MY LOST DUCHESS
''"
1
MY LOST DUCHESS
AN IDYL OF THE TOWN
BY
AUTHOR OK "PRINCETON STORIES," "NEW YORK SKETCHES,
"THE STOLEN STORY," ETC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
WALLACE MORGAN
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1908
THE "JF vi-.NE PRESS
TO
S.-C. W. P.
2138927
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
She made a pleasant picture there . . Frontispiece
PAGE
She stood, all in white 39
She swung her gaze up and around at me . .141
I love you, love you, love you 199
I came to say good-hy 249
Sit down, Nick* 285
MY LOST DUCHESS
MY LOST DUCHESS
AN IDYL OF THE TOWN
HERE is a beautiful girl in
this town who has lately
contracted an agreeable
habit of making a trium-
phal tour up the crowded
avenue past my window. She is rather
tall, with a great amount of brownish
hair, and wondrous eyes, which you
might call starry, if that admits of a
twinkle in them.
At times she drives, looking like a god-
3
MY LOST DUCHESS
dcss in her cart. no, not like a goddess
in her cart at all ; like a lovely woman in
a modern, not to say extremely fashion-
able, victoria; and tor my part I like this
better. Imagine a rather heavy goddess
trying to wear one of her hats !
Besides, goddesses would hardly mani-
fest such a charmingly human interest in
things and people that pass. Xor for
that matter do man)' other humans of the
sort termed fashionable; but this one
never seems to be concerned with her
clothes, her equipage or her fashion-
nobility. Indeed she does not seem to be
aware of making triumphal tours.
She knows she 's a beauty though
they always do; but as she has the com-
fortable assurance that every one else
acknowledges it too, she leans back in the
cushions and lets go of herself, quite as if
she were a philosophical old maid who
had ceased to struggle.
MY LOST DUCHESS
More frequently she walks (I suppose
you would call it walking), giving me a
chance to look at close range, only the
window-pane, the half-hidden privet
hedge, and the granite balustrade be-
tween us. There is plenty of time to be
critical when she walks. I have fine long,
leisurely looks all the way from the right-
hand frame of the window to the left.
Ours are broad, generous windows.
When she drives, it is all over in a
flashing second, and I have twenty-four
hours to wait; sometimes even longer, for
the habit is still in the forming. Indeed,
I have yet to find one of them to be
trusted implicitly. In times past, many,
many of those I have grown fond of in
the course of the trip across from one edge
of the window to the other, dawned upon
me but that once, or possibly twice, and
never came near me again, though I loved
them dearly for whole weeks at a time.
5
MY LOST DUCHESS
I wonder what has become ot you all.
Is if fliaf you are afraid fhat I -ball ^ct
over if it \ ou let me sec too much ot you'?
She is not afraid.
IT
ID-DAY she swerved in quite
near me, next to the balus-
trade, and before she reached
the other frame of the win-
dow I had made numerous discoveries. I
feel now that I know her quite inti-
mately. The under lashes are also rather
long, as under lashes go, and evenly dis-
tributed. I may say that it is a remark-
able face, for it somehow sparkles.
Not seeing me she will never know
how much I appreciate her, and I doubt if
she would care. She coolly sweeps past
with that light, strong stride of hers, as
though it were the greatest fun to walk
and I suppose it must be when you do it
that way thinking the loveliest thoughts
(which have nothing to do with me) and
7
MY LOST DUCHESS
yet taking such a charming interest, a
gently humorous I almost saui a Denial
interest in every one (except those in
club windows), though looking all the
while at something a million miles be-
yond the Avenue and me.
I trust I ma}' never meet this girl. For
she, no doubt, like all the rest who held
out hope from time to time of being as I
wanted them to be. would only pnm
another disappointment.
Yes, I shall stay here safely by my
window, and thus keep her for my own
for ever.
8
Ill
,T is the tenth day she has kept
me waiting in this stogy
chair missing my swim down-
stairs, making me late for
dinner, and causing all sorts of inconve-
nience for many people. I had thought
that I could trust her.
Possibly she resents my looking at her;
I can't see why. What difference can it
make to her, my sitting here liking her as
the crowd goes by. Though I have tried,
I can find no adequate excuse for her con-
duct, and suspect that she has been get-
ting married or something of that sort.
There sits Torresdale in the opposite
chair. He likes to read his paper here,
and has an absurd notion that he owns
my window. He is a literary man and
9
MY LOST DUCHESS
feels superior to all human emotions.
What would Torre-dale think ot me it he
knew whv I hold the "Evening Post" so
high between us even evening at thi-
hourV . . .
A purple gloom has eome over the
Avenue, a deeper gloom is over me. The
eabs have begun to show feeble yellow
lamps: the long, even rows ot ,-treet light-
are being turned on. white and unneces-
sary. My arm, as usual at this time, is
numb with holding up the paper. Some
ot the same women I observed valiantly
setting forth tor teas an hour or two ago
are returning now with a sanctified air,
their duty done.
The walking up-town crowd is thin-
ning out; all over the city people are
dressing for dinner. In a moment the
servants will come in irom the hall and
draw the thick crimson curtains across the
windows, shutting oif my view of the
Avenue until to-morrow.
10
MY LOST DUCHESS
But this will be the last time. I have
other things to do in life besides waiting
upon the whims of a girl. . . .
Ah, I knew she would be true to me!
See how she walks! With an innocent
expression as if she 'd never imposed
upon me at all Look! She is smiling
this is an historic moment. Oh, now I
understand, that small girl beