laughing, they rose, sauntering and pausing as young 
 things will, beneath the flower-set branches. The greedy 
 ducks, having recovered from the recent affront, followed 
 to the extreme far corner of the Vyver. But for once 
 Ariadne neither saw nor heard them. 
 
 "This is the Plaat," she announced, as they stepped 
 into a small, open space. "The fishwives stop here 
 with their wares from Scheveningen. See, there is a 
 'bus-load now." 
 
 "A 'bus-load!" echoed Randolph, staring. "I 
 thought all 'busses belonged to London." 
 
 "These came from London; it must have been a 
 century ago, to look at them." 
 
 "The horses were evidently thrown in," remarked 
 the young man disparagingly. 
 
 "They are knock-kneed and funny, poor things," 
 Ariadne laughed. "And this 'bus is so old it looks as 
 if it wanted to kneel down like a camel. But just see 
 those rosy faces under the wonderful caps. It is crowded 
 with them inside and out. The top is a roof-garden of 
 big white iris ! " 
 
 "I can't perceive an iris fragrance," grinned Randy, 
 as the moth-eaten vehicle staggered past. 
 
 "That is their fish-baskets," explained Ariadne, her
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 161 
 
 dimples playing. "I suppose they must get used to it 
 in time." 
 
 "Evidently, as they still live." 
 
 She threw him a look of smiling deprecation. 
 
 "Now we go through this little arch into the Buitenhof 
 and pass the famous prison where John van Barnevelt 
 languished, as the guide-books say, and from which those 
 splendid brothers, John and Cornelius de Witte, were 
 dragged and murdered. And there," nodding her head 
 toward a pavement shaded by trees and set with small, 
 round tables, "there's our restaurant." 
 
 "I say ! there's quite some class to this !" radiated her 
 companion, as they took their places in a sequestered 
 spot. "I feel that I'm going to have the breakfast of 
 my life. I want a Dutch one everything complete." 
 
 "Why, what's the matter !" he exclaimed, for Ariadne 
 had given a cry of dismay, followed by laughter which 
 proved difficult to quell. 
 
 "It's only you you've never seen one," she 
 managed to articulate. " I have. You'd better let me 
 tell you." 
 
 The young man's elbows went to the marble top. He 
 looked puzzled and a little sheepish. 
 
 "First," she began, trying hard to appear serious, 
 "this cozy little table would be whisked away, and a 
 sort of platform a carpenter's bench dragged into 
 its place." 
 
 "A wider table?" 
 
 "Much wider we'd need a telephone." 
 
 "Stop there ! I've heard enough." 
 
 "Then all the waiters would file out with cheeses," 
 she went on merrily, ignoring his capitulation. 
 
 "You mean Edam Cheese, of course?" 
 
 "That's the only kind we know at home : red balloons
 
 162 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 and pineapples. But there are dozens of varieties. 
 Some are so brown with cinnamon it looks like snuff. 
 Others are full of nutmeg, and caraway seed, and citron, 
 and ginger 
 
 " Spare me!" 
 
 "After the cheeses come cold meats I couldn't 
 look at them they needed cooking ; and fish, even 
 more raw great chunks of it and dried fish, done 
 in pickles or a dreadful yellow sauce. Then radishes 
 and cucumbers; after that pots of honey, thickened 
 pear-juice, prunes, and crystallized ginger, pickled 
 peaches and, oh, I forgot ! a million kinds of 
 'saucijis. '" 
 
 "What have you saved me from?" murmured the 
 fainting youth. "I'll order rolls and coffee." 
 
 "Perhaps we could risk some eieren" suggested his 
 preserver. 
 
 "What's that a tonic ?" 
 
 "No, eggs; just good, old, sho'-nuff eggs," she 
 dimpled. " If you chance to be an epicure, you'll demand 
 duck eggs." 
 
 "I don't chance," rallied the chastened voice. "Not 
 even if they were laid on that island in the Vyver." 
 
 After the fragrant coffee had been served, and the 
 eggs successfully decapitated, Ariadne asked her host 
 whether he had become reconciled to living in New 
 York. 
 
 "Reconciled! Why, I wouldn't live in any other 
 city, if you gave it to me with a pound of tea ! Why, 
 anybody under a hundred must feel young and energetic 
 in that great beaker of bubbles. You don't have time 
 to grouch." 
 
 "What is a grouch ? I never heard that word before." 
 
 "Oh, just New York slang!" explained Randolph
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 163, 
 
 largely. "Over there you get a new phrase for each, 
 day. They are some of the bubbles. In English you 
 would probably express it by 'repine.' But now, 
 honest, doesn't that sound like cambric- tea beside the 
 grippy, grinding-your-teeth word 'grouch'?" 
 
 "It does," admitted his vis-d-vis, smiling. "But 
 somehow I can't think of you as grouching anywhere." 
 
 "Well," he agreed modestly, "I haven't had much 
 cause to grouch as yet. Judge Henry got me in with a 
 powerful firm, you know., and I've been lucky from the 
 start." 
 
 "I'm so glad. Do you mean lucky in your pro- 
 fession?" 
 
 "Yes, being retained in some important cases, for 
 instance, and having them decently reported in the 
 papers when I had managed to pull them off. Don't 
 think me a boaster," he pleaded, with a quizzical, boyish 
 look. "But the last one, about a month ago, was 
 considered so er so creditable that I was taken 
 into the firm as full member. It's a wonderful push !" 
 
 "So now you really do get cases that you can charge 
 money for?" she laughed, recalling his boyish lament 
 beneath the cherry-tree. 
 
 "Well, rather ! But since we are talking of my un- 
 worthy self," he continued, his voice taking a more seri- 
 ous tone, "there's something that I want to tell you, 
 little friend : a certain stand I have taken in law my 
 personal platform, so to speak which has really been 
 determined through your affairs and you." 
 
 "How could your practice in that big city have any- 
 thing to do with me ?" she marveled. 
 
 "A lot; you just listen. My very first job, after 
 being admitted to the Virginia Bar, was that will I drew 
 at Allan Water."
 
 164 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 The girl's eyes lowered. 
 
 "You saw for yourself how I felt about that." He 
 paused, and she murmured : "Yes." 
 
 "I did my fighting best to undo it afterwards, and 
 your Cousin Nellie was with me, heart and soul. But 
 the others, including you yourself, were too strong for 
 me, or rather, I should say, too passive. Anyway, the 
 thing went through." 
 
 "There was never any other possibility, Randy." 
 
 "That's neither here nor there. I am referring now 
 to my part in it my hateful, reluctant part." 
 
 "I know how you felt, dear Randy," she murmured. 
 
 " Right there I said to myself : ' This is a case of never 
 again,' and I've proved it so. From the first moment 
 that I took up my new position, I had it clearly under- 
 stood that I would never consent to plead a case or even 
 be mixed up in one that I didn't believe to be genuine 
 and in the right. My senior partners winked at each 
 other. They roared when I got out of the room ; I 
 heard them ! I suppose I must have seemed a conceited, 
 priggish young tar-heel from the piney woods. Of 
 course they promised. They never had an idea that I'd 
 stick to it. But I have !" His lean, brown jaws came 
 together with a click. 
 
 Ariadne's eyes flashed righteousness into his. 
 
 "You always will, too!" she cried with a note of 
 triumph. 
 
 A beautiful smile relaxed the steely spring of his 
 mouth. For one instant he rested his bare hand on 
 hers. 
 
 "The funniest thing of all," he went on, now almost 
 jocosely, "is that the old boys keep up their pretense of 
 laughing at what they call my ante-bellum scruples, 
 but any one can see that they are as pleased as Punch.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 165 
 
 The newspapers cartoon me as 'Sir Galahad of the Bar/ 
 You can imagine or rather you can't the sort of 
 'bar' that is shown in their absurd pictures: bottles, 
 and mirrors, and a brass foot-rail," he elaborated 
 vaguely. 
 
 ''They make fun of you in papers ! They dare to !"' 
 she cried indignantly. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind!" he laughed. "It is all bully 
 advertising, and it lets the public know just where I 
 stand." 
 
 As he talked, the girl's eager face shifted and quivered 
 like the rose-opal to which Cousin Nellie had once 
 likened it. She drank in breathlessly not only the im- 
 passioned words, but every look of him. She did not 
 lose a single utterance; her eyes were a mirror to his 
 varying intonations. Yet underneath this mental appre- 
 hension ran little ecstatic phrases of self-uttered 
 thoughts : 
 
 "He is Virginia with its clear, bright air and health- 
 giving forests. He is an October day a young Octo- 
 ber day, with the coloring of autumn in his eyes and 
 cheeks and hair. He is the brown, swift creek at Allan 
 Water, with its golden sand beneath. I knew he would 
 be clean and good and wonderful ! Oh, I am glad that 
 he is here ! Even when we must part, I shall have this 
 beautiful new memory. He is a piece of home !" 
 
 "That ends my oration for the day !" He broke off 
 somewhat abruptly. "I didn't intend to inflict you at 
 quite such length. You will see what my opposing 
 lawyers mean when they say that once get me started, 
 I am liable to talk the arm off the Statue of Liberty. 
 
 "Now, Ariadne, tell me something about your own 
 life. That is really what I came for. I had fully de- 
 termined to sail, even before this business matter turned
 
 166 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 up. What have you been doing with yourself all these 
 centuries you have been away?" 
 
 "Chiefly packing and unpacking; getting on trains 
 and getting off of them. It is not half so exciting 
 as being caricatured," she answered, with a little 
 moue. 
 
 "You must have seen a lot of the world," Randolph 
 mused. "I envy you that part. But your special 
 interests, your personal friends ? I suppose you hardly 
 stop long enough anywhere to make them?" 
 
 "Indeed I do. Oh, I have lots and lots of friends !" 
 she exulted. 
 
 "Really ? Are any of them here at the Hague ?" 
 
 "Only one as yet." 
 
 "And who is he, if I may ask?" 
 
 Ariadne controlled her face with difficulty. "He is 
 the portieres little granddaughter, Betje, who is now 
 giving me lessons in Dutch." 
 
 " Oh ! " grinned Randy. "Are the others kids, too ? " 
 
 "They are undersized angels, if that is what you mean 
 by kids!" she flung at him. "Dear, precious, little 
 peasant children of a half-dozen different nationalities : 
 Swiss, French, Italian, Spanish, German, Belgian, and 
 Dutch. It does sound ridiculous, but I have forty-one 
 correspondents, all under ten years old. Some are so 
 tiny that their mothers have to write for them. Betje 
 will make forty-two. It is the children who taught me 
 languages. I had to learn, you know, so I could answer 
 their letters." 
 
 " Good heavens ! What have I struck ? Seven lan- 
 guages !" whistled the young man, pretending to move 
 his chair back in alarm. 
 
 "No, only four," she sparkled. "You see, French 
 does for Belgium and Lower Switzerland. If I ever
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 167 
 
 accomplish Dutch, which doesn't seem very likely, that 
 will be just five." 
 
 "That's leaving out English, Nigger, and American. 
 The last two are my limit," he deplored. 
 
 The girl laughed gayly. "I must show you some of 
 my treasures : the dearest, quaintest, most unbelievable 
 little letters. I wouldn't give a single one for the biggest 
 diamond that ever shone." 
 
 "I can see that in your face." 
 
 "And that's not all," she went on, lured into confidence 
 by the tender interest in his watching eyes. "I send a 
 little present to each one at Christmas. This is my one 
 great pleasure. Already I have begun dressing dolls. 
 Often they are poor, cheap, little toys ; but my friends 
 are all poor, too, so they don't mind." 
 
 "What do you mean by not having spending money? 
 Your father's income must be enormous." 
 
 "I I don't know," she hesitated. "My step- 
 mother sometimes remembers to give me a little, but 
 often she forgets. I never ask her." 
 
 The lawyer had flushed darkly. "I don't under- 
 stand," he persisted. "Even in that will, which I 
 thought pernicious, it was expressly stipulated that as 
 long as you were with that with your stepmother, the 
 income was to be equally divided." 
 
 "Donna doesn't look at it that way, I think." The 
 words were spoken without resentment. She stated 
 this as she might any other ordinary fact. 
 
 Randolph, unseen, clutched a table-leg. His very 
 eyes burned with indignation, but he warned himself 
 that this was not the time to give it full expression. 
 "How have you endured seven years with those two' 
 people?" he allowed himself. 
 
 "You mustn't ask me, Randy. I don't know what 
 to say."
 
 i68 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "But I must, dear. You know it is because I care. 
 Are they actively disagreeable or unkind ?" 
 
 "No no. Donna is really fond of me." 
 
 He gave a harsh laugh. "She has a queer way of 
 showing it ! But the man, Martel ? I've never seen 
 him, but I know a few choice things. He isn't fit to 
 breathe the air with you." 
 
 The girl's eyes fell. In her nervousness she began 
 putting on her gloves, tugging at them desperately. 
 Carr watched her keenly. He struck the table with 
 his open palm. "You hate that man, Ariadne!" he 
 blazed. "That's not the worst; you fear him. Isn't it 
 true? You must tell me." 
 
 "I cannot. Let us go back. Donna may be up, ask- 
 ing for me. She is not well." 
 
 "Just one moment. I don't need to question further 
 about him. In all this time have you never wished, or 
 attempted to get away from them, to make a visit to 
 your home?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. It was only yesterday that I tried. I went 
 to Donna, almost beseeching her- She stopped, 
 confused. 
 
 "Well? "he said sternly. 
 
 The girl did not dare to look at him. "She she 
 said it would cost too much." 
 
 Carr leaped to his feet. His long body shuddered. 
 "Yes, we had better go," he ground out between clinched 
 teeth. "I shall say something that I shouldn't, if we 
 stay." 
 
 He strode off, scowling at the stones before him. 
 Ariadne found it difficult to keep pace. 
 
 "Randy!" she panted out at last, "don't walk so 
 fast. And don't oh, please please don't keep on 
 looking murderous. It doesn't matter about me. We 
 have had such a lovely morning until now."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 169 
 
 He caught himself together, and looking down into 
 her troubled, pleading face, his own softened. "I am 
 a brute," he said contritely. "Forgive me, little 
 friend." 
 
 They had passed, by this, under the great, medieval 
 gateway to the Binnenhof, threading by smaller arches 
 into a long row of cloisters, now lined with second-hand 
 bookstalls and little booths of antiques. 
 
 "That grim, square building in the middle is called 
 the ' Hall of the Knights ' ; you can only get in on Thurs- 
 days," Ariadne stated, anxious to prevent her compan- 
 ion's relapse into scowl-producing thought. 
 
 "Be careful! Here's a car," she warned suddenly, 
 and with the cry seized him by the arm. Side by side 
 they flattened themselves to an incredible thinness against 
 a wall of the narrow arch. 
 
 "It's an outrage to let those things loose in here !" 
 the man flared out angrily. But when Ariadne mur- 
 mured in an awestruck, childish voice: "Suppose we 
 had been fat ?" he threw his head back and laughed until 
 the cobbled courtyard reverberated. 
 
 Well pleased that the gloom was shattered, Ariadne 
 literally danced out into the quiet street. "Oh ! there's 
 the gate ; it is open !" she sang joyously. 
 
 Randolph looked inquiringly from left to right. 
 "What gate ? I can't see anything but brick arches." 
 
 "Here on the sidewalk just before us. That iron one 
 with spikes ? The old house is the Mauritshaus ; I 
 wonder if I dare take the time to show you a beloved 
 friend?" 
 
 "A friend? Surely the portier's grandchild doesn't 
 live in there ! " he observed suspiciously. 
 
 "I must have forgotten this one for the moment," 
 replied Ariadne, with lamb-like meekness ; then, at his
 
 170 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 sudden look, was forced to turn her naughty, dimpled 
 face away. 
 
 As she passed through the black portals, the old guard 
 touched his cap. 
 
 "I come here so often that they have begun to know 
 me," she explained, with a nonchalant wave of the 
 hand. 
 
 Randy did not seem pleased. 
 
 "This place was built ages and ages ago by Prince 
 Maurice of Nassau for a hunting lodge," the childlike 
 voice went on. 
 
 She hurried up the stone steps, again nodding to official 
 salutations, and within doors sped with familiar direct- 
 ness to the upper floor. Her companion had begun to 
 lag. Ignoring him, she flew on, never pausing, until 
 in a far corner she came to a dramatic pause. Her 
 hands fell empty to her sides, she drew a long, deep sigh 
 of assured delight, and slowly raised her eyes to a single 
 canvas. 
 
 The young man had advanced and now stood behind 
 her. 
 
 "That is my little friend, up there. I come here 
 almost every day to talk with her. Sometimes I think 
 she knows and watches for me. I want her to know you, 
 too." 
 
 Randolph did not attempt to speak ; they stood to- 
 gether looking. 
 
 The wistful face of the painting gazed a little to the 
 right pf them, as if at that very instant some one beyond 
 had spoken. 
 
 It was a girl's face, a thing built up of immortal radi- 
 ance. The adoring, lifted eyes of the earthly maiden 
 were not more luminous. 
 
 "I love it better than all other pictures," the soft,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 171 
 
 earthly voice caressed. "Not, as I should, because its 
 art is supreme, but for its human girlhood, its pathos, 
 and its wondering innocence. She was only a little 
 milkmaid from one of the farms about the town of Delft, 
 where her great creator Vermeer lived and died. 
 Grandma would say at once that she was not of gentle 
 birth, but what does birth matter to a spirit that will 
 never die?" 
 
 She held her arms out, smiling. 
 
 Randolph breathed hard as if he had been running. 
 "She's got us beaten, Ariadne ! When you and I have 
 turned back to Virginia clay, that little girl will still be 
 looking past us, wondering. Thank you, my dear, for 
 thinking me worthy to stand with you before her." 
 
 Without self-consciousness, he lifted Ariadne's hand 
 to his lips. She pressed his ringers warmly. As they 
 turned at last, their hands did not separate. They 
 went out softly, like two quiet children, into a day which 
 for all its sunshine seemed just at first an unreality. 
 
 When they had reached the corner of the Tournooi- 
 veld, the girl, looking toward the Doelen, cried out: 
 "I do believe that's Donna sitting in the sun. I'm 
 certain that's her pink parasol !" 
 
 This proved to be the case. Even more gratifying, 
 not to say unusual, it was Donna cheerful and oblivious 
 of personal vexations. 
 
 "Oh ! you naughty children ; I've caught you !" She 
 greeted them playfully, peering at them around the 
 edge of her rose-colored shade. "Now come, 'fess up; 
 what mischief have you been planning?" 
 
 "Among other things, a little trip over to Haarlem 
 after luncheon," confessed Randolph, with sagacious 
 pulchritude. "That is, if you consent to go with us. I 
 want to see what's left of those wide stretches of tulips
 
 172 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 and hyacinths that make the Dutch post-cards look like 
 a kid's paint-box." 
 
 "I think it would be lovely," consented the chaperon. 
 "We don't want to start too early, for the sun is warm. 
 We might stop over there for dinner. I've heard of a 
 Haarlem hotel where one can get seraphic food." 
 
 " Me for the Seraph Inn ! " laughed Randy. "There's 
 a moon to-night. The drive back will be marvelous ! " 
 
 And it was a marvel that came true. Reality, for this 
 once, at least, outstripped each phase of promise. At 
 times Ariadne furtively pinched herself just where her 
 glove stopped. It was so much like a fairy tale that 
 might change at any instant into rainbows. They did 
 not reach " Den Haag " until nearly midnight. 
 
 In parting, Ariadne whispered : "Randy, it's been the 
 happiest day of all my life ! " 
 
 His strong hands threatened to mangle hers as he 
 murmured: "Shall it be again the morning for us 
 Ariadne of Allan Water ? " 
 
 Her eyes said Yes even before the quick nod of assent. 
 Wrenching her tingling fingers from his grasp, she ran up 
 to her room and all the way her young heart sang: 
 "The morning in the morning."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THAT night it was Ariadne who could not sleep, but 
 her soft, Dutch bed, instead of being a gridiron, became a 
 perfumed barge on which she drifted with no guidance 
 but dear, half-remembered moments of the day. 
 
 At times she was gliding on the stream of Allan 
 Water. White titi trees leaned down, and great, white 
 butterflies like iris, or Dutch caps, poised in the mid-air 
 of her reverie. Or she moved slowly on a narrower 
 tide along one of the bright canals that cut, like a scissor- 
 blade, into the glowing tapestry of tulip fields near 
 Haarlem. Again, as sleep drew nearer, she was upon the 
 still, blue waters of no earthly sea. 
 
 Here, by just bending to the crystal surface, there 
 appeared slow, phosphorescent wavings, piled rocks the 
 hue of beryl, fringed with silver moss, strange, breathing 
 sea-anemones, and moving forms that would have risen 
 had she dared to beckon them. 
 
 Under the spell of fantasy, her small couch flowered 
 into an Eastern galley. She heard the silken swish of 
 draperies and knew when the soundless oars dipped. 
 Oh, for a song to voice this languorous happiness : 
 
 "My heart is like a singing bird 
 
 Whose nest is in a watered shoot, 
 My heart is like an apple tree 
 
 Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit, 
 My heart is like a rainbow shell 
 
 That paddles in a halcyon sea "
 
 174 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 How the words swayed and soothed her ! Surely the 
 poem was wrought for her and for this hour ! 
 
 "My heart is gladder than all these, 
 Because my love " 
 
 Sleep, newly startled, dropped her starry wand. 
 Enchantment wavered. The dreamer, caught back to 
 earth, pressed a hot cheek into her pillow. 
 
 "Of course, I didn't mean love ! " she told that drowsy, 
 smiling Other Girl severely. "It is no silly love, but a 
 real, true glorious friendship that is making me so 
 happy !" 
 
 The Other Girl nodded and let her white lids droop. 
 
 "Raise me a dais of silk and down ; 
 
 Hang it with fair and purple dyes ; 
 Carve it in doves and pomegranates, 
 
 And peacocks with a hundred eyes ; 
 Work it in gold and silver grapes, 
 
 In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys ; 
 Because the birthday of my life 
 
 Is come, my love is come to me." 
 
 Now she sat up rigidly. "This sort of thing won't 
 do at all, you know !" she remarked aloud. Rising, she 
 went over to the window. There were several all-night 
 arc-lights hanging in the Tournooiveld. Under the 
 shadow of every tree she saw a tan-clad, broad-shouldered 
 figure looking up at her. She laughed a little hysteri- 
 cally. The night air was cold and had a restorative 
 effect. After a while she got back into bed. Now she 
 forced herself to think only of practical things : the dress 
 she intended to put on in the morning, and just where 
 she and Randy should walk. It must be the Bosch, 
 that quiet wood which in the midst of the busy, little 
 Dutch capital is indeed "a green thought in a green
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 175 
 
 shade." She had begun to picture the very way in 
 which the rich tones of Randolph's face would gleam 
 against sylvan shadows, when a sound from the corridor 
 drew her erect and tense, listening, with that almost 
 superhuman sensitiveness that belongs to the night's 
 deep hours. 
 
 She had no idea of the time ; that had been a detail too 
 insignificant, but it was certainly very late. She heard 
 footsteps intelligent, stealthy footsteps. They had 
 paused outside her door. "Thank heaven that I bolted 
 it!" came as a reassuring thought. 
 
 Who could it be who wished to listen at her door? 
 Her very breathing was suspended. There was some- 
 thing that lived out there, something that stooped, hold- 
 ing its breath as she was holding hers. Now it had 
 turned and was moving from her with feet softly-shod, 
 furtive, and on tip- toe. But for the fact of his being 
 absent, she would have said it was the valet Frangois. 
 
 Yet even if he were in the hotel, why should he care to 
 know whether or not she slept? She lay awake for a 
 long time, but the sinister footsteps did not return. 
 Finally, worn out with conjecture, she fell asleep ; and 
 with the first rays of the welcomed sun, the recollection, 
 together with her fears, fled among other shades of 
 night. 
 
 As she dressed, little refrains of the birthday lyric 
 danced back to her mind. She smiled and shook her 
 head at them, but they only flashed their iridescent 
 wings and fluttered a little farther off. 
 
 It must be nearly seven o'clock by this she had 
 learned the exact moment when Peetje played Moses to 
 the sparrows and when the old portier lighted his Napo- 
 leonic cigar. She peeped from her window, sure of seeing 
 them, but at the first look drew back, for a very different
 
 176 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 figure had just joined them, and now bent broad and 
 courteous shoulders at the portier' s side. 
 
 She stood quiet, surprised and a little frightened at the 
 way her pulses throbbed, then, putting on her hat, flew 
 down the stairs and out into the sun. 
 
 "Ah, there you are!" cried Randolph joyously, and 
 strode with long legs toward her. The portier and his 
 dog followed at a less tempestuous rate of speed. 
 
 " I was just telling the portier that you and I knew each 
 other as children at home," said the Virginian, taking 
 Ariadne's hand in a brotherly fashion. 
 
 "Indeed we did," she echoed heartily, then turned to 
 the little portier and smiled. "He is the very best friend 
 I have in all the world." 
 
 At this moment a lithe shadow passed out from the 
 hotel and came to a pause before Ariadne. "You are 
 to go to Madame's room at once," he announced. 
 
 Randolph took a single stride. "What do you mean 
 by speaking in that tone to Miss Skip with?" he de- 
 manded, in a voice that made the servant shrink. 
 
 "Pardon," he muttered, bowing with exaggerated 
 humility. " I was in haste. I did not think." 
 
 "Well, think next time," warned Carr threateningly, 
 his fingers twitching. 
 
 Ariadne had gone white to the eyelashes. "Never 
 mind, Randy," she interposed. "He probably repeated 
 the message as it was given. Is my stepmother ill, 
 Francois?" 
 
 The valet's incipient shrug changed, at a low exclama- 
 tion from Randolph, into a sort of cringe. 
 
 "I know nothing, Mademoiselle, except that Madame 
 desires to see you instantly." 
 
 As Ariadne sped indoors, Carr put up a hand to check 
 the valet's accompanying flight.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 177 
 
 "Look here ! Is that the way you have been allowed 
 to address Miss Skipwith ?" 
 
 "No harm was meant, Monsieur," the man reiterated, 
 kneading his pale, yellowish hands together. "It was 
 but my zeal to reach Mademoiselle before she should go." 
 He darted away on the last word, the American's angry 
 eyes following. 
 
 Old Machem, the dog, had retreated a few yards, and 
 sat there snarling, and giving vent to low, disapproving 
 growls. Now she trotted back to her master, fawning 
 about his feet. 
 
 "He is a bad one, dat Frangois," grunted the portier, 
 shaking his gray head. "De master, mademoiselle's 
 stepfader, and dis valet, dey arrive last night, and 
 madame is still to Haarlem. Monsieur was anger, Gott ! 
 de cursing an' de langvidge from his apartment you 
 never heered ! " The old man clasped his hands and 
 rolled his eyes upward at the memory. "And after dat, 
 when monsieur was again smooth, the valet he began to 
 creep, and whisper among our domestiques, wid de ques- 
 tion, de bribe of coins de de insinuate It is 
 mos' sad dat so angel a mademoiselle as Miss Skeepvitt 
 must haf concern wid doze mans." 
 
 So long a speech from the little portier was unusual. 
 For the most part his acquired languages were spurred 
 only to short, grammatical flights, but no inaccuracies or 
 lapses into Dutch consonants could hide his deep sin- 
 cerity. 
 
 "Mr. Martel is the husband of Miss Skipwith's step- 
 mother only," explained Carr, as to an equal. "There 
 is no blood relationship, I'm glad to say." 
 
 He walked back slowly into the hotel. The morning's 
 walk was, he knew, already a forfeited joy. He frowned, 
 not only because of the disappointment, but in an
 
 178 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 attempt to apprehend the cause of such violent anger on 
 Martel's part, and the valet's subsequent activities as a 
 spy. The mere fact of Mrs. Martel's temporary absence 
 could scarcely account for it. 
 
 At the top of the first short flight of steps he hesitated. 
 He did not wish to go back to his disordered room. On 
 the other hand, the hour was a little early for breakfast- 
 ing, even had he the desire. Glancing into the lounge, 
 he saw the large center table strewn with newspapers. 
 The room was apparently empty. 
 
 He strolled in, but before he had reached the table 
 became aware of a figure, which, rising from a sequestered 
 chair, now slowly drew near. 
 
 "The Levantine Mixture," he thought. Ignoring the 
 other's approach, young Carr continued his progress 
 toward the table. At the corner of it, the two came face 
 to face. 
 
 Martel was not a short man, but standing before the 
 American he needed to lift his long, fringed lids. 
 
 "Your name is Carr, I believe?" the low, beautifully 
 modulated voice began, tentatively, "of er pardon, 
 but I find those Western States confusing." 
 
 "I am Mr. Carr. What business can you have with 
 me?" 
 
 "Shall we be seated, Mr. Carr?" suggested the voice, 
 as the graceful figure turned slightly in the direction of a 
 group of empty chairs. For the present the lounge held 
 no other guests. 
 
 "Thanks, I prefer to stand." 
 
 Martel gave a small gesture of resignation. "My 
 'business,' as you put it, is brief. I fear you may not 
 find it altogether to your liking." 
 
 "I am listening." 
 
 "My name is Martel," stated the other, with an 
 imperceptible heightening of manner.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 179 
 
 "Even if that is a fact, it fails to interest me," observed 
 Randolph, his eyes fixed steadily on the man's face. 
 
 Martel's long lashes flickered. To recover poise, he 
 drew out his jeweled case, and extracting a cigarette, 
 held it, unlighted, in the fingers of his right hand. 
 
 "I do not wish to be altogether discourteous," he now 
 resumed, with his accustomed languid ease of manner, 
 "and you may have transgressed through ignorance." 
 
 Now he lighted the white tube, taking quite a time 
 over the ceremony, as if wishing these preliminary words 
 to be given full effect. The young lawyer's eyes did not 
 move from his. 
 
 "But even so - Martel supplemented, as if re- 
 gretting this necessity of correction. "I am afraid 
 that you owe me an apology, Mr. Carr." The heavy 
 lids rose suddenly, but not the slightest change had 
 passed across the Virginian's countenance. 
 
 After waiting in vain for a reply, Martel went on : 
 "I see that I shall have to speak even more plainly. If 
 you can understand nothing else, Mr. Carr He 
 gave a little shrug and a resigned sigh. "Your conduct 
 yesterday, the advantage you took of my absence, is 
 inexcusable. I do not consider you a desirable acquaint- 
 ance for the ladies of my family." 
 
 "No?" questioned Randolph, in a sort of hurt sur- 
 prise. His mouth gave one spasmodic twitch, and he 
 needed to bite his inner lip to hold back a grin of apprecia- 
 tion, the Oriental's acting was so good. 
 
 "And who, if I may inquire, do you consider the ladies 
 of your family?" 
 
 For the first time a flush mounted to Martel's cheek. 
 "That is a deliberate impertinence, Mr. Carr. You are 
 entirely aware that I refer to my wife, Mrs. Martel, 
 and stepdaughter, Miss Skipwith."
 
 i8o ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "I recognize Miss Skipwith," Randolph murmured. 
 Now it was he who lighted a cigarette, taking one from a 
 humble paper package and igniting it with a leisurely 
 enjoyment that equaled Martel's. His young face was 
 bland and it would seem just a little perplexed. 
 
 Martel felt himself losing ground. 
 
 "I do not choose to fence with you," he retorted. 
 "All you need to understand is that I forbid any further 
 attempt on your part to hold intercourse either with my 
 two women or myself." He turned on his heel every 
 curve of his pliant body expressing contempt and dis- 
 missal. 
 
 The lawyer made no effort at detention. He smoked 
 placidly, and, still standing, lifted the newly arrived 
 Paris edition of the New York Herald. 
 
 Martel hesitated. If he went now, it could be with 
 no assurance of success, yet to turn back betrayed a more 
 obvious defeat. Suddenly he wheeled back to his enemy, 
 hot with an impulse to strike the insulting paper down. 
 His delicate hand was lifted. 
 
 Randolph's next words though low, were very crisp 
 and clear. 
 
 "Don't you think it about time to call that bluff 
 off?" 
 
 The other's eyes gleamed angrily. 
 
 "What do you mean?" he cried. Then, with a quick 
 glance around: "We will continue this discussion in a 
 more private place." 
 
 "Oh, no, we won't," contradicted the American 
 pleasantly. "I've got all that I want right now." 
 
 "This is intolerable!" said Martel, whose face had 
 gone ashen. "I refuse to listen to your cowardly in- 
 sinuation." 
 
 The Paris Herald was laid back softly. The young
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 181 
 
 lawyer lifted eyes that were now bright with amusement 
 and a certain triumph. 
 
 Martel had placed one hand upon the table, pressing 
 until the finger tips were flattened. The younger man 
 appeared all at once to realize his entire presence. It 
 was still a gallant front ; from the gray-spatted English 
 boots to the parting of the sleek, black hair, each inch of 
 him was perfect. Almost it seemed regrettable that the 
 semblance must be pricked. 
 
 "I I insist upon knowing what you mean by 
 'bluff, '" Martel challenged like a creature self -driven to 
 destruction. 
 
 Randolph Carr abandoned his light tone : 
 
 "Your business in California must have accustomed 
 you to this and similar terms, I think." The words 
 came like blows. "As for your trying it on with me 
 He paused. "I am junior member of the firm of 
 Harman, Brown, and Company of New York. That's 
 all for the present, Mr. Constantine Patredis of Adrian- 
 ople." 
 
 With face deliberately averted, Carr waited until the 
 other had disappeared. He stood a little longer, think- 
 ing heavily. Then came a decisive gesture, and crossing 
 to a small, open desk he wrote and sealed a hasty note. 
 This he gave, with special instructions, to a hotel servant, 
 and then, oblivious of the fact that he had not yet break- 
 fasted, mounted to his room and began flinging things 
 into a dressing case. 
 
 At the moment of Randolph's encounter with Martel 
 in the lounge, Ariadne, on an upper landing, having 
 knocked for the third time at her stepmother's door, 
 entered cautiously, to be greeted by a sound of hysterical, 
 stifled sobs. Her young lungs, so recently filled with
 
 182 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 bright, morning air, sickened a little at the stale scent of 
 violet powder and lavender. 
 
 All the windows were close drawn. At first she could 
 see nothing; she knew of course that the moans came 
 from Mrs. Martel, who was in bed, and gropingly she 
 made her way in that direction. 
 
 " Oh, Donna, what can have happened ? " she entreated. 
 "Are you very ill ? " 
 
 "It's a wonder I'm not d-d-dead," wailed the voice 
 from the bedclothes. The tone held a cadence which 
 said that it was entirely the stepdaughter's fault. 
 
 "May I not open a window, Donna? This close air 
 of itself is enough to give you a headache." 
 
 "Yes not that one," she commanded shrilly. "The 
 glare would strike directly into my eyes. The farthest 
 one down there, by the clothes- tree." 
 
 Even at that distance, Mrs. Martel as the light 
 streamed in, cowered and drew the sheet up to her face. 
 At Ariadne's approach she slowly lowered it. 
 
 "Don't stand there like a bean-pole. It hurts my 
 neck to look up at you. Sit on the bed." 
 
 "You have not told me yet ' the troubled young 
 voice began ; Mrs. Martel broke through it. 
 
 "I never lived through such a night !" she exclaimed. 
 " Connie was like a maniac ! The things he said ! He 
 wanted to put all the blame on poor me." 
 
 "But blame for what?" 
 
 "For allowing that young Carr to speak to us and 
 going on a long drive with him afterwards." 
 
 She put her fat hands down beside her, trying to push 
 herself upward. Ariadne sprang to her feet and assisted. 
 
 "There! that's much better," said the stepmother, 
 panting heavily from the effort. 
 
 " Oh, why did we do it, Ariadne ? " she went on. "We
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 183 
 
 should remember that women over here don't go about 
 with every stranger they can pick up. Connie says we 
 have disgraced him and ourselves at the Hague. I 
 never saw him so infuriated. I do believe he is jealous 
 of me with that boy." 
 
 At this thought, a fatuously pleased expression over- 
 spread her countenance. 
 
 "Mr. Martel must be out of his senses," Ariadne re- 
 plied, in a cold and restrained voice. "Mr. Carr is no 
 stranger." 
 
 "That's what I told him, but it only made him angrier. 
 He says that Randolph Carr is not the sort of man that 
 decent women should know. Connie has been making 
 inquiries. We are neither of us to speak to him again." 
 
 The girl said nothing. Mrs. Martel, peering up at 
 her, repeated querulously : "Did you hear me, Ariadne ? 
 We are not to speak to him or notice him again." 
 
 Still Ariadne fought for self-control and silence. 
 Donna was not a pretty sight as she leaned forward, 
 her much be-ribboned boudoir cap over one ear, her 
 pale and watery eyes trying to flash forth righteous 
 indignation. 
 
 "Oh, I must get away for a while I can't endure it 
 - I will ask Randy to help me !" Ariadne was saying to 
 herself. 
 
 "Don't set your face like a stone when I am talking," 
 cried the stepmother. "You've never acted like this 
 before." 
 
 "There never was any need of it before," said Ariadne. 
 
 At the quiet, clear words, and the tone in which they 
 were spoken, Mrs. Martel sat gasping. Could this be 
 Ariadne, the meek, submissive, uncomplaining Ariadne ! 
 "You must be losing your mind!" the elder woman 
 cried when she could speak at all. "Connie is right.
 
 184 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 That man is trying to turn you against us. He's just 
 a spy that's what he is ! " 
 
 "You don't think it, Donna, even though Mr. Martel 
 lias told you to pretend it." 
 
 "Indeed I do think it. I know it," defended the 
 stepmother angrily. "He has influenced you terribly 
 already. What he is after is to get hold of your 
 father's money ! " 
 
 Ariadne sat like a carven image. 
 
 "You wicked girl!" Mrs. Martel almost screamed. 
 She was getting beside herself with anger and the deepen- 
 ing touch of fear. "You are wicked to him as well as to 
 me. You know perfectly well you cannot marry him, 
 or any other man." 
 
 The door-handle had turned very softly. Neither of 
 the two had noticed it. Again it became motionless, 
 only that the light, curving around its shining brass 
 surface from a distant window, seemed to throb and 
 glitter strangely. 
 
 "I don't suppose that even Randolph Carr can per- 
 suade you to break a promise made to your dying father," 
 added Mrs. Martel vindictively. 
 
 At this the girl's head drooped. The watching woman 
 among the pillows exulted to see how the young lids had 
 begun to quiver. 
 
 "No one can persuade me to do that, Madonna," she 
 returned in a low voice. " I am not going to give you up. 
 I shall still keep faith with you and my father. But 
 just lately things have happened that I can't tell even 
 you things that have changed 
 
 But she was allowed to go no further. Donna almost 
 hurled herself along the bed, clutching at Ariadne's arm. 
 "Don't dare to sit there talking about a change. Noth- 
 ing can change the fact that you swore never to give me
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 185 
 
 up, that it is stated in the will, and that Connie and I 
 will be left penniless if you do? Who's that at the 
 door?" she called sharply. Both women listened. 
 There was no sound at all. Mrs. Martel crept back to 
 her pillows. 
 
 "I was sure I heard something strike against the door 
 just then," she said, with a frightened look. "It must 
 be my nerves. This dreadful scene has left me as weak 
 as a cat." 
 
 "I think I'll go back to my room now, Donna," said 
 the girl. 
 
 "Perhaps you'd better. You have done harm enough 
 for one day," rejoined the other bitterly. "Just push 
 that button for Cummins as you go." 
 
 Ariadne hurried around the foot of the bed, already 
 savoring her respite. As her hand lifted to the electric 
 bell, another sound at the door, this time an unmis- 
 takable knock, sent her toward it. 
 
 The rosy face of Peetje smiled up at her. "For Mees 
 Skeepvitt," he announced, offering a small, silver tray 
 on which appeared a letter. 
 
 "What is it? A note for me from Connie?" ques- 
 tioned Mrs. Martel. 
 
 "No, it is mine," said the girl, annoyed to feel the 
 crimson rising into her face. 
 
 "Well, open it. Don't stand there all day," adjured 
 the stepmother querulously. "It may be something to 
 help out our difficulties." 
 
 After a struggle the girl, realizing that it was wiser to 
 yield, drew out a hatpin and slit the upper edge carefully. 
 
 "My dear," it began (after the dating, May 24th) I 
 am leaving the Hague at once, and wish it to appear as a 
 permanent move. In reality I shall not be far, and hope 
 to return next Tuesday at latest, and may have startling
 
 1 86 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 news. In the meantime, keep on your guard, and be 
 extremely careful, for my sake as much as your own. 
 You will understand. 
 
 "RANDY. 
 
 "P.S. You said last night, that it had been a happy 
 day for you. I shall carry it like a banner in the sun for 
 the rest of my life. R." 
 
 "Well, well," exclaimed Donna. "Who is it from? 
 What do they say?" 
 
 "It is from Mr. Carr. He is leaving here at once.' r 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Martel. "Connie has been 
 giving him a talking to." She glowed with reflected 
 virtue. 
 
 Ariadne got from the room at last. The letter was a 
 comfort, but the tangled lines of Fate seemed pulling 
 and charing about her all at once. She could not lift the 
 lightest wing of hope, but some new fetter strained. 
 
 At the steep, upper stairway she began the ascent with 
 such a dragging heaviness that her feet might suddenly 
 have become twin grandmothers to the twinkling pair 
 that had flown down and along these very steps only an 
 hour ago. 
 
 Donna was right : she had nothing to do with happi- 
 ness ; she would be wicked to let him hope it, even were 
 she sure he wished it. No matter what spell he wove 
 around her with his eloquent words, his pleading, eager 
 face, there was a ghostly manacle no living hand could 
 break. The binding chains might give a little, Randy's 
 bright eyes might search out flaws in every link ; but the 
 dull, iron ring was still around her heart, encysted, a part 
 of its living tissue.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 MRS. MARTEL'S long morning toilet at last approached 
 completion. Her faded hair, wound by the maid's 
 deft fingers into many substantial-looking puffs, rose in a 
 curved crescendo. Her hands had been manicured, and 
 a fine dust of rice-powder coaxed into the somewhat oily 
 skin. 
 
 The mistress, placing both elbows on her dressing- 
 table, gazed complacently at this handiwork. 
 
 "I think I am looking better to-day, Cummins, 
 decidedly better." 
 
 "It was what I 'ave been thinking myself, Madame," 
 agreed the servant, as she stooped for a fallen comb. 
 "Your heyes are not so bag-like, either." 
 
 Mrs. Martel surveyed the "bags" dispassionately. 
 "Has the portier, or any one down-stairs received a wire 
 or message from Mr. Martel ?" 
 
 "I couldn't say, Madame," was the answer, supple- 
 mented by the slightly familiar observation "seeing as 
 I've been in here with you for two hours gone." 
 
 "That's enough; bring me a dress, Cummins," re- 
 buked Mrs. Martel. 
 
 "Which gown is it to be, Madame?" 
 
 "That new pongee, with the brown and lavender 
 embroidery. My complexion can stand those colors 
 to-day; besides, you can get me into it mostly sitting 
 down."
 
 i88 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 As the chosen garment was being adjusted, Mrs. 
 Martel, taking up an amethyst necklace by the unfas- 
 tened ends, held it tentatively against her throat. 
 "Connie said that he might get back this morning," 
 she murmured, speaking more to herself and the necklace 
 than to Cummins. 
 
 A knock came to her door. " Entrez" called Donna, 
 without excitement, scarcely expecting to see her husband, 
 for the rap had been crisp and sharp. But it was he, 
 smiling and so immaculate it seemed impossible that he 
 could have just quitted a train. 
 
 "Oh, Connie!" she welcomed, wheeling around to 
 him. "When did you arrive?" 
 
 "This minute, by motor." 
 
 "How very nice! Hurry, Cummins. Just get that 
 waistband together and I can do the rest of the hooks. 
 Won't you sit down, darling?" This smiling request, 
 being obviously intended for her husband, was answered 
 by him with a slight negative. 
 
 "Did you get through with what took you to Rotter- 
 dam?" she persisted, beaming. 
 
 "Perfectly. The trip was a complete success." 
 
 "Not the mon " she had struck in, when a warning 
 nod of his head toward the maid brought abrupt silence. 
 
 "There, she is gone at last, thank goodness!" ex- 
 claimed the lady, as the door closed decorously on Cum- 
 mins' common sense English heels. "Now we can talk ! " 
 
 "Not in here," said the man. "We will go into the 
 sitting-room. This is disgustingly stuffy. Pah ! Come, 
 my dear." 
 
 She followed meekly. He closed the door as she passed 
 through and motioned to a chair into which she sank 
 obediently, her upturned face moving slowly in which- 
 ever direction he chanced to go. Now he paused beside
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 189 
 
 a heavy center-table, and striking one of the magenta- 
 colored hotel matches upon its small, brass-bound box, 
 lighted the inevitable cigarette. With eyelids closed 
 against the sulphurous glare, and lips that held the 
 white fragment of tobacco, he mumbled : "How has your 
 stepdaughter been behaving?" 
 
 Mrs. Martel prefaced her answer by an audible sigh. 
 "About as usual, except that she turns into an iceberg if 
 I try to talk about that man Carr." 
 
 "Can't discuss him, too sacred and all that," Martel 
 laughed mockingly. "Doesn't she resent his having 
 left her?" 
 
 "She doesn't seem to. That ridiculous child of the 
 por tier's was here most of yesterday, after you went. 
 For a person who claims to be a Virginia aristocrat, 
 Ariadne has some extremely queer tastes. You know 
 how foolish she has always been about peasant children." 
 
 The man seated himself indolently upon the edge of the 
 table. "If the girl is both cheerful and secretive, you 
 may be sure that she doesn't consider this affaire de 
 cceur at an end," he observed. 
 
 "But it must be at an end, Connie. I think I made 
 that plain. I didn't mince matters, I assure you." 
 
 "And what do you feel that you have accomplished ?" 
 The question was gentle, but, like his laugh, it had the 
 touch of a sneer. 
 
 Mrs. Martel began to fidget, picking at the embroid- 
 ered cuff of one sleeve. " I can't be certain. In fact 
 she burst out with more vehemence, "I don't know what 
 to make of her at all. She becomes a changed creature 
 if I try to say another word, and she looks at me as if I 
 were an an insect ! You must help me, Connie. 
 I'm at my wit's end !" 
 
 " Certainly, my dear. That is my husbandly preroga-
 
 ipo ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 tive. But after all," he suggested delicately, "Ariadne 
 is of age, and if she wishes to marry "he finished with a 
 gesture. 
 
 "But she can't marry. That's just the point. She 
 knows she is pledged " The words broke suddenly. 
 
 "Pledged to what? That's rather an extraordinary 
 thing to say. I'm afraid I do not understand," he 
 drawled, as he leaned over to flick off an ash. 
 
 His wife's eyes fell. The pendulous face was becoming 
 the color of old wax. She caught in her breath as if at a 
 sudden terror. "It's something about her father's will. 
 I I told you it was unusual. He was so devoted to me 
 that he wanted to be sure I would never be lonely - 
 
 "Yes, I've had a few such maundering hints before," 
 he interrupted, but still in a tone of pleasantry. From 
 the beginning of the interview he had assumed the pose 
 of light indifference ; each movement was suave, unhast- 
 ing, and full of his peculiar, Oriental grace, but from un- 
 der the long, fringed lids his eyes had watched with the 
 cold glitter and intelligence of a snake. "If now I am to 
 help you, as you seem to wish, it is necessary for me to 
 know facts as they are." 
 
 "Yes, darling, I can see that," she answered beseech- 
 ingly. "Ariadne can't get married because of a promise 
 she made her dying father." 
 
 "A promise she made?" repeated Martel, as if in 
 surprise. His underlids tightened. For the first time a 
 hint of cruelty came into his face. "Until now I have 
 always been told that it was your promise to my for- 
 tunate predecessor that made this touching bond between 
 you and his daughter. You said repeatedly that she 
 would be a beggar if we turned her adrift. Is it not so ? " 
 
 Mrs. Martel's face sagged lower. She quivered as 
 with physical fear and began to move her elaborately-
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 191 
 
 dressed head from side to side. "Of course, that's true 
 in a way - " she began hesitatingly, "but there is more 
 of it. Oh ! Connie," she cried desperately, fawning up 
 at him, "I'm afraid I haven't been entirely straightfor- 
 ward. Ariadne has always said you ought to have been 
 told the truth. Oh, Connie, you know how I love you 
 how I think of nothing but you." 
 
 "Let us dispense with the tremolo," said the man. 
 ""I've known all along that you were hiding something. 
 Suppose you tell me now." 
 
 In broken, disjointed words, with many irrelevant 
 outbursts of self-blame and appeals to his forgiveness, 
 she told him at last their full dependence upon the young 
 girl's loyalty. In finishing, she covered her face, sobbing 
 out that she had withheld nothing, and praying that he 
 would not be too hard upon her for the past years of 
 deception. 
 
 Martel's expression had not changed by the flicker of 
 an eyelash. Indeed, at times he scarcely seemed to be 
 listening, being intent upon more vital thoughts within. 
 She heard him move down from the table. 
 
 "Oh, Connie dear, darling Connie I cannot bear 
 your silence. Say something anything ! Tell me 
 you don't hate me !" He eluded her outstretched arms 
 by an inch. 
 
 "That must depend on what you are willing to do to 
 get us out of it," he said cryptically. "I must think 
 now." Suddenly he threw his head back, laughing. 
 
 The woman cowered again. "Don't laugh like that ! 
 It is too horrible !" she shuddered. 
 
 "Not at all. The mirth is genuine. I was only 
 reflecting how true it is that we sometimes build better 
 than we know." 
 
 "I I don't understand," she whimpered.
 
 i 9 2 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "You will in a moment. No, stay where you are." 
 
 She kept her face in her hands, listening to his long, 
 slow step as he paced the length of the room. Twice he 
 passed her. Her very soul held out its arms to him, but 
 her body dared not move. At the third return he came 
 to a standstill. 
 
 "You have been rather seedy of late. Don't you 
 think a drive would do you good ?" he asked. 
 
 For a moment she could only stare. She had expected 
 any tone but this. "Why yes. Of course it would," 
 she managed to stammer at last. 
 
 "To be candid, I am not thinking of you alone," he 
 explained. "This is part of a plan already formed. I 
 presume, under the circumstances," he added, with a 
 curious look from under the long lashes, "I do not take 
 too much for granted in believing that you will be glad 
 to follow my instructions." 
 
 "Oh, Connie. Don't be cruel ! You know I will do 
 anything anything on earth you say." 
 
 "It is not for our own sakes merely, understand that, 
 Donna ! I feel that we must take drastic steps to coun- 
 teract Ariadne's imprudence. She has already seriously 
 compromised herself and us here at the Hague !" 
 
 Donna's eyes drooped for shame. 
 
 "This man Carr is not the sort of person she should 
 have been allowed to encourage. I've been making 
 inquiries. He is a bad lot, I should say. Naturally, a 
 girl could not know such things. It takes a man to 
 find them out. But I will do Ariadne the justice to say 
 she can be reasonable. If I can manage to get her off 
 alone, to some place \vhere she cannot avoid me or refuse 
 to listen quietly, I can soon convince her of his worth- 
 lessness. It is in securing such an opportunity for plain- 
 speaking that you can be of the very greatest service."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 193 
 
 The woman waited an instant to see if he had finished ; 
 then clasping her hands and lifting pale, adoring eyes to 
 his face, she reiterated fervently. " There is nothing you 
 may not ask me. Oh, my dear husband, you are the 
 noblest and most generous man alive." 
 
 "Good old girl!" he exclaimed, patting her shoulder 
 lightly. "Just stick to that, and we shall soon rescue 
 ourselves and our daughter. Now, listen carefully!" 
 
 He drew a second chair so close that she could feel the 
 warmth of him. The faint odor of perfume and tobacco 
 flowed through her senses like an anaesthetic. She 
 leaned toward him, almost faint with the ecstasy of this 
 new and intimate bond. At last they were working 
 together for a common good. The man talked rapidly. 
 His low, silken voice seemed dragging across her prostrate 
 soul. 
 
 "Yes, yes I will do it. Yes, I can remember every- 
 thing," she would whisper in the pauses of the intoxicat- 
 ing sound. "You may rely on me to do it all, exactly as 
 you have described. It is little enough compared with 
 what you have forgiven me. And as for that wretched 
 girl," she cried, when the wonderful conference was at an 
 end, "she does not deserve that you should take all this 
 trouble to save her from a common fortune-hunter!" 
 
 "Now I must go to my room," stated the Oriental St. 
 George. "I suppose that Ariadne will condescend to 
 appear at luncheon ?" 
 
 "Of course," answered Donna. "She's been coming 
 to all her meals. Why shouldn't she appear?" 
 
 The man laughed. "A girl in love is notably capri- 
 cious. You must be careful in the way you open the 
 subject of our drive." 
 
 "You just watch and see how tactful I can be," she 
 vaunted. "Oh, Connie!"
 
 i 9 4 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Now she dared stretch out arms of longing. She even 
 hoped a little that he might kiss her, but with a pleasant 
 nod and a murmured "Au revoir !" he turned and left. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Martel were already seated as Ariadne 
 entered the dining-room. 
 
 The girl took her accustomed seat in silence, returning 
 by a slight inclination of the head her stepmother's 
 vivacious greeting. Martel did not speak to her at all. 
 For this she was duly grateful. She could not eat, and 
 finally abandoning all pretense, leaned back in her chair 
 and gazed out through the great, shining window-panes 
 to the crowded garden, where yellow acacia trees and 
 tufted lilacs stood on tip-toe to wave their lovely wares 
 against the glass. 
 
 She had almost forgotten her companions when an 
 impatient sound from Mrs. Martel and a sharp plucking 
 at the sleeve recalled her. 
 
 "Ariadne! What on earth do you mean sitting 
 there staring like an idiot? People are beginning to 
 notice. I've spoken to you twice." 
 
 "Yes, Donna. I'm very sorry. What was it you 
 were saying?" 
 
 " Connie has hired a lovely car a special, and wants 
 us to have a little drive this afternoon." 
 
 The girl, still half -submerged in reverie, was so long in 
 replying that Mrs. Martel, shaking her arm again, said : 
 "Do you understand? We are to start immediately 
 after tea." 
 
 The girl gave a little sigh and came back to the present. 
 "Can't Mr. Martel go with you, Madonna?" 
 
 Martel replied for himself. "Unfortunately, no. I 
 have promised a chap over at the Hotel des Indes to 
 have a game of billiards." 
 
 "I need a drive frightfully," exclaimed Donna, "but I
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 195 
 
 certainly do not intend going alone." Her double chins 
 quivered. 
 
 "Very well then. I shall be ready," said the girl in a 
 colorless tone. 
 
 Mrs. Martel flashed a little look of triumph at her 
 husband. His response was an imperceptible frown. 
 Thoughtfully he tilted the stem of his tall wine glass, 
 gazing down into it. His beautiful, sinister face was as 
 empty as the crystal cup. 
 
 For once Donna was ready before the time. As 
 Ariadne reached the entrance door, her stepmother stood 
 just within it, admiring the big car, and chattering to any 
 or every one who cared to listen of Mr. Martel' s thought- 
 fulness in securing so splendid a vehicle. 
 
 "Well, here you are at last !" she cried, as she caught 
 sight of Ariadne. " I am glad you wore your new motor- 
 bonnet. Gracious ! What long strings ! That little 
 cluster of pink roses at the side is too adorable." 
 
 "I love this color of gray-blue. But then you always 
 get me pretty clothes, Donna," answered the girl, smiling. 
 
 The little portier was behaving very strangely. He had 
 gone round and round the car much as a small dog circles 
 a formidable, large one, and paused each time at the 
 front, where a much begoggled chauffeur slouched 
 suddenly, as if resenting the inspection. 
 
 "Why, it is a limousine !" cried Ariadne in surprise. 
 "We don't need a closed car on so warm an afternoon." 
 
 " Connie thought an open one might be too exposed for 
 me," explained Mrs. Martel glibly. "Besides, the clouds 
 are blowing in from the sea. It may rain before we get 
 back." 
 
 She moved toward the car. The portier darted for- 
 ward to hold the door open. At her last words he threw 
 his grizzled head backward, staring up toward the sky.
 
 196 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 " Is it to be a long drive, Madame ? " he asked anxiously. 
 
 "I am not sure that is " she corrected herself 
 hastily, "it depends on how I feel. I've been rather 
 poorly, as you know. Come, Ariadne, what are you 
 waiting for ! " 
 
 The portier did not stand aside. " You will do best not 
 to drive far, Madame," he repeated with such earnestness 
 that Mrs. Martel gave an exclamation of annoyance. 
 She rustled in, leaving a trail of perfume, and gave 
 Ariadne an imperious sign to follow. In contrast to her 
 usual custom, she took the corner farthest away. 
 
 The portier, now forced to step aside, leaned over sud- 
 denly toward the driver and said a few low words in 
 Dutch. He was answered gruffly in the same language. 
 Instinctively the little man threw out a hand toward 
 Ariadne, the other he ran wildly through his hair. The 
 girl stared down at the excited old face in wonder, but at 
 her stepmother's angry summons, brushed past him and 
 entered. Instantly the car curved out toward the 
 Tournooiveld. 
 
 The portier watched it, his brows making a thatched 
 roof over his keen eyes. Scarcely had it gained a 
 thoroughfare when he saw a man, Mr. Martel, moving 
 quickly toward it from the opposite direction. He had 
 signaled the driver. The car never quite came to a 
 standstill. Martel sprang in from the farther side. 
 Through the glass the portier could see the figure of Miss 
 Skipwith. She had risen at once and was trying to open 
 the door beside her. The chauffeur, all cap-brim and 
 leathern mask, flung his whole body half-way to the right 
 and seemed to lock the door. The girl's figure sank out 
 of sight. The car leapt forward with a burst of speed 
 that made pedestrians scatter. "Gott!" cried the old 
 man, rushing back into the house.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 197 
 
 Within the car, Ariadne was saying: "You must let 
 me out. There is no need for me if Mr. Martel is going. 
 I will only crowd you." 
 
 " Crowd us !" echoed the stepmother, with an hysteri- 
 cal laugh. "Why, you and I were positively rattling 
 around on this enormous seat. I am only too thankful 
 that Connie's man didn't turn up, and he is here to help 
 us stay in." 
 
 "I can't go. Do you hear me ? I can't. I won't ! " 
 cried Ariadne, in a low, fierce voice. 
 
 She attempted again to rise. Martel did nothing to 
 restrain her, but the rapidly increasing motion along 
 cobbled streets soon flung her backwards. She was 
 literally wedged between Martel's right shoulder and the 
 car. 
 
 Donna, her teeth chattering with excitement, leaned 
 around from his further side. "Be still, I tell you !" 
 she almost screamed. "You've put us through too much 
 already. I insist upon your behaving yourself for once 
 like a rational human being." 
 
 Ariadne became quiet. For the moment struggle and 
 opposition were worse than useless. It was best to feign 
 acceptance of the situation. She huddled back into her 
 corner, shrinking as far from Martel as the narrow space 
 permitted. After all, Donna was with them. He would 
 scarcely attempt to repeat the Dordrecht scene before his 
 wife. 
 
 With the clearing of her mind the girl began to realize, 
 as she believed, the motive for this detestable conspiracy. 
 It was a trick, of course. They had known from the 
 first that Martel was coming. They had planned it, 
 doubtless thinking to find a way in which she would be 
 forced to listen quietly to renewed warnings and accusa- 
 tions against Randy. She, like a foolish, absent-minded
 
 198 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 rabbit, had walked into the trap and must now accept the 
 consequences. "It cannot really matter what they say 
 of him," she reasoned. " Donna is only a mouthpiece 
 and an echo of this terrible man beside me. I need not 
 even listen. I will be going over and over in my heart 
 the hours that Randy and I have spent together." 
 
 Her thoughts thus turned almost desperately inward, 
 Ariadne scarcely noticed the flying world without. 
 Glancing now though her window, she saw that the town 
 had been left and they were on a long, tree-lined avenue 
 that suggested Hobbaema, where villas, surrounded by 
 many-colored gardens, alternated with copses of small 
 trees. The houses flashed by at longer intervals. The 
 little forests, blurred in their own green, and beginning to 
 darken under the gathering blackness of clouds, seemed 
 all at once to converge. The road grew narrow and had 
 sharper turnings. Few other vehicles passed them. 
 
 In the limousine no further words had been spoken. 
 The atmosphere was charged and tingh'ng with dynamics 
 deliberately suppressed. The girl wondered nervously at 
 their reticence. She longed to have the ordeal over. 
 Perhaps they had selected some sylvan road-house or 
 "Pavilion" where Martel's slow eloquence might have a 
 more aesthetic setting. This conjecture appeared so 
 plausible that when the car began to slacken its hitherto 
 high speed she had no thought of menace. Her imagina- 
 tion had become a conscious boon. Until these two so 
 near and so strangely silent should see fit to begin their 
 odious invective, she could at least look out from her 
 own side of the car, feeling the actual scene as one is 
 subconscious of the background of a cinema play, while 
 all real interest follows the motions of the human actors. 
 For her the entire universe had become a film on which 
 memory threw a single figure.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 199 
 
 It was with the sensation of a sleeper awakened by a 
 sound already passed, yet of the instant, that she came 
 back to the present. The motor was almost at a stand 
 still, though the engines seemed to throb impatience 
 at the check. Donna got quickly to her feet. Martel 
 flung back the door with his left hand. Ariadne, spring- 
 ing up, moved toward it. Mrs. Martel was on the step. 
 Martel, with a single, powerful, backward sweep of his 
 right arm, flung the girl down to her seat. The machine 
 bounded forward as if a spur had pricked it. A cry came 
 from Donna. She had fallen heavily. Neither Martel 
 nor the driver seemed to hear. The car raced on with 
 the left door banging. Ariadne, with one low, terrible 
 cry, hurled herself upon Martel and fought for her life. 
 
 Still in a nightmare clutch the girl struggled. Martel's 
 arms were around her. With his weight he dragged her 
 to him. The car swayed. The driver, leaning far to the 
 left, caught at the door with his hand and slammed it. 
 
 The two pent figures, locked in a silent, hideous com- 
 bat, swayed with the flying car. Now on her feet, now 
 flung from side to side again, half -escaped and one 
 arm free, the girl fought furiously. The car was a meteor 
 in space and no road was under it, no arching sky above. 
 It was a thing detached, a missile demon-spent through 
 shadows ; only it swerved a little, now to one side and 
 then to the other. And the locked figures, too, wavered 
 back and forth. There were moments when the girl's 
 slim strength would seem victorious. No jungle beast 
 at bay ever struggled more fiercely. The other, that 
 deadly, dangerous Thing that clung about her, struggled 
 not at all. His object was to tire, to gain his victory by 
 an inertia as desperate and far more potent than her own 
 primitive defense. She realized defeat, but fought on 
 silently. To hurl herself from the car, even through
 
 200 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 shattered glass, was her one passionate wish. She man- 
 aged to free one hand and reach behind her for the open- 
 ing lever of the door. It might have been the handle of 
 Siegmund's sword in the oak. There was one chance yet. 
 
 "Driver! Chauffeur!" she screamed, beating with 
 her body against the window-frame. The man in front 
 pushed back his cap, removed the great goggles, and 
 looked around at her. And now indeed the fear of death, 
 and worse than death, gripped Ariadne's soul, for it was 
 Francois' face peering horribly through the glass. 
 
 She sank back helplessly to the cushioned seat. 
 Martel, releasing her, also sat upright. He rearranged 
 his cuffs, bestowing special care upon the small watch- 
 bracelet which had gone awry, and laughed softly. 
 Ariadne leaned back, waiting until the faintness and the 
 long, shuddering sobs of exhaustion should have passed. 
 
 Not once did her eyes close. She sat staring, trying 
 desperately to think, trying to find something she could 
 say to such a man. 
 
 Martel took out his cigarette case. All of his old ease 
 and languor had returned; but Ariadne knew the 
 crouching jaguar within him. 
 
 "Mr. Martel?" she said to him at length. 
 
 "Yes, my dear." 
 
 "Why have you done a thing like this ?" 
 
 No answer. He was busy with a match, but at the 
 moment of lighting, the girl saw the swift, sidewise flash 
 of his look and the twitch of prehensile fingers. 
 
 "I'm not going to try it again ; I see that it's useless." 
 
 "Now you are talking like a rational being." 
 
 "If you have brought me here, if you have taken the 
 trouble to plan all this just to force me into listening to 
 what you wish to say of Mr. Carr, I will listen quietly. 
 I will try to think it is as Madonna says that you
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 201 
 
 mean it kindly only let us speak and hurry back to 
 Madonna. She fell and may have hurt herself in getting 
 out." 
 
 Martel seemed pleased. "That's very nice of you. 
 But my er plans, as you call them, now include 
 more than mere conversation, even on so delightful a 
 theme." 
 
 "Where are you taking me? What did you tell 
 Madonna to make her willing to leave me?" 
 
 He leaned his dark, shiny head against the cushions. 
 They had passed from woods into an open road. Though 
 clouds were gathering, there was still clear daylight. 
 The speeding car was filled with it. 
 
 "Two questions at one breath ! You seldom are so 
 generous, my Ariadne. As to my answers, I prefer that 
 you should wait and see where I am taking you. Why 
 dull the edge of a pleasant surprise ?" 
 
 He paused and flecked the ash from his cigarette. 
 Part of it blew across Ariadne, dusting the dark blue of 
 her skirt. 
 
 "A thousand pardons !" he murmured, and taking a 
 handkerchief from his cuff, brushed it delicately. Ariadne 
 forced herself to be still. She said nothing more, and 
 after a pause, Martel went on : 
 
 "Yes there was the second question one concern- 
 ing our dear Madonna. This scarcely needs an answer, 
 I should say. You have only to recall her trustfulness, 
 one of those charming attributes of youth, and though 
 this may seem boasting, her entire devotion to my 
 unworthy self." 
 
 This time her shudder of loathing was harder to con- 
 ceal. He had her at his mercy. She would have to 
 listen, no matter what he said. But even his venom 
 must wear itself away soon. He would not keep Donna
 
 202 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 long waiting at the roadside, especially when the pre- 
 dicted storm was threatening to break at any moment. 
 
 The car slowed in pace somewhat. The man did not 
 move closer, but she knew by instinct that his vigilance 
 had increased. A few houses flew past them. The open 
 square, a small settlement, with a church facing it ; 
 canal bridges, and a few boats, all flashing by as in the 
 twirl of a mirror. Then again an open road and a green 
 blur of endless marshes. No possible help could have 
 come to her in the little village. Ariadne had often 
 heard of the sullen hatred cherished by these provincial 
 Dutch communities toward all English-speaking peoples. 
 To them Americans and Britons were the same. The 
 Boer losses in South Africa had been real to many of 
 these toylike homes. Yet, when the village was behind 
 them and the speed of the car increased, she felt an 
 added sense of hopelessness. 
 
 If the sleek silent creature would only talk and be 
 through with it. If only he would not smile. Desper- 
 ately she turned to him. 
 
 "If you have nothing more to say to me, let us turn 
 back before the storm comes. We can't leave Madonna 
 in the wood much longer and I I am horribly 
 afraid of lightning." 
 
 " So feminine ? " he said, lifting his brows. " I must try 
 to find you a shelter." 
 
 "On this endless marsh?" she exclaimed. "We've 
 passed the last house toward the sea, I know. Please, 
 please let us turn back now." 
 
 She knew her pleading voice was honey to his oft- 
 wounded vanity. She hated her own words as they 
 came, but some way must be found to reach him. 
 
 He made no answer. She did not dare to look at his 
 face.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 203 
 
 "At least then," she broke out more vehemently, "let 
 me know just what you want of me, so we can under- 
 stand each other." 
 
 "All in good season, my dear girl. One does not sip a 
 vintage as the Dutch swallow the milk of their cows." 
 
 "If by a vintage you mean my distress and humilia- 
 tion, surely you have it now," said the girl. 
 
 "Yes ? But that is such a little part of what I mean," 
 he murmured. "Be patient, girlie, one loses much in 
 taking a new experience too quickly." 
 
 "What what do you mean by a new experi- 
 ence?" she faltered. At the shrinking horror in her 
 eyes, he smiled. 
 
 "I believe you begin to know, my ice-maiden." 
 
 Suddenly she struck with all her might upon the pane. 
 A long diagonal of light showed in the glass and stayed 
 there. Martel flung down his cigarette and caught her. 
 
 "I've been watching for that," he said, but very 
 quietly. "Now I shall have to hold this fierce little 
 hand. Just think how you might have disfigured it." 
 He bent above it tenderly, but the girl, with a low cry of 
 disgust, caught it away. 
 
 "Are we to have another contest at jiu-jitsu, then?" 
 
 For one terrifying moment she thought that uncon- 
 sciousness was coming. This she must ward off, what- 
 ever the cost. She sat forward, gasping. When her 
 brain cleared, Martel had both her hands in his, and was 
 looking down upon her. 
 
 "Dear little frightened bird," he murmured, "to- 
 morrow at this time she'll be quite tame." 
 
 "Don't dare to say such things to me ! Don't hint 
 at such hideous impossibilities !" 
 
 "Impossibilities?" Again the arched eyebrows. 
 "My child, I speak of certainties."
 
 204 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "You know the life I've lived the sort of girl I am," 
 said Ariadne, speaking now very quickly. "No one 
 could think it a happy life, but no evil has come into it, 
 except that which must always be near you." 
 
 "I wouldn't say things like that, Ariadne." 
 
 "The courtships and happy love affairs of other girls 
 could not come to me. I realized it and tried not to wish 
 for happiness. I knew I was bound to my stepmother. 
 No self-respecting man no man that I would care to 
 marry would be willing to throw in his lot with mine 
 to follow where you chose to lead to sit by quietly 
 and listen to you while you sneer at and ridicule the 
 woman who clothes and feeds you." 
 
 "Take care !" he said hi a lower voice. 
 
 "Oh, I'm not saying all this to sting you, Mr. Martel ! 
 I have no wish to hurt even a thing like you. I am only 
 speaking to you for the first time in my life of my own 
 lot my own hidden sadnesses. I have relinquished, 
 for your sake and your wife's, all that goes to personal 
 happiness, and because I have had to keep my mind from 
 such things, I am perhaps more unworldly, more ignorant, 
 than many who are younger " 
 
 "Don't you suppose I know that?" he put in, almost 
 roughly for him. 
 
 "But some facts of life even I must know, and one 
 is " She faltered, and the strained whiteness of her 
 face changed to a flaming scarlet and went white again. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "That that it is in a man's power to do a girl so 
 terrible a wrong that Death would be a sacred gift com- 
 pared with it such a wrong that no girl, touched by it, 
 could go on living for an hour." 
 
 "I am surprised !" Martel murmured. 
 
 She would not let his mockery deter her. It was the
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 205 
 
 girl's soul that poured from her parted lips. She turned 
 now, looking full in his handsome, evil eyes. The touch 
 of artist in the man made him see for an instant the face 
 of a young angel, newly-stationed at the gates of Paradise. 
 He had been reared a Catholic, and all that was real in 
 him cringed, in that moment, before a virgin's shrine. 
 Perhaps, if the girl had not been so beautiful when 
 pleading 
 
 "I do not think you capable of such infamy, Mr. 
 Martel. I am, through chance, under your protection. 
 I have no father or mother. Don't think I believe for a 
 moment such a thing of you. Only your way of 
 speaking the hints you have been giving it is only 
 to frighten me, I know. Just tell me what it is you want, 
 and take me back. Oh, Mr. Martel, take me back now 
 now, at once, to the wife who loves us both." 
 
 The man's face had been changing. He had listened 
 at first with lowered eyes, but now the mention of his 
 wife's name seemed to madden him. 
 
 He gave an exclamation which the girl had never heard 
 before, some strange foreign oath, and laughed, snapping 
 his fingers. 
 
 "To my wife, with her soothing voice and multiple 
 caresses. 'Connie'!" How exquisite the intonation. 
 "Back ! To throw you in the arms of that American ! 
 It's not all ice and snow and virginal ignorance ! I had 
 sworn to be the first man that should touch you. I have 
 been famished for that first kiss on lips so long withheld. 
 He cheated me. You think you love him. Perhaps 
 you've not admitted it to your chaste thoughts, but in 
 time you would find a way to go to him. But my chance 
 is here now. I will not lose it, not if I burn in Hell flame 
 after. You ask what I intend. Well, you shall have it. 
 We'll not go back for Donna ; she can get home. We will
 
 206 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 not see the Hague until to-morrow. What ! no screams 
 
 no protestations ! And when we do go back" his 
 voice sank lower, excitement vanished from his face, and 
 Ms lids narrowed as each word sent in its fang "the 
 last face you will wish to see will be that of your lover." 
 
 Yes, she had it now, and no cries came. A blessed 
 dullness crept across her mind, a mist hiding the black- 
 ness of the chasm. She lifted her hand and pushed the 
 heavy hair back from her forehead. How sweet the air 
 was growing ! How cool and beautiful a thought was 
 Death. "He leadeth me beside the still waters; He 
 restoreth my soul," a voice in her heart was saying. 
 Yes, the young mother would surely come in such an 
 hour. 
 
 The blessed mists rose higher. They, too, were cool. 
 A look of exaltation shone in the girl's upturned face. 
 Martel muttered something and turned away. 
 
 And then there was Randy, who loved her and whom 
 she had once so dearly loved. "Randy, my dear, my 
 dearest !" her heart whispered. This was a cry of life 
 
 of longing ; no need for young love now ; and under 
 it all above within came the still, spirit voice : 
 "Yes, though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
 of death - 
 
 The car sped on; just here there were ruts and the 
 fret of stones. Ariadne was oblivious to the motion. 
 She no longer counted the minutes. Soon time for her 
 would be at an end. Let the dull mists creep higher. 
 The blurring of all senses was a more abiding peace. 
 
 The dark shape beside her did not speak again. For 
 the moment it, too, dissolved into oblivion. The some- 
 thing that was herself, that essence, that intelligence, 
 seemed somewhere far away, a crystal, still unshattered, 
 held in the outstretched hand of death.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 207 
 
 The car once more slackened its speed. The shape 
 near her stirred and said "At last ! " A few dark cottages 
 appeared. There were forms outside that wore strange 
 faces, or were they masks ? Life grinned at her from the 
 hollow sockets; this world was still at hand, then, or 
 rather this grim shard of a world. 
 
 The motor crept on slowly, panting and whimpering 
 like an exhausted animal. Several of the human figures 
 outside began to keep slouching pace with it. The 
 scrape and clatter of wooden shoes fell into rhythm with 
 the shuddering car. From the sky came a dull volley 
 of thunder, and a few great raindrops slanted across the 
 windows of the limousine. 
 
 The last house of the small fishing hamlet had appar- 
 ently been passed, but the shivering car continued on. 
 Then just beside an isolated hut, with a roof so broad 
 and low that the corner eaves bent down to peer in at the 
 stranger, the car stopped. The wooden shoes stopped 
 also instantly. The small house faced the sea. Ariadne, 
 at her side of the car, could have reached up and broken 
 off a gingerbread tile as did the children to the witch's 
 house. Her situation was as fantastic, as unreal, but 
 here was underlying tragedy a part of fundamental 
 evil. 
 
 Francois was beating his cramped hands together. 
 He might have been at the Doelen entrance. In the 
 same ordinary manner Martel, looking up to the sky, 
 answered : 
 
 "Yes, it will be the devil of a downpour, but the car 
 will have to take it." 
 
 Francois came closer and asked something, sending, 
 as he did so, a quick look toward the girl. MartePs 
 reply was not lowered. 
 
 "Of course you must sleep in it. You can manage for
 
 208 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 one night. I wouldn't trust these Dutch pirates with it 
 a minute, unless you kept watch." 
 
 The fishermen stood about now in a silent ring. 
 Except for the fact of being there at all, they seemed to 
 feel no interest. Their faces were apathetic, their eyes 
 dull. A few women joined them ; one held an infant in 
 her arms. 
 
 Martel, scowling, said to Francois: "Can't we send 
 them away?" 
 
 "Better not, sir. You see they are not friendly. We 
 must keep to the line you said." 
 
 "I suppose you're right. Then go ahead and open the 
 house." 
 
 As Francois left, his master, coming to the left side of 
 the car, held out his hand. 
 
 "Come, Ariadne, we don't go farther than this." 
 
 She did not move. 
 
 "You might as well come, you know." 
 
 Still she sat, her hands clutching the seat. 
 
 "If you think that by resisting and trying to make a 
 scene, these Dutch fools will help you, I assure you they 
 won't. They think we're English, and they hate us." 
 
 The girl turned a little, sending her hunted eyes from 
 one face to another. Martel was right. The one legible 
 expression was that of a sullen dislike. There was an old 
 man there on the edge with thick, gray hair, Dutch-cut 
 under a green cap. His face suggested a touch of human 
 kindness. 
 
 All this time she had not moved or looked at Martel. 
 He stood upright now and said rather wearily : 
 
 "It simply means that Francois and I will have to 
 drag you out." Turning toward the house he called: 
 "Francois !" 
 
 "Coming, sir."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 209 
 
 "I will get out/' said the girl. 
 
 She stood now in the muddy street. The rain fell 
 steadily. None of the stolid Dutch seemed aware of it. 
 
 "This way to the house, Ariadne," said Martel. 
 She broke away from him, running to the old man with 
 gray hair. 
 
 "Oh, help me, help me !" she said to him, holding her 
 hands in the attitude of prayer, trying to throw her 
 agony of supplication into her face and eyes. The old 
 man stepped backward. She followed him. Surely it 
 was a gleam of human pity that she saw. Francois 
 said a few words in clear Dutch. The woman carrying 
 the baby edged her way through the crowd. Ariadne, 
 with a cry, would have gone up to her, but a young fisher- 
 man, thrusting the woman back, stood before her in an 
 attitude of protection. The old man touched his fore- 
 head, shook his head, and looked around at his com- 
 panions. 
 
 Ariadne understood. The villagers had been told that 
 she was insane, possibly dangerous, and had been brought 
 here to save her from a common madhouse. 
 
 Martel, who had stood aside, now approached, taking 
 her right arm. She resisted no further. Francois came 
 close to her on the left, and the three moved toward the 
 door of the house. 
 
 The first effect was of a forgotten crypt under a church. 
 The close, damp smell was that of stone. Four candles 
 burned on a ledge opposite. If there were windows, 
 they had been closed against all possibility of light and 
 air. 
 
 "Not very suitable for a lady's boudoir, I'll admit," 
 said Martel. "But there is a little furniture, when your 
 eyes get accustomed to the darkness. We're to have 
 supper in another room. Have this chair, won't you?"
 
 210 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 He reached out in the darkness and drew one up. As 
 Ariadne took it, he went back to the door and began to 
 fasten it with bolts. There was one other door. This 
 stood in the center of the long, plain wall to the left and 
 led into the room where Martel said they were to have 
 supper. Francois could be heard moving about in there. 
 
 A lash of rain drove against the tiled roof, and thunder 
 shook the earth in which the cottage was implanted 
 rather than on which it was built, for the floor was earth- 
 hardened and beaten down by generations of human 
 service, and the thick walls were of cement. Gradually, 
 hi the yellow candlelight, Ariadne could make out the 
 setting of her prison chamber, not that she looked con- 
 sciously or realized that this could form part of memory. 
 
 She was more alive than she had been since Martel 
 disclosed his intention in the limousine ; those other 
 human things with their hostile faces had shattered her 
 mists. Always, now x her mind moved, writhing and 
 turning under its blinding net of fear, trying for a 
 weakened strand or the loose end of a possibility. Per- 
 haps even in this rigid cell there would be a cranny of 
 escape. The sea was close. She might manage to reach 
 it in the night. At least there might be something here 
 to use as a weapon. 
 
 The four candles were set in their own grease upon a 
 blunt jut of cement over a fireplace long unused. The 
 place had been recently cleaned, and the old bricks of the 
 hearth reddened. No fire-irons had been left not 
 even the hook from which a kettle once swung. Around 
 two sides of the wall, up quite close to the cemented 
 ceiling, there was another narrow ledge once used for 
 plaques and jugs. She could see dimly the white circles 
 on the wall against which the plates had leaned. 
 
 There were three tiny windows with no glass, only the
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 211 
 
 heavy, single shutters, battened tightly, apparently from 
 without. For furniture there was the thick, wooden 
 chair on which she sat, two others like it, a small, wooden 
 table, and in one corner a large bed, or rather an emor- 
 mous low divan, spread smoothly but with no pillows. 
 The entrance door was behind her. 
 
 Martel, having completed the fastenings, came slowly 
 back, sank into another chair, and lighted a cigarette, 
 His face had grown almost somber. In the silence, 
 Ariadne heard some one fumbling at the bolts outside 
 the door. For an instant the hope, so nearly dead, grew 
 vivid. 
 
 "It is only Frangois," murmured her companion. 
 
 He had lost, it would seem, his late desire to taunt 
 and mock at her. Had she looked at him, she would 
 have seen that he had grown pale, and that his eyes 
 were tired; but it was merely the languor following 
 the achievement of a preliminary success. He was 
 pleased that he could allow himself an utter relaxation. 
 Things were going exactly as he wished and, besides, 
 there was so much time. At last he stirred. 
 
 "How it is pouring!" he remarked casually. "All 
 those wooden Dutchmen are safe in their hovels now, 
 you may be sure." After a while he added, glancing 
 round the room : "And there are no houses that can be 
 shut quite so securely." Even in this there was no sneer 
 in his voice. He had merely made a statement. 
 
 A terrific crash, following what must have been a close 
 lightning stroke, shook the earthen floor under them. 
 No hint of the glare had penetrated. 
 
 "Beastly stuffy place this," said the man. "Frangois 
 will have us a fire in the next room." 
 
 "Mr. Martel," the girl began, "there is something 
 else I want to say to you."
 
 212 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "lam listening." 
 
 "You know, of course, the unusual conditions of my 
 father's will?" 
 
 "Only what I have been told by his widow." 
 
 "In order to make it certain that I should never give 
 up Madonna, it was arranged that she would be left 
 penniless should I desert her." 
 
 "Oh, yes, that part of it. Doubtless it is also known 
 to your friend the American." 
 
 "Randolph? Of course; he drew up the will." 
 
 Martel was taken aback. Then suddenly he gave the 
 laugh that the girl hated. 
 
 "There is something I wish to suggest a compro- 
 mise," she went on. 
 
 "Kindly look at me sometimes when you speak, 
 Ariadne. Ah ! you can't. Is it hate only or perhaps 
 the dawn of a certain tenderness? Well, never mind, 
 that will come. A compromise, you say? My dear 
 girl, I will listen. It is very pleasant to hear your 
 Southern voice ; but really, if I may say it, I do not think 
 you have the material for a compromise." 
 
 "Take me back to the Hague now," she went on, as 
 if he had not spoken. 
 
 "Trust you in such a storm as this when, too, you 
 are so horribly afraid of lightning?" 
 
 "You know well how gladly I would walk the distance, 
 Mr. Martel. But please let me finish." 
 
 " Oh, yes terms of surrender ; I mean pardon 
 of compromise." 
 
 "When I get to the Hague, I will not go to the Doelen 
 at all, but to another hotel." 
 
 He raised his eyebrows. 
 
 " I will write at once a letter to Madonna, stating that 
 I have left her that I deliberately break my word to 
 my father "
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 213 
 
 "I believe I begin to see. You are more resourceful 
 than I thought!" 
 
 "I will make it such a letter that even Judge Henry 
 cannot act otherwise than carry out the conditions 
 which such a step will demand. The money will come 
 to me, and I pledge myself to make it yours, legally, 
 at once." 
 
 The man said nothing. He was watching her with 
 cool amusement, mingled with aesthetic satisfaction. 
 Now, in this last appeal, she was pleading with her deep 
 eyes, too. 
 
 "It is a great deal of money, Mr. Martel. Judge 
 Henry will not keep a penny back. It is growing more 
 every minute. Oh ! let me do this ; let this satisfy you." 
 
 "So you think that money is everything I want?" 
 
 "Not money, but the luxuries the way of life it 
 brings. You'll be so very, very rich. Oh ! say you'll 
 let me do it." 
 
 MartePs lids narrowed. "I believe in money. You 
 make no mistake there. I've had it for years, and in- 
 tend always to have it. Perhaps, a little later on, I 
 will let you carry out this pretty plan, but, my Ariadne, 
 there are other things I want as well as money, and I 
 intend to have them, too." 
 
 She sat silent, staring into the empty fireplace. The 
 man wondered at her composure. Her next words were 
 those of her inward thoughts, rather than a direct address 
 to him : 
 
 "I suppose a man like you can really believe a girl 
 would consent to go on living." She threw her head 
 back, and for an instant put one hand to her throat. 
 He thought she was going to faint and half rose to spring 
 toward her, but she motioned him back. 
 
 A low knocking came to the room door at the left.
 
 214 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 This time Ariadne did not need to be told it was "only 
 Francois. " She heard him say : 
 
 "Supper is ready, sir." 
 
 Martel rose with unusual quickness. "As our repast 
 is served, you might as well come in. I think we both 
 need it." 
 
 She looked full scorn at him and was beginning : " And 
 you can think " when suddenly a thought came. If 
 there is food, there will be knives and forks, breakable 
 dishes, glasses, too, for the inevitable champagne. 
 
 "Perhaps I had better," she murmured, and started 
 with him toward the door. 
 
 Martel's dark eyes were luminous with suppressed 
 laughter. "It's a very primitive little feast I have to 
 offer you, my dear ; only sandwiches though many 
 varieties of them some Dutch cheese already sliced, 
 an assortment of cakes and fruit all conveyed hither 
 in pasteboard boxes. There is champagne, of course. 
 This compensates for other crudities though even the 
 wine may have a queer taste from pewter." 
 
 She stopped short ; he had even planned for this ! Not 
 one faggot heaped about the stake had been overlooked. 
 
 "I will not come," she said. 
 
 "As you please, ma belle, though I regret it." 
 
 He opened the door, showing a smaller room, bright 
 and cheerful in a flicker of firelight, with many candles 
 set about and burning. The repast was as he described, 
 though a snowy tablecloth gave a somewhat civilized 
 air. Francois stood beside a chair, holding a champagne 
 bottle. 
 
 The crude door of wood was carefully thrown back 
 against the inner wall. At a signal from Martel, Fran- 
 c.ois changed his place and came nearer the door. Martel 
 exactly faced it.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 215 
 
 The girl went first to the main entrance door, examin- 
 ing the bars. There were two of these square beams 
 let down into rusty supports. Even if she managed 
 to lift them, there were other bolts outside. Those 
 conspirators in the next room could leave her safely here. 
 
 She heard them talking together not as master and 
 servant, but as the accomplices they were, relishing some 
 recent achievement. 
 
 She leaned against the door, pressing one cheek to it. 
 Only a few inches of wood between her and the storm 
 outside. Once free, she believed she might succeed in 
 hiding. If she were only able to reach the marshes, she 
 could bury herself deep among the muddy stems, and in 
 such wind-swept darkness surely by this time night 
 had come ! even make her way a few .miles toward 
 the Hague. After all, wood was not an indestructible 
 material. She looked around quickly toward the shelf 
 where the four candles stood. They were only half 
 burned away. 
 
 If she could hide one under her coat until she regained 
 the door, and then leave the flame against a panel, 
 there was just a chance of its igniting. If this could be 
 accomplished, she would go into the next room, pretend- 
 ing to eat and drink with Martel and perhaps keep his 
 attention for a while. She was turning to get the 
 candle when an unusually powerful gust of wind hurled, 
 as it would seem, a solid sheet of water against the 
 house. A slow stream stole in under the door, writhing 
 serpent-wise across the earthen floor. What chance 
 would a candle-flame hold against such elemental fury ? 
 There was no use trying; not one possibility was left. 
 Yet something must be thought of. Her small motor- 
 bonnet was tied under the chin with blue ribbons. She 
 took it off, tore away the streamers as quietly as she
 
 216 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 could, knotted the ends of them, and lying down against 
 the wall, wrapped them round her throat, pulling the two 
 ends fiercely. Before the strangulation disabled her, she 
 had succeeded in tying the ends in a knot. 
 
 Through the ensuing agony her fast-ebbing conscious- 
 ness was a prayer: "Oh, Father in Heaven, this is my 
 only chance. Let it succeed don't let them hear 
 keep me from groans physical suffering, that means so 
 little now only don't let me fail." 
 
 After a week a year of dumb struggling she 
 felt a sudden relaxing of the iron thing that bound her 
 throat. She was lying softly was it her own little 
 bed at the Doelen ? An arm was around her, and some 
 one held a cup to her lips, whispering : "Drink." 
 
 She drank obediently. There was a strange odor in 
 the place. Far away, as at the end of a long passage, 
 shone four great stars. The dark form a man 
 moved now between her and the stars. The man came 
 nearer, looking past her to the some one who had made 
 her drink. 
 
 "Is she coming round all right, sir?" 
 
 Ariadne dashed down the pewter mug and managed 
 to stand up. She reeled, and Martel sprang toward her, 
 but she shrieked : "No, no !" and staggered to the wall, 
 where she leaned heavily. 
 
 Martel stood still and looked at her ; she felt the malig- 
 nant anger of his eyes. He gathered up the ribbon, 
 twisted it into a ball, and threw it in her face. 
 
 "Another bottle, Francois," he said, and went into 
 the next room. 
 
 There had not been from the first a possibility of his 
 faltering; but Ariadne knew that had the spark of 
 generosity existed, this last attempt of hers would have 
 extinguished it.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 217 
 
 He and Francois ceased to talk. She forced herself 
 to look at him. He was leaning back in the half-turned, 
 languid manner he affected. His face was dark and 
 brooding, and his eyes fixed upon the table. He lifted 
 the pewter, draining it, and held it out toward Francois 
 to be refilled. On his little finger the ruby that 
 Madonna had given him the ruby bought with 
 her father's money hung like a drop of blood partly 
 congealed. 
 
 A sickening tremor took possession of the girl. She 
 could not stand, but in sinking she kept one outstretched 
 arm against the wall to prevent her body from plunging 
 forward. She reached her knees and remained there, 
 still leaning against the wall. She was directly in line 
 of vision for Martel. If he had noticed the partial col- 
 lapse, he gave no sign. Somehow she no longer cared. 
 The fierce reality of the horror which she faced scorched 
 into nothingness more delicate sensibilities. She began 
 to cry softly, rocking herself to and fro. She could not 
 have thought any alleviation possible in such a pass, 
 but the tears were merciful. Through them she felt 
 less like the hunted animal at bay. She was a girl 
 no jungle beast a girl, friendless but for one lover 
 who could not save her, and forsaken by the God to 
 whom she had prayed. She had heard of people who 
 did not believe in God. Perhaps they, too, had faced 
 some dreadful tragedy and had prayed to Him, finding 
 no help. 
 
 "Oh, Randy! my lover! my dear, dear love! If 
 you could know, if you could hear me calling you. 
 I know you could save me yet. Randolph ! It is 
 Ariadne calling. You heard me once; can't you hear 
 me now? Oh, Randy, Randy!" 
 
 The sound of Martel's chair being pushed back stung
 
 218 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 her into watchfulness again. He had finished drinking. 
 Francois was getting ready to go. 
 
 "Sure you have enough rugs ?" Martel asked him. 
 
 "Plenty, with my big coat, sir." 
 
 "You ought to have something to throw over you to 
 keep off the rain. Here, take the tablecloth, it will be 
 better than nothing. Put some of these sandwiches in 
 your pocket for the early morning. And remember, 
 the car broke down, and it was impossible to fix it without 
 a garage in such a storm. We were forced to take 
 shelter in this cottage for the night." 
 
 "You can trust me, sir." 
 
 Martel went to the door with him. 
 
 "Be sure you bolt it firmly from outside. You can 
 unbolt it any time you happen to get up to-morrow 
 just so it is after daybreak." 
 
 Frangois said something in a low voice. Martel 
 laughed. 
 
 Now he was gathering up the candles, blowing them 
 out and placing them back on their sides. Two of the 
 lighted ones he held above his head. He stood in the 
 doorway a moment with them, darkness behind him, 
 and the yellow, flickering light on his beautiful, evil face. 
 
 Ariadne gave a single look and turned to the wall, 
 shivering. Martel, with his slow, soft e.tep, carried the 
 two candles to the mantel, adding them to the four now 
 very nearly burned away. When they were arranged 
 symmetrically, he carefully took off a drop of the melted 
 wax that had fallen on the back of his lifted hand, wiped 
 the spot with his scented handkerchief, and then, turning, 
 looked at the cowering figure for a long moment. Then 
 he moved quickly. At her side he paused again. 
 
 The girl fell forward, with her cheek upon the earth. 
 He stooped to lift her.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 WHEN the great limousine had vanished from the Tour- 
 nooiveld, passing out at a far corner through a street 
 so narrow that the enormous rubber tires seemed to have 
 mounted, as a track, the opposing pavements, the little 
 portier relaxed, at last, his attitude of rigid watchfulness. 
 
 He raised two pudgy fingers to his forehead, moving 
 them crosswise in an absent-minded fashion. His 
 face had lost its excitement. What it showed now was 
 merely troubled thought, impinging on a sort of resigned 
 hopelessness. Old Machem was, as usual, beside him. 
 He had stood so long that she finally stretched herself 
 full length on the sun-warmed bricks and lay with eyes 
 contentedly closed. 
 
 Now her head lifted. The master had spoken, but it 
 was to Peetje, demanding that a chair be brought. 
 Into this the old man lowered himself stiffly, as if, all 
 at once, he had become infirm. The sun slid under the 
 accumulating banks of clouds. A low wind, with a tang 
 of salt and penetrating dampness, stole in from the sea. 
 Machem shivered and made a concave of warmth about 
 her master's feet. 
 
 He did not notice her. His elbows rested heavily on 
 the wicker arms of the chair, and his gray locks drooped 
 forward until only the old dog, looking upward, could 
 see his face. "Had the young monsieur but told me 
 where he was to go ! " the portier was thinking. To 
 himself he had become a species of droll fairy-godfather
 
 220 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 to the vivid and lovable young Americans. He had seen 
 much, this gray old portier. He had become, uncon- 
 sciously, a keen judge of character and of human condi- 
 tions. Friends he had in all parts of the inhabited world. 
 But never before had he known a stranger who so en- 
 chained his interest and affection as had " Mees Skeep- 
 vitt." 
 
 It was not only her beauty and gentleness, or the ease 
 with which she had won shy little Betje's heart. There 
 was an intangible something about her, a pathos, a 
 golden aloofness, as it were, that made him see her 
 through Betje's eyes as a true Fairy Princess held by 
 sinister enchantment, until her Fairy Prince should 
 come. 
 
 Only three days ago deliverance and happiness-ever- 
 after seemed so close to her ! Surely the tall American 
 was her true lover. Her happy eyes confessed it. The 
 queer, alien godfather had even borne his part in the 
 awakening of love. Then, all at once, the prince had 
 gone, and evil again encompassed her. 
 
 If only there were something to be done ! But, 
 fairy godfather though he called himself, he was as 
 impotent and perhaps more ignorant than the white dog 
 at his feet. 
 
 Under the stress of these gloomy cogitations the 
 portier, breaking a self-established rule which had been 
 maintained for more years than Ariadne had been on 
 earth, produced and lighted an afternoon cigar. His 
 next, the third and last for that day, should have been 
 just before bedtime. 
 
 The contraband luxury soothed him. The very fact 
 of his delinquency was stimulating, and his Dutch 
 equanimity increased with each deep-drawn puff. 
 He was a foolish old man, perhaps, to have such fears
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 221 
 
 for Mees Skipvitt. After all, the fat stepmother was 
 in the car ! And why should not the husband, Monsieur 
 Martel, have seen and joined his ladies midway across 
 the Tournooiveld ? There was nothing strange or 
 threatening in that. Yet what of the slouching, 
 masked chauffeur, recognized as Francois, and the face 
 of Miss Skeepvitt pressed in white terror against the 
 closed car-window. Why did the mask reach out and 
 lock that door ? 
 
 A great rumbling of heavy wheels and the thud of 
 horses' hoofs upon the brick pavement announced the 
 arrival of the station hotel omnibus. 
 
 The old man looked up quickly, half hoping that a 
 miracle might have brought the Virginian back. The 
 vehicle was empty except for the French maid of a lady 
 who was to follow by a later train. 
 
 On the high seat beside the driver was perched the 
 station porter and interpreter, a smiling young Swiss. 
 The words "Vieux Doelen Hotel" shone in gold across 
 his dark blue cap. This he had lifted to the portier, 
 when a thought made the old man give him an imperious 
 gesture to descend. 
 
 The interpreter obeyed, not altogether willingly, for the 
 portier had a sharp tongue for reproof ; also a keen Dutch 
 thrift in claiming his personal share of fees. For this 
 once his interrogations flowed into a very different 
 channel and were, in consequence, answered with an 
 equal readiness. "Oui, oui, ja, Mynheer," he assented 
 in a cheerful mixing of tongues. "Well I remember the 
 tall young sir of the brown face and white teeth. He 
 had no Dutch. I bought for him his railway ticket." 
 
 "Ja, the ticket. But what ticket. To which place." 
 
 "Only to Rotterdam, Mynheer." 
 
 " Good ! Did he inquire of you the best hotels ? "
 
 222 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "No, Mynheer." 
 
 The portier's face fell. "There are but few to which 
 Americans go," the old man murmured, and was slightly 
 comforted. This was already two days past, however. 
 The average tourist does not, as a usual thing, remain 
 long in the big, commercial city. His hands went up 
 among the thick bristles of his hair. 
 
 "The young sir did not appear such a one as hastens 
 off without paying his bills," ventured the Swiss sympa- 
 thetically. Thoughtfully he inserted two fingers into 
 the breast pocket of his uniform and kept them there 
 while, his head a little to one side, he watched the 
 portier shrewdly. "Perhaps, in that case- ' he had 
 begun, when the portier, as if having only then taken in 
 the meaning of his last remark, cried angrily : 
 
 "Run off with unpaid bills ! Who said it? He is a 
 most honorable monsieur. It is for something more 
 important than bills that I would find him." 
 
 The interpreter looked astonished and withdrew his 
 fingers. "I am rejoiced to hear. Yet, had he rudely 
 escaped, I should feel it my duty, in service to the Doelen, 
 to yield this check-claim for the trunk he left down at 
 the station." 
 
 The portier's troubled face grew bright. "His trunk ! 
 Then he is to return to us !" 
 
 "So he declared; perhaps to-morrow, Monday." 
 
 "Let me observe his ticket for myself," demanded the 
 portier and held out a trembling hand. The name Carr 
 was written plainly. 
 
 "This is good news, my lad. Enter the hotel and 
 demand coffee in my name, also patisserie. I will 
 now telephone to Rotterdam." 
 
 Trotting into his tiny den, a room so crowded with its 
 great desk, iron safe, and racks of pigeonholes that the
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 223 
 
 portier had to edge his way in between them, he finally 
 reached the telephone. 
 
 Each of the leading Rotterdam hotels was called in turn. 
 No such American had been registered. He thought 
 next of the business firms that represent interests in 
 foreign countries, but again met with disappointment. 
 The dauntless questioner had begun to consider the feasi- 
 bility of getting at all private citizens whose names 
 sounded either American or English when an inspiration 
 came. He rang sharply. "Long distance again. Yes, 
 the wire to Rotterdam. Get me the cable office." 
 
 "Line engaged !" 
 
 With a "tscht !" of annoyance he hung the receiver on 
 its prongs. 
 
 He could not sit still long. His brain, a little dulled 
 by routine, was stirred into unwonted activity. Sug- 
 gestions, possibilities crowded into it. 
 
 Returning to the telephone, he demanded the leading 
 garage of the Hague. Connection given, he poured forth 
 inquiries at such a speed that the servant who had 
 answered fled in search of the proprietor. 
 
 "It is I, Alex Brann, portier at the Vieux Doelen. I 
 inquire concerning a car, a large limousine, hired a short 
 while ago by one of our guests. It was black, with a 
 strange number, and a chauffeur unknown to any." 
 
 That large car? Yes, the garage had seen it. Less 
 than an hour before it had been brought for a new fill 
 of petrol. 
 
 Interrogation and reply exploded like Dutch fireworks 
 along the quivering wires. 
 
 The car was stained with mud. Evidently there had 
 been hard driving along remote roads. It was a powerful 
 engine, but not of the Hague. The garage knew every 
 car of that city. Most likely it had come from Rotter-
 
 224 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 dam. Yes, they had noted the strange driver, an ill- 
 mannered, taciturn knave, who could speak a little Dutch, 
 but badly very badly, like a Frenchman. He had 
 let fall a single fact, that he had just come from the 
 Black Village. He had seen a Dutch girl there " 
 
 "The Black Village !" stammered the portier, turning 
 cold. "Why should he go to that remote and dreadful 
 spot?" 
 
 This no one could answer, and the portier, after 
 quavering his thanks, sank down into the one chair. 
 
 "The Black Village !" He could hear nothing else 
 could not lead his frightened thoughts beyond that 
 sinister name. It was a small, squat group of dwellings 
 on the edge of the North Sea, noted for lawlessness and 
 shunned by all. What should a foreigner do there ? 
 
 He gave a low groan. Machem, outside the door, 
 whined piteously in answer, but he did not even hear. 
 "Madame is with her; there cannot be great menace 
 if the stepmother is near!" his half-numbed brain 
 assured him. The little den seemed closing. He must 
 breathe wider air. He got, almost reeling, from the 
 door, and went to the hotel entrance. 
 
 A taxicab had just drawn up. The driver, a man 
 known to them ah 1 , said something to the servants 
 that made two of them spring quickly toward the closed 
 door. Madame, the stepmother was within, alone, 
 and leaning back in a half-fainting condition. 
 
 Assistance was called, and the lady, hysterical with 
 pain and terror, conveyed to her chamber. 
 
 The portier's eyes were now alarmed and staring. He 
 flew back to his den and rang for the Rotterdam cable 
 office frantically. 
 
 This time he was successful. "Yes, such an American 
 had been much in the office. He had sent cables, many
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 225 
 
 of them, and answers had come. The last was at eleven 
 the night before. No, the clerk had no idea where he 
 was stopping. It was useless, in so large a city, to 
 attempt a search for him. Of course were it a village 
 like Den Haag " a laugh came, at which the portier, 
 projecting hideous sounds, stamped on the floor with 
 fury. 
 
 He disdained defense of the Hague, he spluttered, 
 oblivious of inconsistency, but just let him meet that 
 rude person face to face ! For the moment he had some- 
 thing else to think of. It was danger, a terrible danger ! 
 Messengers must be sent at once to all houses where 
 Americans or English were to be found. The name was 
 Carr, Monsieur Carr, yes, Carr, like a tram-car 
 or a motor. He must be told that the Doelen portier 
 desired him to return at once, 
 
 As the amazed listener appeared to hesitate, the 
 portier screamed at him : "Don't stand there gaping like 
 an empty cheese. This is a most frightful matter. 
 Money will be paid to you much money ! Go now 
 and seek this Monsieur Carr." 
 
 "But, Mynheer Brann," expostulated the telephone. 
 "How can it be ? I am a clerk here, a young and recent 
 clerk left for the first time in full charge and alone. 
 My superiors are all away from town on a half holiday." 
 
 "Being in charge you are your own superior, gosling !" 
 almost wept the old man. "Stay a moment. Is it 
 not possible that in the office Monsieur Carr has left 
 some house address?" 
 
 This the gosling could not say, as the office books had 
 been locked up. 
 
 "Take, then, an ax and break the locks. Or, if 
 necessary, discharge dynamite. I, Alex Brann, will 
 assume all consequences !"
 
 226 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 He sank back for a few moments of respite. After 
 a little he rose, and called in an ordinary voice for the 
 Hague garage. 
 
 "Is Big Jan Ryden at the stand?" 
 
 The servant did not know. He would inquire. 
 
 "Devils that eat us !" growled the portier. "No one 
 knows anything on this day !" 
 
 The long pause seemed never to be broken, but when 
 finally it was, Jan's own deep bellow answered him. 
 
 "Ah, it is you, Jan. Get the best car you can procure. 
 Is there one of six cylinders?" 
 
 Jan regretted that a four-cylinder car was the most 
 powerful car that could be procured at short notice. 
 
 "Select the best, and come to me here at/ once, my 
 son." 
 
 Now the portier took time to wipe his brow. Jan 
 was an army in himself, and few knew the surrounding 
 country so well. 
 
 The portier tapped his bell and ordered the answering 
 Peetje to fetch two large cups of coffee, steaming hot, 
 also sweet biscuits a large dish. "When the chauffeur 
 Jan arrives, conduct him to me here," the old man added. 
 
 Scarcely were the steaming cups upon the desk when 
 Big Jan drove up. Peetje ushered him den-wards, 
 wondering at every step how he could possibly get inside, 
 for Jan was a giant among his countrymen, a hillock of 
 a man, with the pink cheeks and innocent blue eyes of a 
 child. 
 
 Somehow he managed to enter, though he had to stoop 
 for it, and, greatly to Peetje's chagrin, could even close 
 the door. 
 
 Within there was indeed considerable difficulty to 
 find a place for him. The portier, whose resourcefulness 
 to-day appeared illimitable, contrived a seat for him
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 227 
 
 out of an inverted "Schnapps" box, thrust back between 
 the desk and a corner of the room. Into this nook 
 Jan squeezed himself by apprehensive inches, and when 
 the box checked him, sat with knees high in air and very 
 close together like some overgrown Peruvian mummy 
 suddenly revivified, who finds his sarcophagus too small. 
 The refreshment, pushed comfortably near, quickly 
 restored his cramped amiability. As the portier began 
 to talk, he listened with childish interest, sipping the 
 fragrant coffee, and devouring "Bisquoit" unceasingly. 
 For a time there was little for him to say besides "Ja,ja r 
 mynheer. Ik versta, mynheer." (I understand, sir.) 
 
 This kindly old man had always been his friend, and 
 Jan was very glad to serve him, but to the slow, 
 peasant mind, this excitement about an American girl 
 was droll. 
 
 "She is not English, Jan. Remember that, my son. 
 Not of the English who fought so unjustly in South 
 Africa and took away our possessions. The Americans 
 are greatly different. They live on the far side of the 
 earth from England. They are our friends yes. 
 And they give money freely." 
 
 Jan's eyes brightened, at which the wily portier, 
 lifting both hands palm down with the fingers closed, 
 suddenly opened them to release an imaginary shower 
 of gulden. 
 
 Jan gave an ecstatic cry of comprehension. Here at 
 last was a motive that he could understand. He had 
 begun to work himself upwards when the telephone's 
 sharp ring, a reverberating hailstorm on tin roofs in 
 these restricted quarters, sent him crashing back. The 
 box gave way with a single detonation. 
 
 Ignoring his guest's predicament, the portier, with the 
 receiver at his ear, again bombarded Rotterdam.
 
 228 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 " Speak louder!" he commanded. "You do but 
 jabber. Not so fast ! No word have I understood as 
 yet. Ah, Monsieur Can! " This with a gasp of as- 
 tonishment and joy. "Pardon, my ear was not bent 
 for the English, though I might have known. Yes, 
 Monsieur, you are needed. Come at once by the main 
 road. I will meet He heard the distant receiver 
 fall. The American had already started. 
 
 The portier chuckled. "It is he. It is monsieur in 
 person," he announced in rapture. As there was no 
 reply from Jan except a series of puffs and stertorian 
 breathing such as might issue from an entrapped walrus, 
 the little man turned. Two large, reproachful, blue eyes 
 were fixed on him from just beneath the desk-top. 
 
 "Ach, my poor lad. My poor, good Jan," he de- 
 plored, now all contrition. "I did not hear you fall. 
 You are not hurt?" he inquired anxiously. "You will 
 be able to drive the car?" 
 
 The prostrate giant, finally extricated, felt his huge 
 body all over before he assured the portier that he had 
 incurred no permanent injury. 
 
 It was at least twenty minutes before Randolph, 
 however swift his car, could possibly reach the end 
 of the main bridge leading from Rotterdam into the 
 Hague, but the portier could not restrain his impatience. 
 
 It was as well to be early, he explained to his com- 
 panion. Americans did most unexpected things. Mon- 
 sieur was as apt as not to come flying toward them in an 
 aeroplane. 
 
 Once stationed at the bridge, side by side at the front 
 of Jan's motor, not even the humblest of taxicabs got 
 past them. The old man, callous to the torrent of in- 
 dignation that each new outrage brought, shrugged as 
 the drivers cursed him and the passengers frowned, and
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 229 
 
 murmured to Big Jan: "Of a certainty it was not 
 monsieur, but I shall take no chances." 
 
 At last a long, low racer came toward them, blurring 
 the distant road. "Gott, that is he! That is the 
 American !" cried the portier, scrambling in his excite- 
 ment to Jan's very lap. "Ach, how to stop him ! He 
 will leap over us like a deer ! Can you drive a car like 
 that, Jan?" 
 
 "It is a madman driving," muttered the chauffeur. 
 
 "True, for it is the American. There is but one 
 figure in the car." 
 
 Breaking away from Jan and running into the very 
 center of the road, the portier danced back and forth, 
 his short arms waving, the steel of his gray hair threaten- 
 ing to snap out sparks. 
 
 Big Jan, following hastily, lifted the little man in his 
 arms. Although the kindly behemoth had thought 
 only of rescuing his patron, his bulk and deliberate 
 motions did what the portieres frantic gestures might 
 never have accomplished. Randolph, swearing audibly, 
 was compelled to slacken speed. The sound of his own 
 name, called out in an agony of vehemence, brought 
 him to a quivering standstill. 
 
 "Here here is de Beeg Jan!" chattered the 
 portier, as he dragged Jan to the front seat. "Take him 
 beside you. He is to be relied on. He knows de 
 way. Stop!" his voice rose to shriller command, for 
 the American, scarcely waiting until Jan had placed 
 his enormous foot upon the mud-guard, was about to 
 speed forward. 
 
 "Beeg Jan hass no Engleesh. I mus' explain, Mon- 
 sieur. Miss Skeepwitt is not dere, at the Doelen. 
 Dey took her away in a large car ; dey play de treek on 
 her!"
 
 230 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 It was hard to say which trembled the more violently, 
 young Carr, or the suddenly arrested engine. 
 
 "At first Madame went, but soon she return alone, 
 vid injury. Dey is going to de Black Village, de valet 
 Francois driving." 
 
 "You are sure he knows the way," asked Carr, speak- 
 ing for the first time, with a little nod toward Jan. 
 
 "Yes, yes it is for dat I employed him dat 
 and his great arms." 
 
 "I understand. Is there anything else I should be 
 told?" 
 
 "I t'ink not, Monsieur. Only may God be vid you 
 and vid dat lovely one." He stepped aside. 
 
 Randolph did not even thank him except by one deep 
 look. This the small portier was never to forget. 
 
 As the gray, crouching car skimmed past, the little 
 portier, watching for a moment, tottered to Jan's empty 
 taxicab. Leaning his head against the seat still warm 
 from the man's big body, he whispered: "Gott, let 
 dem be in time. Let dem save her, de young mademoi- 
 selle who is so kind to all." 
 
 In silence, with signs from Jan, the racer continued her 
 way in the direction of the North Sea, devouring the 
 road. About midway of the distance Jan made a gut- 
 tural sound and pointed to the left. As Randolph 
 swerved into the turning he nodded his blond head 
 and gave a satisfied "Ja." Soon they reached a little 
 forest. The gloom of the late afternoon was redupli- 
 cated, but in a few moments they were again on an 
 open highway. Partially submerged fields lay at 
 either side. Few windmills showed and fewer cottages. 
 But the road was still well kept and evidently in constant 
 use. Children gathered buttercups beside it, and in
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 231 
 
 the distance the spire of a village church rose above 
 clustering trees. 
 
 "Faster I must go faster !" said Randolph to him- 
 self and touched a lever. Jan put out a hand to stop 
 him, just too late. The round, Dutch face grew troubled. 
 He said something in the dialect and made a backward 
 motion with his head. Carr looked around quickly. 
 A policeman, mounted on a special make of motor- 
 cycle, came like an arrow after. Already, as the Ameri- 
 can knew, they were far beyond any speed-limit. 
 
 He stood up now, and placing Jan's hand on the 
 wheel, drew out his pistol and deliberately leveled it at 
 the approaching officer. The man appeared to hesitate, 
 but Dutch obstinacy, if not valor, prevailed. He gave 
 a vicious spurt, Carr watching him steadily. When 
 the pursuer was close enough to see the other's face, 
 he suddenly gave up. A mad Englishman ! "All 
 are more or less mad," he reflected, "but this one appears 
 to be a demon ! With that set face and eyes of fire, 
 he could easily murder an entire village !" 
 
 After writing down the number of the car, the officer 
 turned. What a story this would make at head- 
 quarters ! 
 
 Randolph drove less recklessly. One fright of this 
 sort had been enough. Beyond the last little town the 
 ends of the earth began. Windmills disappeared en- 
 tirely ; even the ubiquitous cow no longer grazed. Only 
 there were the long reeds bending all one way, and at 
 times a space of dull gray bog that might well be quick- 
 sands, and over them white water-birds that wheeled 
 in raucous flight. 
 
 The flat horizon seemed a gray canal on which heavily 
 laden black barges moved slowly. Above, the center 
 of the grayness sagged an old tent curved with rain
 
 232 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 and should the seams part, the whole world beneath 
 might well be swept away. 
 
 The road grew steadily worse. The track of previous 
 wheels among the ruts and loose stones was plain. Now 
 all ahead of them became soft sand. Capricious sea 
 winds had chosen to deposit here a line of dunes, which 
 a thrifty government had planted with pines. The 
 groves were of dark bronze, but at the edge great tufts 
 and fountains of yellow broom gleamed out with a star- 
 tling effect of forgotten heaps of sunshine. 
 
 If only the car could move on faster ! Randolph 
 gave audible thanks to his Maker, as the last dune was 
 left behind. 
 
 "The Black Village?" he asked. "Zwart," for 
 somehow he had remembered that the word meant 
 "black." 
 
 "Ja!" nodded Jan assuringly, pointing ahead of 
 them. 
 
 Each moment the sky grew blacker ; sharp elbows of 
 lightning nudged the scowling clouds. Their growls 
 of anger dulled the vibrations of the speeding car. 
 "Thank heaven," said Randolph aloud, "that at least 
 the road is better here." 
 
 Even as he spoke there came a sound more terrible 
 than any lightning stroke, the sharp thin shriek 
 and explosion of a punctured tire. They came to a 
 standstill. For a moment the two human figures sat 
 motionless, struck to stone. 
 
 The American sprang down in the road, Jan following 
 more slowly. The latter, keeping his eyes averted as 
 if in personal shame, searched for and opened the tool- 
 kit. His wide face puckered, as if about to cry. Ran- 
 dolph, helpless in this mechanical crisis, darted about 
 him for the sheer relief of motion.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 233 
 
 Jan went about his task with the slow precision of a 
 baby-elephant performing tricks. One might as well 
 prod a sand-dune. The tortured Virginian hovered 
 near, stretching out now and then a hand to offer un- 
 needed assistance. The rain had begun, but colder 
 drops broke out on fhe young man's forehead. 
 
 Jan, in silence and without haste, jacked up the car 
 and began searching for the puncture. " Neit sahr 
 batt!" he remarked, lifting a smiling countenance. 
 
 "For God's sake let me pump, then !" cried the other, 
 taking the implement from the driver's hands. "I 
 must do something or go stark mad ! " 
 
 Jan watched anxiously. At the proper point he leaned 
 down to interpose a restraining hand, for it seemed as if 
 the American were pumping his very soul into the swell- 
 ing rim. "Ach, est goed," he growled compassionately, 
 and took the pump away as one might remove a penknife 
 from an infant. 
 
 "The next thing," remarked Randolph bitterly as 
 the racer swung into speed, "is probably to be struck 
 dead by this lightning !" All the powers of evil leagued 
 with Martel. "Curses on his black soul!" hissed 
 through his set teeth. Thought and imagination had 
 been long held at bay, but now a tremor of physical 
 rage shook him. He gripped the wheel as if he could 
 crush it into twisted straw. He knew what a fighting 
 wild beast feels when the hairs stiffen along its spine. 
 " God ! let me reach him ! It can't be far off now." 
 
 Night had not closed in entirely. The swollen, blue- 
 black clouds had the gleam of old pewter, and the hurled 
 gray javelins of rain glinted as they fell. There was a 
 slight lull in the wind. Randolph peered forward with 
 a gaze of such desperate desire that he feared lest the 
 simulacrum of a village might materialize from the tissue
 
 234 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 of his brain. Was it a vision, a mirage of hell sent 
 to mock him, or were those, indeed, the squat, black 
 roofs of houses, still far off, on the rim of an endless sea ? " 
 
 Jan turned a wet, pink face. "Ja, mynheer, die is het 
 Zwartdorp!" he beamed. 
 
 "At last at last ! " Nothing could hold them from 
 it now. Randolph could run the distance hi ten minutes. 
 The gables grew sharp. A single line of them tilted 
 downward at the further end. 
 
 The young Dutchman, catching at the wheel, made a 
 motion to slow the car. The other answered by re- 
 linquishing his place and moving into that vacated by his 
 companion. Jan showed by nods and grunts that he 
 approved. Turning slowly, he made his way along the 
 rear of the houses. The first group terminated at a 
 bridge, beyond which a few more scattered roofs appeared. 
 No chink of light shone from them. All were sealed 
 heavily against the storm. 
 
 Just behind one of the larger cottages a sort of shed 
 could be seen. Jan paused to consider this and waited 
 until several lightning flashes had convinced him of its 
 desirability. Randolph dug his finger-nails into the 
 seat with impatience. "Will he ever drive under the 
 thing and let us start on foot?" he groaned. Each of 
 these last moments of waiting was a red-hot wire thrust 
 through his temples. 
 
 Before the car was half within, Randolph sprang out, 
 touched Jan on the arm, and set off at a run. The 
 Dutchman thundered after him, making a noise like 
 that of a muffled bull. At sight of a limousine drawn 
 up beside the farthest hovel, both stopped. Jan caught 
 the American by the shoulder, and put his other hand 
 up to his lips. They moved together toward the stand- 
 ing car.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 235 
 
 Within, a match was struck. Its red glare disclosed 
 the face of the unsuspecting Francois. Randolph 
 drew his companion a few steps away, pointing first at 
 the car, lifted his hands with the wrists crossed, and 
 made motions of struggle against an imaginary binding. 
 
 Jan, when comprehension had finally dawned upon 
 him, gave a guttural of assent, raised his eyebrows, 
 and looked around the landscape as if hoping for the 
 miraculous appearance of a rope. Randolph's eager 
 search had been nearer home. Stripping off a flexible 
 leather belt, he offered it, and in an instant more supple- 
 mented it by his pocket-handkerchief. Then, leaning 
 down, he deliberately slit the two rear tires. 
 
 At the sound and shock of the dual explosion, the 
 occupant of the car sprang out. 
 
 Jan caught him by the back of the neck and clapped 
 the huge concave of his other hand upon the valet's 
 face, which it covered as a walnut shell its kernel. 
 
 The trapped creature made no sound, nor did he offer 
 the faintest opposition. The Dutch chauffeur went 
 about his strange, unfamiliar task with the same pains- 
 taking fidelity he might have used in painting an old 
 taxicab. Randolph, zig-zagging through the mud, 
 uttered violent imprecations against the delay. 
 
 Seating himself upon the running-guard of the limou- 
 sine, which for a wonder did not give way, Jan crossed 
 the valet's hands in front, the Frenchman watching 
 him the while with a faint, cheerful curiosity. This, 
 proving for some unfathomable reason not to be desired, 
 Francois was unceremoniously flung, face down, across 
 the Herculean knees, in the manner of a school-boy 
 receiving chastisement. Slowly the bonds were tied, 
 being woven in and out, and at last knotted with a 
 thoroughness derived from sea-going ancestors, at which
 
 236 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 the viking rose, and holding his trussed victim out at 
 arm's length, deposited him tenderly within the car. 
 
 Randolph, with an oath of thankfulness, rushed 
 toward the house. Jan caught him just before he 
 touched the door. "Nay, nay, mynheer," he warned, 
 and seizing the young man's arm, forced him back 
 along the crouching eaves. 
 
 Francois sat perfectly still. He had never spoken, 
 and continued to wear a half -pleased smile. He was 
 not unconscious of relief that the girl he had helped 
 to betray was, after all, to find salvation. He had 
 been in the car but a few moments when the brigands 
 had fallen upon him. At least, he was not sorry. 
 
 As the other two made their way, with finger-tips 
 trailing along a wall which to Randolph appeared 
 interminable, his agonized ears were bent to catch some 
 sound from within. The place might have been a 
 charnel-house. There was no light anywhere. Even 
 the lightning had ceased. Jan turned a corner and 
 pausing, demanded in a whisper: " Lu-cee-fer." 
 
 Randolph got out his matches. Fortunately they were 
 of wax, and so had a chance against the wind. He 
 struck one, and holding it in the curve of both gloved 
 hands, saw that they were in a niche made by a small 
 jutting wing, a mere closet, which had a low, square 
 door. 
 
 The chauffeur gave a grunt of satisfaction and with 
 slight effort broke away a rusted iron hasp. There was 
 another fastening inside. A second match was lighted. 
 The door-sill had been worn away to a curve, leaving 
 a full inch of space. Into it Jan inserted his great 
 fingers, palm upward, and slowly, irresistibly, and with 
 little noise, drew the panel outward. 
 
 An odor of fire and food stole toward them. Jan
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 237 
 
 humped his great shoulders and would have crawled 
 forward, but it was now the American's turn. He 
 pushed the other backward and crept in. The closet 
 was a grave of blackness. He rose to full height and 
 felt until he had reached another door. This had no 
 clasps. Opening it stealthily, he found himself in a 
 room dimly lighted by the coals of a dying fire. Two 
 empty champagne bottles, a pewter mug and some 
 sandwiches were on the table. 
 
 A door in the center of the wall, opening at a narrow 
 crack, showed clearer lighting. Carr ran to this, pulled 
 out his pistol and flung the panel wide. 
 
 Directly across the room Ariadne was lying on the 
 floor, her face in her arms, and stooping over her was 
 Martel. 
 
 Hearing a sound, he looked back over one shoulder, 
 thinking that Francois had returned. He jerked him- 
 self upright, threw both hands above his head, and 
 reeled toward the corner where the bed stood. 
 
 " For God's sake don't shoot ! " he cried. " I haven't 
 harmed her. I haven't laid a finger Ask her for 
 yourself ! " 
 
 But Ariadne was at last beyond the range of human 
 torture or of human questioning. 
 
 Randolph did not move. Before his blazing eyes the 
 other seemed to writhe and shrivel like a fungus thrown 
 on coals. 
 
 "Don't shoot, don't shoot, I tell you!" he cried 
 again, his voice shrilling to a scream. "I am unarmed; 
 you cannot fire upon an unarmed man !" 
 
 "Keep those hands in the air," commanded Carr. 
 
 Big Jan, incredibly huge, loomed in the open door- 
 way. 
 
 "Ah, you are prudent," Martel began, but at Carr's
 
 238 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 forward movement the incipient sneer turned to cringing 
 fear. 
 
 "Search him, Jan," ordered the lawyer, and with his 
 left hand indicated what he wished. 
 
 Jan went to the task with accustomed cheerfulness. 
 At one sly, downward motion of Martel's arm, Carr 
 cried, in a sharper tone : "Hands up, I say !" 
 
 The Dutchman, unconscious of menace, looked into 
 his new quarry's distorted features with deep interest. 
 He had never seen anything quite so horrible, even at 
 moving picture shows. As he drew forth a small and 
 exquisitely mounted revolver, his eyes opened wide 
 like a child who has found an unsuspected treasure. 
 
 "I thought so. Keep it," nodded Randolph, lowering 
 his own weapon. With a groan of relief, Martel let 
 his arms fall heavily to his sides. 
 
 Now the American began drawing off his gloves. 
 It was a slow process, for they were soaked with rain. 
 He still kept his eyes upon Martel, but his expression 
 changed slightly. A frown came, and he appeared to 
 be deliberating. 
 
 At last both slender, virile hands were bare, and in 
 the right, folded together lengthwise, were the heavy 
 driving gloves. He moved forward, as if reluctantly. 
 Martel, flattened against the wall, watched him with the 
 glittering eyes of a cornered rat. 
 
 Within a few feet of him Randolph halted and gave a 
 slow, dragging look from the quaking knees upward. 
 At the man's eyes his own shrank as if in nausea. He 
 stretched out his clean, bare hands, glancing at first one 
 and then the other. "God!" he broke out with a 
 great shudder. "I cannot do it. I cannot be polluted 
 by the touch of such a creature ! " 
 
 With the wet gloves he gave Martel a terrific blow
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 239 
 
 across the mouth, and then flinging them toward the 
 creature as he fell, turned and went over to Ariadne. 
 
 "Come, my poor darling. Come, my little bruised 
 white rose," he whispered, kneeling down beside her 
 and trying to gather her up into his arms. She sank 
 from him, limp and inert as one newly dead. 
 
 Big Jan stood over them for a moment, then strode 
 to the main door, took down the bars, and without 
 further ceremony burst it entirely away. He came back, 
 touched Randolph on the shoulder, and held out arms 
 like oak-branches. 
 
 The Virginian hesitated. It was hard to relinquish 
 so precious a burden even for a moment, but the road 
 outside was dark and slippery and he knew that the 
 kindly giant would have a surer footing. He gave her 
 up to Jan, first replacing the blue motor-bonnet that 
 now had no long strings, and the three passed out 
 together without a backward glance toward the pros- 
 trate body of Martel. 
 
 Randolph entered the car first, and Jan laid the girl 
 in his arms, remaining beside them until he had received 
 the signal for starting back. Ariadne's unconsciousness 
 persisted for so long a time that the young man became 
 desperately alarmed. He called her name imploringly, 
 chafing and slapping her wrists as he had seen people do 
 upon the stage. The dark bulk of Jan's body leaned 
 nearer. 
 
 "Water Jan water !" 
 
 "Ja vater," echoed the large one, speeding off to 
 fill his cap. 
 
 The still, white face was bathed and mopped in vain. 
 "Good God!" sobbed Randolph. "Has the beast 
 killed her with sheer fright !" 
 
 Suddenly Jan had an inspiration. He tossed up the
 
 2 4 o ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 flap of his long coat, dug down in his great Dutch trousers 
 almost, it would seem, to his boot-tops, and drew forth 
 a flask of Holland gin. 
 
 "Splendid splendid!" cried Randy, as his trem- 
 bling fingers closed about it. He got a few drops between 
 her pale lips. She moaned and choked a little, and her 
 eyelids flickered once. 
 
 "It is all right, Jan all right. You've saved 
 her," breathed the American ecstatically. He was 
 having hard work to keep back tears of relief. 
 
 "Ja, is goed!" gulped Jan, and before climbing up 
 to his seat, raised the restoring flask and nearly emptied 
 it. 
 
 By this the rain and wind were spent. Somewhere 
 up among still wildly driven clouds a moon was hiding. 
 Her light came fitfully, a lamp behind tossed, gray 
 curtains, but the young Dutchman knew his road. 
 
 Storm-driven as the clouds by his hours of agonized 
 emotion, Randolph leaned back heavily, knowing that 
 each moment of the rushing air was deepening Ariadne's 
 consciousness. What would she think in finding herself 
 so closely in his . arms ? He did not dare to speak. 
 Life and warmth came to her slowly. He, too, was 
 spent weakened and hurt by the hideous ordeal. 
 He almost wished that she could lie here quietly until his 
 dazed mind cleared, until he could think out what next 
 was to be done. Her face, with its closed eyes, shone 
 in the semi-darkness like a white cyclamen against dark 
 leaves. 
 
 "Randy," the voice was from very far away. 
 
 "Yes, darling. It is Randy." 
 
 "You you heard again. You came," she whis- 
 pered and hid her eyes. 
 
 "Yes, dear, I came. You are mine now my
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 241 
 
 own forever. Nothing in heaven or hell shall take you 
 from me after this," he began passionately, and then, 
 because he was a true lover, added, in a lowered tone of 
 pleading : "that is, if you can care." 
 
 "Care for you care !" murmured the girl. "Oh, 
 Randy ! " He felt an arm steal up around his neck. 
 
 "You love me ? I I can't believe it. It is too 
 wonderful," he stammered, his voice breaking on a note 
 of joy. "Of course I love you; I have adored you 
 from the moment you turned your eyes toward me 
 there, beside the Vyver." 
 
 The girl lifted her head with a sort of beautiful pride. 
 "And I have loved you you only since we stood 
 together under the cherry-tree." 
 
 He caught her back to his heart, and in the speeding 
 darkness their lips met in a first long kiss. 
 
 "And you are willing to marry me, my darling?" 
 
 "Yes, yes!" 
 
 Again more kisses, and then he commanded master- 
 fully : "It must be soon at once do you hear me, 
 Ariadne?" 
 
 "Yes, Randy, it shall be, if I can. You know that 
 I wish it." 
 
 "There's no 'if to be considered. You are not to 
 spend another night under the roof with either of those 
 vile creatures." 
 
 "Don't, don't recall them," she shivered. " I cannot 
 bear it Randy." 
 
 The sudden drop in her voice and the heaviness with 
 which again she hung in his arms should have warned 
 him ; but the lover, himself strung to the breaking point, 
 thought only of the moment's issue. 
 
 "You are my affianced wife now, Ariadne," he per- 
 sisted, "and as such I shall protect you even against
 
 242 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 yourself. You shall be taken to a different hotel 
 Ariadne, Ariadne, what is it ? Can't you speak, darling ? 
 Can't you hear me?" 
 
 But the girl's spirit, caught for a few bright moments 
 in the lure of happiness, had again taken flight ; and 
 during the remainder of the long drive the man sat cold 
 with despair clasping, as he thought, the deserted tem- 
 ple of a love that his own impassioned violence had slain.
 
 CHAPTER VH 
 
 NEXT morning all the Doelen knew that the fair 
 American girl had been caught out in the terrific thunder- 
 storm of the night before, and was now lying ill in bed 
 because of the shock of it. They knew, too, that the 
 young American with the brown eyes and the lean pleas- 
 ant face was much concerned. Already he had talked 
 long and confidentially with the portier. He had sent 
 a note to the invalid's room with a great sheaf of white 
 roses. 
 
 Gossip spreads quickly among the servants of a hotel. 
 It was the young American, they said, who had found 
 the disabled car and brought Miss Skipwith home. 
 Mr. Martel and his chauffeur preferred to remain with 
 their machine, a very expensive, hired one, until they 
 could see just how much damage had been done. 
 
 "The queerest part of all," confided one small "but- 
 tons" to another, "is that Marie Vart, chambermaid 
 on the second floor, says that Madame Martel came 
 in alone, many hours earlier." 
 
 "What lies are those I hear?" cried the little portier, 
 darting upon them. His mild eyes flashed, his gray 
 hair seemed to stand up in bristles. The small boys 
 shrank and looked about for hiding places. 
 
 "Tschth! Such foolish chattering in a respectable 
 hotel ! Send that Marie Vart to me !" 
 
 Ariadne lay white and silent in her little bed. So 
 she had lain ever since her frightened stepmother, assisted 
 by Cummins, had undressed and placed her there.
 
 244 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 To Mrs. MartePs torrent of questions she had been unable 
 to make a single reply. 
 
 "Better let 'er be, Ma'am," advised Cummins. 
 *'The poor dear 'aven't the strength to talk. I never 
 saw a chalkier. You go to bed, Ma'am, and I'll sit 
 'ere by the window till day breaks and we can 'ave in a 
 doctor." 
 
 "But my husband, Cummins; I am not thinking 
 only of her. Mr. Martel hasn't come back yet. You 
 know for yourself how easily he takes cold, how delicate 
 is his throat. I can't sleep a minute until he returns. 
 It does seem to me that now Ariadne is safe in her 
 bed with no bones broken she might rouse herself to tell 
 me just where she left Connie, and how his poor nerves 
 stood the shock of the storm." The anxious wife 
 gazed plaintively but also with irritation toward the 
 inert figure lying so still. There was no hint of motion. 
 "And that rude young man, Randolph Carr," the 
 speaker went on fretfully. "Of course it was Provi- 
 dence that he happened to be driving along the same 
 road, and I am grateful to him for bringing Miss Skip- 
 with back, but he need not have brushed me aside when 
 I inquired about my husband. The only thing he would 
 say when I asked so often was : ' The man is quite 
 uninjured.' He didn't even have the manners to say 
 Mr. Martel." 
 
 "'E told you what you most wanted to know, Ma'am, 
 didn't 'e, then?" observed Cummins. 
 
 "Oh, I suppose so. But I wanted to hear particulars. 
 Connie is so unused to anything like hardships. And 
 that valet of his can't be found anywhere. I suppose 
 he has gone in search of his master. I never could 
 endure Francois myself. But I must say he is devoted 
 to Mr. Martel."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 245 
 
 Finally she went off to her room. Cummins remained 
 on duty till a bell-boy summoned her to her mistress' 
 bedchamber. Mrs. Martel's prophecy of sleeplessness 
 had evidently been fulfilled. The maid found her 
 sitting in a chair, with her head thrown back ; she was 
 apparently in great physical pain. 
 
 "Lor! Ma'am," cried the maid in genuine alarm. 
 "You are as white as Miss Skip with now all but the 
 purple spots. 'Ave you been took in the night ? " 
 
 "It is nothing. Only I am worried sick about Mr. 
 Martel. What can be keeping him like this?" 
 
 "Sure 'e's sleeping away hi some Dutch 'ole till the 
 night is over, Ma'am; there's nothing to worry over 
 in it." 
 
 "Hasn't Ariadne spoken yet? Hasn't she told you 
 any more particulars?" 
 
 "She 'aven't spoken or moved the night through. 
 You ought to 'ave the doctor to her." 
 
 "Yes, of course. Dress me as fast as you can, Cum- 
 mins, and then tell the porter to send for a good doctor 
 one who can speak English." 
 
 One might have supposed that the little portier kept 
 physicians up his sleeve, so quickly did this one appear. 
 He came puffing up the stairs and into the sick room, 
 a small, stout person so solid, so round and so un- 
 mistakably Dutch that he might almost have been 
 built up of cheeses. There were kindly brown eyes in 
 the Kaase which served him for a head. Mrs. Martel 
 opened the door to him. She held out her hand. As he 
 bowed and then lifted his eyes to her face, he said 
 instantly : 
 
 "Yes, Madame she is ill, ja ?" 
 
 "No, no, it is my daughter my stepdaughter 
 there on the bed."
 
 246 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Ah the young miss she is ill, ja?" This 
 good doctor evidently preferred to treat sickness lightly. 
 
 "Can you see her ? Shall I raise the shade a little ?" 
 asked Mrs. Martel, moving toward the window. At 
 his nod she lifted her hand to the cord. At that same 
 instant the sound of a motor coming toward the hotel 
 caused her to look out. 
 
 "There he is my husband!" she screamed. "I 
 must go to him." 
 
 "But, Madame," exclaimed the little Dutchman, 
 bewildered, "the young miss cannot speak ; I must have 
 some other 
 
 "I will send Cummins, my maid," cried Mrs. Martel, 
 hurrying past him. "I'll come back myself in a very 
 little while, but I must see my husband first." 
 
 The doctor stared after her a moment. Then, shak- 
 ing his head at the queer ways of these Americans, he 
 turned his entire attention to his patient. He felt her 
 pulse, listened to the beating of her heart and then to 
 her breathing. First one eyelid was lifted and then the 
 other. The girl gave no recognition of his presence. 
 
 "Are you of the pain, my miss?" he asked. No 
 answer came. Again, and even more gently, he ques- 
 tioned, and after a pause made a third attempt. Now 
 the girl managed to whisper "No." 
 
 "Ach dot is goot goot," he said cheerily. 
 
 Cummins entered, and he received her cordially. 
 "Now, coom, tell me vat you know is make her like 
 dis all all dead like so." He lifted his arms 
 and let them fall lifeless at his sides. 
 
 Cummins, with her British lack of volubility, told 
 him the main facts. Her personal conjectures were 
 withheld. The doctor looked more puzzled than ever. 
 He turned back to his patient, and his fat fingers were
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 247 
 
 deep in her hair. He was feeling carefully, with that 
 wonderful sense of touch which is in itself a sort of vision, 
 for an undiscovered fracture, when Mrs. Martel hurried 
 into the room. 
 
 Again she was panting, and her curious greenish 
 pallor, dashed with spots of purple, gave her the look of 
 a comic mask through which pale, prominent eyes stared 
 wildly. 
 
 "My husband is back at last, Doctor. Oh, they had 
 a terrible time. He is almost as unnerved as Ariadne 
 here. I've been begging and begging him to see you, 
 Doctor. He ought to have attention, I am sure. But 
 he simply won't hear of it. You know how men are. 
 But his eyes look awful and " 
 
 "One stop please, Madam, I mus' request. De 
 young miss here. She already my patient is. Did 
 your hoosband says dat she - 
 
 "It was the merest accident, Doctor and then the 
 storm coming on which prevented the Dutch chauffeur 
 from mending the machinery or whatever it was that 
 went wrong. Of course I don't know anything about 
 that. But Mr. Martel would not have had it happen 
 for worlds. He is always so careful, so considerate." 
 
 The doctor waved his fat arms in the air. "Madame, 
 I must request to know did the young miss fall 
 down make a hurt of herself strike de head 
 so?" He butted at the bed for illustration. His 
 listener at last seemed to grasp his meaning. 
 
 "No, no, indeed. It was not that sort of an acci- 
 dent. She is only sick from fright." 
 
 "Haf she been frightened much always of de motor 
 drive?" 
 
 "Oh, no. She is accustomed to them. She likes 
 driving. It was breaking down in that lonely road
 
 248 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 with nothing but marshes all around. That must have 
 been it. Ariadne has always been terribly afraid of 
 lightning. Why anything might have happened to 
 them out there robbers or bandits She chat- 
 tered on, the doctor allowing the fluttering strands of 
 speech to blow past him. She had given at least one 
 clew the lightning. 
 
 Again he lifted Ariadne's eyelids and gazed in her face 
 with deep thought. 
 
 "De lightning. Ja. Perhaps if she fear much 
 " He turned his face again to this stepmother. 
 *' Did de lightning dat motor struck ?" 
 
 *'I don't think so. No, I am sure it didn't. But 
 some of the bolts came very close, Mr. Martel says. 
 Even he was a little alarmed. Oh, Doctor, I do wish 
 he would let you see him." 
 
 The doctor rose from his seat by the bed and drew 
 out a prescription pad. 
 
 "If eet is but de nerve crash in your daughter, I will 
 give some medicine to help soon. She mus' be keep 
 very still. No great talk to her, please, no visitor at 
 all. She must be keep still and no noise, not even 
 question ; how goes now, mein kindt ? Do painful stop ? 
 Noting not-ing I say or He put his hand to 
 his forehead and lowering his voice to a dramatic 
 whisper "dis de head inside may coom very badly." 
 
 "I shall be in and out of the room, Doctor," said 
 Cummins quietly. 
 
 " Ja dat is a goot woman. You do not talk. Let 
 your young miss sleep and be still. Do not touch or 
 speak but to give de medicine as I write." 
 
 The doctor went from the room and down the stairs 
 with surprising swiftness. Cummins felt that he had 
 done so to avoid the topic of Mr. Martel.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 249 
 
 Donna went over to the bed, looking down full into 
 the girl's face. Cummins whispered a caution against 
 speaking, at which the other frowned a little and shook 
 her head, as if to say: "Why caution me? I am the 
 last person to need it." 
 
 Ariadne's long hair had not been braided. It flowed 
 back from her flower- white face, leaving a little golden 
 promontory at each temple. At the top of the forehead 
 it grew downward in a thicker point. The pure modeling 
 of her face and the straight, silken line of the eyebrows 
 had always been among her greatest beauties. Now, 
 with her lids close shut and the long, dark lashes fring- 
 ing them, her curved lips helpless and in some way 
 strangely pathetic in their unconsciousness of scrutiny, 
 she seemed even to Mrs. Martel's unclassical and un- 
 imaginative mind like a nymph asleep in a dusky wood. 
 Pursued by some dark, mythologic shade, she had at last 
 found refuge, and had here fallen, her young strength 
 spent, waiting for the kindly essences of earth to comfort 
 and revive her. 
 
 For a long time the elder woman stood there, silently 
 gazing, then without a word to Cummins, left the room. 
 
 When Randolph's sheaf of roses came, the maid, 
 with more delicacy than could have been expected, 
 placed the flowers in a large vase, where Ariadne, stretch- 
 ing out a hand however languid, could not have failed 
 to touch them. His sealed letter she placed on a small 
 table. But all through that day the girl lay in a sort 
 of cool stupor, swallowing at intervals with great diffi- 
 culty the liquid that Doctor Bergen had prescribed. 
 
 Her stepmother inquired often about her, but did not 
 go to the room again until evening. 
 
 Martel was in a mood so black and wordless, so im- 
 patient of questions or approach, that the poor soul
 
 250 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 could do little but crouch in her own chamber, listening 
 for the impatient striding up and down next door. 
 Such spells of restlessness were followed by intervals 
 of silence even more dreadful to endure. Neither went 
 down-stairs to luncheon, but the meals were served in 
 their separate apartments. 
 
 In the middle of the afternoon, the wretched wife, 
 fearing that she might lose control of her nerves unless 
 she could see and speak with him, knocked timidly on 
 his door. No answer came. She knocked again, then 
 tried to turn the knob. The door was fastened. 
 
 "Connie Connie," she whispered. No answer. 
 "Connie," she called aloud for the first time, and her 
 voice broke in a little shriek. She heard him crossing 
 the floor; a great trembling seized her. "Please go 
 away, Donna," he said, not unkindly. 
 
 "I must see you for one moment, dearest. I can't 
 stand this any longer. I am suffering, too. Let me in 
 just a minute." 
 
 He hesitated, then drew back the bolt. As she 
 entered, his back was already turned to her, and he 
 moved toward the easy chair where he had been 
 sitting. 
 
 The intruder told herself that she must be very calm 
 and tactful that she must do nothing to jar nerves 
 already overstrung. Perhaps the girl up-stairs would 
 be the safest topic. 
 
 "I only wanted to tell you, dear, that Ariadne is 
 doing quite well." 
 
 He made no sound. 
 
 "She hasn't spoken yet ; and the doctor says that she 
 must be kept very still. It was the lightning, of course, 
 that gave her this dreadful shock." 
 
 Still he remained motionless and did not speak. She
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 251 
 
 came a little closer and said even more timidly: "And 
 how are you feeling now, dearest?" 
 
 He roused himself wearily. "There has never been 
 anything wrong with me. I told you so before." 
 
 "Now you simply must not worry any more, darling. 
 Both of you are safe and sound. I don't suppose the 
 accident to the car will amount to much." 
 
 "Not much." 
 
 "Then why not try to forget all about it. Let us 
 take a little walk in the fresh air, or a drive. Just a 
 short drive. We needn't go the same road." 
 
 A sudden twist came to his lips, giving them the black 
 mockery of a smile. 
 
 "I don't feel up to that, Donna." 
 
 "What I've never been able to understand," she began 
 in her more usual voice, "is how that young man ever 
 happened to be on the same road, and in a storm, too." 
 
 Martel clinched a hidden hand. The purple veins 
 showed in his forehead, but he preserved a low, even tone 
 as he answered : "I don't want to discuss it further for 
 the present." 
 
 Mrs. Martel, still on her feet, sighed and gave a de- 
 spairing gesture. 
 
 "Then you want to stay here alone, without me, 
 without anybody - 
 
 "Yes, but I will come down to dinner to-night at 
 eight." 
 
 She moved heavily toward the door. The dragging 
 feeling at one side made her long to bend, to yield, but 
 she drew herself up, ignoring the pain, and tried to walk 
 lightly as a young woman walks. She might have 
 spared herself, for her husband's brooding eyes were 
 again fixed on the floor. 
 
 It was some compensation, at least, that he would
 
 252 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 join her at dinner. She took great pride and joy in 
 their infrequent tete-a-tetes in public. That evening 
 her toilet was made with extraordinary attention to the 
 details, and she bade Cummins fetch one of Ariadne's 
 white roses for her hair. She was in the dining-room at 
 eight. A few moments later Mr. Martel entered, as 
 faultlessly dressed as usual. 
 
 She smiled a welcome and congratulated him upon his 
 smart appearance. 
 
 "Now all you need to make you simply perfect," 
 she simpered, "is a flower in your buttonhole. Here, 
 take this white rose." She reached up to disengage it 
 .rom her hair, but he checked her with a gesture. " Don't 
 deprive yourself. It looks well there." 
 
 "Does it?" she said in delight. Even so faint a 
 hint of praise made heaven for the instant. "Some- 
 how I felt that I needed a flower, just there among the 
 puffs, and I stole one of Ariadne's." 
 
 "Ariadne's! Where did she- " he began. A slow, 
 deep flush mounted along his neck and up into his 
 face. 
 
 Mrs. Martel bit her lip, she remembered too late. 
 Excuses would only make her error worse. She began 
 a feverish prattle about nothing. Martel recovered 
 himself and at intervals gave some obvious reply, but 
 he ate nothing, only drank not champagne merely, 
 but brandy, and after that liqueurs. 
 
 It was not often that he showed the influence of drink, 
 but to-night his face slowly grew a deep crimson, his 
 eyes, half-closed under swelling lids, gleamed like those 
 of a caged python, and Donna was thankful when at 
 last he rose and said he was going at once to his room. 
 
 Before undressing, Donna made one more laborious 
 pilgrimage to Ariadne, up-stairs.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 253 
 
 "Go get your dinner, Cummins; I will sit here in 
 your place. How does Miss Ariadne seem?" 
 
 "She looks a good bit better to me," said the maid 
 judicially. There's som'at can be called color in 'er 
 lips now but not much." 
 
 "Has she been talking at all?" 
 
 "No more than you 'ear now, Ma'am." 
 
 "Didn't the doctor come again about four?" 
 
 "For a moment," replied the servant. "He didn't 
 change nothing. Her pulse was a little better, he said." 
 
 '/He's coming again in the morning, isn't he?" 
 
 "At nine o'clock, 'e says." At the doorway, Cum- 
 mins turned. "I 'ope you won't think anything if 
 I take it on myself to say, Ma'am, that you ought to 
 let the doctor look you over; your color is awful bad." 
 
 Donna sat on alone. For months past she had tried 
 to gather courage to see a doctor. The distortion of 
 her figure and the pain were both on the increase. As 
 Ariadne had once noted, her face and throat and arms 
 were becoming meagre, while her body grew heavier and 
 more distended every day. She belonged to that class 
 of women whose instinct it is to summon specialists for 
 the least hint of illness in those they love, but who obsti- 
 nately refuse the same offices for themselves. But Cum- 
 mins was right. The time had come when she must 
 have an expert opinion upon her case. Perhaps in the 
 morning, if Ariadne were much better, she would speak 
 of herself to the funny, little, round doctor. 
 
 That night the old portier sent up a small folding cot 
 for Cummins. It was so arranged that the maid could 
 see the face of the sick girl. The doctor had said to 
 let his patient sleep through the night without medicine. 
 Cummins, being weary from the previous vigil, fell 
 almost instantaneously into unconsciousness and did
 
 254 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 not wake until some time after the twittering of sparrows 
 announced full daylight. 
 
 She opened her eyes quickly, and her first look was to- 
 ward the other bed. The girl's face was turned sidewise 
 on the pillow ; one hand moved among the roses. Her 
 eyes, looking immense and black in the semi-darkness, 
 were opened upon the flowers. Her lips, where the 
 color was now unmistakable, smiled at them. 
 
 Cummins got to her feet. "There now, Miss Ariadne, 
 dearie. You do be like yourself again." 
 
 "What day is it, Cummins?" 
 
 "What day? Lor, Miss, it's a Monday, I believe. 
 You did give us a fright." 
 
 "I'm going to try not to think of it, Cummins. I'm 
 very glad I wasn't ill more than a day." 
 
 "We don't know about that yet, Miss. Wait and see 
 what the doctor says about it." 
 
 "Why, yes, there was a doctor, wasn't there? I 
 couldn't be quite sure. Everything seemed so queer 
 and far away." 
 
 "'E's to come at nine o'clock. Bless me, it's after 
 seven now. I must go down and see to Mrs. Martel's 
 tea." 
 
 "Let in a little more light, Cummins. I want to see 
 the sparrows and the trees." 
 
 "I don't know as I should," said Cummins doubt- 
 fully ; she lifted the shade by inches, and at every jerk 
 of the string looked around to see the effect on Ariadne. 
 There was no shrinking in the girl's clear eyes. 
 
 "Up to the top, please. How blue the sky is." 
 
 She was not thinking altogether of the sky. One 
 hand was fingering the roses, leaves and blossoms. 
 
 "'Ere's a letter come for you yesterday," said the 
 maid, handing it to her.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 255 
 
 "Oh oh for me?" 
 
 Cummins hurried out, her somewhat stolid British 
 countenance irradiating satisfaction. 
 
 Ariadne did not open her letter all at once. The 
 effort of the outstretched hand and the little flicker of 
 excitement had tired her. It was enough just to hold 
 the precious thing on her breast : to lie there, knowing 
 she possessed it : to be still and safe and feeling the 
 faint perfume of his flowers creeping up to her. Flight 
 and blackness were behind her ; she need not think of 
 them any more. This was her dawn and this her first 
 wakening into paradise. The blessed moments slipped 
 away, bearing her along, and she was conscious of a 
 sweet longing to float in this tranquil ether for many 
 hours. But this, of course, would be impossible. 
 
 Cummins would be back soon and perhaps Ma- 
 donna. Then the little, rotund, half-remembered doctor 
 was to return ; and the precious letter was still unread. 
 She opened it at last. "My own True-love." She 
 kissed the old-fashioned words and loved him evermore 
 for writing them : 
 
 " I send these roses to one purer and more exquisite. 
 But, at least, you speak the same language, and they 
 will tell you all the things I long to say. Send me a 
 message just as soon as you can see me. 
 " Until death, and after, 
 
 "Your 
 
 " RANDOLPH." 
 
 It was not a long letter, but what more was there to 
 say ? She rested her cheek upon it, dreaming : then 
 again took it out and read. Why should anything else 
 in the world matter, now that she had won such a 
 love?
 
 256 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Feet were heard on the outer stair. She hastily put 
 away the precious page. 
 
 Cummins entered, smiling, with a second note and 
 another armful of roses. These also appeared at first 
 glance to be white, but as the girl bent her face to them 
 she saw that in the center of each a faint blush clung. 
 How well indeed could roses speak for him ! The first 
 for tenderness now these with dawn in their hearts. 
 "To-morrow," she whispered, and grew pinker than 
 the deepest center, "to-morrow they will be all the 
 color of a new day !" 
 
 She had not opened her second letter when Doctor 
 Bergen entered. His rosy face, subdued to profes- 
 sional concern, quickly broadened at the sight of 
 her. 
 
 "Ach. Goot goot!" he exclaimed, rubbing his 
 hands together and nodding at Cummins. He took 
 up the girl's pulse, nearly overturning the flowers in so 
 doing. As she reached out the other hand to steady 
 them, a flood of color swept into her face. 
 
 "It is goot!" he repeated with more emphasis, his 
 small brown eyes twinkling. 
 
 "It was but the nerves of the miss the medicine 
 bottle chut ! You throw him out - - so. She mus' 
 rest a day just to-day perhaps and she must eat. 
 Ja, much, much eat. Shocolatl;, mellek, bisquoit 
 and much eiren what you say Ja ! Egg the 
 product of hen." 
 
 Ariadne was laughing by this time. 
 
 " Ja, you laugh. It is goot, too." 
 
 "Shall she have a bit o' broth, sir ?" 
 
 "Brodt? Ja, ja, soup much soup an later if 
 she wish, some fowl." 
 
 " Can I get out of bed, Doctor ? "
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 257 
 
 At that he became thoughtful. The broad oval of 
 his face returned to its original circle. 
 
 "Not too fast for dat my young lady. By noon 
 time you can put on de cloak and sit near your leetle 
 window there. To-morrow you will be ach so 
 strong again. Den you go out to little walk by the 
 Vyver." 
 
 "Yes, I -will go to the Vyver," she repeated, flushing 
 once more. 
 
 "An' now you will throw out the old doctor, ja?" 
 He beamed again, spreading his fat hands in a humorous 
 gesture. 
 
 "There is one thing more I want to ask you, please 
 Doctor." 
 
 "Ja, my little miss." 
 
 "Cummins, go down now and see if Mrs. Martel 
 can see him at once." When the maid had left the 
 room, she said to the doctor earnestly: "I am very 
 much worried about my stepmother, Doctor." 
 
 "Ja?" he said, but his tone was no longer jovial. 
 It seemed to her that he avoided meeting her eyes. 
 
 "Yesterday she came up here and was in such pain 
 that she promised Cummins she would ask you to visit 
 her. We are both sure that something is really wrong. 
 Will you go?" 
 
 "If she call, I must go. It is for that I am doctor 
 Artz ja." He spoke with resignation rather than 
 professional enthusiasm. Cummins returned, saying 
 that Mrs. Martel was in her room and would be glad 
 to see the doctor there. 
 
 He bade Ariadne good-by, holding her hand with 
 fatherly kindness. Cummins remained standing in 
 the door. As the little round man followed her, he 
 gave a final jovial nod and smile to the young patient
 
 258 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 who no longer needed him. For some reason, the 
 simple tableau the vision of Cummins' sturdy back, 
 with her face half turned over her shoulder, the cheese- 
 like redness and rotundity of the doctor's countenance 
 surmounted by its twinkling smile, remained in the 
 girl's memory, a tangible, a painful image. 
 
 When the door closed upon it, she fell back to her 
 dreaming. Randolph's letter was longer and dearer 
 than the other had been. And in it was a hint of im- 
 patience. He must see her. What did the doctor 
 say? Did she wish him to demand an interview? 
 He felt that he could not wait much longer. 
 
 She sighed a little at such sentences. Life was tugging 
 at her once more. Returning strength brought its own 
 penalty, keener perceptions. It was not so easy now 
 to keep dark memories at bay. 
 
 " I must have something to eat," she thought. " Then 
 I shall be strong enough to write to him." 
 
 She pressed the electric button by her bed twice. 
 Cummins did not answer, but the ordinary hotel maid 
 appeared. Ariadne had her place a little stand with 
 ink, pens, and paper beside the bed, and then asked for 
 chocolate and rolls. 
 
 For two hours no one came. She had finished her 
 note and had it sealed and waiting until Cummins should 
 return. She felt she could trust the English servant to 
 give it to the portier, who would see to its delivery. 
 
 When Cummins came, she had another tray of food. 
 "You must have nourishment every two 'ours, Miss," 
 she said. 
 
 "Oh, Cummins, where have you been so long? What 
 did the doctor say about Madonna? Is she worse?" 
 
 "Mrs. Martel 'aven't told me what 'e said," was 
 Cummins' answer. Her face was dull and rather surly.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 259 
 
 The kindness she had shown during Ariadne's brief 
 illness was evidently now to be discarded. 
 
 The invalid sighed. Cummins had been almost 
 human. Perhaps there had been some scene with 
 Madonna or an encounter with the hated Francois. 
 At the thought of the valet the girl shuddered. Again 
 she saw the lifted cap, the eyes freed from their goggles 
 slanted round at her. Of course he and his master were 
 back in the hotel. 
 
 Cummins had taken up the empty chocolate tray and 
 was leaving, when Ariadne called to her. 
 
 "Won't you take this note to the little portier and ask 
 him to see that it is delivered?" 
 
 The woman seemed to hesitate. A darker look 
 came to her face. 
 
 "Yes, I'll give it to 'im," she finally said. 
 
 "And Cummins please " But Cummins was 
 already on the stair. 
 
 The girl ate her creamed toast and drank the large 
 glass of "mellek," taking no pleasure in them. Each 
 moment brought an increase of vitality and of troubled 
 thoughts. She almost wished she were not getting well 
 so fast. Why didn't Madonna come? It was nearly 
 noon. Then an intense longing to see her lover to 
 feel the strain of his arms around her made the girl 
 toss restlessly. "I won't lie here any more," she told 
 herself. "If Cummins won't come to me, I can get on 
 my slippers and my wrapper alone. I must go to the 
 window." 
 
 Once on her feet she realized that she was still very 
 weak and was thankful to sink down in the easy 
 chair. 
 
 Cummins came up with a beautifully arranged lunch- 
 eon ; on the tray was a small glass of white clove
 
 2 6o ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 pinks. "The old porter sent them. He saw to your 
 letter, Miss," the maid exclaimed. 
 
 She made no comment upon Ariadne's abandonment 
 of the bed. Only by her instinct of service she went to 
 it, throwing back the sheets and tidying the pillows. 
 Ariadne longed to question her, but something in the 
 woman's look checked her. 
 
 As she was about to pass through the door, she paused 
 and said : 
 
 "Mrs. Martel is dressed now; she is coming up after 
 her luncheon." 
 
 This statement brought great relief. If Donna were 
 well enough to climb the stairs again, everything must be 
 all right. The girl ate her lunch, and recollecting that 
 Donna would need the one easy chair, got back to the 
 bed, where she propped herself upright with pillows. 
 
 The waiting was long, but finally the sound of slow, 
 dragging footsteps could be heard. Mrs. Martel opened 
 the door and leaned there a moment, exhausted. The 
 light of the one window fell on her misshapen body and 
 her twitching face.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 BEFORE she realized it, Ariadne was on her feet with 
 one arm round the sagging figure. 
 
 Donna patted her hand and tried to smile. "So you 
 are all right again, my dear. I am glad." 
 
 The girl led her to the chair, and when the woman was 
 seated, remained stooping over her. 
 
 Mrs. Martel moved restlessly. "I can't stand that 
 sunshine," she fretted. "Pull the blind down, Ariadne, 
 and then you must get back to bed, so you won't catch 
 cold." 
 
 The girl obeyed but kept her troubled eyes always on 
 her stepmother. There was something different, almost 
 a dignity in the sick woman, in spite of the usual high- 
 pitched, peevish tones. 
 
 "You are quite all right again, Doctor Bergen tells 
 me." Yes, there was dignity and a curious, terrifying 
 restraint. 
 
 "Oh, there's nothing more to worry about in me. I 
 am to dress and go out just as usual to-morrow. But 
 Madonna, I'm so glad you let the doctor come to you. 
 Please tell me what he said." 
 
 A shiver passed over the seated figure. "Oh, nothing 
 very much ; I don't want to talk about myself. Do you 
 think you are strong enough to discuss plans a little?" 
 
 "Of course I am. Is it is it leaving the Hague ? " 
 
 Mrs. Martel nodded. "Connie wants to go at once. 
 He suggests Aix les Bains. But there are reasons why 
 I should why I want to go to another place."
 
 262 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Then why can't he take his servant and start at 
 once for France, if he wishes it? You and I can stop 
 on here or go anywhere else that you prefer." 
 
 For the moment even Randolph was forgotten. The 
 habit of years told in a crisis. She must be with her 
 stepmother, especially now in this mental stress. Some- 
 thing very special indeed must be bearing on that weak, 
 devoted mind and heart if she hesitated to follow her 
 husband when he beckoned. 
 
 "Things are difficult all round just now. Even the 
 money question is a problem. We can hardly afford 
 to travel separately. Almost the last dollar of our in- 
 come has had to go to help meet that debt of Connie's in 
 Paris. There hasn't been time to hear from Judge 
 Henry. If he would only cable the money." 
 
 Mrs. Martel clasped and unclasped her hands ner- 
 vously; her weak chin trembled. 
 
 "Where is it you'd like to move, Madonna?" 
 ' To London. There is some one I must see there 
 a a specialist ? " 
 
 " Did Doctor Bergen advise you to a specialist? " 
 
 "Yes yes, I must see him. I must be certain!" 
 She was fighting back hysteria as she spoke. She swal- 
 lowed hard, gave a long, shuddering sigh that was half 
 a sob, and went on more steadily: "Doctor Bergen 
 thinks it may be something serious; of course he isn't 
 sure. Doctors are always making mistakes. He says 
 so himself. I never thought much of doctors, anyway, 
 and his English is so poor, maybe I didn't quite under- 
 stand him. But I I can't go on being uncertain. I 
 must see this specialist. The address is here," she 
 showed a small visiting card. Ariadne had not noticed 
 that she held it. 
 
 The girl got out of bed and knelt at her stepmother's
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 263 
 
 side. Donna held out the card, and Ariadne read, mur- 
 muring the words aloud. The name, unmistakably 
 English, with an address in Harley Street had for her 
 no special significance. 
 
 "He is the greatest one of the very greatest 
 authorities on certain troubles. He he could tell at 
 once. And I must know it, Ariadne; I must know 
 before it is too late." 
 
 "Poor Madonna ! " said the girl, putting an arm around 
 the bowed, misshapen body. "Don't tremble so; of 
 course we will go to London. Mr. Martel's plans 
 anybody's plans must be put aside." 
 
 The unhappy woman clung to her stepdaughter. 
 "Oh, Ariadne, what would I do without you? You are 
 the only safe thing I have in the whole world. Thank 
 God you are with me !" 
 
 "Yes yes," said the girl soothingly, "you know 
 you can rely on me. We will go to the specialist ; and 
 when we find that nothing at all is wrong, we will both 
 laugh at having been so frightened." 
 
 "Connie must not dream the real reason of the trip, 
 Ariadne. He would turn from me. You know how he 
 hates disease and ugliness. If he knew I even feared 
 this hideous, hideous thing- Oh, I cannot bear it, 
 Ariadne ! What have I done that God should afflict 
 me like this ? I haven't been a bad woman." 
 
 She had broken down completely and was sobbing 
 and clinging to the frail young figure desperately. 
 Ariadne felt her own strength ebbing. The room became 
 a gray, whirling mist. She bit her lips furiously. 
 
 "Tell me everything, Madonna. You need me to 
 share it with you. You can trust me." 
 
 "Oh, it is so terrible, I cannot speak it. Swear to 
 me, Ariadne, swear here on your knees, in God's name,
 
 264 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 that you will not, even by a hint, let any other living 
 creature suspect it at any rate not till I have been to 
 London and am sure." 
 
 "I swear it, dear ; I won't betray it even by a hint." 
 
 The woman's head drooped forward. The one 
 whispered word seemed to congeal every drop of blood 
 in the girl's body. Then a great shuddering wave of 
 compassion shook her. 
 
 " Oh, you poor soul, my poor Madonna ! It can't be 
 that. I won't believe it. Of course we must go to 
 London. We should cross by to-morrow night's boat. 
 For once you must insist, you must defy Mr. Martel's 
 wishes. Nothing else can count beside a thing like 
 this. What will you tell him, though? What excuse 
 can you make to him ?" 
 
 "I haven't thought yet. Perhaps it will come. Only 
 I must do it in my own way. You must not interfere, 
 Ariadne." 
 
 "With him," said the girl, and at the words her first 
 consciousness of this new and awful bondage came to 
 her. 
 
 And Randolph, her lover? Who was to send pink 
 roses in the morning ? Who was to meet her beside the 
 Vyver ? What of Randolph ? 
 
 She crawled back to the bed and threw herself face 
 downward. 
 
 Donna began to talk swiftly. "You are a dear child, 
 Ariadne. No daughter could be more to me. You 
 mustn't feel so badly about it. Perhaps it is only a 
 nightmare, after all. If only I can keep the truth from 
 Connie if we can keep the servants from suspecting. 
 I'm trying to be brave, and I won't believe it's that 
 horrible thing the Dutch doctor fears. I can be brave, 
 Ariadne, and keep up until that other terrible ordeal
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 265 
 
 in London. If only I can be sure that no other human 
 creature knows what I fear. You have promised me 
 that I am content. I know you keep your promises." 
 
 Ariadne gave a groan. 
 
 "I'm going to my own room now, dear. It's bad for 
 you to have me talking like this. I didn't intend to tell 
 you, Ariadne. I thought I would be strong enough to 
 hold it back, but you drew it from me. I am glad now. 
 Already you have helped me. But try not to worry 
 about it any more. We must both of us be strong if we 
 are to take the night boat to-morrow." 
 
 She came to the bed, leaning over, and it was her heart 
 too that reached down to the still figure lying there. 
 With an impulse of affection not usual to her she kissed 
 the girl's hot cheek, and murmuring " I could not stand 
 it without you, Ariadne," went down-stairs. 
 
 The girl lay on for hours, motionless ; but now it was 
 no perfumed barge beneath her but the stark struc- 
 ture of a rack. 
 
 Mr. Martel, immediately after luncheon, had given 
 Francois orders to begin repacking and had then gone 
 out into the streets. When his wife knocked at his door, 
 the valet opened it. She saw the preparations for de- 
 parture and without comment turned away. Her 
 moments of self-abandonment to the girl up-stairs had 
 brought her a strange, new energy, almost a hope. 
 She rang the bell sharply, and when Cummins entered, 
 said to her : 
 
 "We are leaving to-morrow night. Francois is al- 
 ready at work. I think you had better begin, too." 
 
 Cummins stood rooted to the spot. An obstinate, 
 swollen look came to her face. "And which of these 
 dirty foreign 'oles is it to be next, Ma'am?" 
 
 "You needn't stick out your mouth like that, Cum-
 
 266 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 mins," her mistress remarked severely. "This time it 
 is London." 
 
 Cummins refused to surrender her sourest expression 
 at once. 
 
 "And are you certain of that, Ma'am? 'As V 
 she nodded toward the next room "said it was to be 
 London?" 
 
 "Miss Ariadne and I are going, whether Mr. Martel 
 does or not." 
 
 This time Cummins was convinced. Her grim look 
 vanished. "Then I'll be setting to work this minute, 
 Ma'am, and I may say tLcvt ,T'!' be Batting more 'eart 
 in it than I 'ave for this year past." 
 
 The two women worked cheerfully; Ariadne was 
 forgotten. Donna's mood of exhilaration was still on 
 when about teatime Martel strolled in. 
 
 "I see you are at it," was his comment. 
 
 "Yes, dearest, and I think it will be nice to have 
 our tea served in here. Then I won't have to stop so 
 long." 
 
 He consented. She hastily caught up a mass of silk 
 and spangles from the easiest chair. Cummins vanished 
 to order tea, and the man looked about with some 
 complacency. 
 
 " You have done a good deal already." 
 
 "Yes, haven't we?" 
 
 "Will the girl up-stairs be ready to take a morning 
 train?" 
 
 "I'm not sure about a morning one," Donna fenced. 
 "But she will certainly be strong enough during the 
 day. She's quite herself now. The doctor is not com- 
 ing again." 
 
 Martel drew off his gloves. "You had the Dutchman 
 in, too, didn't you ? "
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 267 
 
 Her face was averted as she replied: "Yes, Cummins 
 and Ariadne insisted on it." 
 
 He gave his low laugh that always had the undernote 
 of mockery. 
 
 "Well, you look better for his call. It's curious how 
 even the sight of a man calling himself a doctor influences 
 you women. You are always imagining absurdities 
 about yourselves." 
 
 "I suppose we are," admitted his wife, who had re- 
 sisted seeing a physician until forced into it. 
 
 Martel surveyed her as she moved around the room. 
 
 "You really should do something for that increasing 
 embonpoint, you know. You are positively deformed." 
 
 "I know it, dear," she said plaintively, "and I am 
 planning right now to try and get rid of it. In fact, 
 Connie darling, that is the reason - 
 
 "There are the best hot baths in the world at Aix," 
 he broke in, if anything so languid as his voice could be 
 said to break into another's speech. As usual it checked 
 her instantly. "I saw to that, you know" -the im- 
 promptu lie came easily "it was one of my motives 
 for deciding on Aix. I shall send Francois soon for the 
 tickets and a reserved compartment." 
 
 The woman felt that she must assert herself. She 
 paused in her work. Her large, pallid face took on an 
 expression of distress. 
 
 "But, Connie," she begun, when the servant entered 
 with the tea, and welcoming the respite, she busied herself 
 serving it. "All men," she x reflected hopefully, "are 
 more willing to listen after they have been fed." 
 
 Martel permitted her ministrations and even conde- 
 scended to praise the food. Husband and wife being 
 alone, now was indubitably the chance to speak. 
 
 "I I hope I'm not going to vex you, dearest," she
 
 268 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 began timidly. The man gave an imperceptible frown 
 and was instantly on his guard, ready to oppose whatever 
 her next statement might be. "You know how seldom 
 I go against any suggestion of yours." 
 
 "What of it?" 
 
 "Only, dear, it happens this time I am very anxious 
 not to go to Aix." 
 
 "And your objection?" 
 
 "Oh, I haven't anything that you could call an objec- 
 tion," she hastened to assure him. "It is only that 
 until Judge Henry sends us that money, we can't afford 
 to travel separately." 
 
 "Well I expected to take you along." 
 
 "And, and, dear Connie, there is another place where 
 I must that is where I want to go - 
 
 "Not America?" he said quickly. 
 
 "Oh, no, indeed. This is no distance at all ; it is only 
 to London." 
 
 " The next thing to America, and you know it. Now 
 understand me once for all, Donna. I shaft not consent 
 to bore myself with London at this time of the year." 
 
 "Oh, Connie, try to be reasonable about it. We may 
 not need to stay long." 
 
 "I don't follow you. What need is in question? 
 What has started up this idea of London so suddenly ? " 
 His suspicions, reaching out, caught first at the thought 
 of Carr and Ariadne. 
 
 This must be Carr's doing; but how could he have 
 had a chance of influencing Donna? The poor soul's 
 utter servility to his wishes seldom gave a margin for 
 surprises. Martel found the situation mildly interest- 
 ing. Whatever the plea, he could demolish it with a 
 little effort, and if Ariadne's wishes were involved, her 
 disappointment would add a further zest.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 269 
 
 He placed one elbow on the table, lounging back with 
 half-closed eyes. She stood before him, her loose-skinned 
 hands clasping and unclasping, her lips moving spas- 
 modically to find the right words. 
 
 "I realize that it does sound sudden, Connie. When, 
 you first spoke of Aix, I didn't mind going there, you 
 know I didn't. But when the doctor came, he found 
 that there was a little something wrong my heart is 
 not quite as it should be, Connie. It is my heart that 
 has been giving me pain and makes this effect of flesh." 
 
 The man laughed. "Nonsense, you must try a better 
 one than that. The idea of a person's heart making 
 them fat. You eat and drink too much; that's the 
 real trouble. The baths I spoke of are for people with 
 exactly your complaint." 
 
 "Don't try to laugh it away. It is serious, Connie," 
 she insisted. There was a note of sincerity that he could 
 not overlook. 
 
 "I am to believe that a jabbering Dutchman has 
 tried to frighten you into thinking yourself ill ?" 
 
 "He was very careful, he did not try to frighten me. 
 Only, the things he said and the kind of questions he 
 asked made me see that he knew what he was talking 
 about." 
 
 "If he knows what he is talking about, why doesn't 
 he cure you?" 
 
 "Because, if he is right, it is one of those things where 
 you have to consult an authority. Doctor Bergen says 
 he cannot take the responsibility. He insists upon my 
 going to London." 
 
 "Do you realize what fees these English specialists 
 ask?" 
 
 "We can't think of that, Connie. The money must 
 be found, some way. Even if it takes a lot, it will be
 
 270 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 better than that I should die and you be left without - 
 she broke off abruptly. Her frightened face showed 
 that she had gone further than she intended. He looked 
 up, and his eyes narrowed. 
 
 She gasped and pressed both her hands against her 
 breast. For an instant she staggered; then the man, 
 angry with her because of the necessity, took her roughly 
 by the arm and made her sit in the chair he had vacated. 
 
 "Now we will have this thing out," he said. 
 
 She seemed unable to speak, but sat gasping up at 
 him, her pale, swollen eyes begging for pity. 
 
 "How much longer are you to keep me standing 
 here?" 
 
 "Don't look like that," she panted. "You must 
 not let yourself be cruel. I could not stand it now. 
 I've been through too much. I think if you speak cruelly 
 I might die here at once and then, oh, Connie, oh, my 
 poor darling 
 
 The man clenched his teeth. There was something 
 real in all this. He had never hated her as he did at that 
 moment, but his instinct of self-preservation cautioned 
 him to control his rage. He felt the cold touch of her 
 forthcoming disclosure. Yes, no matter how disastrous 
 to himself, he must be calm. 
 
 The fear of death and something more was on the 
 shivering creature whom Martel called his wife. No 
 matter how little he gave her or what ill-usage she had 
 suffered from him, the wretched woman had laid her 
 very life at his feet, still worshiped abjectly at his 
 shrine. Yet it needed all of his carefully acquired com- 
 posure, all the cunning of self-interest, to keep him stand- 
 ing there waiting until she chose to speak. 
 
 "Oh, I've done wrong not to tell you this before, 
 Connie. You must try to forgive me. I loved you so
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 271 
 
 dearly; I could not risk anything that might lessen 
 whatever claims I had upon you. I was not an old 
 woman when you married me. I had every right to 
 expect to live years and years, just giving myself and all 
 I had to you. Ariadne said I had done wrong not to 
 tell you, but she was only a child, and it didn't seem " 
 
 " Never mind about Ariadne. This concerns ourselves 
 alone," he said between his teeth. 
 
 " Oh, but it doesn't. That is just the terrible thing. 
 Oh, Connie, it's this way. That will" 
 
 " You mean your husband's will ? The one you would 
 never let me see ? " 
 
 "Yes. I wish now I had told you everything. The 
 money was mine. You know I've always been good to 
 her. Look at the clothes she has." 
 
 The man writhed in his skin. How much longer 
 could he endure this fatuous babble. "Curse Ariadne," 
 he spat out. "Try, for God's sake, once in your life, to 
 keep to the point and to be truthful. You have 
 never been straight with me. You have lied about 
 your age, about the hold Skipwith's daughter has on 
 you. That came out in a moment of fright only a few 
 days ago. Now it seems I'm to be given still another 
 pleasant surprise. Have it out ! Don't sit there gog- 
 gling up at me. God ! What is coming ? Say it 
 speak I'm not going to touch you." 
 
 He turned his head and pressed a scented handkerchief 
 against lips that he knew were trembling. 
 
 "Oh, that's right," he heard her whisper, "don't 
 look at me while I tell you; then you'll see why you 
 must help me to get well. I have no power over the 
 money after death. It all goes to Mr. Skipwith's 
 daughter." 
 
 She crouched back in the chair, covering her face. The
 
 272 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 man stood perfectly still. He had not taken the hand- 
 kerchief from his mouth. When finally he spoke, his 
 voice was muffled against its folds. 
 
 "Yet you told me before I married you and many 
 times after that the fortune was yours absolutely, 
 that the girl had been disinherited and left your pen- 
 sioner. When I asked you if no provision had been made 
 in case of her marriage, you swore that no condition of 
 any sort had been imposed upon you." 
 
 "That was the truth, Connie. I did not deceive 
 you there. It was stated in the will that her marriage 
 was to make no difference between us. The only thing 
 I didn't dare to tell you was that I hadn't the power to 
 leave it all to you, dear. You know that is what I 
 would do. Perhaps, even as things are, if we appealed 
 to Ariadne 
 
 The man checked her with a gesture. Now he took 
 down the handkerchief. There was a crimson stain on 
 the linen. He came closer, looking down with a face 
 which held all the hate and evil of his nature. One 
 corner of his mouth twitched in a desperate smile. 
 
 "You were wise not to tell me sooner," he said. 
 
 She sobbed on quietly. Now everything was told 
 except one thing. She must still keep back the real 
 reason of her visit to a specialist. When that was over 
 and the fear lifted there should never be another 
 shadow of deception. He had listened quite patiently 
 for him. The full, malignant significance of his last 
 remark passed over her unhappy head. She was thank- 
 ful for the quiet of his tones. 
 
 He had turned again and was standing by a window, 
 looking out. She lifted tear-swollen eyes to watch him. 
 Against the crimson curtain his dark head and clear, 
 olive skin glowed with the beauty of some great portrait,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 273 
 
 one of those supernal treasures found here and there in 
 long galleries of lesser paintings, that hold the secret 
 of immortality giving out warmth and tone and the 
 very radium of life, making the frail, ephemeral, human 
 things that pass before it seem like a drift of fallen 
 leaves. 
 
 Forgetting herself in this adoration of the man who 
 utterly obsessed and dominated her, she rose slowly 
 and made her way to his side. The long folds of the 
 curtain shook with his sudden clutch upon it. He 
 thought his very flesh must scream as she laid her hand 
 upon his arm. 
 
 "Then you will take me to London, Connie dear?" 
 
 "Yes, we will go to London." 
 
 "And you don't hate your poor little Donna?" 
 
 He threw back his head and could have laughed aloud. 
 She nestled her faded, blond head against his shoulder. 
 
 Hate her oh, no. She was now too well armed for 
 hate ; but if death could bring the money free and un- 
 hindered into his control how the long, olive fingers 
 now flattened waxen-vDllow against the curtain would 
 sink into that swollen throat ; how they would tighten ; 
 oh, to tear, to torture, to kill this feeble vampire who had 
 had the skill to trick him ! One moment longer, with 
 her perfumed head against him, and money or no money, 
 he must kill her. 
 
 He wrenched himself away and turned to his own 
 room. 
 
 "Oh, Connie !" came the feeble protest. 
 
 In answer she heard the key turn in his lock.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THAT same afternoon, when Cummins entered with 
 the tea, she found Ariadne lying so utterly still that 
 she thought the girl asleep. Setting the tray down 
 noiselessly, the maid stood debating whether or not to 
 speak. 
 
 "It's all right, Cummins. I shall drink it presently." 
 
 "Then you're not feeling worse, Miss Skipwith, as I 
 feared when I saw you stretched there so dead-like." 
 
 "No," Ariadne replied. "I am getting strength all 
 the time. I was only thinking hard." 
 
 "We've all got pleasant things to think of now," 
 said Cummins, genially. "I'm fair 'eartened myself 
 with this going to London so soon. I couldn't 'a' stood 
 it much longer." 
 
 "Yes, we are going. I will try to do a little packing 
 later." 
 
 "Don't you bother, Miss Ariadne. I can get you 
 ready in no time at all. Mrs. Martel 'as a good start 
 a'ready. They are drinking tea down there in her room 
 together. She's likely 'aving it out with him about 
 going. 'Im and 'is valet aren't carin' much for Heng- 
 land. So much the better for Hengland, is what I 
 say!" 
 
 Ariadne could not discuss her family affairs with a 
 servant. Yet she did not check the unwonted flow of 
 eloquence. After a few more caustic observations 
 Cummins departed.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 275 
 
 The girl drank slowly. The health and perfect sound- 
 ness of her young body had responded with marvelous 
 rapidity to its recent hours of rest and nourishment. 
 When she stood or walked, no sense of weakness was 
 felt. Crossing the room to the small mirror, she pushed 
 the heavy hair back from her forehead. A pair of deep 
 brooding eyes met hers. The unsmiling mouth had, 
 somehow, an older look. But the face was not that of 
 an invalid. 
 
 "I never felt stronger in my life," was her thought. 
 The garb of slippers and a loose wrapper seemed incon- 
 gruous. She felt restless, almost irritated, in the ham- 
 pering folds. "I can't pack with these kimono sleeves 
 in the way," she told herself, " and I must have something 
 to do. I can't lie there thinking." 
 
 Ringing for hot water, she deliberately set about 
 making her toilette, at first rather cautiously, since the 
 doctor had said she must wait until to-morrow. Possibly 
 the weakness might return. After slipping a last pin 
 in her hair, she sat down by the window looking out 
 across the Tournooiveld. 
 
 She longed to be out there among the trees. The 
 air of the little room was oppressive. If she could only 
 see her lover for a moment. It seemed hard to have 
 to wait for another day, when her heart and her 
 strengthened body also twitched with impatient energy. 
 
 She rose and finished dressing, tying the sash that 
 fell over her frock of delicate blue muslin. Now she 
 felt entirely herself and moved about, opening trunks 
 and laying out things ready for packing. With a skirt 
 half-folded she paused and let her hands and the gar- 
 ment fall to her sides. Ought she to let Randolph know 
 that they would leave to-morrow night? Way back 
 in that dim black experience already far away, when
 
 276 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 he had rescued her, there was something he had whis- 
 pered about plans. He might be making arrangements 
 for her, arrangements which, because of Donna's new 
 and terrible urgency, could not be carried out. As she 
 hesitated, a knock came to her door. She opened, to 
 find one of the bell boys holding out a note. 
 
 "Mynheer wishes reply, Mademoiselle," he said. 
 
 It was from Randolph. 
 
 " MY OWN DARLING : The portier has just told me 
 that your stepmother is leaving the Hague to-morrow. 
 Dearest, I must see you ! I will be very, very con- 
 siderate, and shall keep you only a few moments ; but 
 come, unless it is a physical impossibility. I longed 
 for you specially a little while ago, for I hunted up 
 Big Jan, and when I had made him hold out those 
 huge cheese-scoops of his, I heaped them both with 
 ten-guilder pieces, all new and shining gold. I didn't 
 quite have the nerve to hand out chink to the 
 portier God bless him ! so instead I put a tidy 
 little sum to his credit in a leading bank here, and 
 slipped him the receipt made out in his own name. 
 At first he wouldn't take it, but I bullied him till he 
 had to promise. Then he made me lean down, as I 
 thought, to whisper thanks, but, good Lord ! he 
 kissed me ! Wasn't that awful ! 
 
 " Come to me, dearest darling. I am in private 
 sitting-room 32, on the second floor, waiting. Yours 
 until death, 
 
 " RANDY." 
 
 To this she replied hastily in writing: "I am well 
 enough now and shall be down at once. A." 
 
 Ariadne ran to the mirror again. Her face was 
 glowing. " Oh, I am glad I have lost that ghostly look."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 277 
 
 She longed to fly to him, yet an intense shyness held her 
 back. She stood in the center of the little room, trying 
 to subdue the fluttering of her heart. Her eyes fell 
 upon the pink-centered roses, and selecting two at ran- 
 dom, she pinned them to her blue gown. Her fingers 
 trembled and grew cold. 
 
 "I am weak yet," she told herself, "and I'm silly to 
 feel so frightened at the thought of seeing him, when it 
 is the thing I long for most," and then, in spite of knees 
 which threatened to give way at any moment, she went 
 slowly down the stairs. 
 
 The door of Number 32 was slightly ajar. She went 
 up to it. Her feet on the thick hall carpets had made no 
 sound. She knew that he was waiting. Her heart and 
 soul reached out to him, yet she faltered, and it seemed 
 a physical impossibility to take the next step. 
 
 She put her right hand out to push open the door, 
 and with her left she clung to the frame. Randolph 
 must have seen the clinging ringers, for he strode across 
 the room, flung back the panel, and with a low cry of 
 " Ariadne," drew her in to him, folding his arms about 
 her. 
 
 For a long while they did not speak, only clung silently 
 together. Then he lifted her face and kissed her. She 
 let her head fall backward upon his arm. Her eyes were 
 closed in the ecstasy of meeting. 
 
 "My love my white rose my Ariadne," he mur- 
 mured between the kisses. "Don't shiver so, my 
 darling. Everything is all right for us. Come over 
 here to this big lounge, poor little invalid. We must 
 talk a little, just a little. I won't keep you long this 
 time." 
 
 Again upon the sofa there were kisses and long, silent, 
 strained embraces. It seemed a hardship to both young
 
 278 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 hearts that there should be a necessity for speech, even 
 for thinking when silence was so dear. 
 
 Randolph was the first to pull himself together. He 
 drew back, only keeping the two cold hands in his. 
 
 "Now, see here, darling, we've got to talk. The 
 
 portier says those unspeakable creatures, those Martels 
 
 are off to a place in Germany. I forget the name, 
 
 but that doesn't matter. Of course you are not to 
 
 go-" 
 
 ''They have changed," she managed to say; "they 
 won't go to Germany." 
 
 "Germany, China, or Patagonia it's all the same to 
 me ; the farther off the better. Have they decided on a 
 train?" 
 
 "To-morrow night, I think." 
 
 "I'm sorry it isn't earlier." 
 
 The girl said nothing. 
 
 "Now listen, precious one, I've been doing some 
 cabling and letter-writing of my own. Do you think 
 that by to-morrow you will be strong enough to make the 
 crossing to England by yourself?" 
 
 "You you want me to go to England ? " 
 
 "Yes, dear, though I dread you to have to take the 
 journey without me, I can put you in the boat at Flush- 
 ing, and you will be met in London by a Mrs. Austin 
 in fact she's Lady Austin and is a connection of your 
 own. She was Lydia Fairfax of Wynne Hall near Cul- 
 peper and is an intimate friend of your cousin, Judge 
 Henry. I got in touch with her by wire. That is not 
 all. I have sent a cable to your cousin Judge, urging 
 him to sail immediately. Well, I won't tell you exactly 
 what I said, but I feel sure he will take the next fast 
 steamer." 
 
 "Will he come to London, too?"
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 279 
 
 "Straight as the Plymouth express can bring him, I 
 believe." 
 
 "Oh, Randolph, you are doing all this just for me." 
 
 He laughed and caught her to him. "Yes, my pre- 
 cious, just for you. Strange, isn't it, that a fellow should 
 go to such awful trouble just for the girl he worships ? 
 Now how soon can you have your things packed?" 
 
 Instead of answering she clung to him. For the first 
 time it was she who sought his kisses. She could not, 
 it would seem, have enough of love. If he tried to speak, 
 her lips pressed back the words, so closely did her mouth 
 cling to his. There was so intense, so desperate a yield- 
 ing, that the young man's head reeled with it. Finally 
 he tore himself away. 
 
 "You you madden me, Ariadne," he said un- 
 steadily. "Oh, my love, my adorable love, in a few 
 days more we can be together always. We won't need 
 then to think or plan. When can you be ready to 
 start for Flushing?" 
 
 There was no use trying to escape it any longer. 
 Ariadne huddled herself together. The exquisite, shift- 
 ing color went from her face. 
 
 "Sit down, Randy," she whispered, "I will talk now. 
 Something has happened ; I must tell you - 
 
 He sat by her again, wondering at the utter change 
 that had taken place. 
 
 "I can't follow your plans not yet, anyway. I am 
 going to London, but not your way. Don't let Cousin 
 Nellie's friend try to meet me. I must go with my 
 stepmother." 
 
 The young man frowned. "You prefer to go with her 
 after after well, we needn't think of that." 
 
 "It isn't that I prefer it. If I could have my own 
 way, I would never again on earth do anything but
 
 2 8o ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 what pleased you. But just now, for a little while 
 longer, I must stay with Madonna." 
 
 Randolph still looked annoyed. "Oh, well, I suppose 
 her being alone can make no material difference. Of 
 course that brute, Martel, isn't going?" 
 
 Ariadne's head drooped. "Yes, he is going, too." 
 
 Randolph leaned back, his eyes fixed on her. All the 
 boyish happiness went out of his face. 
 
 "You mean he is going with you to London?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And his French chauffeur-valet ?" 
 
 "I suppose so." 
 
 "In fact, the entire happy family. Just as it was 
 before I met you here." 
 
 "I can't help myself, Randy." 
 
 The man got to his feet. "Well, I can help myself," 
 he said, "and I can help you, too. I won't stand 
 it." 
 
 She made no reply, but sat with clasped hands and 
 down-dropped eyes. Her lips, now utterly bloodless, 
 were pressed together. 
 
 Randolph's heart smote him. He went to her, lifting 
 her unresponsive hands. 
 
 "Dear little girl, forgive me for speaking so roughly. 
 I forgot, just for the moment, that you had been ill. 
 Only you must see for yourself that I cannot let you pass 
 another night under the same roof as that fiend, much 
 less allow you to travel with him. Things have changed. 
 Now you belong to me. I've the right to look after 
 you. Just as soon as Judge Henry gets here, we are 
 going to have a quiet little wedding. Don't you see 
 for yourself, dear, that I couldn't possibly let the woman 
 I'm to marry continue to be near such a man ?" 
 
 "I know how you feel about it, Randolph. It's a
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 281 
 
 million times more terrible to me. But I can't leave 
 Donna." 
 
 "Is it a choice then between me and your step- 
 mother?" 
 
 She caught his hand. "Don't say such a thing. 
 There's nobody in the world but you ; oh, don't you see 
 how I love you?" 
 
 "You say that, and yet in the same breath persist 
 in a thing that no decent man would tolerate." 
 
 "I must bear it a little longer; oh, if I could make 
 you understand !" 
 
 "I fear you cannot, Ariadne. The point at issue is 
 very clear. The girl that I am to marry can't remain 
 in close association with a man who has offered her the 
 grossest insult a woman can receive ! Except for the 
 menace to your good name, I should have shot him, and 
 there's not a jury on earth but would have cleared me. 
 You are no child. You realize clearly the peril you 
 were in. God! When I think of it !" He threw back 
 his head and ran his fingers through his thick hair. 
 "But I must keep that vision away, or I'll do murder 
 yet. Ariadne Ariadne don't you see what it means 
 to me that you should have been for those hours 
 at his mercy ? " 
 
 She gave a little moaning sound of assent. 
 
 "You would have a right to despise me if I consented 
 to your stopping on with him." 
 
 "I need never speak to him or look at him." 
 
 "What difference does that make? He will be there. 
 He can look at you, when every glance is contamination. 
 He can sit by you even touch you God in heaven ! 
 That's what I will not stand ! " He rose to his feet again 
 and walked rapidly back and forth, fighting for self- 
 control.
 
 282 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 The girl on the sofa did not move. Randolph strode 
 to the window, staring down into the street. Mechani- 
 cally he put his hand to an inner pocket. He drew out 
 a still folded paper that had a legal look. He seemed 
 unconscious that he held or looked at it. Then the type- 
 written words across the folded top grew into a meaning : 
 "Patredis versus Patredis" 
 
 He opened the foolscap, glancing down the page. 
 Again he stared from the window, his brows drawn to- 
 gether in thought. Then, folding the paper deliberately 
 and holding it in his hand, he went back to Ariadne. 
 
 "Listen, dear, I have something else to say to you. 
 It is ugly and rather terrible. Do you feel strong enough 
 to bear it?" 
 
 "Yes," she whispered and almost smiled, for what 
 could be so terrible as the things he had already said 
 to her ? 
 
 "I'm sorry that I have to bring this out so soon I 
 proposed to wait. But this present issue forces it." 
 
 "Yes," she said again. 
 
 "Now, don't be frightened. Here, come a little 
 closer." 
 
 She crept up to him with a sigh of thankfulness. He 
 kissed her hair, and went on: "Do you remember that 
 morning at the little restaurant when we were having 
 chocolate together, I gave you, as an example of the 
 kind of legal work I wouldn't touch, the case of a man 
 who was then being blackmailed through our office ? " 
 
 "Yes, I remember well." 
 
 "And that same morning you told me Martel was in 
 desperate straits and making your stepmother miser- 
 able about twenty thousand dollars he needed?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Certain things you said then aroused my suspicions.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 283 
 
 I cabled that night to our New York office and have 
 had their answer." 
 
 She lifted her beautiful, saddened eyes to his face. 
 He hesitated. "Perhaps you'd better not look at me 
 just that way, dear, or I shan't have the courage to 
 go on." 
 
 The pink flush came again as she buried her face against 
 his shoulder. 
 
 " To come to the point at once, my suspicions were 
 right : the man Patredis is Martel." 
 
 The girl drew herself upright. She could not com- 
 prehend at once all that his statement involved. 
 Divorce, alimony, and blackmail were things that had 
 not touched her life. 
 
 "Had Mr. Martel been married before ?" she asked. 
 
 "Very much so," Randolph replied. "He was di- 
 vorced from this woman, or she from him, only a few 
 months before he met your stepmother. The divorce 
 was one of those loose, trumped-up affairs they permit 
 to go through the courts in some of our Western States. 
 Afterwards, when Patredis' wife heard he had married a 
 rich widow, she began looking about for a flaw in the 
 process. This was comparatively easy to find. She 
 traced him to Europe under the new name of Martel." 
 
 "It is not even his own name?" gasped Ariadne with 
 such horror that Randolph smiled tenderly. 
 
 "You dear innocent ! If he were the only scamp wan- 
 dering about Europe with a false label ! But that 
 amounts to nothing. The really dreadful part is that 
 your stepmother was never legally married to him." 
 
 The girl fell back, dazed and staring. Randolph 
 involuntarily looked away. 
 
 "It makes me sick to have these loathsome things 
 dragged before you, Ariadne. But Fate has mixed you
 
 284 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 up in some queer snarls. Only let me get you out for 
 once and all." 
 
 But Ariadne was beating her hands together. "You 
 must not tell Donna ; oh, don't tell Donna." 
 
 "That is the worst of all, isn't it?" he said com- 
 passionately. "Lord, I shall hate it! But I must; 
 my facts are here in this paper. The poor soul cannot 
 doubt it." 
 
 "You must not tell her, I say," repeated the girl 
 wildly. 
 
 "But, dear heart, it is the best way of shaking off 
 Martel. It is the only way." 
 
 "Why not go to him then?" demanded Ariadne. 
 
 "Because he would deny it and challenge me for 
 proofs. He would be sure to make a feint of going to 
 law against me, knowing that the full evidence could not 
 reach me for some time, and I will not risk you near him 
 till the papers come." 
 
 "But that paper in your hand?" 
 
 " This is only a copy of a part, not by any means the 
 full evidence." 
 
 "But you think it enough to convince Donna." 
 
 "More than enough." 
 
 "Randolph, you can't tell her. She is not well." 
 
 "Nonsense, Ariadne. I saw her in the hallway as I 
 came in. She was chattering away to the manager, and 
 I thought her unusually animated. Fortunately, she 
 did not catch sight of me." 
 
 "That was only excitement at the thought of leaving. 
 I tell you she is ill. The doctor was here this morning. 
 Oh, can it be only this morning ! Already it seems as if 
 I must have known it for a year ! " 
 
 " Known it ? What are you talking about ? " 
 
 Ariadne caught herself together. "Nothing, only that
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 285 
 
 she is not well." Then she turned to him, lifting his 
 hand in both of hers. 
 
 "It's so dreadful. It's all so dreadful. But, Randy, 
 won't you trust me in just this one thing? Don't let 
 Donna know it yet. Wait until we get to London." 
 
 "And have you cross the Channel and go to a London 
 hotel with that man?" 
 
 "I must I must," she moaned. 
 
 He took away his hand. "I must confess that I 
 don't know what to think of you, Ariadne. After what 
 passed at the Black Village - 
 
 "Don't don't bring that back; I couldn't endure 
 it," she cried sharply. 
 
 "I must bring it back, if it clears your reason. As for 
 that miserable woman, she deserves what she is getting." 
 
 "You don't know, or you couldn't be so cruel." 
 
 "Cruel !" he echoed I " And what is your treatment 
 of me?" 
 
 "You will not understand some day oh, my dear 
 lover, can't you trust me just a little while ?" She flung 
 her arms about him, but he sat unresponsive as a statue 
 of bronze. She fell back, shuddering. 
 
 "I can't lose him; I can't lose him," her tortured 
 heart was crying. "Let everything else go but keep 
 the happiness of his love." 
 
 "I had better go, Ariadne," he said, rising. "I'm 
 sure that it is your weakness and the suddenness with 
 which I have had to present this that makes you unable 
 to see reason. You can't start now until to-morrow 
 night. Let me see you again in the morning. By that 
 time you will have thought things out." 
 . "Yes, yes," she sobbed, "that will be better." 
 
 He walked toward the door, but she sprang after him. 
 " Don't leave me like this, Randy." He turned, his
 
 286 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 face still dark and set ; but as she came nearer, he opened 
 his arms. 
 
 When at last he went, he said in parting: "Try to 
 forget the rough things that I said, precious. Remember 
 only that I love you that soon you are to be my own 
 dear wife and that I would fight the devil for you with 
 his own pitchfork and spit him on it, too." 
 
 "Dear, dearest love," she whispered, "and I want you 
 to remember that the only happiness I have had in my 
 whole life is what you have brought me." 
 
 "Dear little girl, I hate to say good-by even for a 
 few hours. Go back to your room now and try to get 
 a long night's sleep. We'll meet to-morrow by the 
 Vyver." 
 
 "Yes, by the Vyver, where we first really met." 
 
 He kissed her again and went. As she climbed the 
 steep stairs to her room, each heavy tread seemed to fall 
 as lead upon the girl's breaking heart. 
 
 Ariadne's dinner was served up-stairs, and later in the 
 evening Mrs. Martel came up to her. She knew nothing 
 of Randolph's visit, and Ariadne did not speak of it. 
 Even had she wished to do so, the time would have been 
 unpropitious, for Donna was overflowing with her own 
 affairs. 
 
 "I have told Connie about the will at last," she said 
 triumphantly. "Oh, he was so noble; of course it 
 shocked him a little, but he controlled himself at once. 
 We have just eaten dinner together and Connie had 
 violets on the table. These are some of them." 
 
 She smiled and looked down upon a cluster of fragrant, 
 purple flowers pinned to her spangled evening dress. 
 "He is perfectly reconciled to going to London. Oh, 
 Ariadne, I do believe he is getting into one of his very 
 nicest spells. It makes me so happy. But you are
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 287 
 
 looking very pale again. You must go straight to bed, 
 my dear. It will be a very busy day for all of us to- 
 morrow. Now I'll run down-stairs again, for I need my 
 beauty sleep, too." 
 
 "One moment, Madonna, did you tell him any- 
 thing of what the doctor said ?" 
 
 "Oh, dear, no. I didn't need to. I just said it was a 
 weak heart. It may be only that. Somehow I seem 
 to feel sure that little Doctor Bergen was mistaken." 
 
 "You still mean to keep me to that promise of 
 silence?" 
 
 "Of course. Now, more than ever. But who on 
 earth would you want to tell ?" 
 
 Ariadne said nothing. A brief struggle was in her 
 mind. Should she tell Donna everything, throw her- 
 self on the older woman's mercy, and ask to be released ? 
 There might be just a possibility. 
 
 Mrs. Martel went on, sustaining the note of shrill 
 inquiry. "You don't even know anybody here, unless 
 that wretched Randolph Carr is still hanging around. 
 I should think he'd have the grace to leave us after being 
 the cause of your accident." 
 
 Ariadne stared in pure amazement. "He, the cause ! 
 Why, Donna, he was the one who saved me ; he brought 
 me back." 
 
 "You know very well that it was because Connie 
 thought he ought to warn you against Mr. Carr that he 
 planned to have you alone." 
 
 "Oh!" said Ariadne. There was nothing else she 
 could say. 
 
 "I never saw any one so cut up over a thing as Connie 
 was over that accident. He couldn't seem to get it 
 off his poor, dear mind. Oh, Ariadne, Connie was simply 
 lovely to me at dinner." She smiled down coquet-
 
 288 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 tishly, touching her violets. "And you know how fas- 
 cinating he can be. Never mind, dear, some day just 
 the right man the sort of man that Connie and I can 
 approve will come along. Then you will know what 
 it means to a woman to yield up her whole nature to the 
 man of her choice. Love is the best thing in the world, 
 as Byron said." Tossing her head, she went out of the 
 door, archly smiling, all glittering spangles and violet 
 perfume. 
 
 In the hall she turned back. "No, it wasn't Byron, 
 it was Browning. But both their names begin with 
 a'B.'" 
 
 As she disappeared, Ariadne sank down into the chair. 
 It was enough that tragedy should threaten without 
 the glare of sardonic humor playing over it. 
 
 "What will the end be?" she thought wearily. If 
 Randolph persisted in his demand that she should leave 
 the Martels, if she were still bound by her pledge to 
 Donna, it might be even separation a breach that 
 could never be healed. 
 
 "Oh, he couldn't give me up, he couldn't give me up. 
 He knows how I love him. To-morrow, when he has 
 had time to think things over, he will trust me. He will 
 not let me go out of his life, even though for a little 
 while I must seem to oppose his wishes." 
 
 She rocked herself to and fro. Poor Donna, who had 
 said that some day her stepdaughter, too, might know 
 the glory of self-surrender. It seemed strange to her, 
 almost repellent, that a broken, aging woman could 
 still place herself among those who love. Surely that 
 was for the young, for those whose eyes were clear, whose 
 hearts could leap and tremble at a spoken name. Yet if 
 lore meant sacrifice, idolatry, and blindness to all evil 
 in the creature adored, the woman had given and was
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 289 
 
 still giving the very essence of her being to her sinister 
 god. And for what reward? Brutal indifference and 
 ill-concealed scorn ! But Donna would not see. Even 
 now, in her rejoicing at his kindness, she could overlook 
 the fact, so obvious to Ariadne, that the man feared to 
 lose not his benefactress, but her unstinted bounty. 
 
 Ariadne dared not ask herself what stand the infatu- 
 ated woman would take if she were told of Martel's first 
 marriage and the situation that now devolved. If the 
 man commanded her to remain with him, defying both 
 law and convention, the woman would indubitably obey. 
 
 "I must not think of these things any longer," re- 
 flected the girl; "I must sleep. To-morrow Randolph 
 and I can talk it over quietly. As long as I have him 
 and he loves me, nothing else matters." 
 
 Randolph was waiting for her under the chestnut trees. 
 She could see him pacing slowly back and forth, his head 
 bent forward. He wore the tan tweed hat and the 
 loosely fitting coat that swung in such gallant folds from 
 his lean, broad shoulders. 
 
 While dressing, that morning, Ariadne had carefully 
 selected the same gray costume she had worn at their 
 first meeting by the Vyver. Such trifles are significant 
 to young lovers. She knew that he would recognize 
 the meaning of her choice. 
 
 As the young man caught sight of her, he flung his 
 cigarette in the water, much to the disgust of the greedy 
 ducks, lifted his hat, and smiled. It was not the boyish 
 greeting that she loved. Like the ducks, she felt just a 
 little defrauded. His first words were commonplace. 
 
 "I hope you had a good night, dear." 
 
 "Yes, after I once got to sleep." 
 
 He saw the letter in her hand. "Another from 
 Grandma?" he asked.
 
 2QO ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "No. It seems strange to be my own postman, but," 
 she flushed and smiled, "it's a long, long one to you 
 written in installments while you were away. You 
 remember you asked me to write and then save it till 
 you returned ? " 
 
 "I should say so. It was good of you to bring it." 
 He held out his hand, but in giving it, she entreated : 
 "Don't read it now, please. Wait until I go. It's 
 it's my first love-letter. I would be terribly em- 
 barrassed." 
 
 " Your will is law," he answered gallantly, and before 
 placing it in his pocket, he kissed the superscription. 
 After this a silence which both felt to be a little awkward 
 fell upon them. 
 
 " No sunshine to-day," observed Randolph, looking 
 up through the trees at a gray sky overhead. 
 
 "I'm afraid not," sighed Ariadne. "Doesn't the old 
 stork look miserable on that one long leg of his among 
 the yellow flag lilies ?" 
 
 Randolph surveyed him. "How silly to be stuck up 
 on top of one leg like that especially such a thin, un- 
 certain sort of a support." 
 
 "MylittleVermeer milkmaid over therein the Mauri ts- 
 haus will be shining in this dull light like a jewel in an 
 open case. I must see her once more before I leave the 
 Hague, but I suppose the Mauritshaus would scarcely 
 be open so early." 
 
 Both were talking for time, and each knew it. There 
 was a latent fear of touching upon personal realities. 
 Ariadne unwittingly had sounded the first note when 
 she spoke of leaving. 
 
 They stood exactly on the spot where only a few days 
 earlier Randolph had found her. In the brief interval 
 all the waves of life seemed to have broken against them
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 291 
 
 and were still surging tempestuously. Their one hold 
 in the stormy sea was love. To this the girl clung des- 
 perately. If Randy struck down her hands from that 
 dear refuge, it made no difference afterward where the 
 black tide bore her. 
 
 "Let us sit down," he said abruptly; "we must talk 
 about it. There is no use shirking." 
 
 They walked across to the same bench where the two 
 had sat gossiping so gayly that first morning. Randolph, 
 taking off his hat, threw it on to the seat beside him. 
 He ran his brown fingers through browner hair. Ariadne 
 looked up, taking in consciously all the charm and dark 
 beauty of his face. She loved the bold, fine line from 
 ear to chin and the mouth which might have been stern 
 but for those deep nicks at the corner where a boyish 
 joy of life seemed caught. Above all things she loved 
 that sudden smile, and the way his brow flashed white 
 against the bronze tints of his face. There was no smile 
 now. He was staring out across the clear stretch of 
 water, his brows drawn heavily. 
 
 "I've had my cable from Judge Henry," he said. 
 
 "Oh, is he coming?" 
 
 "Yes, almost at once, I believe." 
 
 "Will he go to London first?" 
 
 "Yes. His official address will be Brown, Shipley, 
 and Company. Here, let me write it down for you. I 
 don't know yet the name of his London Hotel." 
 
 He wrote on a card of his own, and Ariadne slipped it 
 into her glove. 
 
 "Of course, if you are to do as I wish as I hope you 
 will, Ariadne you won't need to bother about their 
 address or anything else. Probably we'll run down to- 
 gether to meet their steamer." 
 
 "Oh, if we only could," said the girl. "It makes me
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 shiver with delight just to think of seeing one of my own 
 people again. And I love Judge Henry ; he was father's 
 very best friend." 
 
 "He is yours, too, Ariadne. They all love you and 
 will thank me for forcing you to leave these people." 
 
 She said nothing. Her eyes went down to the gray- 
 gloved hands clasped in her lap. 
 
 "Have you decided to go to-night, as I wish, 
 Ariadne ? " 
 
 "They Madonna have engaged passage from 
 the Hook." 
 
 "That goes to Harwich," said the man. "Then I 
 had better take you down to Flushing. It is only four 
 hours from here. We can start by the three-thirty 
 train." 
 
 She made no reply. He looked at her. He had hoped 
 against further opposition, but since it was to be met, he 
 was telling himself there must be no vehemence, no ex- 
 citement. They could not have a scene beside the Vyver. 
 To the people who passed and glanced at them, they 
 appeared a couple of unusually well-favored young for- 
 eigners lovers it might be who had come out for 
 a morning walk and were now resting. 
 
 "Must we have that whole discussion over again, 
 dearest?" he asked rather sadly. 
 
 "No, Randolph. There is nothing to discuss. I have 
 thought over everything. I can see how it looks to you, 
 but for this once you must trust me. You must believe 
 me when I tell you that, much as I long to be with you, 
 to follow you from this minute and never think of those 
 others in my life again, to-night I must go with Donna." 
 
 "And you refuse to give me any further explanation ?" 
 
 "I can't, Randolph. I'm not at liberty to do it. But 
 I think I can say this much without breaking my word.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 293 
 
 My stepmother is going to London to consult a 
 specialist." 
 
 "That's nothing. Those lazy, over-fed women are 
 always seeing specialists." 
 
 "I have promised to stay with her until she sees her 
 doctor." 
 
 Again Randolph ran the long fingers through his hair. 
 His next question was something of a surprise. "What 
 did Martel say to her about the other night ? " 
 
 "That he took me off alone, as I would then have to 
 listen to him while he warned me against you." 
 
 "Does she know that the chauffeur was his valet?" 
 
 "She doesn't dream it. No one knows except the old 
 portier and ourselves." 
 
 "Of course she believes everything the brute tells 
 her." 
 
 "Absolutely. She has no will, no mind of her own, 
 where he is concerned. In all these years I have never 
 seen her get her own way but once, and it is this time 
 about the trip to London." 
 
 "She has worked the specialist dodge on him, too ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Did you hear her, or did she only tell you?" 
 
 "She told me." 
 
 "Ariadne, I don't believe a word of it. It's merely a 
 trumped-up scheme to steal you away from me. They 
 may cross the Channel, but they will never get to London. 
 You will be carried off to Norway, to Iceland, or some 
 other spot where I cannot find you. Can't you see that 
 they are afraid I shall persuade you to marry me, which 
 means that your stepmother will lose the money?" 
 
 "It is true about this going to London, Randolph. 
 You must believe me this time. It is true." 
 
 "Even so, that doesn't particularly interest me," he
 
 294 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 said. "The one point that I hold to, and that I must 
 hold to, Ariadne, is that I shall not allow the woman I 
 love to remain near the devil incarnate who menaced 
 her. Why, good God, child, that beast himself, low as 
 he is, would have a right to despise me if I allowed it. 
 Last night was a torture to me merely to know that 
 you were in the same house with him. I won't stand it 
 again and you might as well realize it. Either you 
 come to Flushing with me by the three-thirty train, 
 or" 
 
 She put out her hand quickly. "Don't say it, dear; 
 don't force a thing which may make us lose each other." 
 
 "Oh, my darling," he groaned, "you are leaving me no 
 other choice. I love you ; you can't doubt that. There 
 will never be another girl on earth for me, if you throw 
 me over now. But there are some things that I cannot 
 do, even for you, and this is one of them." 
 
 "Then if I go to-night with Madonna, you will never 
 care to see me again ? " 
 
 "I'll care yes, I'll care to. Good God, my days 
 and nights will be one long agony to see you, but 
 
 He paused. She was staring out across the water, 
 her face a white lantern in which the light had died. 
 
 " Go on I'd rather hear it all." 
 
 "The woman I want for my wife must not let anything 
 any promise, any exaggerated sense of duty = weigh 
 against the horror of remaining in such a man's presence. 
 She must go not only because her lover asks it but 
 because all that he thought fine, and sweet, and worthy 
 in her, would demand it. As you said once about marry- 
 ing a man who would be willing to join such a menage 
 as yours : you would despise him because he could so 
 lower himself, even for the sake of gaining you. My 
 feeling in this case is exactly the same. Oh, Ariadne, it
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 295 
 
 kills me to be saying such a thing to you, but it is the 
 deepest part of me that speaks. I couldn't marry a 
 woman who is willing to stay near the monster who so 
 nearly destroyed her." 
 
 Ariadne gave a little sigh. The clasped hands were 
 again on her lap. When at last she spoke, her voice was 
 low and unshaken. 
 
 "Yes, now I see it all. It wasn't clear before. You 
 are right, dear. You could not marry such a woman." 
 
 "Then it is to be good-by?" 
 
 "I can't see any other way." 
 
 The old stork slowly unfolded the angles of the other 
 leg, shook away the stiffness, and began a stately progress 
 through the yellow iris. A half-tamed sparrow perched 
 at the back of the bench and twittered in hope of bene- 
 fice. The two human things neither saw nor heard. 
 They sat in a close-drawn tent, ignorant of an outer 
 world. 
 
 Ariadne scarcely knew the moment when her com- 
 panion left her. She sat on alone. 
 
 Finally she rose and went close to the water. 
 
 "Good-by, dear Vyver," she whispered. "Good-by 
 - dear little wide-eyed girl over there at the Mauri ts- 
 haus, and good-by good-by forever to my one, one 
 happiness." 
 
 Then she turned and went back to the hotel.
 
 BOOK THREE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE fashionable West End of London is not early to 
 rise, a fact to be regretted, at least on a clear June 
 morning. The sun had long since spurned the forest 
 of crooked chimney-pots across the Thames, and now 
 lifted its golden bowl to pour its glory into pleasanter 
 channels to flood the courtyards and green, open 
 spaces of the rich, and brim with an aerial tide of light 
 the broad, magnificent thoroughfare of Piccadilly. 
 
 It was not quite ten o'clock. Many of the shops still 
 showed their green shutters. Doorsteps were being 
 hearthstoned and brass signs polished. In fact, Picca- 
 dilly was at its morning toilet, an indelicacy which 
 would have counted for little, had all pedestrians been 
 as unobservant as a certain small, foreign-looking person 
 who was walking toward Mayfair, carrying in his hand 
 several unopened letters. He shuffled these as a poker 
 player does cards going back always with deepest 
 interest to one in a square blue envelope, directed hi a 
 bold, ignorant, yet very feminine hand. This he turned 
 over many times, holding it up to the light, and examin- 
 ing with minute care the red penny stamp and the 
 London postmark of two days before. 
 
 Suddenly he pulled himself together with a jerk "and 
 looked around. He was directly in front of the hotel. 
 He slipped the blue letter into an inner pocket, and with 
 the others in his hand, went in, pushed the lift button, 
 and hurried to his employer's room. Mr. Martel was
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 297 
 
 still in bed. Francois gave him the other letters, and 
 then went over to a window and drew the shade. 
 
 " Another fine morning, sir," he remarked. 
 
 His master did not answer. He was sorting the post. 
 
 "Here are two letters for Mrs. Martel; you'd better 
 take them to her." 
 
 Frangois took them but remained near the bed. 
 His hand went to an inner pocket. 
 
 "There's another, sir. I put it in here in case Mrs. 
 Martel might be with you. I'm afraid you won't like 
 this one." 
 
 Martel sprang to a sitting posture. " Has that woman 
 traced me here already?" 
 
 "It looks so, sir. It's a London postmark." 
 
 Martel snatched at the letter, tearing it open. The 
 servant's eyes never left his face. 
 
 The man sank back with a groan. "Good God !" he 
 muttered. 
 
 Francois' sallow face took on an expression of anxiety. 
 "Anything I can do, sir?" 
 
 "Take these letters to Mrs. Martel. Find out if 
 she's up yet. Then come back." 
 
 As Franc. ois vanished, Martel read more carefully : 
 
 " I've got your number again. When are you coming 
 across with the wad ? I need it and I'm going to have 
 it. To-morrow, when you get this, send me word to 
 the above address, and do it quick. You needn't try 
 to dodge me no more. I've got the lead on you, and 
 I want that money. 
 
 " If you haven't got the sense to know when you're 
 beaten I'll be dropping in at your hotel, just to give 
 you a few lessons. 
 
 " Your loving wife, 
 
 " BLANCHE PATREDIS."
 
 298 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Frangois was swift, but even before his return, his 
 master was on his feet. 
 
 "Here," he said, " throw out my things on the bed 
 and then take this letter. Hire a taxi and go to this 
 address. Tell that she-devil the money is coming. 
 Make her believe it, for it's true. She mustn't come 
 to this hotel. Good God I She's up to it. No, I 
 won't stop for a bath. I had better dress and go down- 
 stairs. I'll wait in the main lounge till you get back. 
 Tell her that if she makes a row now, everything will go 
 to pieces. Say that I'll come to her in person, later on." 
 
 "I understand, sir." 
 
 When the man had gone, Constantine Martel dressed 
 with feverish haste. There was no other guest in the 
 lounge. He walked up and down, smoking. The pause 
 of every taxicab outside brought apprehension. Be- 
 tween his teeth he cursed this woman who now menaced 
 him. Here was no feeble, adoring creature ready to 
 give up her very existence to his pleasure, but a bold 
 and predatory foe, unscrupulous, and far more powerful 
 than himself. 
 
 He wondered whether she had changed much in the 
 seven years since their parting. She was well over 
 thirty by this time, and with the sort of life she must 
 have led would probably have grown coarse as well as 
 prematurely old. 
 
 He glanced at the clock. Francois could not return 
 for a full half-hour yet, even if he had been able to see 
 her at once. Scowling, he threw himself into a chair 
 near the entrance and rang for coffee. As he drank it, 
 feeling the resultant stimulus, his clearer vision brought 
 only added apprehension. Her letter had been written 
 two days before. Blanche had given him one full day 
 to reply, but unless she had fundamentally changed, her
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 299 
 
 impatience would not extend many hours longer. It 
 had been a trick of the evil one which had prevented 
 his sending to Brown, Shipley the day before. She 
 would surely come to the hotel. There was the one 
 chance that Francois might reach her lodgings before 
 she had left them. 
 
 The tall, superb figure of a woman filled the doorway. 
 He did not feel any special excitement. Somehow he 
 had known, all along, that she would come. 
 
 Martel rose, with no great haste, and went toward 
 her. 
 
 "Mrs. Patredis," he said in a conventional tone. 
 He had not seen her face yet because of the light behind 
 her, but he did not need to see it. 
 
 "Exactly Mrs. Patredis," she replied as casually. 
 "You must have known what would happen when you 
 didn't answer." 
 
 "I only received your letter a few moments ago 
 and have already sent my valet to your lodgings." 
 
 "My, but ain't we swell," she remarked, with a low 
 laugh. "It pays to marry a rickety old Jane with 
 money, don't it?" 
 
 Martel threw a nervous glance around. 
 
 "Please be careful. There's a small sitting-room on 
 the next floor where we can talk quietly. Kindly come 
 with me." 
 
 "I trust I ain't being led into your wife's boudoir," 
 said the woman flippantly. 
 
 He walked toward a curving stairway, she a little in 
 the rear. At the foot he paused, motioning her to go 
 first. As she put her high-heeled slipper on the first 
 step, she turned a little, looking toward him with such 
 open amusement, such good-natured contempt, that he 
 felt the dark blood rush to his cheeks.
 
 300 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Handsomer than ever, and dolled up to beat the 
 band," she remarked as if to herself, as she mounted the 
 velvet-covered staircase. 
 
 He threw open the door of a sitting-room, and when 
 she had entered, after an instant of hesitation, closed 
 the door behind him. 
 
 Mrs. Patredis advanced with slow self-possession. 
 She looked around the room, found a mirror above the 
 broad mantelshelf and went up to it, lifted her veil, 
 and laid it along the wide brim of her hat. Each motion 
 was instinct, with a sort of slow, deliberate grace. She 
 smiled at her own image. 
 
 "I don't think I've changed much either," she said 
 complacently. "I've found that good looks pay." 
 
 The man kept his eyes from her. The surge of fury 
 that had swept over him as he read her letter was battling 
 now, in her presence, against a stronger passion of fear. 
 She was so overwhelmingly at ease, so certain of control, 
 not only over herself but over him, that the words he 
 longed to say failed him. Had the power been his, 
 he would have delighted in a gradual approach to the 
 issue, in softly spoken insults and unexpected, rapier 
 thrusts of speech. The woman's methods were of 
 another sort. 
 
 "Now, look here, Mr. Patredis," she began in a 
 businesslike voice, "I'm sick and tired of all your lies 
 and hiding. I've got you where the wool's short, and 
 you know it. When is the rest of that money to be 
 paid?" 
 
 "You've had seven thousand within three weeks," 
 he said fiercely, turning to her. "Why must you have 
 the rest in such a hurry?" 
 
 "That's my business. I want it. Getting it is 
 yours."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 301 
 
 "I told you that I had scraped together every bit of 
 cash I could. You know I've nothing of my own. I 
 have to get it from from - 
 
 She gave a comprehending gesture. "Oh, I know 
 where you get it from, all right. But the old girl is 
 as rich as the inside of a dog." 
 
 "She has no control over her capital. We live on 
 the income, and since the drain of your damned black- 
 mailing began, we are often hard put to it. Curse you ! " 
 he cried, the accession of anger giving him a momentary 
 courage. " That was a low deal to tamper with a divorce 
 that you wanted as much as I and then start a pack 
 of lawyers hounding an innocent woman through me. 
 I wouldn't have believed it of you, Blanche." 
 
 As he spoke, the woman's face had changed. She 
 bent forward in her chair a little, her dark brows coming 
 together in a frown. 
 
 "Yes, it has been pretty low down; I ain't proud of 
 the deed, my boy. But just at the time I was put to it, 
 as you say, on my own hook. Canning " she paused. 
 
 "So he didn't marry you, after all ?" 
 
 "No, he didn't," she flashed out fiercely, "and I 
 don't want any of those sarcastic remarks of yours about 
 it. I hate the sniveling cur, and I'm going to get even 
 with him yet. That's part of my scheme, and it's one 
 of the big reasons I want this money from you in a 
 chunk." 
 
 "I'm doing what I can, Blanche. You'll have to be 
 patient for a few days yet." 
 
 Martel seated himself in a chair opposite. The anger 
 had already died. He watched her face almost timidly. 
 She was evidently thinking hard. 
 
 "Your lawyers gave me that same song and dance 
 about the income," she said, after a pause. "Why on
 
 3 02 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 earth didn't you have the old woman make a settlement 
 on you before you married her?" 
 
 "I did try it, but her affairs were in the hands of a 
 trustee. I thought I could do anything with her after- 
 ward." 
 
 "It's a queer thing about you crooks," said the other 
 musingly. " There's nothing you'd stop at. You have a 
 million suspicions about things that don't matter, and 
 you always are blind as bats about some one big fact 
 that props up all the rest. It was that way with our 
 divorce. I knew at the time there was a hole in it big 
 enough for a camel to jump through. But you were so 
 mad to get your hands on your share of the ranch-money 
 that you couldn't see anything else. Now, even with a 
 rickety old Jane like this, you're in the same sort of 
 mess. You need somebody to look after you, Pat." 
 
 "Oh, don't call me Pat. I can't stand it," he broke 
 out. 
 
 She smiled. "So Jane calls you Connie. I'm wise. 
 Does the old girl know anything about this?" 
 
 "Good Lord! No. She thinks I need the money 
 because of unfortunate speculations." 
 
 "That's as good a name as any. But the hour for 
 Madame to know a few real facts is about to strike." 
 
 "You can't do it, Blanche. If you sprung a thing 
 like this on her, it would be the end of everything for us 
 both. You don't want to kill the goose that lays the 
 golden eggs." 
 
 "No, but I'd like to argue a few with the goose, so 
 that she'd lay an egg or two in my back-yard," laughed 
 the woman. 
 
 "I'll swear you shall have the money, Blanche. It 
 wouldn't hurt you, for old time's sake, to come down 
 in your price a little. Maybe I can help you get back
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 303 
 
 at Canning. I'd like to. But I'll pay you every dollar, 
 if you'll just give me time." 
 
 The woman regarded him intently. There was no 
 antagonism in her face. When she next spoke, it was 
 almost as to a fellow worker. 
 
 "But might it not be the best thing all around to let 
 me see Mrs. Martel" she smiled over the name 
 "and make her get a move on the egg factory ?" 
 
 "It is the last thing to do. We are in London now 
 so that she can see a heart specialist. I assure you that 
 such a scene might be her death." 
 
 The woman's eyes narrowed. "Well, and what of 
 it? Don't you get the dough?" 
 
 At this the man groaned and covered his face with 
 his hands. 
 
 "No, this is another trick the devil has played me. I 
 only found out a week ago that on her death every penny 
 goes to the girl." 
 
 Mrs. Patredis sat upright, staring at him, her eyes 
 as round as a startled child's. 
 
 "What? That Skipwith girl who trails around after 
 you?" 
 
 He nodded. His whole bent figure expressed humilia- 
 tion and despair. 
 
 "Well, of all damn fools- ' began the woman, and 
 then broke off for want of words. 
 
 Martel sprang to his feet and began pacing the small 
 room. "Now you see just the trap I'm in. For seven 
 years I've been the laughing stock of hotel clerks and 
 the butt of other women that we picked up from time 
 to time. The relatives and trustees of her first husband 
 abhor me and begrudge every cent they pay over. 
 She's had to keep the stepdaughter with us. I've stood 
 it all, thinking that it could not last forever and now
 
 3 04 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 in one crash, not only are you hounding me, but I find 
 I have to play the lap-dog and young lover in one, to 
 keep the woman alive. Even you, Blanche, might 
 pity a man in such a hole. I feel as if I were in that 
 San Francisco earthquake again pinned down under 
 rafters, and that you were there setting fire to them." 
 
 "I wouldn't say much about that earthquake if I 
 was you," remarked the other meaningly. "But never 
 mind, old boy, I don't want to stick it to you any worse 
 than I have to. I'm trying to think out something. 
 Stop that cake-walk and sit still. You get on my 
 nerves." 
 
 Martel took the chair obediently, his miserable eyes 
 on her face. 
 
 "Look here," she said at length, looking at him 
 squarely, "how old is the girl?" 
 
 "Somewhere about twenty-two or twenty-three." 
 
 "Is she a looker?" 
 
 "Some might think so. She's too slim and er 
 bloodless for my taste." 
 
 "I never knew the shape to make any difference if 
 you wanted something," she said bluntly. Her eyes 
 were still narrowed. 
 
 With a fierce exclamation the man struck the chair- 
 arm with his fist, then sprang upright. "Leave her out," 
 he cried. "There's absolutely nothing to be gained by 
 discussing her. She hates the sight of me." 
 
 Mrs. Patredis sat back in her chair. Her entire ex- 
 pression changed. The look of amusement and good- 
 natured contempt returned. "And him so pretty and 
 smells so sweet," she murmured. 
 
 He came up to her, holding out his hands. "Blanche, 
 please go now. That's a good girl. I'm not going to 
 try to give you the slip again, I swear it " 

 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 305 
 
 "Cut out the swear," she interrupted, with a little 
 gesture. "I always know when you are lying." 
 
 "I may be summoned to my wife's room at any 
 moment. She has already written to New York for the 
 money, and an answer may be here to-day. I'll call on 
 you at your own lodgings as often as you wish. In fact 
 I'd like it ; there's something real about you, Blanche." 
 
 She, too, was on her feet. "Oh, I'm real enough," 
 she laughed. "A little more of me, that's all. Come 
 to me to-morrow about this time." 
 
 " You're a splendid looking woman, and you know it," 
 said the man ingratiatingly. 
 
 She had gone to the mirror, and both shapely arms 
 were raised to readjust the veil. At Martel's words, 
 she turned a little, put out her left hand, and drew him 
 closer. The two dark, glowing faces were nearly on a 
 level. She threw him an indescribable look. "Not a 
 bad-looking couple yet," she murmured, dropping her 
 veil. 
 
 Then, without further words, she left the room. 
 
 Ariadne had dressed rather early, and after break- 
 fasting, had knocked softly on Mrs. Martel's door. 
 
 The stepmother was up, seated before her dressing- 
 table, while Cummins waved the faded hair back to its 
 usual elaborate arrangement. "Come in," she said 
 brightly. 
 
 As the girl entered, Donna smiled at her in the mirror. 
 "Oh, I thought it might be Connie. Aren't you sur- 
 prised to see me so smart, Ariadne? I'm feeling so 
 much better, and it's such a heavenly morning, that I 
 thought it would be nice to take a drive before luncheon. 
 I haven't asked Connie yet. Cummins went to his door, 
 but he had already gone out. It seems to me that old 
 London is cheering us all up."
 
 306 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Ariadne crossed to the window. "It's a lovely day," 
 she remarked. 
 
 "That's all right, Cummins," said Mrs. Martel. 
 "Go and get your breakfast now. I want to have a 
 little talk with Miss Skipwith before Mr. Martel comes 
 in. I declare, Ariadne," she began, even before Cum- 
 mins was out of the door, "I'm so much more myself, 
 so much lighter in mind and body, too, that I don't 
 believe there's going to be any need of a specialist. Look 
 here," she rose, pressing her side, and turning her body 
 freely. "Cummins had to phi over my dress last night, 
 it has grown so large for me." 
 
 "You do look ever so much better," the girl replied. 
 "Maybe Doctor Bergen was mistaken, after all." 
 
 "There's not a doubt of it. Why, I feel ten years 
 younger, and I believe I look it too." She simpered 
 at herself in the glass. "Of course it's chiefly Connie's 
 doing. He is so adorable, so thoughtful. There's not 
 a moment that he isn't thinking of ways to make me 
 happy. Why, the other day, in Old Bond Street, we 
 were looking in one of those Oriental jewelry windows, 
 and I happened to say that I liked a silver pendant set 
 with lapis lazuli. He took me by the arm and made 
 me go into the shop that minute. The chain was a 
 little too long, so he ordered it to be shortened. I 
 shouldn't be surprised if he had gone there now to get 
 it." 
 
 Ariadne found nothing to say. 
 
 "I believe I'd be perfectly happy, with nothing on 
 earth left to wish for, if only that old Judge Henry would 
 let me have the money Connie needs," added Mrs. 
 Martel. 
 
 "I didn't tell you before, Donna, I've seen so little of 
 you since we reached England but Judge Henry is
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 307 
 
 coming over in person and may arrive almost any 
 day." 
 
 Mrs. Mattel's hands fell to her sides. She stared at 
 her stepdaughter, and a querulous look fleeted across 
 her face. "Why on earth haven't you told me this 
 sooner?" she began, and then, with another sudden 
 change, the radiance returned. 
 
 "Never mind, I won't scold. It's such good news. 
 Of course he's coming in answer to my letter. It was 
 a very strong, direct letter. By the way, Ariadne, 
 what has become of Randolph Carr?" 
 
 "I do not know," said the girl in a constrained voice. 
 
 "I knew you would soon find out how little there was 
 in that man," commented her stepmother. "Connie 
 is a wonderful judge of character, and he took an intense 
 dislike to him from the first." 
 
 Ariadne leaned wearily against the window-frame. 
 A little flower-cart was being pushed along the street 
 below. There were nodding lilacs, roses in many shades, 
 round clusters of ragged robin bluer than any sky, and 
 in one corner, thrust into a pendant water vessel, a few 
 spikes of yellow iris. The girl's gaze fastened on these. 
 The peddler, with the prescience that belongs to an 
 itinerary trade, felt the look and raised his eyes, making 
 gestures that invited her to buy. But she shook her 
 head and drew back from the window. 
 
 She had not heard Mr. Martel enter. He now bent 
 over his wife and put a little packet in her hands. She 
 tore at the wrappings awkwardly, for her ringers shook. 
 
 "Oh, you darling," she cried, long before the covering 
 was removed. "I know what it is. I'm just crazy 
 over it, too. My lovely, lovely, blue necklace !" Now 
 it was disclosed, but in trying to clasp it, the jewel fell 
 to the floor. Martel picked it up and fastened it about
 
 3 o8 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 his wife's neck. He seemed unconscious of Ariadne's 
 presence. 
 
 Mrs. Martel's face grew purple. Her pale, prominent 
 eyes became suffused with tears : she was as one suffo- 
 cating with happiness. 
 
 "Oh, Ariadne, look! Did you ever see anything 
 lovelier? I must give you a little kiss, Connie, for 
 being so good to me." She pulled at his hand and he 
 leaned over, turning his smooth cheek. She pressed 
 tremulous, fervent lips to it. 
 
 "Now," she said to them both, "I feel that a little 
 drive in the park would do us all good. Ariadne, don't 
 begin to back off that way. You are so contrary. Of 
 course you are going, too." 
 
 "What hat will you_wear, Madonna?" asked the girl. 
 "I'll get it for you." " 
 
 "The big black one, with plumes and pink roses," 
 Mrs. Martel replied, "and I don't think I'll need any- 
 thing heavier than my charmeuse coat. It is a perfect 
 day." 
 
 As Ariadne went to get them, she heard the happy, 
 excited voice hurrying on: "I was just saying, as you 
 came in, Connie, that London is having a magical effect 
 on all of us. I feel better than I have for years, and 
 I've given up all idea of that heart specialist. If there 
 really was anything wrong, you have cured it already." 
 She patted his hand. "I believe there was something 
 uncanny about the Hague and that old hotel. Ugh ! 
 It makes me shudder just to think of it. I'll never 
 consent to go back there. The last week especially 
 - you were so strange, and then Ariadne had that acci- 
 dent and her crazy little doctor tried to frighten me 
 to death. What was it about that last week, anyway ? " 
 She paused, looking up to his dark face for a reply.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 309 
 
 Ariadne was coming toward her with the coat and hat. 
 The girl paused, her eyes downcast. 
 
 "I should say it was all a matter of your own nerves, 
 my dear," he answered. "Of course Ariadne had a bit 
 of a fright in the storm, but Sir Galahad was there to 
 the rescue." 
 
 Ariadne bit her lip. Was this a random shot, or had 
 this man heard Randy's legal nickname ? 
 
 "Sir Galahad !" echoed Donna. "Oh, you mean that 
 Carr man. Ariadne is through and done with him; 
 she's just told me so. I'll put the hat on here, Ariadne. 
 Please let me have two of the long pins. She's told me 
 something else too, Connie, something that will please 
 you. That old Judge Henry is actually on his way to 
 London." 
 
 Ariadne felt the man's sudden start and his look of 
 inquiry. 
 
 "Of course it is in answer to my letter; what else 
 could it be?" Mrs. Martel went on. "And when we 
 have that money, there will be nothing to worry about, 
 will there, dearest ? " She smiled fondly on her husband, 
 who stood back a little as Ariadne advanced with the 
 coat. Donna rose to her feet. Every motion was made 
 with apparent ease and lightness. She held out one arm 
 and then the other, and when the coat was on, began 
 searching over the dresser for a certain brooch. This 
 was a miniature of her husband, done by a famous 
 Parisian artist, and set in pearls. 
 
 She did not notice that Martel had made no answer 
 to her last remark. "Ah, here it is," she said, taking 
 up the pin. "Now, Ariadne, get on a light coat and 
 your pretty blue little motor-bonnet the one with 
 long strings." 
 
 "Madonna really if you don't mind," said 
 Ariadne in a distressed voice.
 
 3io ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Mr. Martel put an arm over his wife's shoulder and 
 turned her toward the door. His caressing voice was 
 low, but entirely audible. "You must think of me, 
 little woman ; I greatly prefer having you to myself." 
 
 "Oh, Connie," she said, with a delighted laugh. 
 "You know how I feel too but poor Ariadne." 
 
 "You can take her another time, when I have letters 
 to write." 
 
 She lifted her head and whispered something. With- 
 out a spoken reply, the man took down his arm, thrust 
 two languid fingers into his waistcoat pocket, and 
 sauntered across the room. 
 
 "Your mother wants you to have this," he said, 
 extending a gold coin. Ariadne looked at him. He 
 smiled, gave an incipient shrug, and laid the money 
 gently upon the corner of the dressing-table nearest her. 
 Then he went back to Donna, again encircled her with 
 his arm, and moved toward the door. On the threshold 
 he turned his face, and meeting Ariadne's eyes, gave 
 her a long look of malignant triumph. 
 
 When they were out of hearing, the girl slowly clinched 
 both hands and raised a face more bloodless than the 
 wax candles near her. Anger was an emotion she had 
 seldom felt, but now a white, burning, consuming flame 
 of rage leaped up, scorching her very soul. Scarcely 
 knowing that she moved, she got from the big luxurious 
 room into her own smaller one. She locked the door 
 and turned, still without definite consciousness of move- 
 ment, when all at once a tremor caught her, and she 
 sank, weak and shivering, into the nearest chair. Her 
 hands were still clinched, but her head drooped heavily 
 forward. Wave after wave of burning fury beat upon 
 her, searing, corroding her, yet her body was like ice. 
 As molten steel, plunged into such extremities, takes
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 311 
 
 on another nature, she felt that her very essence was 
 changing. What did she care ? What had life brought 
 to the girl, Ariadne, that she should wish to remain 
 unchanged ? Let her be transmuted into a sword a 
 demon a disembodied vengeance. Let her retrieve 
 by full and answering torment the wrongs of that slain 
 young life that had been called Ariadne. 
 
 Her teeth chattered, and through the tortured mind 
 flamed her despair. "This is the end of it all. Some- 
 thing I used to think my soul has gone. It is frightened. 
 It will never come back. But I am not frightened. I 
 am strong. Let the heat come ; it only freezes me. 
 Ariadne kept faith with her father. But I am not 
 Ariadne. She had too much to endure. Poor little 
 Ariadne who is dead, and who tried so hard to be 
 good." 
 
 A sob rose in the strained throat. She struck at it 
 with the back of her hand. This new creature, now in 
 the throes of fire-birth, could not allow human weakness. 
 "I must not think back for one moment," she told 
 herself fiercely. ' These people have gorged themselves 
 upon my heart. They took away my love from me. 
 I have been manacled and blindfolded with useless 
 promises. Now I am free. I will live my own life. 
 I will go from these vultures, taking what is mine. 
 Let them make the best of it. I've served them all 
 these years. They have had my youth and happiness 
 and now for them, I am losing - Oh, I don't 
 know what it is I am afraid to think - 
 
 She struggled to her feet, staring dreadfully. "I 
 tell you I will not think," she cried aloud, as to another 
 presence. "My father had no right to bind me. I 
 must have life a little while. I shall have it." 
 
 She closed her eyes, and the shivering phantoms
 
 3 i2 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 again possessed her. Through them, like a gentle, 
 fearless hand, a whisper seemed to come. "My little 
 daughter, my precious little chum, I know I can trust 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, father father!" she cried in agony. "I've 
 kept faith until now, but I can't do it any longer. I'll 
 give the money back to Donna, keeping just enough to 
 live upon. But you couldn't have known that she would 
 bring this vileness into our lives. You can't want me 
 to stay near him. I have never failed when she really 
 needed me. I gave up my lover for a promise that was 
 not needed. She is well again. She has everything. 
 With the money she can pay off whatever threatens the 
 creature she loves. No one needs me any longer. Let 
 me go by myself. I cannot face endless years of this 
 humiliation. Oh, father, did you see his face as he held 
 the money out to me?" 
 
 She peered into memory, like some stricken thing in 
 a jungle, seeking a secret, hidden path, but the vision 
 and the memory were gone. 
 
 The waves of passion, too, were ebbing. They cringed 
 and whimpered at her feet. The ice around her heart 
 broke up; at the first warm flood of tears she knew 
 that her demon had lost forever the stake for which he 
 had played. 
 
 She sobbed on quietly, facing now without rebellion 
 the long stretch of arid life to come. She knew she 
 was bound, not only by her father's will, but by the 
 deepest fibers of her own nature. There was nothing 
 for her but a gray, negative submission. She must go 
 on, being at once her stepmother's slave and her source 
 of livelihood. She must remain an uncomplaining 
 victim. How long she sat there, facing the desert, she 
 would never know.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 313 
 
 At times of utter hopelessness, a minute or an hour 
 count for the same in a span of time. Nothing mattered 
 or ever again could really matter. 
 
 A timid knock came for a second time at the door 
 before she could rouse herself to answer. Probably it 
 was a bell-boy summoning her to luncheon. She 
 opened. Cummins stood there, her face twitching with 
 excitement. 
 
 "Oh, come, Miss quick quick!" she gasped. 
 "Mrs. Martel 'as fainted in the lift. They can't bring 
 'er to. A doctor has been sent for. Mr. Martel's 
 going on like a mad creature. He thinks she's dying." 
 
 Without a thought of her disordered hair, her tear- 
 swollen eyes, Ariadne followed the maid to her step- 
 mother's room.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 NEXT morning Ariadne woke with a start. Her one 
 window, screened with heavy curtains, let in no more 
 light than early dawn could give : yet she knew by 
 instinct that the hour was, for her, unusually late. 
 She had slept as one drugged. Though now she sat 
 up in bed, feeling toward the stand for her small traveling 
 clock, memory and consciousness had not returned. 
 Something terrible immediate had happened. It 
 was to Donna. 
 
 It came back now in a tide of horror. For hours the 
 doctors had battled for Donna's life. It had been she, 
 Ariadne, who had told them of Doctor Bergen and his 
 tentative diagnosis. Fortunately, she could remember 
 and repeat the name of the London specialist who had 
 been recommended. Afterward a long time after- 
 ward it seemed, the great surgeon had come ; he 
 and the physicians held a somber consultation. What 
 they had said to Mr. Martel the girl could only guess. 
 When, after midnight, she had finally come to her 
 room, a trained nurse sat beside the sick woman, and 
 it was understood that next day Mrs. Martel was to be 
 taken to a nursing home in Wimpole Street. 
 
 Ariadne looked at the clock. It was after ten. She 
 rang the bell sharply. To her relief Cummins entered. 
 
 "How is she now?" the girl questioned, in a sort of 
 terror. 
 
 "She's easy-like now, Miss. There's nothin' for you 
 to worry about. Shall I make your bath?"
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 315 
 
 "Yes, at once, and have some breakfast brought to 
 me here. I don't care what it is. Has the hour been 
 set for taking her to the hospital ? " 
 
 "Rich folks don't go to 'ospitals over here, Miss Skip- 
 with. I believe it's just at noon they'll fetch 'er to the 
 Nursing 'Ome." 
 
 "Is Mr. Martel with her?" 
 
 "No, Miss. She have coaxed 'im to go for a little 
 walk. And 'e needs it. I never saw a gentleman take 
 on like 'im all the 'otel servants are talking of it." 
 
 "That will please poor Donna," thought the girl. 
 
 After the bath and breakfast she went to her step- 
 mother's room, and but for the contrast with the more 
 ghastly face of the night before, Ariadne would have 
 felt alarm. The sick woman was in bed, propped up 
 slightly among pillows. As Ariadne approached her, 
 she gave a welcoming smile. 
 
 "Oh, Donna," cried the girl, "you did give us such a 
 fright ! I'm so thankful you are better now." 
 
 "I suppose I was too happy yesterday," said the older 
 woman; "they all insist that I shall go into a Nursing 
 Home and receive regular treatment. You don't think 
 I can get out of it, do you, nurse?" 
 
 "I'm not at liberty to express a personal opinion," 
 said the nurse, primly. 
 
 The invalid looked like a slapped child. Ariadne 
 gave her hand a loving little squeeze, but the awkward- 
 ness of the moment was broken by the quick, professional 
 rap of the bell-boy. Ariadne went to the door and took 
 from a small silver salver two visiting cards. 
 
 "It's Cousin Judge Henry ! He's in the drawing- 
 room now." She flashed around to the bell-boy. "Say 
 I shall be down in a moment, please. Oh, Donna, 
 isn't it splendid he's here ! I suppose you couldn't see
 
 3 i6 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 him," she gave a hurried glance toward the nurse's 
 austere, white-clad form. 
 
 "But I must, I simply must," Mrs. Martel exclaimed. 
 " Don't keep him waiting, Ariadne. When nurse has me 
 ready, I'll send down word." 
 
 The girl, venturing one more look at the English- 
 woman, this time of pleading, hurried out. She could 
 not wait for the lift. She took the curved stairways 
 like a faun. Judge Henry rose as she entered, and, seeing 
 her hesitate for a shy instant, leaned over and kissed her 
 cheek. 
 
 "Well well little Ariadne of Allan Water," he 
 said, "and such a traveler, such a woman of the world, 
 as you have become." 
 
 " I'm just the same Ariadne, even if I look different. 
 Oh, Cousin Judge !" she cried, "it is so good to see you 
 again. You haven't changed a particle ; and how is 
 Grandma and Cousin Nellie and dear little Dick 
 Carter? Why, little Dick must be a great big boy by 
 now." 
 
 " There's a good deal more of him in every way," 
 laughed the Judge, "especially as to mischief. But you 
 will soon see for yourself." 
 
 "Oh, if I could only go back home ! " the girl sighed, 
 "but there isn't any hope of it." 
 
 The Judge opened his lips to speak, but checked him- 
 self. His kind eyes shone with some secret pleasure. 
 Then he said in an ordinary tone: "But I am here 
 to find out more about you, dear child. Come, sit here 
 beside me. Remember I was your father's best friend. 
 I have had many hours of sadness because of the 
 impossibility of being near his daughter." 
 
 "But you are here now," said Ariadne, smiling. 
 
 The Judge sighed. His pleasant face became very
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 317 
 
 grave. "Yes, I am here and not altogether on 
 pleasant business. The fact is, Ariadne, a most dis- 
 tressing situation has come to light. I regret deeply 
 that you should have to know such things at all 
 He hesitated and was plainly embarrassed. 
 
 "It is something about Mr. Martel?" 
 
 "Yes," said the Judge. "Your own pure instinct 
 would lead you to suspect such a man. He is to put 
 it plainly a scoundrel, an adventurer of the lowest 
 type. Neither you nor Ransome's widow can be allowed 
 to remain with him any longer." 
 
 As briefly as he could, and with many pauses to find 
 suitable words for a young girl's hearing, he told her 
 of Martel's previous marriage and the suit brought by 
 his wife for false divorce. "You knew, perhaps, that 
 your stepmother had written me very urgently for a 
 large sum of money," he added. "Of course it is to 
 pay this blackmail. Has she any idea of the man's real 
 need of it?" 
 
 "None in the world. And oh, Cousin Judge, you 
 cannot tell her yet. She is very ill." 
 
 "Do you mean that she is in a serious a dangerous 
 condition?" 
 
 "I do, indeed. We thought she was dying yesterday. 
 She is to be taken to a hospital, within a few hours. 
 There may be an operation." Her voice lowered on the 
 last word. She feared that even this allusion encroached 
 upon her promise to Donna. 
 
 The Judge frowned, tapping the chair nervously with 
 his long finger. 
 
 "But this is distressing most distressing. It com- 
 plicates everything !" he said. "However, she may soon 
 recover. In these days of science, an operation can be 
 often taken quite lightly."
 
 3 i8 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Not the kind she will have," protested Ariadne, 
 "I must not say any more about it but oh, Cousin 
 Judge if the nurse lets her send for you, do be very, 
 very kind." 
 
 "You may rely on my courtesy to a lady," the Vir- 
 ginian said. 
 
 "I know that of course," said Ariadne, smiling 
 back at him. "But I want you to be more than cour- 
 teous, or even kind. She thinks you have come to bring 
 her the money. Oh, I hope you have. If I have any 
 influence at all in getting it, I mean about my signa- 
 ture, I want to help her to get it." 
 
 "You desire to place twenty thousand dollars out of 
 your father's capital in the hands of a scamp like 
 Martel?" 
 
 "I'm not thinking of him, or what he will do with 
 it," said the girl. "It is for Donna, to make her happy." 
 
 The Judge's eyes grew puzzled and a little curious. 
 "Has she, then, shown you such consistent tenderness 
 that you are willing to make this further sacrifice?" 
 
 "Next to her husband, she cares for me," answered 
 the girl. Then, an instant later, she looked more directly 
 into his face, and added, "Yes, in her own way Donna 
 loves me and she needs me." 
 
 The Judge leaned over and took one of the slender 
 hands in his own. 
 
 "But you, Ariadne? Remember that my first con- 
 sideration must always be for you. What can such 
 people have been able to give you in return?" She 
 turned away a little, lowering her eyes. His gentle 
 voice went on. "That they have not really harmed 
 you I can see from the candor and purity of your face ; 
 and yet this intimate life with them, this daily and 
 almost hourly companionship, especially with a degen-
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 319 
 
 erate like Martel, cannot entirely have satisfied you. 
 I beg you to speak to me freely. It is my affection that 
 prompts these somewhat presumptuous queries." 
 
 Ariadne's hand had been lying passively in his. She 
 withdrew it now. Her head was lowered, and her 
 young face had become intensely sad. Now, with a 
 little gesture of yielding, she let both hands fall into her 
 lap, and then resolutely lifted her head and fixed her 
 clear, truthful eyes on his. 
 
 "Then I will tell you. I don't think that Donna 
 has ever dreamed of it, but in all these seven years, 
 there has not been one minute when my heart was not 
 aching for home and for my own people." 
 
 Judge Henry leaned back in his chair and passed his 
 long fingers slowly across his forehead. 
 
 "This is as I feared," he said at length ; "it could not 
 have been otherwise." 
 
 For a while they sat in silence. Heavy thoughts 
 hung between them, and then the Judge, again taking 
 her hand, began to speak. 
 
 "In the eyes of the world, my dear, I may still be 
 counted as old-fashioned a man bred to ideas of 
 honor and of right conduct that to our modern standards 
 seems over-scrupulous and even Quixotic. But down 
 in the hearts of all decent people there still survives 
 a reverence for that beautiful thing called loyalty. 
 You were only a child when a strange and almost cruel 
 task was put upon you. Events your poor father could 
 not have foreseen have made your burden well-nigh 
 unbearable. For seven years you have borne it in un- 
 complaining sweetness. There is no touch of bitter- 
 ness in your young face or in your eyes, and yet there 
 is not a man I know who could have endured and kept 
 faith with himself and with his obligations as you have
 
 320 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 done. My child, I reverence and honor you. As a 
 Virginian I am proud of you, and as a man who puts 
 before all else the integrity of a human soul, I bow be- 
 fore you and kiss the little hand, so strong, so brave, 
 and yet so girlishly tender. God has you in his keeping, 
 dear child. Great happiness must yet be your portion." 
 
 Ariadne's upturned eyes had not left his. When the 
 gray head bent toward her, she still gazed on, the lumi- 
 nous beauty of her face deepening. She felt no sense 
 of deprecation or of embarrassment. The old man's 
 words had been a benediction. As he raised his face, 
 she saw that tears stood in his kind brown eyes. No 
 moisture touched her own. She answered him now as 
 soul to soul. 
 
 "I have kept faith with my father, and at times it 
 has been very, very hard. I've never felt that it was a 
 thing that could be praised in me. There was nothing 
 else I could do. But now for you to speak to me 
 like this it makes me see that the suffering and the 
 homesickness have not been entirely wasted ; why, it 
 is as if you had put a crown on me. I don't deserve it 
 all, there have been times of rebellion and wicked 
 thoughts, but I shall always carry my head, I think, 
 as if your crown were there." 
 
 "You are one of those children of righteousness of 
 whom Wordsworth sings, my dear : 
 
 " ' Souls without one stain or blot 
 
 Who do God's will and know it not.' " 
 
 Without quite knowing why, both had risen, and now 
 stood at the window, looking down with unseeing eyes 
 into the narrow street. 
 
 Cummins approached them softly. As Judge Henry
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 321 
 
 turned, the maid said, "Mrs. Martel's compliments, 
 sir, and she is allowed to see you for a few moments." 
 
 "Certainly, at once," he replied, gathering up his 
 hat, gloves, and stick. 
 
 "Shall I come, too?" Ariadne whispered. 
 
 "Yes, at any rate, at first. If she desires a private 
 interview, I shall, of course, grant it." 
 
 Mrs. Martel was in a flowered silk wrapper, propped 
 among colored pillows at the end of a long divan. The 
 trained nurse, with disapprobation written clearly across 
 her starched white back, was just leaving by another 
 door. 
 
 It needed all Judge Henry's self-control to keep from 
 his face the shock that the first sight of the sick woman 
 gave him. The hand of welcome stretched toward 
 him was the color of clay, and the touch, moist, heavy, 
 and dead, brought a shudder to the living fingers that 
 grasped it. 
 
 She began talking at once. "Oh, I'm so thankful 
 you got here, Judge Henry, before they carried me off 
 to that wretched Nursing Home. It will be such a 
 relief to me to have all this money question settled. Of 
 course you came over for that. Dear Connie will be 
 so pleased. And now there will be somebody to look 
 after Ariadne when I'm taken away. Of course she could 
 stay on here with Connie. He is perfectly devoted to 
 her. But he will want to be at the Home with me a 
 good deal, and Ariadne might find it lonely. Don't 
 you think she has become a fine, tall girl, Judge ?" 
 
 She turned her eyes from one to another of her some- 
 what embarrassed visitors, letting them rest with un- 
 mistakable affection on the younger face. 
 
 "Ariadne is a dear, good child, too, just a little quiet 
 for a girl," Mrs. Martel continued. "But as I often
 
 322 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 say, no sister of my own could be more to me than poor 
 Ransome's child. I've always tried to do my duty by 
 her, Judge Henry." 
 
 "Your intentions do you credit, dear lady. And 
 now may I speak a moment of my cousin's plans ? " . 
 
 "Yes, but don't take long. That dragon of a nurse 
 will be back in a minute and of course it's the money 
 that I'm interested in." 
 
 "I perceive that," said the visitor, a little dryly. 
 "The other, and less important matter, can be quickly 
 disposed of. I am at the Morley in Trafalgar Square, 
 an old-fashioned but most respectable hotel. I suggest 
 that I take Ariadne back with me now, and I will get 
 her a room there. It will be more appropriate, I think, 
 than for her to remain at this hotel." 
 
 At Ariadne's eager assent, the sick woman moved her 
 head fretfully. 
 
 "I suppose it would from your point of view, Judge 
 Henry, but I assure you that my husband is perfectly 
 capable of looking after her. He has done so long 
 enough." 
 
 "Exactly," said the Judge. "Quite long enough 
 which makes a stronger reason why I should now assume 
 some responsibility. Besides, there is something at the 
 hotel that I have brought from Virginia and that I want 
 my cousin to see. You can easily keep in touch with 
 her by telephone." 
 
 "Have it your own way," said Mrs. Martel. "Sup- 
 pose you go and pack your dressing-case now, Ariadne. 
 I'd like to see Judge Henry alone for a moment." 
 
 The girl flew from the room and called over her 
 shoulder. "I'm in Number forty-six on the same floor, 
 Cousin Judge, if you want me." 
 
 The moment they were alone, Mrs. Martel sat up,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 323 
 
 though the effort brought a more ghastly pallor. She 
 pressed her hand instinctively to her side. The Judge 
 hastened to draw a chair near her. 
 
 "The money," she gasped, when she could speak at 
 all, "is it with you now?" Again the corpse-like hand 
 went out. 
 
 The Judge cleared his throat to gain time. "No, it 
 is not with me. One does not carry about so large a sum. 
 In fact, my dear Madam 
 
 "Oh, don't tell me there's going to be any red tape 
 and legal delays," the other broke in. "We are being 
 horribly pressed for it. As you know, Mr. Martel made 
 some unfortunate speculation in Paris. He will never 
 attempt this sort of thing again. He promised me, and 
 I can trust him. Ariadne wants you to raise the money 
 just as much as I do." 
 
 "So she has told me," said the Judge. "Ah, what a 
 noble, what an exquisite young woman she has become ! " 
 
 "What with this illness of mine, and having to go to a 
 nursing home, and those French creatures tormenting 
 him to death for the money, my poor husband is almost 
 out of his mind." 
 
 "That is deplorable, of course," said the Judge, "but 
 what you ladies seldom realize in matters of finance is 
 the difficulty of getting together these large sums in 
 actual cash. Your late husband's fortune is all in the 
 form of investments. From these investments your 
 income is derived." 
 
 "But there are ways of raising money on investments. 
 Don't they have margins that can be turned into cash, 
 or you could sell something? I know there was some 
 sort of a mine in West Virginia. Why don't you sell 
 the mine?" 
 
 Judge Henry sighed. There was no use attempting
 
 3 2 4 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 explanation. So he repeated, a little hopelessly, "It 
 is practically impossible to raise so large a sum at such 
 short notice." 
 
 " If you haven't brought the money, why did you come 
 at all ? " she questioned sharply. 
 
 The Judge was disconcerted. His eyes fell. "I 
 must confess to other motives for my visit. Perhaps 
 the strongest was to see my young relative." 
 
 "You mean Ariadne ! Well, I've told you that she 
 wishes it, too. She is one of us. If you don't help 
 Connie out of this difficulty, Ariadne will suffer as much 
 as he and I will. You must see that. Her father made 
 his will so that she could not leave us." 
 
 "Pardon me," said the Judge a little sternly. "Ran- 
 some Skipwith, in his tender solicitude for your welfare 
 and his belief in Ariadne's splendid qualities of mind 
 and heart, was led into making an arrangement which 
 has proved altogether unjust to his only child. Surely, 
 you cannot imagine that he considered the possibility 
 of your remarriage." 
 
 Mrs. Martel flushed through all the waxen pallor. 
 "Are you trying to say that I led him into making such 
 a will?" 
 
 "That is neither here nor there, Mrs. Martel. I 
 have carried out my friend's peculiar wishes in the spirit 
 as well as the letter. His increasing income has been 
 paid to you and not to his daughter." 
 
 "And I have shared it every penny with Ariadne 
 you can ask her if I haven't." 
 
 That she was a sick woman, the Judge knew. The 
 touch of death was on her now, and if death came, it 
 brought to Ariadne absolute freedom ; but at these last 
 words, he could not forbear a long, stern look into the 
 woman's eyes. For an instant she defied him, then
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 325 
 
 sank back among the gaudy cushions, covering her 
 face. 
 
 "You mean about the money that I want for Connie. 
 It is a different thing, I admit, but I must have it. I 
 must, Judge Henry. He never lets me alone a minute. 
 If only this can be paid, and I am well again, we 
 can begin a new life together." 
 
 "And Ariadne?" 
 
 "She will be with us, of course. She would not leave 
 me not for all the Virginia relatives on earth." She 
 flashed a sly look of triumph, unspeakably pathetic from 
 such death-haunted eyes. 
 
 As he still remained silent, his brows drawn with 
 thought, she rallied, and, clapping her hands, cried out : 
 "Why, I have it ! You can lend us the money and then 
 take it, little by little, from the income." 
 
 This was a turn of affairs the Judge had not foreseen. 
 At first it appeared only a deeper and more painful prob- 
 lem. He was determined that the man calling himself 
 Martel should not free himself from debt at Ariadne's 
 future expense. Under the laws of his trusteeship that 
 thing had, from the first, been impossible ; but now, in 
 this more personal appeal, he saw a chance of temporiz- 
 ing. He felt how eagerly the sunken eyes were watching 
 him. He chose his next words carefully. 
 
 "This possible escape from your difficulties had not 
 occurred to me. I will not say it cannot be done. But 
 I shall have to give myself a little time to think it over." 
 
 "And why should you think it over ? You are a rich 
 man." 
 
 "Again it is a matter of investments," he replied. 
 "My letter of credit, now at a London bank, is for 
 exactly four hundred pounds. That, you'll admit, would 
 not go far toward your your husband's debt."
 
 326 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 "I would have to do much cabling to New York. I'm 
 not known in London." 
 
 "But you will cable. Promise me you will," she 
 implored. 
 
 "I'll do the very best within my power for you and 
 Ariadne," he evaded, getting to his feet. "And now I 
 think I must be going." 
 
 "Please touch that bell, then," she said; "I want to 
 bid Ariadne good-by. You will let her come to see me 
 to-morrow at the Nursing Home ? " 
 
 "To be sure. In fact, I'm convinced that no one 
 could keep her from you, even if they wished." 
 
 "And you will begin cabling at once?" Before he 
 could answer, Cummins had entered and been sent for 
 Ariadne. To Judge Henry's great relief the girl re- 
 sponded at once. She went up to her stepmother, 
 kneeling beside the couch. 
 
 "You don't mind, do you, Donna? Mr. Martel is 
 going with you to the Home, and you don't need me. 
 But if you feel lonely, even for a minute, after you get 
 there, and if he should have to leave you, tell one of the 
 nurses to ring me up at the Morley, and I'll get into a 
 taxi and come at once. Now promise me." 
 
 The Judge, watching the two women, thought Ariadne's 
 face that of an angel, pleading with some suffering mortal 
 for its own salvation, but the sick woman only moved 
 restlessly, and, without looking into the beautiful 
 eyes so near her own, said in a querulous voice: "Oh, 
 you won't be thinking of me ; I shan't trouble you. 
 Connie will let you know when I can see you at the 
 Home." 
 
 The nurse entered and walked up to the couch. "My 
 patient must have a little nourishment now and an hour's 
 rest, before the doctor comes for her."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 327 
 
 "Come, Ariadne," said the Judge, putting his hand 
 upon the girl's shoulder. But she broke from him to go 
 once more to the bedside. 
 
 "Good-by, Madonna. Oh, do take the best care of 
 yourself and get well quickly. I shall telephone the 
 Home every hour to know how you are getting along." 
 She kissed the flaccid cheek, so indifferently held toward 
 her, but at the last moment something stirred in the sick 
 woman's heart. She put up both her arms and drew the 
 girl close. 
 
 "Good-by, my dear," she whispered. "I know I've 
 been cross, but I'm so worried about this money. I hope 
 you'll have a lovely little holiday. I'll see you in the 
 morning." 
 
 "Good-by, good-by," said Ariadne. Her last look 
 from the doorway at Mrs. Martel met a smile of unusual 
 sweetness. 
 
 Just outside the door she said to Judge Henry, in a 
 voice that shook : "You see she cares for me." 
 
 They rang the bell for the lift, and as it came, they 
 saw the figure of a man within. Ariadne instinctively 
 fell back, but Martel, after a quick glance from her 
 face to that of the tall American, stepped forward and 
 held out his hand. 
 
 "Judge Henry, I am sure?" 
 
 The lift was waiting. Judge Henry, ignoring the out- 
 stretched hand, lifted his hat slightly and slipped past 
 the iron grating, followed by Ariadne. It was all done 
 in an instant, yet much had been conveyed. Martel 
 stood where they had left him ; a look of disappoint- 
 ment, then indignation, and finally of slow, black hatred 
 deepened in his face. In a moment more he had turned, 
 giving the incipient shrug that belonged to him, and 
 made his way to his wife's room.
 
 328 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 The two in the elevator took the brief descent in 
 silence, nor did they afterward refer to the unpleasant 
 encounter. Ariadne's dressing-bag already waited near 
 the hotel entrance. A taxi was called, and the Judge, 
 with old-world courtesy, handed his young companion 
 to her place. He took a seat beside her and gave the 
 direction "Trafalgar Square." 
 
 Not until they were well into the traffic of Regent 
 Street did Ariadne speak. Smiling up at him, then, 
 with a deprecating little frown that made her face very 
 young and charming, she said: "I can't get over the 
 feeling that I'm running away from school playing 
 'hookey' as we used to say at home. I'm all full of 
 happy little giggles inside. Yet I want to keep looking 
 over my shoulder to see if anybody is coming after me." 
 
 "There's nobody to come," answered Judge Henry, 
 in her own vein. "You're not a culprit fay but a very 
 real little girl, and for a few hours I want you to try and 
 forget all the troubles and perplexities you are now 
 leaving and belong, as you said, to your own people." 
 
 "I shall try. It isn't wrong to Donna, for I couldn't 
 be any help to her just now. I'm going to play that 
 I'm your daughter, and you are driving me through 
 London for the first time." 
 
 She looked out eagerly, commenting on the attractive 
 shops and the broad, curving street with its throngs of 
 taxicabs and omnibuses and the many pedestrians on 
 the broad pavements. 
 
 After a while she said, as if to herself: "Oh, I wish 
 Cousin Nellie had come with you." 
 
 Her companion said nothing, but as she turned to 
 him for a question, she caught the twinkle. 
 
 "What is it you have brought from Virginia to show 
 me, Cousin Judge?"
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 329 
 
 "Ah, that would spoil my little surprise. We are 
 nearly there now. Here is famous Piccadilly Circus, 
 with its fountain and flower-sellers." 
 
 Ariadne agreed. "But the funny thing to me is 
 calling these open places ' circuses.' I always find myself 
 looking round for the elephants and camels." 
 
 "Now we've turned into the Haymarket. That odd 
 building with the yellowish columns is one of the oldest 
 and best known theaters in London. There's an 
 American farce being played there now. Another bit 
 of incongruity." 
 
 Ariadne was reading the street signs. "There is 
 Pall Mall. You always read about that in novels, and 
 oh, there's the Nelson statue with the four big lions 
 at the foot." 
 
 "Do you see just across the square that small, 
 yellow portico?" 
 
 "Yes. You mean the one with a boy leaning over the 
 iron banister?" 
 
 Judge Henry gave a curious kind of chuckle. "Yes 
 with the boy. That's our destination." 
 
 "It must be wonderful to live right on this Square 
 where so much is passing. And look at that boy; he 
 has something on the end of a string. Oh, I believe it's 
 a snake. He's frightening all the people on the side- 
 walk." 
 
 "Evidently a young American," said the Judge. 
 
 "He's a lovely boy, anyway," cried Ariadne. "Look 
 at him laughing. The people are laughing, too. No one 
 could really get angry with a face like that." 
 
 "Oh, never mind him," said Judge Henry hurriedly. 
 "I want to get you into the hotel." He paid the driver 
 and took Ariadne's arm, leading her swiftly up the 
 short flight of stairs. She looked back over her shoulder,
 
 330 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 but young America was again bent double over the iron 
 railing, intent upon the string and its dangling burden. 
 
 "Sit here just a moment, my dear," said Judge Henry, 
 indicating a chair in a small "lounge" just within the 
 entrance. "I must go up and see to a room for you. 
 Please don't move until I return." 
 
 In a very few moments he was back. His face beamed. 
 About him was a certain suppressed excitement, all 
 the more noticeable because of his usual quiet, almost 
 grave demeanor. 
 
 "Come, my dear," he said, "my surprise is waiting." 
 
 They rang the bell for the lift. "It's at the top of 
 the house, of course. They would seem to use it for an 
 observation tower. But in due time it may descend 
 perhaps I should say condescend, for us. Evidently 
 they take no chances of injury by friction," he remarked, 
 as they started up at an almost imperceptible rate of 
 motion. "Ah, here we are." The elevator porter 
 threw open two iron gratings with the usual stereotyped 
 "Thank you!" and the Judge, for once disregarding 
 his manners, hurried along a narrow hall. 
 
 "This is the door," he said, pausing. Ariadne came 
 up with him. By this time she too was full of suppressed 
 excitement. Her companion waited until she was just 
 in front of him, then, leaning forward, took the knob 
 in his hand and threw back the door. He waited only 
 for the low cry of amazement and the ecstatic words 
 "Cousin Nellie!" then closed the door softly, and 
 smiling broadly, went down-stairs to Dick Carter. 
 
 Ariadne felt as if she could never take her arms away 
 from the warm, sweet, lovely creature, who, embracing 
 her as strenuously, swayed back and forth, murmuring : 
 "Ariadne my little Ariadne after all these years !" 
 
 "He didn't tell me you were here," said Ariadne,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 331 
 
 "only that he had brought something from Virginia 
 that I would like to see. I didn't dream it was you ! 
 Oh, Cousin Nellie, I I don't know what to do, 
 I'm so happy. I believe I'm going to cry. No, I 
 won't. I wish I could do like Anguish and turn hand- 
 springs. Oh, please tell me everything about home." 
 
 "You've got to sit down," said Cousin Nellie, herself 
 between tears and laughter. "My knees feel like soft- 
 shelled crabs. Here, take this chair right opposite, so 
 I can look at you. Did you see Dick Kyarter down- 
 stairs?" 
 
 " Was that Dick Carter leaning over the gallery 
 railing ? " 
 
 "Sounds like him. He generally is," laughed Dick's 
 mother. 
 
 "I saw him and said what a lovely boy he was, but 
 Cousin Judge wouldn't let me stop. Oh, I see why now. 
 He wanted me to get to you first." 
 
 "Yes, we've been planning this little surprise for you, 
 honey, and it has worked just as we planned. When I 
 look at your face, I don't have to ask if you're glad to 
 see me, you blessed lamb." 
 
 "Glad glad!" cried the girl, showing by a little 
 hopeless gesture how impossible it was to express her 
 happiness. "Why, I feel as if all the Christmases I 
 have missed at home were rolled into one and come to 
 life in you. Oh, Cousin Nellie, you are sweeter and 
 prettier than ever. You haven't grown one day 
 older!" 
 
 "Nonsense," said Mrs. Henry, flushing with pleasure, 
 "I'm a regular female Methuselah. But the Judge 
 does take good care of me. Now, I want to hear your 
 news, my dear. We can't waste time talking about an 
 early Victorian survival like me."
 
 332 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Ariadne laughed aloud at the thought. Vitality, 
 intelligence, and loving kindness radiated from the 
 older woman like a perfume. Her rich "honey" voice 
 flowed about the girl like music. The very spirit of 
 Virginia lay in its subtle accents. Ariadne leaned 
 forward, drinking it all in. At first the words were un- 
 important mere fragmentary questions concerning 
 Ariadne's health and recent travels, to which the girl 
 answered briefly. She did not want Cousin Nellie to 
 stop talking. 
 
 But suddenly a change came over the speaker's face. 
 The look of motherly solicitude, remembered well by 
 Ariadne, came to her eyes. 
 
 "By the way, Ariadne," she said, "did Dick Kyarter 
 have a string with a horrible, wriggling thing at the end 
 of it?" 
 
 "I think he did. The people on the sidewalk jumped 
 back when they saw it." 
 
 "I thought so. I do hope Judge Henry will stop him. 
 It is a huge green worm with yellow spots, a toy that he 
 picked up from some peddler. Last night he put it under 
 a door across from us. The young man in the room had 
 been on a spree, and you can imagine ! " She gave a 
 gesture of humorous despair. "Judge Henry spends 
 his entire time apologizing for his son's misconduct. 
 I'm sure we're going to be asked to leave the hotel. 
 I suppose I ought to go down before he gets run in. 
 His father pretends that I do all the spoiling when, as 
 a fact, I am nagging at the poor child from morning 
 until night. Now Judge Henry, when he sees Dick 
 doing something naughty, buys the biggest newspaper 
 in sight and hides behind it. Maybe I should go to 
 Dick " She paused, hesitating, then with sudden 
 decision said : "No, I won't; we must talk a little longer.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 333 
 
 If the child goes to jail, his father will simply have to 
 bail him out." 
 
 Again came the exchange of surface questions and 
 answers of laughter, and small hesitations as a broken 
 thread of thought was seized, and all the eager, spoken 
 intercourse of two hearts, once close, and now newly 
 met after long absence. There was much the girl could 
 not disclose. Now, as always, she felt herself surrounded 
 by a ring of threatening, pointed spears, visible to her 
 alone. She was never to have freedom. The desire for 
 candor, openness, directness, all the clear virtues of a 
 spirit innately sincere, were never to be hers. 
 
 With the elder woman whose very breath was 
 honesty there was an air of broad sweetness like 
 Lanier's southern marshes. She was "nothing withhold- 
 ing and free." The girl bathed in it drank it in 
 consciously. It was a life-giving balm after the foetid 
 atmosphere in which for many years she had been living. 
 
 As she told of her stepmother's present illness and 
 hinted that an operation might be necessary, Mrs. 
 Henry's face sobered. "If she is really ill, that may 
 make a difference in the course Judge Henry will have 
 to take with her. You know, I suppose, that she wrote 
 him saying she must have a large sum of money at 
 once?" 
 
 "Yes, I knew of it. I think she really needs it. I 
 hope Cousin Judge can let her have it." 
 
 Mrs. Henry looked troubled. "In the case of her 
 illness since she is ill and may need an expensive 
 operation he will certainly find a way of helping her, 
 but as to handing over twenty thousand dollars to that 
 creature she's living with, it can't be done." 
 
 Ariadne was silent. She did not wish to betray a 
 deeper knowledge of the situation.
 
 334 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "There are things you don't know, Ariadne loath- 
 some, slimy things that never should have come near 
 you. It was an evil day for Allan Water when your 
 father brought that poor, silly creature to it." 
 
 "She is silly, Cousin Nellie, but she has never been 
 anything worse than silly. She has always been good 
 to me in her own way. I think she loves me and has 
 always needed me, though, of course, her idol, her one 
 dominant passion, is that dreadful man." 
 
 "How has he treated you, Ariadne?" 
 
 The girl shuddered. "Don't ask me,; I can't bear to 
 think of him. At least he has never resented my being 
 with them." 
 
 "If he knew that his bread and butter depended on 
 it, how could he?" said Cousin Nellie bluntly. 
 
 "He hasn't always known. From the first Donna 
 kept things from him. Only since this illness he has 
 learned that she can't leave all the money to him." 
 
 Cousin Nellie bridled. "As if your father, even in 
 his infatuation for that feeble Donna Mayrant, could 
 tie you to her for life and then disinherit you after ! 
 The man must be a fool ! " 
 
 "I don't think him a fool," said the girl in a low voice ; 
 "but I know him to be as wicked a man as ever lived." 
 
 "A villain is always more or less of a fool, simply 
 because evil never works out to the end. A smash is 
 always bound to come, and it is then that decent people 
 have a struggle against their own decency not to be 
 too glad. But you are right, my dear ; he is about as 
 bad as they are made, and when his his wife gets over 
 this trouble of hers, I think we'll find a way of getting 
 him out of her life and yours forever." 
 
 "You don't realize his power, Cousin Nellie. There is 
 nothing absolutely nothing that you or any one
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 335 
 
 else could do to keep her from him if he chose to beckon 
 to her." 
 
 "You don't know what you're talking about, child. 
 There are certain things that the most abject of women 
 wouldn't put up with." She spoke vehemently, but 
 even in the speaking a fear touched her that Ariadne 
 was right. "At least you shall not be allowed to remain 
 with such people," she added, and this time her lips 
 closed with a determination that showed the intensity 
 of the resolve. 
 
 "Nothing can be done just now, at any rate," said 
 the girl. "Oh, Cousin Nellie, don't let's talk of them 
 any more. I was just beginning to feel clean again." 
 
 "Well, we won't," said Mrs. Henry, patting the en- 
 treating hand upon her arm. " Besides, there's something 
 very special I want to ask about." Her eyes brightened, 
 and she looked directly at the girl, with a certain mis- 
 chief in them that made those of Ariadne fall. Her 
 heart gave one great bound, then seemed to stand still, 
 quivering. She knew what name would next be spoken 
 
 "What did you think of Randy Carr?" Ariadne 
 felt the hot tide of blood rush into her drooping face. 
 Cousin Nellie gave her low, delicious chuckle. "Isn't 
 he the best looking thing in his fashionable clothes ? " 
 
 Still from the girl no answer. 
 
 "The Judge and I told him that he would probably 
 run across you as he did." 
 
 "Yes, at the Hague. He came to the same hotel." 
 
 "You must have enjoyed meeting some one so re- 
 cently from home. Anybody would have seemed good 
 even if they didn't have six feet of Virginia bone and 
 muscle not to mention brown eyes and a grin like a 
 small boy caught in a cherry tree. I hope Dick Kyarter 
 has that same grin. If he'd only brush his teeth,
 
 336 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 though. Dick, I mean, not Randy. Randy's are the 
 whitest I ever saw in a human head unless it's those 
 of the little nigger, Anguish. When Anguish meets me 
 at the station, I always think of pop-corn, popping 
 suddenly out of soot. You and Randy must have had 
 some wonderful long talks together." 
 
 "We did," said Ariadne, "but then this sickness of 
 Donna's came and we had to come away." 
 
 "What puzzles me," went on Cousin Nellie, her shrewd 
 eyes watching the changing expressions on the young 
 face, "is why, after all that cabling and his evident 
 intention of meeting us here in London, he suddenly 
 took a steamer and rushed back home." 
 
 "Has he gone back home ?" 
 
 "Yes, didn't you know it? He may be landing in 
 New York to-day. It was one of the fast steamers, 
 the Olympic, I believe." 
 
 "They did fall in love just as I thought they would, 
 and there has been a lovers' quarrel," was the elder 
 woman's inward guess. 
 
 "I'll tell you the truth, Cousin Nellie," said the girl. 
 "I want you to see that I can't talk of Randolph, either. 
 At first we were good friends. He talked of home, and 
 I was very happy in our friendship. But in a little 
 while something happened to change it I dis- 
 appointed him. He became very angry. He never 
 wants to see me again." 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense!" rose to the other's lips, but 
 she held the words back. Whatever the silly misunder- 
 standing, Cousin Nellie saw that to Ariadne it was final. 
 All the light went from the girl's face. She moved 
 restlessly. Cousin Nellie rose, the girl following quickly. 
 
 "We must go down now. It is luncheon time," 
 said Mrs. Henry. "You needn't change anything for
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 337 
 
 lunch, Ariadne. That's one of the good things about 
 this hotel. You can wear anything you please. I must 
 go first and see if Richard Kyarter Junior is at large and 
 make him wash his hands." 
 
 They went down rather silently. Mrs. Henry found 
 herself puzzled and not a little distressed, by Ariadne's 
 avoidance of Randy Carr's name. It was incredible/ 
 that she had really offended him, unless in the one way 
 of rejected love. There had scarcely been time for court- 
 ship even from so spirited a youth as Carr. The 
 kindly woman felt by instinct that, even were love a part 
 of it, the breaking of the friendship had a deeper and 
 more painful cause. Being possessed of tact, as well as 
 intuition, she resolved to say no more about it, at least 
 until she had had time to reason. 
 
 They went directly to the portico. Just as they 
 reached it, the boy, still at his mischievous employment, 
 leaned over an inch too far and gave a perilous lurch. 
 Mrs. Henry, with a stifled shriek, clutched at his Eton 
 jacket. 
 
 "You, Dick Kyarter," she cried, when he was back 
 into safety, "you'll fall over there and break your neck." 
 
 A series of feminine shrieks from the pavement below, 
 cries of : " My word, it's one of them American terrors ! " 
 bespoke a fresh success for the small boy. A suffragette, 
 standing at the corner selling papers, and a tall, blue- 
 clad "Bobby" stared toward the portico. 
 
 "Now, look here, Dick, this has got to stop," said 
 the mother. She leaned beside him, pulling up the 
 realistic viper. " That policeman has his eye on you, 
 and he'll be taking you to jail next. Then how 
 would mother feel having you shut up with all the 
 suffragettes ? " 
 
 Dick opposed the withdrawal of his toy, but his
 
 338 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 struggle was a mere feint. The sight of the policeman 
 had sobered him. 
 
 "Here's your cousin Ariadne, Dick. Is your hand 
 fit to offer anybody ? " Dick turned his scowling, hand- 
 some face to Ariadne. The sight of her smile softened 
 him, and he glanced at his very dirty hands. 
 
 "Never mind dirt," said the girl, "I'm going to hug 
 you, even if you are such a big boy. You've grown so 
 big I never should have known you. How old are you 
 now, Dick Carter ? " 
 
 "Nine, goin' on ten," said Dick glibly, though in a 
 tone which showed that he was bored. 
 
 Ariadne flashed a look at Mrs. Henry. "He is a per- 
 fect darling," she whispered. 
 
 "He's a limb of Satan," observed the beaming mother, 
 more audibly. "Now, Dick, we must be going in to 
 luncheon; you had better brush up a little. Let me 
 see your hands." The child looked sulky, then held 
 forth two objects that might have been grimy starfish. 
 
 " Good gracious ! I should think they did need 
 washing ! Well, come along ; mother will help you get 
 the dirt off. You shall have some of my nice sweet 
 soap." She took her small son by the arm and had 
 started indoors, when he wrenched himself away with 
 a shriek: "Gee! There's a man with chewing gum." 
 He dashed down the steps, running full tilt into an 
 English ecclesiastic, and then out upon the crowded 
 pavement, pushing and forging his way until he stood 
 before a lad who carried a shallow tray strapped to 
 his shoulders. His stock in trade was a heap of small 
 pink packages of a well-known American make of gum. 
 A white banner descended from the tray and on it was 
 printed boldly : "Try it, id. a stick. Everybody's chew- 
 ing it, chewing it chewing it !"
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 339 
 
 "Rather progressive for England," said Cousin Nellie, 
 with a laugh. 
 
 "Dickie's a perfect darling," said Ariadne, "and he's 
 better looking than ever." 
 
 "Yes, he has that bronze coloring and the bright eyes 
 of the Randolphs. Judge Henry's mother was a Ran- 
 dolph, you know. Don't you think Dick is a good 
 deal like Randy Carr?" 
 
 Ariadne murmured something. 
 
 "There's nothing really bad about Dick Kyarter," 
 went on Mrs. Henry, enlarging on her dearest theme, 
 "only he's so quick and active that he's always in mis- 
 chief. When I first saw this hotel and those two ponds 
 out in the square in front of it, I was simply frantic. 
 I knew that Dick Kyarter would manage to get drowned 
 in one of them. Of course Judge Henry laughed. He 
 always does. He tried to argue with me, but I wouldn't 
 have it. 'You needn't tell me again about your father 
 and mother's honeymoon,' I said. 'It's nothing to me 
 if all your ancestors back to Adam stopped at the Morley. 
 What would be the use of it, anyway, if you brought 
 their only descendant here to be drowned?' Where 
 is Judge Henry, by the way ? I don't dare to leave this 
 porch until that awful child gets back. Will you go 
 into the coffee-room, Ariadne? It's there to the right. 
 You just keep going till you stop down that dark 
 passage that looks like a rope-walk. When you see a 
 group of silent, human creatures, both men and women, 
 sitting about, all looking as if they had just viewed the 
 corpse, you'll know you've reached an English coffee- 
 room. Then go up to the biggest newspaper being held 
 up in the air, and behind it you will find Judge Henry.'* 
 
 This description was no more graphic than it proved 
 truthful. Judge Henry was soon found, and the little
 
 340 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 party Dick having had his starfish scoured went 
 in to their luncheon. 
 
 "Cold meats," murmured Mrs. Henry, as she took 
 up the menu. "I should say there were cold meats. 
 There is a long table full of them in the middle of the 
 room. There's the preacher and his wife walking round 
 and round it, looking to see what they want to eat. 
 What bad manners ! I'm glad it was the preacher 
 and not his wife Dick butted into on the steps. All 
 that jet stuff of hers might have cut his forehead ; but 
 the parson was nice and soft. One hot dish from a 
 joint, it says," reverting to the menu. "I wonder what 
 sort of a joint. So many things have joints and after 
 that, stewed fruit and custard. Rather slim pickings 
 ior a whole meal, it seems to me." She threw down the 
 <:ard. 
 
 "In contrast with your own table, it is rather meager," 
 said the Judge, "but I daresay we can get enough 
 to sustain us. Shall I order ?" 
 
 "Please," said Ariadne and Nellie in a breath. 
 
 " I wish I was home," announced Dick Carter abruptly. 
 
 Ariadne gave him a sympathetic smile. Yes, he was 
 like Randy. His brown hair grew upon the temples 
 just that way, and the dark, straight brows she had 
 seen other brows that drew together when something 
 had gone wrong deepening into shadow the sparkle 
 of hazel eyes. 
 
 It was a delightful meal. The Judge had had the good 
 fortune to preempt a table that stood quite exclusively 
 in the jutting corner of the second story room. From 
 the windows they could look out upon the crowded life 
 of the square : the thousand pedestrians hurrying on 
 various ways, delivery wagons, motors, bicycles, ped- 
 dlers' carts, and the huge, dominating omnibuses, packed
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 341 
 
 closely within and set thick on top with rosy-faced, 
 English folk who preferred the sun and air. 
 
 From the narrow Strand, from Whitehall, Victoria, 
 Pall Mall, and a dozen lesser streets, the tide of traffic 
 and humanity flowed inward, emptying and rilling so 
 evenly that the moving surface had no eddies of pause. 
 There was no whizzing and clanging of electric cars, 
 only the reverberating roar of wheels, and the sharp, 
 nasal warning of motor horns. 
 
 "What I wish," said Cousin Nellie, "is that I had 
 sense enough to stop looking out of the window. It 
 makes me dizzy, yet I can't stop." 
 
 "There ain't nothin' to look at," grumbled young 
 Richard, scowling upon the unconscious omnibuses. 
 
 "Oh, Dick Kyarter, where do you get your gram- 
 mar?" his mother exclaimed. 
 
 "He doesn't," said Judge Henry. 
 
 "Why, Dickie, don't you like the splendid big city?" 
 asked Ariadne, partly to divert reproof. 
 
 "Naw!" said the boy, "it's nothin' but people and 
 dirty houses. There ain't any street-cars, or soda- 
 water fountains, or pop-corn or nothin'. I've only 
 been to a movin' picture once." 
 
 "Never mind, if I can be here for a few days, I'll 
 get you to take me to lots and lots of them. I love them, 
 too." 
 
 Dick Carter turned and for the first time regarded 
 her with interest. 
 
 "Will you, honest?" 
 
 "Honest cross my heart," said Ariadne, performing 
 with solemnity that mystic rite. At last his brown 
 eyes sparkled and the grin came. "Why don't you live 
 with us now?" 
 
 "Oh, Dickie, I'd love it," she answered, in a voice
 
 342 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 which for once and all made the boy her friend. As 
 she noted the lovely smile on the girl's face, Cousin 
 Nellie asked herself: "Is that all for Dickie, or is she 
 thinking of another pair of brown eyes?" 
 
 " Speaking of shows," put in Judge Henry, "how would 
 you girls like to take on a matinee ?" 
 
 Ariadne gave a little cry of pleasure. "I haven't 
 been in an English theater for years and years. It 
 would be such a treat to hear the people on the stage 
 speaking my own language." 
 
 "Then that's settled," said Cousin Nellie in her de- 
 cisive way. 
 
 " Muddie, can't I go too ?" asked Dick. 
 
 "Now, Dick Kyarter, you are very young for regular 
 theaters," that lady began, but Ariadne, interrupting 
 quickly, put her hand on the boy's shoulder, and looking 
 at her cousin said : "Please, for my sake, Cousin Nellie." 
 
 "Well, for your sake, Ariadne," said Mrs. Henry, 
 trying to look disapproving. 
 
 "Never was concession made more cheerfully," 
 remarked the Judge, unconscious of the fact that his 
 own pleasure was quite plain. 
 
 "I'd a heap rather it was a movin' picture," growled 
 the object of all this satisfaction. 
 
 In the theater, under the spell of the lights and the 
 charming costumes and the singing, Ariadne felt herself 
 to be much more of a child than Dickie. The Judge, 
 delighting in her pleasure, bought her boxes of bon-bons, 
 which she eagerly shared with the boy, and kept her 
 laughing even when the comedy actors were off the 
 stage by his quaint, humorous remarks. The girl was 
 sorry when the curtain fell and Cousin Nellie began to 
 put on her veil. 
 
 Although it was nearly six o'clock, the Strand was
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 343 
 
 brimming with sunlight when they emerged from the 
 dusky foyer. The world of fairyland had vanished at a 
 touch. The people in the street seemed sordid and 
 oppressed with care. Even the old omnibuses tottered, 
 as if weary of incessant burdens. 
 
 " Shall we stop somewhere for tea ? " asked Mrs. Henry. 
 
 "No," replied Ariadne, not waiting for the others. 
 "I must get back to the hotel where I can telephone and 
 ask about Donna. I haven't done it once, and I prom- 
 ised to call up every hour." 
 
 "Yes, we will go home," said Judge Henry. The 
 reaction had apparently come to all. Even Dick Carter 
 walked without comment past a cinema gallery that 
 displayed alluring pictures of cowboys and Red Indians 
 in combat. 
 
 As they reached the Morley, Ariadne said, "I must 
 telephone at once, before going to my room." They 
 all waited until a porter had made communication with 
 the Nursing Home and ushered Ariadne into the small 
 box. She came out in a few moments, her face very 
 pale. 
 
 "She is no worse at present. Mr. Martel is with her. 
 But they must have the operation almost at once. 
 They have set ten o'clock to-morrow for it. I must be 
 there." 
 
 "Of course, and I'll be with you," said Cousin Nellie, 
 drawing the girl's arm through hers. 
 
 Ariadne clung to her gratefully. "Oh, it does seem 
 horrible to think of it being so near," she said, shuddering. 
 
 "If an operation is necessary, you can't get through 
 with it too soon," said Cousin Nellie. "And now, 
 honey, you must have a little rest in your own room. 
 I'm afraid there won't be any more frolicking for us 
 to-night."
 
 344 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "No no," said the girl, "I shan't be able to think 
 of a thing but poor Donna ; but oh," she cried, turning 
 again to her cousin, "you don't know what it means to 
 me, having you near me at such a time ! " 
 
 "Well, I'm here," said Cousin Nellie cheerfully, 
 "and there's a good deal of me, too." 
 
 "And it's all of the purest gold," said Judge Henry 
 softly, putting his hand for a moment on his wife's 
 silk-clad shoulder. 
 
 That night, in their own room, with both young 
 charges tucked away, Mrs. Henry went up to her 
 husband. He had been standing waiting for her at 
 their sitting-room window. She leaned against him 
 a little more helplessly than was her usual independent 
 way, and as he put an arm about her, he said, in that 
 voice of complete understanding which belongs to those 
 who are happily married: "Is it about Ariadne, my 
 dear?" 
 
 She gave a long sigh, at first tremulous, then breaking 
 with impatience. "Of course it is Ariadne but even 
 more : it is the incredible injustice of things," she replied. 
 "When I look at that child with the face of an imprisoned 
 angel, when I think of the way she's been dragged around 
 at the cart-tail of a knave and a fool, and how sweet, 
 how uncomplaining, how wonderful she's been through it 
 all, it seems to me that I've just got to go out and fight 
 somebody." 
 
 "I'm glad that at least you think of going out for the 
 purpose, else your Richard and I might be in danger. 
 But seriously, dear, I do not mean to speak flippantly ; 
 I realize it all as you do. It is a miracle that she has 
 remained so exquisite the old Buddhist idea of the 
 white lotos rising through slime. I have faith to believe, 
 however, that her bondage will soon be at an end. The
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 345 
 
 shadow of death is on that poor, ailing tyrant now; 
 she will not survive an operation." 
 
 "I hope not/' said Mrs. Henry viciously. 
 
 "My dear!" expostulated the Judge, drawing back 
 in genuine dismay. 
 
 "Well, if you can't speak your mind out to your own 
 husband, what's the good of having married, anyway?" 
 said Mrs. Henry, defiantly. "You know you hope she 
 dies and if the poor soul knew what was in store for 
 her, she'd wish it, too. As for Ariadne - ' here she 
 gave a long pause "There's more than one kind 
 of bondage." 
 
 "I don't understand you, Nellie." 
 
 "Of course you don't; that's why I keep up your in- 
 terest. But I'm tired now; I must get to bed. To- 
 morrow is going to be a pretty strenuous day for all 
 of us."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 IT was well towards noon, several days later, when Mrs. 
 Henry, in the role of a very modern ministering angel, a 
 tray in one hand and a small scourge of common sense 
 in the other, walked down the hotel passages and stopped 
 at Ariadne's door. 
 
 Seeing that it was not locked, she pushed it aside and 
 entered. Things were much as she had expected to 
 find them. Both green shades were down, and what 
 daylight managed to filter through diffused itself in a 
 chill, cavernous gloom. 
 
 Across the white bed lay a slim black figure, face 
 downward. A small marble stand stood at the nearer 
 side, and upon this Mrs. Henry set the tray, taking care 
 to make a sharp, metallic sound in doing so. The 
 figure on the bed did not move ! Mrs. Henry looked 
 down upon the inky silhouette for a moment, opened 
 her lips to speak, decided against it, and then in her 
 buoyant yet determined way, crossed to the windows, 
 pulling up both shades. 
 
 As she came back to Ariadne, she could see that the 
 girl was fully dressed. Two small, black-shod feet hung 
 a little over the far edge of the bed. Her figure, always 
 slender, was a mere strip of shadow in the unrelieved 
 blackness of her present garb. Her right arm was 
 thrown upward, with the elbow bent, and in this hollow 
 her face lay hidden. Nothing was visible but the great 
 loops and folds of her shining hair.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 347 
 
 Mrs. Henry took her seat near this downcast fleece 
 of gold. 
 
 "Now, look here, Ariadne," she began, "this sort of 
 thing can't go on. It's all very well to be sorry about 
 poor Donna's death and to show her the respect of 
 mourning. But somebody's got to think of you, too. 
 You can't spend the rest of your life stuck up here in a 
 hotel room, weeping and crying your eyes out." 
 
 "I haven't been crying, Cousin Nellie," answered 
 the girl in her natural voice. She turned in speaking, 
 drew her slim figure up along the bed, and reaching out 
 for a pillow, propped herself against it. The light came 
 now full on her face. When Mrs. Henry saw the hope- 
 less expression and the circles of weariness about the 
 great, tearless eyes, she could not help thinking that to 
 weep would be better than this emotionless despair. 
 
 "Then you are doing worse than crying," Mrs. Henry 
 went on; "you are brooding, and getting yourself 
 into a half dead-and-alive condition of mind that can't 
 do anybody good. You've got too much sense to wish 
 the poor soul back in the world. She could never have 
 been a well woman again the doctor told you that 
 and she went out of life without a fear." 
 
 "They never let her dream she couldn't get well," 
 mused Ariadne ; "oh, but I was glad of that. She was 
 so utterly contented to the very last. It was wonderful 
 for her to to go that way, happy, and believing that 
 everything was going to turn out right ! " 
 
 "Of course it was wonderful ; she went out in a blaze 
 of glory, so to speak. Even that creature she thought 
 she was married to showed up well, though I must say 
 it sickened me with indignation and pity to see that 
 look of ecstasy in her eyes as he kissed her. And then 
 those sheaves of lilies that he sent ! Poor wretch, he
 
 348 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 has certainly lost out. But I'm thankful he's out of 
 your life forever." 
 
 "Has anything been heard of him since?" asked 
 Ariadne in a low voice. 
 
 Mrs. Henry gave a little "tchut" of contempt. 
 
 "Has it ? The Judge has had to ask the hotel manager 
 to let him use a back door in order to avoid the man. 
 There were notes, telephone calls, and telegrams every 
 hour for a day or two. I believe, however, he has given 
 up the attempt now." 
 
 Ariadne said nothing. She was glad to turn her mind 
 from a subject so entirely loathsome. She stared out of 
 the window, and the look of dark brooding returned. 
 Apparently she forgot that her cousin was near. 
 
 "Ariadne!" cried that worthy soul, taking the girl 
 by the shoulder and giving her an impatient shake. 
 "You've simply got to stop this hookworm stare. It 
 is uncanny. Now you just sit up and drink some of 
 this hot milk and eat the toast I've brought you. The 
 maid says you never touched your breakfast. It's 
 perfectly absurd for you to go on like this. If that 
 feeble creature had been your own father and mother 
 in one, you couldn't look more woebegone. You've 
 sacrificed seven years of life to her; you've sacrificed 
 everything a girl ought to have, so that she could give 
 your father's money to that brute. You've more than 
 done your duty by everybody and now is the time to 
 take up life for yourself. Everything is before you. 
 No rational being can think for a minute that you ever 
 really loved your stepmother." 
 
 Ariadne sat up in bed, reaching out one hand for the 
 milk. "I will try to drink it if you want me to, Cousin 
 Nellie," she said passively. "No, I don't suppose I 
 could really love Donna in the way you mean. But I've
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 349 
 
 been so close to her for all these years. I've had nobody 
 else. She needed me, and I know she loved me in her 
 own fashion. I I suppose the shock of it all the 
 suddenness when I thought she was getting well and 
 then the horror I can't get away from - 
 
 She paused and set down the milk without tasting it. 
 The wide-eyed, vacant stare came back. "For her to 
 be out there in an English cemetery and no friends 
 near just those strange names all about her and 
 for us to go away and leave her there. I tell you, 
 Cousin Nellie, it is horrible. Don't you see it is ?" 
 
 Mrs. Henry got to her feet; one might almost say 
 she stamped. "Drink that milk, Ariadne Skipwith. 
 Really, you exasperate me. All that sort of talk is 
 pure rubbish. Where on earth should she be? She's 
 got no near relatives. The few she had were glad 
 enough to get rid of her. As far as I can make out, she 
 never had a friend but you, and I suppose that even you 
 wouldn't care to have her over in the Skipwith burying- 
 ground beside your own mother." 
 
 Ariadne flushed under the sharp strokes. "No, no, 
 I suppose I wouldn't," she murmured. 
 
 "Drink that milk." 
 
 Ariadne swallowed quickly. 
 
 "Now eat some toast." 
 
 The girl looked despairingly at the charred crusts. 
 
 "Never mind how it looks. You're not a suffragette 
 on a hunger-strike. I came here to talk over some 
 plans of our own. There's no discussing things with a 
 rag doll." 
 
 Ariadne sighed, but managed to dispose of the toast. 
 
 Cousin Nellie's complacency returned. She came 
 back to the bed, taking her former seat upon it. "Now 
 you're acting like a rational being. Judge Henry has
 
 350 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 gone this morning to the steamship offices to secure 
 berths for America." 
 
 Ariadne had started on a new piece of toast and could 
 not speak. 
 
 "Let me see," Cousin Nellie went on, putting her head 
 on one side and beginning to count on her somewhat 
 pudgy pink fingers, "this is Wednesday Thursday 
 Friday a good fast steamer leaves Saturday morning. 
 He's going to try for that. It won't leave us any too 
 much time. Now how about your packing?" 
 
 Ariadne looked round the room. Her steamer trunk, 
 perched in the English way upon a carpet-covered folding 
 stand, was in plain sight. She continued to look about 
 until, in a more distant corner, she saw her larger trunk. 
 
 "Yes, both my trunks are here. When did they send 
 them?" 
 
 "'They' didn't," remarked Mrs. Henry with meaning. 
 " The Judge had a Morley porter go for them. None of 
 your stepmother's things, not even her jewels, have 
 appeared." 
 
 "I don't want them. I hope he will keep them," 
 cried the girl. 
 
 "Don't worry, he will," said the other. "Now, 
 Ariadne, since you are beginning to look more like a girl 
 and less like a piece of biscuit dough, there is something 
 else I want to suggest." 
 
 "Yes, Cousin Nellie?" But the suggestion was not 
 made, for just as the girl rose from the bed and stood 
 waiting for the next words, a knock sounded. 
 
 Mrs. Henry reached the door first. Ariadne heard 
 the bell-boy say: "The gentleman wants an answer." 
 Mrs. Henry came back, reading the superscription with 
 a frown. The note was sealed. Without comment, she 
 handed it to Ariadne.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 351 
 
 "For me," cried the girl, "who could have- But 
 as her fingers touched the missive, she knew. There 
 was but one living being who had the power to inspire this 
 uncontrollable shudder of fear and disgust. 
 
 "I can imagine," said Mrs. Henry, with compressed 
 lips. 
 
 Ariadne read through the few lines and handed the 
 note to her cousin. 
 
 " ARIADNE : Whatever may be your shrinking 
 from me and no matter how I may deserve it I 
 implore you now, as a last service to the one you 
 loved and who is now at peace, to grant me an in- 
 terview. I shall not keep you long. What I must 
 say is rather for the sake of Donna than myself. My 
 face is in the dust. I have lost and you have gained 
 everything. Is this much to ask that you grant a con- 
 demned victim the right to say a few words ? Remem- 
 ber that it is in Donna's name that I plead. Before 
 God I swear that if her devoted spirit could know how 
 desperately I need to speak with you, she would add 
 her supplication to mine. 
 
 " CONSTANTINE MARTEL." 
 
 Mrs. Henry flung down the letter. Her cheeks 
 burned with indignation. "The idea ! Of course you 
 won't see him. A creature that doesn't even sign his 
 own name. I'll have the servants turn him out." She 
 was moving quickly to the door, when Ariadne called 
 out sharply : " Stop, Cousin Nellie, don't turn him away. 
 I must see him !" 
 
 "Well!" gasped Mrs. Henry, leaning against the 
 steamer trunk. 
 
 " If you will go with me, no harm can possibly come of
 
 352 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 it. And it is, as he says, the very last thing I can do 
 for Donna. Please don't be angry with me, Cousin 
 Nellie." 
 
 "You're a pigeon, a regular easy mark. You ought 
 to have a keeper, Ariadne," said Mrs. Henry. "But 
 if you're bent on seeing him, I can't prevent you." Open- 
 ing the door, she said sharply : "Show the man into my 
 private sitting-room, number twenty-seven on the 
 second floor." 
 
 Ariadne sank back on the bed an instant, closing her 
 eyes. "Don't think I want to. It is torture to me, 
 just being in the room with him. You don't know - 
 But when I think of Donna lying there in a bed of his 
 white lilies, her poor face so peaceful, because, at the 
 last, he had been kind oh, I must, Cousin Nellie ; it 
 would trouble me all my life if I refused for her sake." 
 
 "Come along, then, let's have it over," said Mrs. 
 Henry grimly. "You don't have to fix up." 
 
 As the two women entered, Cousin Nellie some steps 
 in advance, the man was still standing. As usual he 
 was immaculately dressed, and on his left coat-sleeve 
 was an unusually wide band of crepe. He held his hat 
 and stick and when he bowed to Mrs. Henry, made no 
 effort to shake hands. 
 
 Raising his head, he looked full at Ariadne. His 
 face, already pale, became ghastly. His lips quivered 
 until he bit them fiercely ; but recovering himself in a 
 moment he gave her, too, the same distant, deferential 
 bow. 
 
 "Will you be seated?" said Mrs. Henry stiffly, 
 motioning him to a chair. He took it, laying his hat 
 and gloves on a table near. Mrs. Henry drew Ariadne 
 down beside her to a sofa, then looked across at their 
 visitor.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 353 
 
 "My young cousin thought it best that I should be 
 with her during the interview you urged," she said in a 
 cold, discouraging tone. 
 
 The man did not resent it. "Since, then, my visit 
 must be not only ceremonial, but brief, I shall come to 
 the point at once." 
 
 "I think it wise," observed Mrs. Henry. 
 
 " It is then what so worldly a lady as yourself may have 
 suspected : to throw myself upon Miss Skipwith's 
 mercy to let her know in what a serious, in fact 
 desperate entanglement, I find myself." 
 
 "To put it in plain English, you've come to beg Miss 
 Skip with for money." 
 
 For the first time the man winced. His long lashes 
 fell in order to hide the venomous light in his eyes. 
 
 "Only partially. You, who know Miss Skipwith so 
 much less intimately than I do, have not yet realized, 
 perhaps, that her standards are not the usual ones of self- 
 interest and greed." 
 
 "You are giving further reasons why she should be 
 protected," said Mrs. Henry, bridling under the subtle 
 insults. 
 
 Her indignation gave Martel a deeper self-confidence. 
 
 "In the affair to which I refer," he went on, more softly 
 than before, "the money is not my greatest need. I 
 have enemies, bitter enemies, who will not hesitate to 
 drag into a legal attack the good name of the wife who 
 has just been taken from me. It is upon Ariadne's 
 knowledge of my wife's utter devotion that I rely - 
 
 "I am a lawyer's wife, and I may as well tell you flatly 
 and frankly that what you are now proposing is black- 
 mail nothing more or less." 
 
 "I am certain that to Miss Skipwith it will not appear 
 in so harsh a light. She has known something of my
 
 354 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 financial disasters, and my appeal for assistance is made 
 to her alone. Being independent now, and in sole posses- 
 sion of her father's large fortune, she can act entirely 
 for herself, without the need of restraint or even advice 
 from officious relatives." 
 
 Mrs. Henry bounced upon the sofa. Before she could 
 utter the sharp words rising to her lips, Ariadne had put 
 out her hands for silence. 
 
 "Let me speak, please. I think you ought to know, 
 Mr. Martel, that Judge Henry has thought it best to 
 tell me of your troubles and of this lawsuit that has been 
 brought against you." 
 
 "Thank God for it !" cried the man in more normal 
 tones than he had yet used ; " then you know, too, that 
 I thought myself a free man when I married Donna 
 and it has been the continued persecution of the past 
 few years that has made me at times like a madman. 
 I beg you to believe, Ariadne, that the worst I've done has 
 been under the pressure of this horrible fear. I couldn't 
 tell your stepmother. All along I have hoped to win 
 against this my former wife who has been hounding 
 me. But she won her case. She makes not only civil 
 but criminal charges against me. She is the kind of 
 woman who will stop at nothing. Why, she is in this 
 very city, with her sleuth hounds always at my heels. 
 They probably know where I am this instant. My last 
 hope on earth lies in your generosity. If I cannot 
 find the money before night, she will take my pound of 
 flesh and the blood with it. She will oh, God ! - 
 she will do anything. She is merciless and has the 
 power." 
 
 Ariadne was shivering under the torrent of his passion- 
 ate words. Here, for the first time perhaps, she had 
 seen the man's cringing heart laid bare : but Mrs. Henry,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 355 
 
 after the first hurled sentences, had begun to steel herself. 
 Her voice was cold, and her eyes were colder, as she said 
 to him : 
 
 "You have lived on this girl's young life for seven 
 evil years. Now you come cringing and whining to her 
 feet for more money. It is incredible that even a thing 
 like you can do it." 
 
 "I tell you it's not the money only," cried the des- 
 perate man. "That woman can send me to hell. If 
 she does, the papers will print the whole horrible story. 
 All England and America will know that I continued 
 to live with Donna when I knew she was not legally 
 my wife. What will old-fashioned Virginians think 
 when they hear Ariadne has been intimately associated 
 in it?" 
 
 "You needn't try to frighten Miss Skipwith, nor to 
 desecrate a dead woman, Mr. Patredis. As long as 
 Judge Henry and I have life in our bodies, Ariadne shall 
 not give you money." 
 
 The man got to his feet. "Ariadne is a free agent. 
 You can't stop her if she chooses to save me from worse 
 than death and to protect her stepmother's good name ; 
 and she will choose I know her." 
 
 "I am not frightened, Cousin Nellie. What may be 
 said of me is nothing. My life is over as far as any 
 possible happiness is concerned. You know what I feel 
 toward Mr. Mr. Martel." 
 
 "Yes yes and he deserves it all," put in the man 
 passionately, "only help me now, Ariadne. I'll pay back 
 the money. I'll never cross your path again." 
 
 " But I can't help feeling," went on the girl tremulously, 
 speaking more to Cousin Nellie and herself than to him, 
 "that money just dead money means so little 
 before a living horror like this."
 
 356 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Oh, yes, Ariadne, that is the true thing," the man 
 cried, throwing himself at the girl's feet. 
 
 Mrs. Henry rose with an exclamation of anger, catching 
 at the girl's arm. 
 
 "Come away from this, Ariadne. I'm not going to 
 stand by and see you robbed. He will only get what he 
 deserves." 
 
 "Ariadne Ariadne because you are pure and 
 good My God ! Have mercy " the man prayed. 
 
 Ariadne did not rise. For once the man's nearness 
 did not repel her. The terror and despair of this abject 
 soul seemed to have cleansed it. She looked straight 
 before her over the bowed head. 
 
 "Good heavens! There's somebody at the door," 
 exclaimed Mrs. Henry, breaking the oppressive silence. 
 "Get up from there, Patredis. If it's the Judge, he'll 
 throttle you." 
 
 Before the man could rise, the door was flung back, and 
 a gay voice cried : "Just as I thought ! My little Pat is 
 here on his knees before the heiress." 
 
 Then, throwing her handsome head backward, she said 
 to some one just outside the door : "You needn't come in, 
 Mitchell. There are ladies here. Just wait down- 
 stairs for us." 
 
 Mrs. Henry had sunk again to the sofa and now 
 seized Ariadne's left hand in both her own. The man, 
 staggering backward, fell into the chair he had va- 
 cated. 
 
 Mrs. Patredis, with all sails spread, swam to the center 
 of the room, and looked with interest and good-nature 
 from one to another of the speechless group. Her eyes 
 finally rested on Ariadne. 
 
 "So this is the little stepdaughter that Patredis and 
 his second wife were living on !" She laughed. "Well,
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 357 
 
 my dear, it is all over now, and I guess you've put on 
 black to keep from looking too happy." 
 
 It needed no prod from Cousin Nellie to get the girl to 
 her feet. She rose quickly, her chin up, her white throat 
 gleaming like freshly carved ivory against the black folds 
 encircling it and her eyes level, contemptuous, incredible 
 of such an existence as the one just thrust upon her, were 
 fixed on the bold, black, sparkling ones of Patredis' wife. 
 
 "Hold on just a minute," said that person. "I know 
 I'm not your sort, but I've come to do you a good turn." 
 
 But Mrs. Henry stepped between them, like a stately 
 if much ruffled hen shielding an only chick. "Miss 
 Skipwith does not desire to be served; kindly let us 
 pass." 
 
 "Oh, you're another of them Virginia aristocrats," 
 remarked Mrs. Patredis, still utterly impervious to 
 insult. "They haven't been much in my line up to date, 
 but at least I can tell one when I see it. That's more 
 than Pat can. He'd a got along all right, if he hadn't 
 thought everybody was of his own stripe. Now don't 
 hurry off. We're going to have a little circus right here. 
 I want you to see how prettily Pat eats out of my hand. 
 Come here, Patty." 
 
 The beaten wretch, crouching back in his chair, threw 
 her a look of hatred, but did not move. 
 
 "This is intolerable," said Cousin Nellie, her fine, 
 mobile nostrils quivering with rage. "Let me pass this 
 instant!" 
 
 Mrs. Patredis put out a very substantial-looking arm. 
 
 "Now don't make a scene, lady. There's a detective 
 down-stairs, and a whole bunch of Bobbys at the corner 
 of the street. Just let me have my say, and then I'll 
 hike with little Pat yonder at the end of a string. Really 
 Miss Skipwith shouldn't miss it."
 
 358 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Go for God's sake, go," groaned the man from his 
 corner. . 
 
 The newcomer deliberately went over to the door, 
 locked it, and came back smiling, with the key in her 
 hand. For a moment it seemed as if the man would 
 spring upon her, but one long, half humorous look was 
 enough to make him cower, hiding his face in his hands. 
 The woman went close, looking down at him, and when 
 she spoke, her voice was almost caressing. "Pretty little 
 Pat, so bold, so blustering, so smooth when he is master. 
 Look at him now, just because somebody who really 
 knows him has come." Suddenly she dropped her 
 bantering tone and looked at Ariadne. "He was after 
 money, of course. Did you let him have it?" 
 
 Before Ariadne could answer, Mrs. Henry said quickly : 
 "She did not." 
 
 "It was to pay me off, you know," said Mrs. Patredis. 
 "So you'll make me a present of him, rather than buy 
 his freedom ? " 
 
 "My cousin can have no interest or concern either in 
 you or your accomplice," said Mrs. Henry. "And if 
 you don't unlock that door this minute, I'll ring the bell 
 and have the porters break it open. We are not accus- 
 tomed to breathe the air with criminals." 
 
 "Keep on your shirt, old lady," said Mrs. Patredis, 
 "I've got to think." She lowered her eyes and seemed 
 lost in reverie. 
 
 Mrs. Henry gasped. The coolness of the woman's inso- 
 lence made her doubt her own senses. Ariadne went for- 
 ward a few steps, but her cousin caught her back fiercely. 
 
 Mrs. Patredis had not turned her head, and now, still 
 in thought, she murmured : "Yes, I understand, the girl 
 refuses to cough up the whole lump but I'm not cer- 
 tain that I want it."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 359 
 
 "Ariadne for God's sake save me from this 
 devil," almost screamed the man, in the voice of an 
 animal in its last torture. 
 
 "I can't stand it any longer, Cousin Nellie," whispered 
 the girl; "it's too hideous. Let him have the money." 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Henry, "I think he's getting his 
 punishment." 
 
 At her husband's last words, the woman had turned a 
 slow look upon him. He was quivering like a cold and 
 hungry dog. He felt her gaze and fought to keep his 
 eyes from answering hers, but the hypnotic influence 
 grew. Slowly he raised a twitching face, gray-green with 
 a grease of sweat upon it, and his shrinking, terrified 
 look met hers. She had him as tangibly in her power as 
 though handcuffs had already clicked; All the lightness 
 and humor of her face had fled. She was personified 
 Fate, implacable, relentless, and triumphant. 
 
 Still holding him, she said with terrible composure : 
 "That was a bad move, Pat, a damn fool thing to say, 
 and you know it. We won't take Miss Skipwith's 
 money. I don't want it. I prefer my little Pat." 
 
 "Blanche, Blanche," he said through chattering teeth, 
 "I didn't mean it," 
 
 "Oh, it's 'Blanche, Blanche' now," she sneered, "but 
 it's come too late. You always do say just a spill or two 
 over the limit. Do you remember when that judge was 
 summing up your case in 'Frisco ? " 
 
 But the cornered rat was to show his teeth at last. He 
 sprang toward her screaming: "Be still, you fiend. 
 Let that rest, or I'll I'll " 
 
 His face was like a maniac's; he looked round the 
 room as if for weapons. 
 
 Mrs. Henry gave a cry of fear and drew Ariadne to the 
 shelter of her arms.
 
 360 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 The one person unmoved was Mrs. Patredis. "Or 
 you'll do what ? " she asked in a cool, level voice. "You'll 
 do exactly as you always do when you're up against me, 
 Constantine Patredis. You'll go right back to your 
 little corner and sit down. But you needn't sit this time. 
 I've had about enough. Go pick up your pretty shining 
 hat and your cane and come along with me." 
 
 "I won't come with you," he muttered fiercely. " Go 
 back to your lawyers and detectives; we'll fight it out 
 through them." 
 
 "Oh, no, we won't. It's time I took a hand in your 
 affairs myself." 
 
 "You cannot force me to follow you," he chattered. 
 Even Mrs. Henry turned her eyes from the appalling 
 physical and moral anguish that quivered in his face. 
 The upper lip, under its small, dark mustache, lay back 
 along his teeth like that of an infuriated wolf. 
 
 "Don't look don't look at them, Ariadne," she 
 whispered, pressing the girl's face against her breast. 
 
 Mrs. Patredis' eyes had narrowed. "I can't force 
 you to follow me!" she repeated slowly. "We'll see 
 about that. Come!" 
 
 She went to the door, unlocking it. The thing that 
 was meant to be a man shambled after her. The two 
 shuddering women with closed eyes heard the dragging 
 of his steps and the gasping breath of baffled, impotent 
 rage. 
 
 Just before she opened the door, Mrs. Patredis sur- 
 veyed the figures of the two gentlewomen. Something 
 in Mrs. Henry's averted face a dignity and nobility of 
 bearing that no contamination could have power to 
 touch the impossible spiritual gulf which divided such 
 as these from her brought a dull throb of anger to her 
 heart. Because of it, her last words were a jibe.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 361 
 
 "I hope me and my little Pat hasn't kept you from 
 Buckingham Palace, or Fullers, or any of them places 
 where you good Americans go." Another fierce " Come ! " 
 to Patredis, and they were gone. 
 
 For a few moments the two women remained standing, 
 clinging dumbly to one another. Then Mrs. Henry took 
 down her arm and going to each window in turn, threw 
 the sash as wide as it would go. Then she pushed an 
 electric bell. When the servant came, she commanded : 
 " Go across the street to that little drug-store and buy me 
 a bottle of chloride of lime." 
 
 "Very good, Madam." 
 
 "And I'd like another disinfectant, too, the kind you 
 use with an atomizer. Charge them up to our room." 
 As the man turned, she added : "Send my chambermaid 
 to me." It was not till after the maid had entered and 
 been told to prepare a hot bath that Mrs. Henry spoke 
 to her young cousin. 
 
 "I suppose the maid will think I'm out of my senses. 
 I've had one bath already, but I must have another and 
 change my clothes to the skin before I can begin to feel 
 decent." 
 
 "I know," said the girl wearily. "I've felt that way 
 too. I think I'll go to my room." 
 
 As she was leaving, Mrs. Henry came up to her, took 
 her by the shoulders, and looked long into the pale 
 young face. 
 
 "And you've lived near a thing like that for seven 
 years !" she said slowly. 
 
 Ariadne pushed back the hair from her forehead. 
 Her words, which seemed at the moment irrelevant, 
 came from the same bitter spring of thought. 
 
 "Now I can say truly that I am glad Donna is dead."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 AT luncheon Judge Henry announced his success in 
 securing a passage on the Regina " the latest and most 
 luxurious steamer in the world sailing between Southamp- 
 ton and New York." 
 
 "I'm extremely glad we can return so soon," he re- 
 marked, looking kindly at Ariadne, "for the sooner we 
 get our little girl away from these unpleasant associa- 
 tions, the better it is going to be for her. There is to be 
 no longer a Naxos for Ariadne of Allan Water ; she is 
 come into her own again." 
 
 "Unpleasant associations! Humph!" said Cousin 
 Nellie, with such emphasis that the Judge looked startled, 
 and Ariadne gave a warning glance across the table. It 
 had been agreed between the cousins that no mention 
 should be made just yet of their loathsome experience 
 with the Patredises. Mrs. Henry knew her husband well, 
 and she actually feared to let him know, while the evil- 
 doers were still close at hand, the full indignity which she 
 and Ariadne had suffered. Behind his quiet eyes lurked 
 still a smoldering fire of youth and impetuosity; any 
 affront to herself would have been a handful of straw 
 upon the coals. It was not impossible that he would 
 have started out at once in search of Patredis, intent 
 upon personal chastisement. 
 
 So now, at Ariadne's look, Mrs. Henry hurriedly 
 corrected herself and said cheerily: "So the tickets are 
 bought ! That means in two days we start for home."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 363 
 
 Dick Carter, who had been quiet for a few moments, 
 being engrossed in chasing stiffly fried whitebait round an 
 unnecessarily large plate, suddenly dropped his fork and 
 looked up. The meaning of his mother's words had just 
 reached him. "Coin' home?" he repeated, incredulous 
 with joy. His mother smiled and nodded. "Goody 
 goody gout, my shirt-tail's out ! " sang the child at the 
 top of his voice. 
 
 The prim English folk, seated at tables around them, 
 turned with an air of shock and astonishment. Several 
 ladies raised their lorgnons. A red-faced gentleman 
 choked over his mug of ale. There were one or two 
 wintry gleams of amusement, but for the most part the 
 other guests looked as if they were in personal danger. 
 The two chief waiters rushed together for a whispered 
 conference. One of the hotel proprietors came to the 
 door, gazing at the Henry table blankly. 
 
 Mrs. Henry was red with mortification. Even Ariadne 
 flushed. "Dick Kyarter," said the mother, "what on 
 earth has possessed you? Leave the table at once." 
 Dick had squirmed down on his chair until only the 
 small, shamed face appeared above the whitebait. 
 
 "I didn't mean nothin', Muddie," he whined. "It 
 jest come out." 
 
 Mrs. Henry was not placated. "I knew you'd dis- 
 grace us yet," she fumed ; "just see how the people are 
 staring at you. Leave the table." 
 
 Dick Carter hung one hip over the side of the chair 
 and put a fat-ribbed stocking further. In doing so he 
 glanced imploringly at his father. Judge Henry tried, 
 too late, to check the twitching at the corner of his lips. 
 Dick regained self-confidence in an instant. 
 
 "If you make me go now, Muddie, I'm sure to fall off 
 the front gallery and break my neck," he argued.
 
 364 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Judge Henry, were you laughing at him?" the lady 
 now demanded, turning her full ire upon her lord. " And 
 Ariadne positively chuckling ! How can any one 
 expect me to manage an imp like that if he sees you others 
 laughing?" 
 
 "Never mind, Cousin Nellie," said the girl. "He 
 won't do it again. Please let him stay." 
 
 Mrs. Henry felt it incumbent upon her maternal 
 dignity to keep her gaze sternly fixed a little longer 
 upon the culprit. But Dick knew well when hidden 
 rocks were passed. He had again drawn himself upright, 
 secure in his father's favor, and renewed his interest in 
 his luncheon. 
 
 "We don't ever eat minnows at home, do we, father ?" 
 he inquired blandly, picking up a rather fat whitebait by 
 the tail and holding it critically against the light. 
 " Gee ! " he exclaimed, " this one's full of insides. Have I 
 been eatin' insides, Muddie?" 
 
 "Take it away from him. Take it away quick," 
 Mrs. Henry said in a low, agonized voice to her husband. 
 She leaned back in pretended exhaustion. 
 
 When her peace of mind was somewhat restored, she 
 said to her husband : "I want to take Ariadne shopping 
 this afternoon. How much money can you let us have ? " 
 
 "Nearly any amount you wish, my dear ; you know I 
 had to cable for more." 
 
 "Yes, I remember," said his wife hurriedly. She did 
 not want Ariadne's mind to go back to the necessity of 
 the cabling. "Well, I want a good deal. About five 
 hundred dollars, at the least. We've so much to buy." 
 
 Ariadne looked astonished. "Why, Cousin Nellie, 
 how can you want so much in this short time ? I don't 
 need anything." 
 
 "Yes, you do," said the other. "I was just about to
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 365 
 
 tell you of it before luncheon, when we were inter- 
 rupted," again the knowing look passed. "Now before 
 I go back to it, I want to arrange about Dick Kyarter. 
 You'll have to take charge of him, Judge Henry." 
 
 "I to take entire charge ?" said the Judge, with an 
 apprehensive glance toward his son. 
 
 "I want to go shoppin' with you and Cousin Ariadne," 
 said Dick, "I want to buy a billy-goat." 
 
 "We are not going to a sale of billy-goats," said Mrs. 
 Henry. Her face brightened. " I know the very thing. 
 Take him to the Zoological Gardens. They have a fine 
 one here. Maybe you can get an empty monkey-cage 
 and bribe the keeper to lock him in until the time of 
 sailing." Again Dickie's side glance went to his father. 
 
 "Shucks !" he swaggered, very emboldened by what 
 he saw. "Muddie wouldn't let me stay in a monkey- 
 cage. She'd be scared the people would give me too 
 many peanuts." 
 
 "I feel that the Zoological Gardens are peculiarly 
 appropriate," said the Judge. "Well, my boy, as soon 
 as we've visited the bank for these ladies, we will take an 
 omnibus to the Zoo, and give them a long afternoon for 
 shopping." 
 
 "But I don't understand, Cousin Nellie," said the girl, 
 still a little puzzled. "You had all sorts of things sent 
 here to the hotel for me : a black traveling coat, and a 
 hat, and everything " 
 
 "Listen to me, Ariadne," said Mrs. Henry, leaning her 
 plump elbows on the table. "Do you realize that you 
 are no longer a wandering Jew but an American heiress ? 
 You are Ariadne of Allan Water, and, as the Judge says, 
 are coming into your own." 
 
 "No, I hadn't thought of it that way," admitted the 
 girl.
 
 366 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "You don't realize, either, I suppose, that a cable has 
 been sent your grandmother, and that by now our 
 special part of Virginia is in one twitter of expectancy 
 over your coming." 
 
 "I didn't realize," said the girl, clasping her hands 
 together. Cousin Nellie nodded, well-pleased at the 
 effect she was beginning to produce. Judge Henry 
 watched Ariadne's face lovingly. 
 
 "Well, they are ! From Mr. Crane at the station 
 to Uncle Peter and Mammy in the kitchen porch 
 at Allan Water, they are all thinking and talking 
 about little else. Life slips by pretty fast in Virginia. 
 The change of seasons, with now and then the funeral 
 of an old inhabitant, .makes up their greatest ex- 
 citement." 
 
 Ariadne's lips trembled in a smile. The words brought 
 the old, quiet life back so plainly. 
 
 "To them you will be a romantic heroine, a sort of 
 fairy princess. If you had left Allan Water in a star- 
 spangled balloon, going straight up, and wandering 
 around among the planets for these seven years, you 
 could not be a more remarkable figure." 
 
 "I don't see how it can," said the girl. "It all seems 
 so dull and uneventful to me." The color and life in her 
 young face were deepening steadily. 
 
 "Well, that's just how it is, I know," said Cousin Nellie 
 with decision. 
 
 "She is exactly right, my dear," added Judge Henry. 
 " This home-coming of yours will be the greatest event 
 for years." 
 
 "Now to the shopping!" Mrs. Henry went on. 
 "Did you ever hear of an exiled princess returning in 
 triumph to her home with empty hands? Certainly 
 not ; she brings rich perfumes, rolls of silk, and strange
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 367 
 
 jewels from the Orient. In other words," Mrs. Henry 
 broke off, laughing her deep "peach" laugh at the 
 bewilderment in the girl's face "in other and more 
 suitable words, my dear, every living soul within a radius 
 of twenty miles of Allan Water must have some present, 
 some token of remembrance from the Princess' own 
 lily-white hands. It would break their hearts if you 
 took nothing. It doesn't matter what you take from 
 a two-penny trinket to a motor-car it is the thought 
 they value. They are made that way ! " 
 
 Ariadne's eyes were now like stars. The lovely, 
 shifting pink was in her cheeks. "Oh, Cousin Nellie, I 
 see. How good you are and how thoughtful. I don't 
 believe it ever would have occurred to me, by myself. 
 Oh, it will be lovely to pick out things for them. Can 
 we have heaps of money, Cousin Judge?" She turned 
 to him, eager and sparkling. 
 
 "As you are now sole heiress to nearly one million 
 dollars with an income of over fifty thousand a year, you 
 can safely allow yourself to be extravagant," laughed 
 the Judge. 
 
 "I'm going to buy everybody something beautiful. 
 I think I'll begin with Dick Carter. Oh, Dicky did 
 you hear what heaps and heaps of money your cousin 
 Ariadne has ? It sounds ridiculous for it to be me. 
 What do you want, Dicky? Say anything !" 
 
 She was a child herself, leaning down to the boy's 
 upturned face. 
 
 "Gee can I have anything?" cried Dick Carter. 
 He frowned, in that absurd replica of Randolph's darker 
 look. Something caught at the girl's heart, but she 
 thrust it back. 
 
 "Anything, Dicky. I'll buy that first." 
 
 "If I can't get a billy-goat " he mused, "oh, I know !
 
 3 68 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 I want a balloon, a big balloon with star spangles 
 like the one Muddie says took you up." 
 
 Ariadne threw a distressed look at the Judge. "Star- 
 spangled things are made only in America, my boy," 
 he said, helping her out. " We'll look about New York 
 for one." 
 
 "How would you like a watch, Dicky ? A real watch 
 with a pretty chain?" the girl queried. 
 
 Dicky's young face was dubious. 
 
 "If you had a watch, you could keep up with all those 
 funny bells on the steamer, and see if they were right," 
 put in the mother insidiously. 
 
 "Me for the watch !" exclaimed Dicky, to the relief of 
 all. "An' I want a long chain with a whistle on it so 
 I can blow as many whistles as they have bells." 
 
 This important point being settled, Ariadne turned 
 again to Cousin Nellie. 
 
 "And what for my precious, precious Grandma ?" 
 
 "Have you ever passed by that marvelous shop called 
 Liberty's?" 
 
 Ariadne shook her head. 
 
 "No woman passes by," said the Judge in pretended 
 gloom. " Nellie dragged me into it yesterday. Liberty 
 is a misnomer at least where tractable husbands are 
 concerned." 
 
 "He said that yesterday. He thought it very witty, 
 so he says it again," remarked Mrs. Henry with scorn. 
 "My remark was, give me Liberty's and give me debt. 
 The whole big shop is like a shattered rainbow. Such 
 scarfs, and ribbons, and lengths of shining gauze. They 
 have wonderful, crinkly head-things that seem knitted 
 out of spider-webs and dew. I can just see one of them 
 on that lovely white hair of Cousin Belinda's ; and they 
 have tea-cozies, so exquisite that my only fear is for per-
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 369 
 
 fumed tea. And little velvet footstools, made for 
 Virginia and slippers and wadded lounging robes 
 and beaded reticules and 
 
 "You've said enough, my dear," laughed the Judge, 
 "Ariadne is thoroughly inoculated. Come, Dick Carter, 
 let's hasten to the bank for funds. I'll get five hundred 
 for each of you." 
 
 Later, as the two women sat together in a speeding 
 taxicab, the elder woman said in a very thoughtful tone : 
 "Do you know, my dear, I've just been wondering 
 whether I am really a very dull, unemotional sort of 
 person, or whether that dreadful scene this morning was 
 in itself so extreme so so outside, as it were, to 
 experiences that generally come into decent people's lives 
 that there is nothing in me to retain it. Of course 
 this is a feeble way of expressing myself, but already it 
 feels to me like a nightmare that has gone forever." 
 
 The girl sighed. "I'm afraid it's more real to me 
 than that. You see I have known that terrible man so 
 long." 
 
 "Well, it will pass. It simply has got to," said Mrs. 
 Henry in her decided way. "Why, in less than a month 
 it will be no more than some terrible scene in a low theater 
 to which you were dragged. Such things are out of your 
 life forever and thank God for it ! Everything is 
 before you, dear child, riches, health, youth, and well, 
 you remember what your Cousin Nellie once said to you 
 in the old phaeton at home." With a charming, loving 
 tenderness, she again put her hand under the girl's chin 
 and turned the drooping face upward. Ariadne met her 
 eyes fairly, -and the answering smile was exquisitely 
 sweet ; but Cousin Nellie's heart was aching just a little 
 for what she saw was no longer the face of a child but that 
 of a woman who had suffered. She took her hand away.
 
 370 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "You've got all the gifts of life," she cried, as if in de- 
 fiance of the fate which had wrought the subtle change. 
 "There are to be no more shadows only sunshine and 
 great happiness." 
 
 "I can never be really happy, Cousin Nellie, not in the 
 way you mean. The nearest to it will be getting home 
 again." 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense!" cried the elder woman. 
 "You've got to be happy. I'll see to it that you are. 
 Well, this is our shop. Did you ever see such windows ? 
 Yesterday they were all pink ; and to-day they are filled 
 up with strips of London mist, with lilacs and streaks of 
 sunlight showing through. Stop a minute. Let me pay 
 off the driver and let the taxi go. It makes me nervous 
 to think of him sitting outside here, waiting, while the 
 infernal machine by him spits out good American dimes. 
 No, don't wait," she said to the ingratiating chauffeur. 
 
 Ariadne found that her cousin had not exaggerated. 
 A very lust of purchase overtook her. "I'm getting 
 positively excited with it," she said once, laughingly, as 
 she had just given the order for four exquisite, quilted 
 sofa-pillows in shades of mauve and purple. "You 
 know I have never had money to spend. Donna didn't 
 always think of it and I hated to ask." 
 
 Ariadne was still laughing. Not a trace of resentment 
 showed in her voice, but Cousin Nellie had to turn away 
 to keep the bitter comment back. Instead she said 
 cheerfully: "Now for Mrs. Crane. She still has neural- 
 gia when she needs it. I'm sure this magenta scarf will 
 give her such rapture that she will probably insist on 
 being buried in it." 
 
 "Yes, yes," agreed the girl. "But why can't I get 
 her a dress, too one of those neat, black silks already 
 made up."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 371 
 
 "Neat! Black!" sniffed Cousin Nellie. "You must 
 have forgotten Mrs. Crane. Anything darker than pea- 
 green would be an insult." 
 
 "Then lets get that iridescent purple with the gold 
 tones in it ; and are those spangles on the waist ?" 
 
 "That's her style exactly. Think of the harmony 
 between that and the magenta scarf !" 
 
 Mr. Crane presented graver difficulties. A yellow 
 waistcoat and a number of gaudy ties were chosen, but 
 Ariadne declared these not enough. "I want to take 
 him a real present and put it into his hands myself when 
 I get off the train." 
 
 They finally decided that a compact smoker's outfit 
 would be the thing. "Though really, in my heart, I 
 believe he would prefer a mechanical toy." said Mrs. 
 Henry. 
 
 "What a pity that they haven't lots and lots of chil- 
 dren," sighed Ariadne. "Then I could take them all 
 Mechanical toys." 
 
 "It strikes me you're doing pretty well as it is," said 
 Cousin Nellie dryly. "You have already filled about two 
 trunks that you haven't got. We'll stop somewhere 
 just at the last and buy them." 
 
 Reluctantly they turned their backs on Liberty's. 
 
 "We won't take another taxi," said Mrs. Henry. 
 "It will do us good to walk a little. Besides, we can 
 look in the store windows and see if there's anything we 
 want." 
 
 "I seem to want everything I see," laughed the girl. 
 Suddenly she paused. They had come to a florist's 
 where, among the tall flower-holders filled with roses, 
 orchids, iris, and spikes of many colored gladiolus, lay a 
 great cross made of lilies. To Ariadne, not knowing it to 
 be an ordinary English custom, the waiting offering on its
 
 372 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 somber velvet background seemed a personal reminder 
 of a tribute unfulfilled. Without speaking to her com- 
 panion, she went into the shop. 
 
 Mrs. Henry remained outside. She did not need to 
 ask the meaning of the girl's errand. When she returned, 
 after a few brief directions to the florist, and the exchange 
 not only of bank-notes but of the florist's address, her 
 face was graver but very, very sweet. Mrs. Henry made 
 no comment, and the two walked on together in search of 
 Mr. Crane's meerschaum pipe and its silver-mounted 
 accessories. 
 
 It was one of those days in London when the prevalent 
 "crepuscule" effects, beloved of French artists, had 
 vanished utterly. The lowering gray sky had rolled 
 back like a tent, showing high, arched blue and the heaped 
 up white of clouds. The sun shone down on a multi- 
 colored crowd. Regent Street, in spite of its generous 
 width, was packed close with slow-moving vehicles, 
 chiefly taxicabs, in which gayly dressed women or some- 
 times a bored youth lolled. It chanced to be "Alex- 
 andra Day," and hundreds of young girls all in white were 
 selling wild roses. 
 
 Finally the smoking outfit was secured. Cousin 
 Nellie, looking at her watch, said she was ready for 
 some tea. "And here's a place that looks very British. 
 I like English things in England." 
 
 They took their places at a small marble table. A 
 waitress hurried up smiling. "Two teas ? " she inquired. 
 
 "Yes, tea for two," said Mrs. Henry. 
 
 "And what with it, Madam? Tea-kyke? Buttered 
 toast scones bans bread and butter or plyne 
 kyke?" 
 
 "Tea-cakes," said Mrs. Henry, grasping at the first. 
 The maid hurried off.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 373 
 
 "I don't suppose we can eat sweet stuff this early in the 
 evening," she continued, "but I had to say something to 
 stop that torrent in a foreign tongue." 
 
 With the tea came two plates, on each of which reposed 
 what looked like the half of an enormous yeast-powder 
 biscuit, the surface toasted slightly, and heavily but- 
 tered. 
 
 Mrs. Henry gave a covert but inquiring glance across 
 the table. When the maid left, she said: "So this is 
 tea-cake. Not a grain of sugar in it and big enough to 
 feed an alligator. I wonder what Dick Kyarter would 
 remark if he were here ?" 
 
 "It's just as well he isn't !" laughed Ariadne. 
 
 "They are very good, no matter what the English call 
 them," said Mrs. Henry, as she finished. "Now, we 
 must renew our attack upon those presents. I think we'd 
 better get Anguish a couple of real bell-boy suits, green 
 with rows of gold buttons. Fancy his pride ! Dick 
 Kyarter has been tormenting my life out of me for one. 
 I caught him trying on the Morley bell-boy's jacket. 
 Then some good, serviceable things for the elder serv- 
 ants" 
 
 "Yes, but something pretty, too, something not use- 
 ful," said Ariadne. 
 
 "My child," said Cousin Nellie with mock severity, 
 "you are young to have found out the immoral truth 
 that gifts, in proportion to their uselessness, are most 
 highly prized." 
 
 Ariadne laughed. "Then I think Mammy would 
 adore a long-handled fancy lorgnon, and yes, Cousin 
 Nellie, I am going to buy Uncle Peter an opera-hat. 
 Don't you know, the kind that collapse and snap back 
 into shape. He would love to wear it on Sunday and 
 show it off at church."
 
 374 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 The rest of the shopping was comparatively simple, 
 consisting chiefly in the purchase of various English 
 " traveling boxes." 
 
 "The great thing is to make sure our trunks are de- 
 livered," said the practical matron; "you won't have 
 time for real packing. You had better just pile bundles 
 in as they come. The bills will be with them, and we'll 
 go through those wretched, American customs without 
 any trouble." 
 
 "What are customs?" asked the girl innocently. 
 
 "You poor, benighted child!" said Cousin Nellie, 
 staring. "Don't you know anything about your own 
 land ? Customs are a tax you pay for being honest or 
 rather, for being afraid of getting caught." 
 
 They returned to the hotel, weary, almost penniless, 
 but radiant with the thought of packages to come. The 
 Judge and Dick Carter had already returned. The boy 
 had been good, unusually good, his father stated, at 
 which Dick Carter's face took on an expression so entirely 
 seraphic that Mrs. Henry looked sharply at him and 
 declared: "He's probably been a worse terror than 
 usual," as she moved toward the lift. "Ariadne and I 
 are simply ready to drop. Come on, Ariadne. Aren't 
 you dead ? " 
 
 "I am tired," answered the girl, "but it's such a happy 
 tired. All the way over on the ship I'll do nothing but 
 think about the lovely things we've bought, and the 
 pleasure they will give." 
 
 "If you did what a girl of your age and looks ought to 
 do, you'd flirt on that ship from the minute you put your 
 first toe on it till your last heel had scraped the farther 
 deck." 
 
 "I'm afraid I'm not that kind of girl," said Ariadne 
 wistfully ; "sometimes I wish I were."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE departure from London was taken very quietly. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Henry had not been there long enough to 
 make new friends, or to notify their few acquaintances 
 of their presence in the big metropolis. Ariadne had no 
 grown-up friends anywhere. All the pleasant little 
 ceremonies of farewell, the gifts of flowers, fruit, and 
 books, were lacking, but since the girl had never known 
 of these, she could not miss them. 
 
 The one dramatic incident, if it could be so called, took 
 place on the Morley "porch" at the moment when Dick 
 Carter and young Edgar Rabbit, a bell-boy, were bidden 
 to say their last farewells. Dick's voice, always of a 
 valiant and stentorian quality, was lifted now in lamenta- 
 tions that filled Trafalgar Square. Pedestrians stopped 
 to gaze upward. The tops of passing "busses" showed 
 craning necks and backward turning faces. A wan 
 suffragette, selling papers at the corner, let the portfolio 
 fall; while the tall blue "Bobby" whose beat was near 
 this dangerous, if demure young person, took a few hur- 
 ried steps toward the scene of woe. 
 
 The two boys, clinging to each other, exchanged vows 
 of constant intercourse and undying friendship, together 
 with muttered blasphemies against the parents of each 
 who had combined to work this wrong. 
 
 "Never mind, Edgar Rabbit, when I'm grown up I'm 
 comin' back an' git you. I can fight your father, then, 
 an' your mother, an' an' everybody." He clinched
 
 376 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 his little fists and looked about him fiercely, as if longing 
 then for the deferred battle. 
 
 The English lad, more guarded in his grief, dug fists 
 into his reddened eyes, and muttered that "it was a 
 shyme, that's what it was, a shyme !" 
 
 The Judge, of all the onlookers, was most plainly 
 affected. He bent over the small Rabbit, whispered 
 his own promise to let Dick come back before very 
 long, and added the more tangible benediction of such 
 a, heap of the small "gold shillings" that the boy was 
 dazed. 
 
 Dick, borne to the taxi hi his father's arms, wept 
 on; but a small boy's tears cannot last very long, 
 especially when two ministering angels are at hand, 
 plying him with offerings and consolation. By the 
 time the great station was reached, his angry little 
 face had cleared, and when Ariadne, her hands full of 
 the clumsy English coppers, took him from one penny- 
 in-the-slot machine to another, letting him take from the 
 mysterious, clicking drawers a weird assortment of 
 toys, matches, chocolates, cakes, preserved fruits, 
 post-cards, and chewing-gum, his bright grin was in its 
 usual place. 
 
 On the steamer other child friends were made, and 
 even the most inconsiderate of parents cannot separate 
 affinities on shipboard. 
 
 Ariadne, true to her own prevision, kept entirely to 
 herself, and often in her long walks, pausing to stare at the 
 gray, ever-lessening distance toward America, dreamed 
 of her home and longed for the intervening hours to 
 have passed. Many curious and admiring glances 
 were sent after the tall, graceful, young figure as she 
 took these solitary walks. Her deep mourning dress 
 and grave face were in themselves enough to attract
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 377 
 
 attention, but when it was learned, through the medium 
 of Dick Carter, that the pretty lady was his cousin 
 "named Ariadne he didn't remember her other 
 name," and that she hadn't been back home for years 
 and years, and that she had more money than anybody 
 else in the whole world ! interest naturally deepened. 
 More than one young man began to pay flattering court 
 to Dick, and baffled by his impatience of "grown-ups," 
 made deferential advances to Judge Henry, all to no 
 result. 
 
 Meanwhile the uneventful days were slipping past. 
 One morning the Judge, coming back to them from his 
 after-dinner cigar, said to Ariadne: "Well, my dear, 
 this is our last day on board. The Captain tells me 
 by five o'clock we are to see what, to my mind, at least, 
 is the most stupendous monument of man's energy and 
 power in all the world. I refer to the approach to New 
 York from the sea." 
 
 "I suppose it has changed a great deal since Ariadne 
 left it," remarked Cousin Nellie. 
 
 "And I don't remember it," said the girl. "I think 
 we sailed in a Boston steamer, but I'm not quite sure." 
 
 "Passengers who are constantly crossing tell me that 
 it changes from month to month," put in the Judge. 
 "Each new sky-scraper, as it goes up, causes a storm of 
 protestation for fear that the sky-line will be injured. 
 But when the new Titan has taken his final place, and 
 his head and shoulders, however ugly, square them- 
 selves against eternity so to speak the granite 
 fortress of the city is found to have gained an added 
 dignity." 
 
 Ariadne slipped her arm into his. 
 
 "Take me for a little walk along the deck, Cousin 
 Judge," she begged.
 
 378 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 The light in the fine old eyes had warmed and touched 
 her. She longed to say to him how beautiful it must be 
 to have these thoughts, this broad, humble consciousness 
 of human life, but she couldn't find words that seemed 
 fitting for such tribute. Cousin Nellie had settled back 
 in her chair. She was smiling, her eyes bright and 
 tender. 
 
 "With the greatest pleasure, my dear," said the old 
 Virginian, offering his arm to Ariadne. He would have 
 been astonished and entirely overcome could he have 
 seen just then into the heart of his companion. 
 
 "I want you to be with me, Cousin Judge, when the 
 very first glimpse of New York can be seen. You and 
 Cousin Nellie, too. Will you?" asked the girl, after 
 a few moments of silent walking. 
 
 "I should consider it a privilege," he answered. 
 
 "Oh, Cousin Judge," she said impulsively, after 
 another little pause. 
 
 "Yes dear child?" 
 
 "Why is it that when men can do such wonderful 
 things when they can pile up such a city, and paint 
 pictures that almost breathe, and write music that your 
 soul gets drowned in why should one person, even a 
 perfectly unimportant person like me, feel, sometimes, 
 as if they were the real center of it, as if Oh, I don't 
 know how to tell you, but sometimes it just catches me 
 here," she put her hand against her heart. "It almost 
 burns me with that queer sense of being the center of it 
 all, as if it were here for me and nothing matters 
 quite so much as for this little singing, ridiculous spark 
 of me to think and to feel things and to try to be happy ? " 
 
 "Dear little girl," said the man tenderly, "you touch 
 the very heart-spring of life's mystery in such wonder- 
 ing. No one can answer you. You yourself never can
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 379 
 
 find the answer. It is the great integral 'why.' It 
 runs in the sap of young trees and in the beating of a 
 bird's heart, no less than in the human spirit. Philos- 
 ophers have tried for centuries to give us a reply. For 
 my own part," here he lowered his voice reverently, 
 "I believe it to be the one universal yearning of His 
 creatures for the Divine Source of all." 
 
 "You have helped me more than anybody I ever 
 knew," said the girl in a broken whisper. "You helped 
 me there in London. I must always be just a little 
 stronger and more able to bear things because you are 
 my friend ; and you believe in me." 
 
 "I am, indeed, your very devoted friend," said the 
 Judge, patting the little hand on his arm, "but these 
 are somber thoughts for a lassie under a sky like this. 
 Come, we will go back to Cousin Nellie. I defy specu- 
 lation to flourish near that fountain of sunlit common 
 sense. Ah, my dear, there's a woman for you the 
 best and dearest in the world ; but had you whispered 
 your eternal 'why' to her, she would have made you 
 first show your tongue and then take a dose of calomel." 
 
 At four o'clock that afternoon the first sign of land 
 appeared, and with it the first misty hint of the great 
 city. Judge Henry had carried his companions to the 
 prow of the ship. He was positively excited. 
 
 "We are going to see it first with a touch of the eve- 
 ning mist, and then in the glory of sunset," he exclaimed. 
 "Nothing could be more perfect." 
 
 "I don't believe I'm looking at it now," said Cousin 
 Nellie, as the great spires and domes and lower rec- 
 tangles grew into shape. "I feel that like the old Maine 
 farmer, who saw his first camel, 'There ain't no such 
 animal ! ' Well, I wonder what old London's got to 
 show beside this !"
 
 3 8o ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 " It is, indeed, overpowering," murmured Judge Henry. 
 " I find myself humbled, dazed before it, not so 
 much at sight of the material achievement, as in realiz- 
 ing the power and the glory of man's creative mind. 
 
 " ' For out of Thought's interior sphere,' " 
 he began to quote, in a low, reverent voice, 
 
 " ' These wonders rose to upper air ; 
 And Nature gladly gave them place, 
 Adopted them into her race 
 And granted them an equal date 
 With Andes and with Ararat.' " 
 
 Ariadne could not speak. She held her cousin's 
 arm tightly, staring out with her soul in her young 
 eyes, thinking of the things he had said. 
 
 "Of course we've seen it from Staten Island and the 
 New Jersey ferries," went on Mrs. Henry, "but some- 
 how it is entirely different, coming on it like this from 
 the big ocean." 
 
 "How white it looks how strangely unsubstantial ! " 
 said Ariadne. 
 
 "It will grow more so, as the gold behind it deepens 
 into sunset," answered the Judge. 
 
 "I wonder if those building magicians will ever man- 
 age to rise higher into upper air," speculated Cousin 
 Nellie. "Look at the Aquarium like a big, low 
 toadstool at the very end. And the immense block of 
 the emigrant building. Do you see that tall one with 
 two square tops, Ariadne?" she cried, catching the 
 girl's other arm. "There, there, a little to the right of 
 the Woolworth tower," she pointed. 
 
 "With sort of little gnome caps on it?" asked Ari- 
 adne, sharing her eagerness.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 381 
 
 "Yes, that's the one. Well, in a floor there, quite far 
 up there are thirty floors, I believe Randolph 
 Carr has his office." 
 
 "Has he ?" the girl managed to reply quite naturally. 
 Then her eyes closed for an instant. The tall buildings 
 were reeling. When she looked again, it seemed to 
 her as if the airy battlements must have crumbled. 
 The one name, shattering through nerves already tense 
 with excitement, might have struck through like a 
 sword the phantom structures of the outer world. She 
 took her hand from the Judge's arm and leaned forward 
 heavily upon the rail. 
 
 As from a great distance came Mrs. Henry's brisk 
 voice, saying to her husband: "I'll have to run down 
 to my cabin for a minute. I haven't tipped the steward- 
 ess yet." 
 
 " I must go too ; will you come, Ariadne ?" 
 
 "No leave me here, please. I want to look at 
 Ararat a little longer." 
 
 When they had gone she threw back her head, breath- 
 ing deeply. She deliberately looked again toward the 
 nearing towers, where probably at this very moment 
 Randy Carr bent his rough, bronze head over a law- 
 yer's desk. Now, out of the whole of this incredible 
 city, this building alone was real. Randy, the man whom 
 she had thought her true lover, the one man in the 
 world she could have loved, was sitting at his desk 
 engrossed in things which she would never know 
 ignorant of her nearness and, should he dream it, indif- 
 ferent and unconcerned. 
 
 "I will not tremble this way, just to think of him," 
 she told herself fiercely. "He was ungenerous and 
 unjust. He never really cared. I still have home to 
 love and the dear people waiting for me. I will not
 
 382 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 stop in New York a single day. The one thing I could 
 not bear would be seeing him again !" 
 
 She turned and hurried down to find Mrs. Henry. 
 
 "Are you going right down home the minute we 
 land ? " she demanded of that astonished lady. 
 
 " Good gracious child, how you scared me ! Cer- 
 tainly not. We won't get all our trunks to the hotel 
 by morning." 
 
 "Couldn't Cousin Judge check mine right through 
 from the wharf to Virginia and let me go on alone? 
 I've got several handbags, and Mr. Crane's pipe is in 
 one of them." 
 
 "You take my breath away, child. There's your 
 cousin Judge now. You'd better ask him." 
 
 It was finally arranged that Ariadne was to secure 
 what luggage she could and start by an early morning 
 train for the South. Judge Henry had business which 
 would keep him in New York for several days, and Mrs. 
 Henry did not wish to leave him. 
 
 "I think it is somehow more appropriate for you to 
 make your entry into Allan Water alone," admitted 
 that lady. "All the same," she added, with a look of 
 puzzled inquiry that made the girl flush, "since you've 
 taken seven years to get there, I can't see why a day 
 or two more makes such a lot of difference." 
 
 " It may be silly, Cousin Nellie, but I assure you that 
 I must get home. I can't wait. I don't want to be 
 in New York an hour longer than I have to. Please 
 be good to me and help me go." 
 
 "All right, honey, if you feel that way about it," 
 said the older woman, smiling. But deeper than the 
 light words was the thought: "All this flurry and 
 excitement came on you after I mentioned Randy 
 Carr. Now I wonder "
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 383 
 
 "It's Virginia, it's Virginia," sang the girl's heart 
 the next morning, as she opened her eyes to dew-spar- 
 kling fields and great, solemn groves of trees. For 
 Cousin Nellie had been better than her words, and the 
 girl had secured a drawing-room on the midnight express 
 to Washington. From there it was a comparatively 
 short trip to the Allan Water station. 
 
 "It is already Virginia," she told herself over and over 
 again. "That is Virginia grass springing from the 
 blessed red earth, and these cedar trees have roots deep 
 in the soil I love. Oh, when I get there, I shall be like 
 Ulysses at Ithaca. I shall kiss the earth and lift hand- 
 fuls to my face. I don't believe even mud will stop 
 me." 
 
 She dressed quickly, stooping down again and again 
 to peer from the windows still shaded by the upper 
 berth, and thrilled to familiar names and landmarks. 
 She repacked her main dressing-bag and laid Mr. 
 Crane's imposing leather case upon it. "I suppose 
 I had better eat breakfast ; I shall need it," she said 
 aloud, and then: "Oh, maybe I can get some real 
 hominy !" 
 
 As her own station neared, she felt her hands grow 
 cold with excitement. Her young throat filled with 
 something that felt like cotton-wool, but none the less 
 suffocating. 
 
 "I know I'm going to embrace Mr. Crane!" she 
 thought and then laughed at her own childishness. 
 She could not be still a moment. A new log cabin by 
 the road, a door crowded with waving pickaninnies, 
 made her want to cry. She waved back vehemently. 
 This being an infrequent recognition, the little darkies 
 rushed out in a body, gesticulating madly and trying 
 to keep up with the train. An old negro, hoeing to-
 
 384 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 bacco, stared at the bright face that flashed past him, 
 and paused to wonder why any lady should look so 
 happy to see him. Then he shook his head, spat upon 
 his horny hands, and philosophically returned to his work. 
 
 The negro porter hurried up to her, brandishing the 
 inevitable whisk-broom. 
 
 "Yo' station next, Miss," he announced. 
 
 Ariadne stood up. She longed to enter into conver- 
 sation with the porter, to tell him that she had been away 
 seven years, and was coming back, as an exile, to para- 
 dise, but she only said: "Be sure you get all the bags 
 and see that my steamer trunk is put off." The sup- 
 pressed inclination found vent in a tip of such magnitude 
 that the porter showed every white tooth in his head 
 and nearly brushed the hem off her skirt in his renewed 
 exertions. 
 
 When the train began to slow down, Ariadne thought 
 for a moment she was dying. "I won't be able to walk 
 down the car at this rate," she thought in terror. 
 
 "Allan Water," called the conductor. 
 
 At that magic sound, she sprang to her feet, every- 
 thing else forgotten, and in a moment was grasping Mr. 
 Crane's small, freckled hand. As Mrs. Henry had told 
 her, Mr. Crane had scarcely altered by a hair. If 
 there were a few more wrinkles, especially along the 
 neck, Ariadne's excited eyes did not see them. The 
 first glimpse of his brown-suited figure carried her back 
 to childhood. But whatever her own sense of familiar- 
 ity, the little station agent evidently did not share 
 it. After a momentary contact with her gloved fingers, 
 he backed away, looking up at her with a sort of in- 
 credulity. 
 
 " Is it reely you, Miss Airey Miss Skip with ? Seems 
 to me you've growed up a lot."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 385 
 
 " Cose it's Miss Airey, you fool, "cried a shrill, feminine 
 voice, as a figure in bright green darted forward. 
 
 "Who else could it be, an' we on the watch out sense 
 daybreak. Howdy, Miss Airey. It certainly is good 
 to have you home again." 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Crane, I'm so happy to be here. I've 
 brought this little scarf for you. There's a lot of other 
 things in my trunks when they come. And here's the 
 newest kind of a pipe and things to go with it from 
 London for Mr. Crane. I brought it in my own hands 
 so I could give it to him right away." 
 
 She held it out. Mr. Crane's hands were trembling 
 so that he would have dropped it had not his wife inter- 
 vened. 
 
 "What's the matter with you, anyway, Jasper 
 Crane?" she said severely. "Miss Airey ain't goin' 
 to bite ! He's shaking like an ague," she explained to 
 Ariadne, a statement entirely unnecessary, as the little 
 man's baggy knees threatened to give way at any 
 moment. 
 
 "Must a' bin that camomile tea she poured down me 
 las' night so I'd be spry for you this morning, Miss 
 Airey," said the little man, goaded into self-defense. 
 "It didn't work like she said it would. Somehow, when 
 I seed you first step off that car like a like a 
 like a queen, something give way in my innards. I'm 
 all right now. You needn't hold on to that box, Mrs. 
 Crane," he said angrily, to his still officious wife. "I 
 can't tell you how obleeged I am to you fur thinkin' 
 of me, Miss Airey, an' I give you a heartfelt, lovin' 
 welcome back to God's country." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad you found your tongue at last," 
 sniffed Mrs. Crane "standin' there stutterin' and 
 wobblin' like a dressed-up skeer-crow. Thank you for
 
 3 86 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 my shawl, Miss Airey," she said, turning again to the 
 girl; "it's a beauty. I do love them bright colors; 
 seems to keep the neuralgy off a little when I wear them." 
 
 "But where is Grandma? Haven't they sent for 
 me?" cried the girl, looking along the station platform. 
 By this time the train was out of sight and hearing. 
 The silence of the woods had fallen upon the little group. 
 The snort of a horse came from the other side of the 
 station building. As Ariadne stepped toward it, from 
 round the corner came a woolly head, the top held 
 side wise, and this was followed by two rolling eyes and 
 then dazzling rows of teeth. Ariadne gave a start. 
 The visage was indubitably that of Anguish, but what 
 was he doing so high up in the air ? The child must be 
 standing on a box ! 
 
 "Anguish!" she cried aloud to the head. A long, 
 thin arm came out, a crane-like leg, and then the rest 
 of him. 
 
 "Yassum, it's me," said Anguish. "An' ole Miss is 
 settin' here in de faytum." 
 
 Even the miraculous growth of Anguish had no charms 
 to stay the girl's flying feet. 
 
 " Grandma Grandma ! " she said, with a cry that 
 was almost a sob. 
 
 "My little Ariadne ! God be thanked for sparing me 
 until this day," she heard the old lady whisper, and 
 then for a long, blessed silence she seemed to lose herself 
 in the warm, lavender-scented haven of encircling 
 arms. 
 
 For weeks the happiness of being once more at home 
 and the consciousness of being freed forever from the 
 malign influences of the past, kept Ariadne's spirits 
 high. The selection of the presents had been in every 
 case an inspiration. Uncle Peter's joy in his collapsible
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 387 
 
 opera hat was pathetic. More than once Ariadne, 
 coming out suddenly upon the kitchen porch, had 
 surprised the two old friends, Mammy and her husband 
 for they had long since reached that Indian summer of 
 a contented marriage toying with the absurd mech- 
 anism and laughing like the children that they were. 
 
 Cousin Agnes, at the girl's insistence, had agreed to 
 remain. She and Mrs. Bannister had proved to be 
 unusually congenial. For them the seven years, so 
 long to Ariadne, had passed like so many months re- 
 flected in the quiet stream of time. The one stone flung 
 by fate had been the death of the old cat, Doctor Johnson. 
 But even this bereavement had its consolation, for 
 beginning with a few months before his lamented demise 
 Doctor Johnson, with magnanimous and prophetic 
 foresight, had allowed himself to be followed by a kitten, 
 a dingy waif smuggled in by the compassionate Anguish. 
 This animal, now rapidly approaching cat-manhood, 
 was appropriately called "Boswell," and his super- 
 sedure of the departed idol was rapidly being accom- 
 plished. 
 
 The two old ladies, sitting against the purple cushions 
 Ariadne had brought them, with the somnolent Boswell 
 between, could talk for unruffled hours. Their gentle, 
 high-bred voices, monotonous as the click of knitting- 
 needles, droned in unbroken rhythm except when, at 
 times, one of them paused to catch a dropped stitch 
 of thought. There was no house in old Virginia whose 
 ancestry they could not trace. No acorn ever fell from 
 a family tree without recalling to their stored memories 
 the particular date and the circumstances under which 
 other acorns had fallen. 
 
 After the first few days, in which she was the un- 
 disputed center of existence, Ariadne could not help
 
 3 88 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 noting with what contented ease the old life was resumed. 
 Watching them at their cribbage, the two charming old 
 faces peering down as if their very souls hung on the 
 setting of the next small peg, the girl thought, just a 
 little sadly: "They love me and are kind, but for all I 
 really mean to them, I might be only another rose in 
 that tall vase!" 
 
 An enlivening event was Cousin Nellie's first visit. 
 She flew to them radiant, in a new touring car. "I 
 won't have to wait for poky trains after this," she 
 exulted. "I'll be popping in on you any old time! 
 Yes, some of the red clay roads are rather dreadful, 
 but Judge Henry is stirring up the County Commis- 
 sioners, and they're patching up the worst gulleys 
 now." 
 
 Along with his mother came Dick Kyarter. Ariadne's 
 heart leaped at the sight of him. She yearned to embrace 
 him and stifled the impulse only as a tribute to Dick's 
 rapidly increasing height and undue assumption of 
 manhood. The level brows shading bright, straight- 
 forward, hazel eyes, were terribly like those others she 
 was not to see again. Exerting all her arts, she tried to 
 keep the child near her, but the first glimpse of Anguish 
 in his brass-buttoned, English livery had recalled, too 
 poignantly, the lost Edgar Rabbit. Dick, scorning all 
 feminine blandishments, trotted at the young negro's 
 heels, and would not be diverted until the summons for 
 starting home. 
 
 In August Mrs. Henry went to the seaside for a visit, 
 and after her return to Culpeper was so much engrossed 
 with the building of a new and very stately home that 
 in spite of her touring car and the mended highways 
 she did not come to Allan Water for another month. 
 
 October came in gently, spreading her golden largess
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 389 
 
 with a generous hand. Ariadne took long walks in 
 the woods alone. The chinquepins were peering like 
 bright brown eyes from prickly lashes, and persimmons 
 puckering into small bags of autumn honey. The 
 green forest hung out tapestries of scarlet, orange, yellow, 
 and russet browns. "He made me think of an October 
 day a young, October day," the girl once whispered. 
 " Sometimes the very air is full of him, and to think 
 we are not even friends !" ^ 
 
 When finally Cousin Nellie appeared, all laughter, 
 excuse, and apology for her long neglect, her keen 
 eyes, in spite of their sparkle, noted an unwelcomed 
 change in Ariadne's appearance. 
 
 "Is anything wrong with Airey? She doesn't look 
 well, a bit !" asked Mrs. Henry in her direct way, the 
 moment the three elder ladies were to themselves. 
 
 "My granddaughter not look well !" Mrs. Bannister 
 repeated. "You must be mistaken, Nellie. I have not 
 noticed any difference." 
 
 "That's because you see her all the time. Well, 
 there is a difference. She's thinner, and I don't like the 
 look in her eyes." 
 
 "Perhaps the dear child does too much reading,", 
 ventured Agnes Hill. "Haven't you noticed, Cousin 
 Belinda, that whenever she is in here with us, she has a 
 book in her hands?" 
 
 "I have," returned Mrs. Bannister a little stiffly, 
 "and been most gratified. It will improve her mind; 
 and I can safely assert that there is nothing in her father's 
 or her grandfather's library which could, in any way, 
 contaminate it." 
 
 The old lady resented the high-handed way of Nellie 
 Henry as if she, and not the grandmother, had Ariadne's 
 young life in charge.
 
 .390 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "I reckon not!" rejoined the offender bluntly. 
 "I'll bet there isn't a book in it dated since 1865." 
 
 The girl's fortuitous reentrance at this point pre- 
 vented what might have been an unseemly discussion. 
 
 After this Mrs. Henry came oftener, sometimes 
 persuading Ariadne to go back with her to Culpeper; 
 but with the termination of each visit the matron's 
 kind heart grew more puzzled and more anxious. "She 
 can't be seriously mourning for that poor, feeble Donna," 
 Mrs. Henry murmured, frowning. "No, there is some- 
 thing else, and I shall take it upon myself to find out 
 what!" 
 
 A few weeks before Christmas, having sent a telegram 
 the previous day to say that she intended to appear for 
 luncheon, Mrs. Henry, placing her elbows on the charm- 
 ingly appointed table cleared now for tiny cups of 
 coffee and various small dishes of bon-bons, set her 
 gray eyes on her young cousin and announced: "Ari- 
 adne, I'm getting up an old-fashioned housewarming 
 for this Christmas : egg-nog, and apple-toddy and roast 
 boar's head, with evening games, and fiddlers Morris 
 dances, a big Sir Roger de Coverley, of course all 
 those dear, comfy, old English jollities and I've 
 simply got to have you. Ever so many young people 
 are to be there, but I want you several days ahead of 
 time to help with the arrangements. Say you can 
 spare her, Cousin Belinda," the speaker urged, turning 
 to the head of the table. 
 
 "Of course we can, and I am sure that Ariadne will 
 wish to go," said the old lady affably. 
 
 "Then I'm going to count on her," smiled Cousin 
 Nellie. "But Ariadne, I do beg you to drop those 
 inky garments and keep them dropped. You must 
 have trunks-full of pretty clothes hid away."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 391 
 
 Ariadne looked down at her black frock. Her face 
 had begun to brighten. "I suppose I might as well," 
 she had started, when Mrs. Henry, scarcely knowing 
 why, threw in the statement: "Randy Carr is to be 
 there." 
 
 Ariadne's eyes were still on her dress. One hand 
 mechanically smoothed a fold. But for the slow, white, 
 steady fingers, not an inch of her moved, and yet Mrs. 
 Henry knew that the whole poise of the girl's mind, 
 as well as her body, had suddenly altered. When she 
 spoke, it was in a voice that was entirely commonplace. 
 "Not this Christmas, dear Cousin Nellie, though I 
 thank you for wanting me. I had forgotten, for a mo- 
 ment, how many things there were for me to do." 
 
 "For you to do ! Why, I thought The speaker 
 checked herself hastily. 
 
 "Indeed Ariadne is busy," chirped Mrs. Hill, laying 
 an affectionate hand on her young cousin's shoulder. 
 "Her room looks like a Christmas bazaar this minute." 
 
 Mrs. Henry did not lack her share of feminine curi- 
 osity. "I did not know. Is it a secret ? " she inquired, 
 with faint hauteur. 
 
 "No no!" exclaimed the girl. "I haven't any 
 secrets. Only this is something that I couldn't be sure 
 would interest anybody but myself and," she added, 
 turning her sweet, flushed face from one to the other, 
 "Grandma and Cousin Agnes, of course. They are 
 both helping me." 
 
 Mrs. Henry put down her cup and rose. "Upon my 
 word!" she flaunted. "Things going on here at 
 Allan Water and me not told a word ! I suppose I 
 may be allowed to see your room, Ariadne ?" 
 
 Laughing, the girl led the way up-stairs. Her bed 
 was a kaleidoscope. Toys, picture-books, dolls in all
 
 392 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 stages of dress and of undress, small bracelets, necklets 
 of beads, and scraps of ribbon, silk, and velvet were 
 strewn about like a shattered stained-glass window. 
 Off in one corner of the room rose heaps of boxes, cotton 
 wool, and wrapping paper. 
 
 Mrs. Henry could only stare. Shyly the girl now 
 told her of the many European friendships, and when 
 Cousin Nellie's kind eyes shone with something brighter 
 than mere smiles, Ariadne ran to her dresser and brought 
 out what she called her "birthday-book," an album in 
 which each child's name and date were written. In 
 most cases there were pictures of the children. "All 
 of them taken with that little kodak you sent me one 
 Christmas you dear, dear, Cousin Nellie," the photog- 
 rapher whispered lovingly. 
 
 Mrs. Henry collapsed upon a teddy-bear. "Well, 
 who on earth ! It is simply the loveliest thing I ever 
 heard of ! Ariadne ! come here this minute and kiss 
 me or I'll smack you!" 
 
 "Even Anguish gets excited over the queer, foreign 
 stamps," said the girl, laughing in sheer joy at Cousin 
 Nellie's appreciation. "So the last time I sent an order 
 to New York I bought him a nice little stamp-album with 
 the beginnings of a collection, and I'm going to help 
 him make it." 
 
 Mrs. Henry's eyes became less round and now a little 
 quizzical. "You begin to realize, Miss Skipwith, that 
 money isn't exactly a thing to sneeze at." 
 
 "I do," admitted the girl with merry defiance. "I 
 am getting to be a regular spendthrift ; I must have 
 twenty different catalogues over on the table. It's 
 such fun packing and sending the things off, too ; and 
 as each one goes, I just sit still and think, for a long time, 
 how the little face will look when my child-friend opens
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 393 
 
 it. I didn't mean to tell you this before, Cousin Nellie, 
 but I've got the loveliest, great, star-spangled balloon 
 for Dick you ever saw !" 
 
 "Ariadne does not tell you of her more substantial 
 gifts," interposed Mrs. Bannister with fond pride. 
 "The wretched European peasant families that she 
 aids, and the poor about us here at Allan Water. There's 
 one little girl over in Germany named Betje " 
 
 "In Holland, Grandma," the girl smiled; "and 
 Betje is the very dearest of them all. See, here is her 
 picture on my dresser," she cried excitedly, running to 
 fetch the silver frame. "This is Betje's latest, taken 
 on the dear old grootvader's knee. That means 'grand- 
 father,'" she flashed. "I have to keep up my lan- 
 guages so I can write to them all. Those are two of my 
 best, best friends." 
 
 "I should say so. You have made that Dutch child 
 an heiress," put in Mrs. Hill complacently. 
 
 "This is all very nice," Mrs. Henry remarked, as the 
 first surge of her enthusiasm ebbed. "But I don't see 
 why dressing dolls and doing up packages should keep 
 Ariadne away from me at Christmas. All of these 
 things must be posted at least ten days before." 
 
 To this unanswerable logic three pairs of dazed eyes 
 turned unwilling admiration. Ariadne grew a little 
 pale, and seeing this, the grandmother went up to her, 
 and holding her close, said over one bowed young shoul- 
 der : "I don't think we are willing to spare her, Nellie. 
 My encouragement when you first suggested the visit 
 was a sacrifice. I am sorry, but we need her more than 
 you." 
 
 "Yes," seconded the girl, almost crushing the slender 
 old figure in her gratitude, "I ought to be here, at 
 home, for this first Christmas."
 
 394 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 On the way back Mrs. Henry, alone in the luxurious 
 car, called herself harsh and inappropriate names. 
 " Why in the name of common sense did I have to men- 
 tion Randy Carr ? She was coming before that. I 
 am sure now that he is the nigger in the wood-pile. 
 But what could have happened between those two?"
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 WINTER went by and another springtime came to 
 Allan Water. There had never been a lovelier season. 
 The vanished autumn coloring appeared now in tender 
 hues of pink leaf buds, silver sheath, and gold-green 
 catkins. The apple orchard showed its first folded, 
 crimson-tipped bloom. With a few days more of sun- 
 shine the fluffy ballet skirts would again be spread, 
 and Ariadne, if she wished, could look down from her 
 hilltop on its recreated beauty. 
 
 But Ariadne climbed no hill. Even her once loved 
 walks in the woods were shortened. By this time both 
 Mrs. Bannister and Cousin Agnes were thoroughly 
 alarmed by her listlessness and pallor, and Doctor 
 Buford had been sent over from Culpeper to prescribe 
 for her. To Ariadne's smiling assurances of being 
 entirely well and not in the least in need of medical 
 .attention, he found nothing very definite to say. 
 
 To the grandmother's anxious questions he replied that 
 there was no organic trouble. There was no reason why 
 Miss Skipwith 'shouldn't be in perfect health only 
 as a matter of fact, she wasn't. Perhaps a change of 
 scene would be advisable. In the meantime, he would 
 have a powerful tonic sent over from Culpeper, and 
 that, perhaps, would help somewhat. 
 
 The day after Doctor Buford's visit Mrs. Henry- 
 arrived. Speeding up the long, curved driveway from 
 the main entrance, she caught sight of Ariadne standing
 
 396 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 by a little wicket gate set in a youpon hedge, and giving 
 out on a pathway that made a short cut to the station. 
 The girl had an arm about a wild cherry-tree that stood 
 just within the gate, and seemed to be looking at some- 
 thing in the bark. 
 
 Hearing the motor, she gave a startled look, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 "If she knew what I had come for, she'd jump more 
 than that," said Cousin Nellie a little grimly. That 
 worthy matron had, in fact, reached the end of her 
 patience. Her visit to-day was made in full armor, 
 with reserves of common sense and determination behind 
 her. As she had just said to the Judge, an hour before, 
 on leaving: "What's the use of that silly Donna May- 
 rant having ever died at all, or of Ariadne being beautiful 
 and young, with more money than she knows what to 
 do with, if she's going to spend her life down in that hole 
 with two old fossils, a bunch of negroes, and a cat? 
 It is high time that some sensible person stepped in and 
 shook her back to life, and I shall make it my business 
 to be that person." 
 
 "But even you, incomparable Minerva, can't kidnap 
 the girl if she wants to be let alone." 
 
 "You don't know what I can do," was the defiant 
 answer. "Now just you wait and see." 
 
 It was in this mood that she fell on Allan Water. 
 
 The day was warm and clear. The two old ladies sat 
 near an open window, chatting and knitting. Cousin 
 Nellie was given the usual affectionate welcome, although, 
 if Mrs. Bannister could have been made to admit it, 
 these sudden appearances were becoming rather trying. 
 Nellie Henry always entered as if with a rush of wings 
 and the air of having brought a remote firmament un- 
 comfortably near. As Cousin Agnes had once expressed
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 397 
 
 it, not without deprecating hesitancy: "Dear Nellie 
 is a most estimable woman, most estimable, but when 
 she bids us good-by and starts off in that enormous 
 automobile, I have a sensation as if she were dragging 
 me after it !" 
 
 "Thank you for sending Doctor Buford, dear Nellie," 
 said Mrs. Bannister, anxious to be the first to touch 
 upon the now painful topic of her granddaughter's 
 lassitude. It was always comforting to get in anything 
 before Mrs. Henry. "He assures us that there is no 
 cause for alarm none whatever." 
 
 "That's about what I expected," said Mrs. Henry. 
 "He gave her a spring tonic, of course some kind of 
 bark and iron." 
 
 "I did not question the doctor as to the ingredients 
 in this prescription," replied the old lady stiffly. 
 
 "Where is Ariadne now?" asked Mrs. Henry. 
 
 Both ladies looked across the room as if the girl might 
 be concealed in it. Agnes spoke: "Why, I don't 
 know. She was here a little while ago, but Cousin 
 Belinda and I got so interested talking about that 
 new knitting cotton, we did not notice when she left 
 us." 
 
 "I see her coming now across the lawn," said Mrs. 
 Bannister. 
 
 Three pairs of eyes watched the slender figure as it 
 came, and while all three were troubled, in the eyes of 
 one at least a spark of battle kindled. 
 
 As Ariadne entered the room, Mrs. Henry smiled and 
 held out her hand. "Well, Ariadne, I've come to steal 
 you." 
 
 "I'm always glad to be stolen if Grandma doesn't 
 need me. Do you want me to go back when you do ?" 
 
 "I'm not speaking of a mere run-over to Culpeper.
 
 398 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 The Judge and I are starting for New York, and I want 
 you to go with us for a month at least." 
 
 '"Yes, my darling," said old Mrs. Bannister eagerly. 
 "The doctor said you needed a change of scene; I 
 wish you to go." 
 
 "I can't I just can't go," said Ariadne, almost 
 petulantly for her. "I don't want to leave Allan 
 Water. Why should I be forced to when I am well and 
 happy ? " 
 
 "Not when we all desire it?" put in Cousin Agnes 
 with reproof. 
 
 "Ariadne, come here to me," said Cousin Nellie. 
 
 Ariadne went slowly. Mrs. Henry caught both her 
 hands, pulling her forward, "Look me in the eyes. 
 No straight in them, and repeat those last words of 
 yours." 
 
 "What last words, Cousin Nellie?" 
 
 "Don't pretend ; you know perfectly." 
 
 "I just said : 'when I am well and happy.'" 
 
 "That's all," said Mrs. Henry, releasing her. Ariadne 
 sat on a low chair, a few feet behind the visitor. 
 
 "By the way, Cousin Belinda," cried that lady, with a 
 change of tone and manner that was a relief to all. 
 "Have you heard about Randy Carr?" 
 
 " No what has happened ? " 
 
 "You remember him, of course?" 
 
 "Very well, indeed," said Mrs. Bannister. "He was 
 here several times during Ariadne's absence. We 
 became quite attached to him, didn't we, Agnes? A 
 most engaging young man and extremely good-looking 
 for a Randolph." 
 
 "You haven't heard, then, of this big case he has just 
 won?" The elder ladies shook their heads. Mrs. 
 Henry heard Ariadne's chair creep a few inches closer.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 399 
 
 "Why, the New York papers are full of him. It was a 
 most difficult, mixed-up sort of thing. Randy's client, 
 who was in the right, of course, for the boy won't take 
 any other kind, didn't seem to have a chance. It was a 
 packed jury. People say that even the judge was pre- 
 disposed against him, yet that boy got up and by the 
 sheer power of eloquence and his belief in the justice of 
 his plea, won the whole court round to his view of it. 
 The people cheered him, and when the judge summed up 
 the case and gave the verdict, he said to Randy : ' Young 
 man, I hear you are a Virginian.' 'I am,' said Randy. 
 Can't you just see how that head of his went up ! ' Well/ 
 said the judge, ' The Mother of Presidents will soon have 
 to make room for another illustrious fledgeling.' " 
 
 Before the two white heads could get together and 
 trace Randolph's family from its original British cave, 
 Mrs. Henry added: "We are all proud of him. Judge 
 Henry struts like a turkey-cock whenever the boy's 
 name is mentioned. I'm devoted to Randy. He is a 
 dear in almost every way, but what worries me now is the 
 fear that one of those Stockton girls will catch him." 
 
 "Surely he could not so far forget himself!" Cousin 
 Belinda exclaimed. 
 
 "You never know what a man will do next, especially 
 if the girl he really cares for turns her back on him. That 
 Mr. Barclay, senior partner of Randy's firm, is throwing 
 his daughter Beatrice at the boy's head in a perfectly 
 brazen manner." 
 
 "Is is the girl pretty ? " asked a low voice at Cousin 
 Nellie's elbow. 
 
 "She's a beauty ! I could beat her for it. And she 
 doesn't seem to care who knows that she is crazy over 
 Randolph Carr." Ariadne was silent. " From a worldly 
 point of view," Mrs. Henry went on to the other ladies,
 
 400 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "it would be an excellent thing for Randy. The Bar- 
 clays are important people for up there." 
 
 Ariadne rose slowly to her feet. "If Miss Barclay is 
 beautiful and if she and Randolph love each other 
 I don't think that anything should be allowed to come 
 between them. I hope they'll marry and be very, very 
 happy." 
 
 "That's sweet of you, my dear. I'll tell Randy the 
 next time I see him." She turned her merry, mocking 
 face to the girl, but at sight of the quivering lips her kind 
 heart sank. She hated herself for her own cruelty. 
 
 Now the pent instinct of genealogy claimed its own. 
 The tracing of Randolph's ancestry, though known by 
 heart, so occupied the elder ladies that they scarcely 
 noted the girl's absence, or the fact that Nellie Henry had 
 sunk into a heavy silence. 
 
 In a few moments the latter rose also. "No, don't get 
 up," she said, "I'm not leaving you yet. You go on and 
 get all Randolph's forbears labeled. I want to speak to 
 Ariadne." 
 
 An instinct told her where the girl was to be found. 
 Yes, there she was, beside the cherry-tree. Not now 
 with her arm about it, but crouched at the foot, rocking 
 to and fro in such an agony of sobs that Mrs. Henry's 
 footsteps were unnoticed. She was crying out broken 
 words, and that most often repeated was "Randy 
 Randy." 
 
 Moving swiftly, so as to hear as little as possible, Mrs. 
 Henry stooped to the girl, lifting her up. 
 
 "My poor, poor darling, I knew you were breaking 
 your heart. Now you must tell me everything. You 
 must, dear. Whatever this is, you have borne it too 
 long in silence. Come, honey. Come with your Cousin 
 Nellie to the little summer-house. Poor little, mother-
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 401 
 
 less lamb. Don't try to stop crying ; it does you good to 
 cry. Here, sit on the bench, and let me keep my arms 
 around you. Poor, brave, little heart that has had so 
 much to bear. Try try to tell me. It is bad to 
 shut up all this grief in one's self." 
 
 " I I will tell you," sobbed the girl. " J-j-just 
 as soon as I c-c-can talk. I've wanted to before, 
 but somehow when I tried I c-c-couldn't." 
 
 "Yes, darling, let the tears come. No one will think 
 of looking for us here ; only I want to say right now that 
 Randy Carr is no more in love with that girl than you are 
 with Mr. Crane." Upon these words, the violence of the 
 sobs began instantly to lessen. Cousin Nellie smiled 
 wisely. "It is Randy, isn't it?" she whispered. 
 
 "Oh, yes." 
 
 "Well, I'm glad to tell you that he is quite as miserable 
 as you are the good-looking wretch." 
 
 "He isn't a wretch; he did what he thought was 
 right." 
 
 "A fig for what a man in love thinks right!" said 
 Cousin Nellie. "But now, begin at the beginning. I 
 want to hear everything." 
 
 So Ariadne told her shielding the man she loved as 
 much as possible and even defending poor, weak Donna, 
 when the sympathetic listener broke into uncontrolled 
 invective. Even that darkest story, which Ariadne had 
 never thought to whisper, was now comparatively easy 
 to tell, for it glorified Randolph's act of rescue. When 
 she came to Randolph's break with her and Cousin 
 Nellie waxed wroth, she said : "But after all, you know, 
 he saved me." 
 
 " And what of it if he didn't have sense enough after- 
 ward to stick to you ? No, Ariadne, you needn't defend 
 him. Of all the blind idiots, of all the smirking prigs
 
 402 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 that ever lived, at this particular moment he seems to me 
 the most exasperating. I'm glad he has suffered. He's 
 got thin, and his cheeks are sunken. He looks as if all 
 his jaw teeth had fallen out at once. Maybe when you 
 see him again you won't want him, he's so ugly." 
 
 "I shall never see him again. Our parting was irrev- 
 ocable." 
 
 "You got that word out of a book I sent you," said 
 Cousin Nellie. "Nothing in this world but death is 
 irrevocable. You will see him again, and you'll see him 
 on his marrow bones, begging for his happiness. Just 
 wait until I get hold of that young man." Her lips 
 came together in a line that spoke ill for Randy. 
 
 "Oh, you would speak of this!" cried Ariadne in 
 horror. "You couldn't betray my confidence. Promise 
 me, Cousin Nellie, promise me." 
 
 "Now, look here, Ariadne Skipwith," said Mrs. Henry, 
 "I'm no virgin bound to a rock by other people's fool 
 promises. I'm a woman with just a little common sense 
 and fortunately, common sense is what the present 
 situation needs. Of course I'm going to see him, and 
 after I'm through with him, he'll wish he'd never been 
 born. It's better, taking all things into consideration, 
 that you are not going with me to New York. Well," 
 she said, getting to her feet, "I've got to be bouncing 
 home. You stay here till the red fades from your eyes. 
 It will worry Cousin Belinda if she sees you have been 
 crying. When that tonic comes, you'd better begin 
 taking it. The stuff can't hurt you, and it may bring 
 some color back into your face. I want you to look 
 pretty in the next few days." 
 
 Before the petrified girl could stop her, she was sailing 
 across the lawn. 
 
 Ariadne sank back to the bench and sat, crouched
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 403 
 
 together. The power of thought seemed, for a moment, 
 to have left her. 
 
 She heard a motor whiz along the curved carriage 
 road. A white something fluttered from the side, and 
 she knew Cousin Nellie was signaling a triumphant 
 farewell.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE general moral atmosphere, so to speak, of Allan 
 Water and its little group of human souls might be 
 characterized at least when Cousin Nellie remained 
 away as that of amiable placidity. That vigorous 
 matron, however, had the knack of carrying her own 
 atmosphere along. Wherever she moved and breathed, 
 dull elements quickened, as if her cheeerful personality 
 had been a tuning fork to strike out from murmuring 
 harp-strings a series of new vibrations. 
 
 A few days after her latest visit to the old Virginian 
 house, at a moment exactly synchronous in time, though 
 marked on the two presiding clocks by different hours, 
 these two scenes were being enacted. In the living- 
 room at Allan Water, where the long onyx clock on the 
 mantel had just sent forth two silvery strokes, Mrs. 
 Bannister, leaning confidently across the just cleared 
 luncheon table, her smiling lips parted for speech, waited 
 a moment longer until Ariadne, who had left the room, 
 should be well out of hearing, and then said to Cousin 
 Agnes: 
 
 "Did you ever see a greater improvement than has 
 come to our dear Ariadne since she has been taking 
 Doctor Buford's tonic?" 
 
 "It is a miracle a perfect miracle," assented the 
 equally pleased Cousin Agnes. "She was actually sing- 
 ing as she went out. I think it was the ballad of Allan 
 Water."
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 405 
 
 Mrs. Bannister drew herself upward with a more de- 
 cisive air. 
 
 "I wish Nellie Henry could have heard her. Perhaps 
 this transformation would have some effect upon dear 
 Nellie's rather ultra modern ideas. I find it somewhat 
 deplorable when a woman like Nellie, just because she 
 has seen the world, thinks it her privilege to belittle old- 
 fashioned ways and methods. Here of late you cannot 
 mention Doctor Buford's name to her without getting a 
 sniff in reply. And yet, see how instantly he understood 
 my granddaughter's case." 
 
 "Yes," assented Mrs. Hill, "Nellie has excellent quali- 
 ties, of course, but some of her advanced ideas do not 
 become one of our family." 
 
 At the same instant, the mildly maligned Virginian, 
 unconscious and had she known it, careless of this anti- 
 quated disapproval, was bending her dark head, with its 
 few gleams of silver, over an enormous red telephone 
 book in a New York hotel. "C C A B C 
 Ca," she murmured. "Gracious ! What a lot of Carrs 
 in this book ! Adam Carr Amos John Peter 
 Thomas here are the R's at last ; Ralph Randolph 
 - here he is ! Randolph Carr. I'm glad he's got his 
 private business wire. Wonder if he's out to lunch yet. 
 What time is it ? " She glanced down from the window, 
 near which a writing-desk with the flexible desk tele- 
 phone was placed, and along the opposite pavement of 
 Fifth Avenue where, on the edge of the pavement facing 
 a jeweler's shop, stood a rather huge open-faced watch 
 set in black metal, and held up by a single black pillar, 
 the height of an old-fashioned lamp-post. 
 
 "Just one o'clock," she murmured. "Perhaps I can 
 catch him. Central Hullo! Give me 3234, Yes. 
 Thrrree two thrreee foah ! The way these New
 
 406 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "York telephone girls have taken to rolling their R's in 
 three makes 'em sound like electric fan's. Is that 3234? 
 May I speak with Mr. Carr ? Oh, is that you, Randy ? 
 Yes, it's me it's Mrs. Nellie. Oh, you needn't begin 
 flattering me over this distance, how could any human 
 voice sound like the smell of fresh cookies? I know I 
 used to stuff you. I want to see you just as soon as 
 possible. Well," she exclaimed, "there's nothing like 
 being ready ! Come at once then. But listen, you'd 
 better stop for a bite of lunch. I've had mine. Even 
 if I hadn't, I don't want to talk to you through mutton 
 chops. It's too important. Never mind what it is. I 
 can't talk over the 'phone, either. You'll be here in 
 thirty minutes. Have them show you up at once to 
 suite 501. Good-by." 
 
 Mrs. Henry rose, rang the bell to have her simple 
 luncheon tray removed, and then began to make herself 
 and the room more tidy. Usually she disdained acces- 
 sories, but this occasion, being one of great importance, 
 might as well be given a congenial setting. 
 
 Hurriedly she changed her traveling coat suit for a one- 
 piece gown of black, a little opened to show her full and 
 still beautiful throat. Her hair, parted in the middle 
 and drawn back to its usual dark coil, was rearranged, 
 the knot lowered, and the long loops at the side brought 
 forward. "That gives me a more subdued and saintly 
 look," she said to her own reflected image. "I want 
 to begin with pathos and the soft pedal down ; it will 
 make the contrast more effective. I wish I hadn't 
 sounded so cheerful over the 'phone. But that ridicu- 
 lous boy and his cookies !" 
 
 Mrs. Henry again laughed, but catching sight of her 
 face in doing so, became instantly sober, and gazed with 
 disapproval at the reflected image. "I look like a full
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 407 
 
 moon," she grumbled. "I wish there wasn't so much 
 color in my cheeks." She opened her shopping-bag and 
 took out a booklet of powder-leaves. Having exhausted 
 several of these useful sheets, the fresh pink of her face 
 attained a more delicate shading. 
 
 Going to the windows, she pulled down shades until 
 the room was in a satisfactory condition of gloom. 
 "I'll sit there first," she murmured, nodding toward 
 the end of a sofa, "and I'll make that pig-headed 
 youth sit in a straight chair opposite. Later on, he will 
 probably be writhing on the sofa, clutching at my 
 hands. I hope so!" she said viciously. "The idea 
 of setting himself up to judge that poor, loyal child. 
 I don't care if he bellows ! Now, I wish he'd hurry 
 up and come. I long to go to it, as Dick Kyarter 
 would say." 
 
 Again she leaned toward the window, and seeing the 
 clock hands pointing to half-past one, went rather hur- 
 riedly to her allotted corner of the sofa. She was scarcely 
 there before Randy's knock came. He entered, all 
 eagerness and brown sparkles, to be met by an out- 
 stretched hand, a patient smile, and a murmured: "So 
 good of you to come, dear," that might all have been 
 imported from a London drawing-room. 
 
 Much taken aback, he shook the up-curved fingers 
 and sank to the high stiff chair that was his portion. 
 
 "I hope there is nothing wrong, Miss Nellie," he said, 
 after the old Virginian custom of calling married ladies 
 "Miss." 
 
 "Well, there is," said Mrs. Henry somberly; "we are 
 all worried to death." 
 
 "Has Cousin Judge been losing money?" 
 
 "Money! Certainly not. Money wouldn't worry 
 me, anyway."
 
 408 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Dick Carter isn't " he ventured, and then 
 paused. 
 
 "Dick Kyarter is all right. He isn't with us this trip. 
 The Judge is all right, too." 
 
 Randy began to look distressed. What could it be 
 that kept the smiles so long from the kindly face before 
 him ? She looked as if she had just come from a funeral. 
 
 "Of course," she murmured, "it may not interest you 
 very deeply. But then we are all Virginians together 
 and have that clan feeling," she paused and sighed 
 heavily. 
 
 "You know how I feel toward my home people," the 
 young man cried. His thick brows were together now, 
 and his eyes looked puzzled. 
 
 "Well it is Ariadne." 
 
 "Ariadne !" he echoed. She saw him take his under 
 lip between his teeth. "What is wrong with Ariadne ?" 
 
 "Oh, nothing much," said this exasperating woman. 
 "Only if this sort of thing keeps up, she won't live 
 through another year." 
 
 Randolph kept perfectly still. Not a finger trembled, 
 but Mrs. Henry saw, rejoicing to observe it, that a sickly 
 pallor spread across his face until the very lips were livid. 
 
 "I had not heard that she was ill. Surely as young 
 as she is nothing can be very serious ? " 
 
 "That's the kind of thing that doctors and you 
 blind bats of men love to say ! " remarked Mrs. Henry. 
 "She hasn't consumption, or measles, or leprosy or 
 anything you can give a name to but she's dying just 
 the same ; and when you're dead, you're dead." 
 
 "This this is simply awful," said the young man. 
 " Pardon me if I rise and go to the window ; the room 
 seems close." 
 
 "I won't be sorry for him, I won't," Mrs. Henry was
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 409 
 
 saying angrily. She dug her nails into the tapestry of the 
 sofa. 
 
 "Have you any idea what has caused it?" he asked, 
 coming back in a few moments and hovering miserably 
 near. 
 
 Mrs. Henry hesitated. "All through this winter her 
 pallor and lassitude have been increasing," she began, 
 
 "Yes?" He again took the high-backed chair. 
 
 "Her grandmother and I hoped it was only an inevi- 
 table reaction from the strain of those last weeks abroad." 
 
 Randolph's eyes went to the Axminster carpet. He 
 said nothing. 
 
 "You realize, I suppose, that she had been under a 
 strain," said Mrs. Henry rather sharply. 
 
 "Yes, I realize it." 
 
 Mrs. Henry fidgeted in her corner. "In another 
 instant I shall throw this inkstand at him. I know I 
 shall," she thought. "I can't hold in any longer. But 
 I must think what I'm saying. I must remember it's 
 all for Ariadne." 
 
 "I believe you met the stepmother and that creature 
 who called himself Martel?" 
 
 "I met them both," said Randolph. "It was at the 
 Hague just before I sent the cables urging you and 
 Cousin Judge to come." 
 
 "You saw them both then; and you knew that for 
 seven years a girl like Ariadne Skipwith had been dragged 
 around Europe at their cart- tail." 
 
 "Yes, I knew it. I saw the horror for myself. I tried 
 to get Ariadne away from them, but she refused to accept 
 my plans." His voice was scarcely audible, and the 
 increasing pallor had become a uniform gray tone, a sort 
 of death mask through which the tortured, living eyes of 
 the man stood out.
 
 4 io ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "Do you know why she refused ?" 
 
 " She gave no explanation ; I had no choice but to go." 
 
 "You had no choice !" commented the other bitterly. 
 "Do you suppose she had any? That was a time when 
 any friend who had a spark of sincerity or manhood in 
 him should have stuck so close that nothing this side of 
 dynamite could budge him. When, afterward, you 
 heard of that wretched Donna's death and the cause of it, 
 didn't you begin to see why Ariadne could not explain ? " 
 
 "I have never heard particulars. I didn't want to 
 hear. Miss Nellie," he cried, throwing aside with both 
 hands his shadowy defenses, "don't torture me ! I love 
 Ariadne. I have loved her from the first minute I saw 
 her at the Hague. I believe I've loved her ever since 
 I said good-by to her as a child, under a cherry-tree at 
 Allan Water. Perhaps even you don't know what her 
 life was with these people. I did help her I got to her 
 just in time, but afterward I told her that she could not 
 stay near that man. It was impossible for me to allow 
 it ; I told her so quite plainly. She she had already 
 promised to be my wife." His head went down in his 
 hands at this, as a groan of agony came from him. "I 
 I worshiped her I love her yet ; but she did the one 
 thing I cannot overlook." 
 
 11 "You you cannot overlook!" said Mrs. Henry, 
 her nostrils whitening with indignation. "You took 
 that tragic, starved young life into your hands, promising 
 eternal love and faith and shielding. You held before 
 it the one gleam of happiness it had ever known and 
 then, because you were not capable of seeing the sweetest 
 depths of the treasure you had won you threw it 
 down, as I might throw a sofa-pillow." Here she hurled 
 the nearest to the floor. "You who consider yourself 
 a man of honor "
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 411 
 
 She got to her feet, trembling with the righteousness of 
 her attack. She seemed to soar above him like an angry 
 goddess. But the young man, too, had his own fire. 
 
 "Not even a woman can be allowed to use that tone 
 to me, Mrs. Henry," he said, with flashing eyes. "It 
 was because of my honor that I had to leave." 
 
 Mrs. Henry put her hand across her eyes for a moment. 
 
 "Don't let us quarrel, Randy. After all, it is Ariadne we 
 must think of. But when you say honor Well," 
 she paused, and something like a smile touched her lips 
 "I am wondering whether there has ever lived a man 
 you, or Judge Henry, or all our line of Virginia presidents 
 rolled into one, who could have kept faith as that young 
 girl. Honor ! You don't know what it means ! With 
 you men it is something to bluster about a shining 
 medal that you pin to a frock coat, for public ceremonies. 
 You talk about it, and I know you think you have it. 
 Maybe you have, in your own way, but for Ariadne it 
 has been through all these years of life her attendant 
 spirit. I'm sure that when the angels looked at her they 
 always saw it a tall, bright presence bending over her 
 its face beautiful, I know, and often pitiful but the 
 scourge was always in its hand. Oh, it breaks my heart 
 to think of it." 
 
 Her voice trembled, and for a moment it seemed as 
 if she must give way to tears. Then her chin went up 
 again. Young Carr stood before her, his head dropped 
 like that of a man listening to his own death sentence. 
 
 "She kept faith with her father," Mrs. Henry's low, 
 vibrant voice went on. "For seven years of absolute 
 self-sacrifice she held up that feeble creature's hands, 
 because her father asked it. She endured you know 
 what she endured from that man Patredis " 
 
 "For God's sake !" said the tortured man.
 
 4 i2 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 "And she kept faith with you," went on the low voice 
 mercilessly. "It was there at the Hague that Donna 
 Mayrant first learned the nature of the malady that was 
 so soon to kill her. Ariadne was her only confidant; 
 and in that first distress, she made the girl promise not 
 to betray to any one the horrible thing that had just been 
 told her. Ariadne promised, of course. She has wasted 
 her young life making promises to people not fit to lick 
 her boots. Along with it she had given her word to 
 remain with Donna until the London specialist had 
 been consulted." 
 
 "Don't tell me any more," said the man, groping out 
 blindly; "it is all terribly clear." 
 
 He sank down, unable to keep his feet for trembling. 
 Mrs. Henry looked down upon her victim. All her 
 arrows had struck home. Perhaps there is a streak of 
 cruelty latent in the kindest heart, for it is certain that, 
 at this moment, Cousin Nellie, recalling a certain huddled 
 figure at the foot of a cherry-tree, positively reveled in 
 this corresponding agony of spirit. 
 
 "What's to be done now ? " the man asked her, lifting 
 haggard eyes. "She'll never listen to me; she cannot 
 forgive me," he groaned. 
 
 "Of course she shouldn't!" assented the other 
 viciously ; "in her place, I'd see you tarred and feathered 
 first. But then " 
 
 He looked up at the pause. At last the smile he so 
 well remembered was on her lips. "I am not Ariadne," 
 she added gently. 
 
 He sprang up, seizing both plump hands. "You 
 mean 
 
 "I mean that the child is breaking her heart for you." 
 
 "I'll catch the night train South!" cried Randolph, 
 hurrying to the door.
 
 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 413 
 
 Laughing, she kept him by one hand. 
 
 " Remember, you're to grovel first," she admonished. 
 
 " Oh, I'll grovel I'll flagellate myself ; that guardian 
 angel won't be in it when I get my cat-o'-nine-tails 
 swinging. I'll do anything, if only there's a chance of 
 winning her back!" Across the room he turned, 
 rushed back to her and flung both arms around her, 
 then he was gone. 
 
 " Heavens!" gasped that lady, when she regained 
 sufficient breath to speak, " I feel like a bale of compressed 
 cotton." Then, lifting a photograph of Ariadne that had 
 been conspicuously placed on the center table, she 
 whispered : "Honey, it's all come right at last." 
 
 Somehow he knew that she would be at the little 
 wicket gate in the youpon hedge. At first it was 
 only a glimpse of the dark blue skirt he caught. At 
 the sight, he stepped from the pathway, taking a 
 longer, individual path among the cedars. He wanted 
 to come upon her suddenly. All the warmth of 
 the summer day rushed through his heart. A mock- 
 ing-bird, swaying from a tree-top, whistled through the 
 fragrant silence like a bugle. 
 
 Then, because he was a lover, icy currents drove 
 through the warmth and chilled him. What if she did 
 not care or his offense had been too grave for love 
 to pardon ? He paused outside the hedge. 
 
 Evidently the girl had not heard him. The mocking- 
 bird, now silent, cocked a yellow eye downward. He 
 was used to Ariadne. There was no menace to domestic 
 security in that golden head but this was a different 
 creature. There was a suspicious stealth in its move- 
 ments, and it kept peering through the hedge uncom- 
 fortably close to the knotted honeysuckle where Mrs.
 
 4 i4 ARIADNE OF ALLAN WATER 
 
 Mocking-bird sat on her nest. The familiar golden 
 head was leaned against the cherry-tree. 
 
 Then the brown newcomer cried "Ariadne" in such a 
 voice that both birds screamed and flew to a farther tree. 
 
 "Ariadne! Ariadne! Ariadne!" was all the man 
 could say at first. He quite forgot that he was pledged 
 to grovel. There was not even time for explanations. 
 Cousin Nellie had done all that. 
 
 "Oh, my dear, my dear," he whispered, "it has 
 seemed such an eternity ! " 
 
 "What does it matter," she sobbed, through happy 
 tears. "We have each other now." 
 
 At last and to the watchful birds it seemed an 
 eternity the golden head and a bared brown one near 
 it moved across the lawn toward the house. 
 
 The mocking-bird, her temper and feathers much 
 ruffled, came back to her eggs and settled down defiantly 
 as if to say: "Those ridiculous mortals shall not drive 
 me off a second time." 
 
 But her winged spouse, now on the hedge directly over 
 her, felt it safer to keep watch. "Why," he asked of his 
 wife, "do those queer creatures with legs like to keep 
 their wings so tightly wrapped round each other ? And 
 why should their beaks meet so often ? I don't see any 
 worm." 
 
 "I'm sure it doesn't concern us," said the mother 
 bird crossly; "I only hope these eggs didn't catch their 
 death. Speaking of worms, Mr. Mocking-bird, I'm 
 feeling quite faint with all this excitement. Suppose 
 you go fetch me one." 
 
 "With pleasure, my dear," her mate answered; for 
 he was a Virginia mocking-bird. 
 
 THE END
 
 The Most Lovable Heroine in Modern Fiction 
 
 TRUTH DEXTER 
 
 By SIDNEY McCALL 
 Author of " The Breath of the Gods " 
 
 New Illustrated Edition, with 8 full-page pictures by Alice 
 
 Barber Stephens and title-page vignette by 
 
 Jessie Willcox Smith 
 
 12mo. Decorated cloth, $1.35 net 
 
 A novel of united North and South of rare power and 
 absorbing interest. It is but fair to say that not one of 
 the novels which appeared last year on either side of the 
 Atlantic (including those from the pen of the most gifted 
 writers) was superior to this in artistic quality, dramatic 
 power, and human interest combined. We do not hope to 
 see it surpassed, even if equalled. Philadelphia Telegraph. 
 
 Exceptionally clever and brilliant, it has what are rarely 
 found with these dazzling qualities, delicacy and genuine 
 
 sentiment. Brooklyn Times. 
 
 A fine, sweet and strong American romance. New York 
 World. 
 
 I don't know how to praise it enough. I can't recall any 
 novel which has interested me so absorbingly for years. 
 It is a matchless book ! Louise Chandler Moulton, 
 
 The author at once takes place among the foremost 
 novelists of the day. Boston Transcript. 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, & CO., PUBLISHERS 
 34 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
 
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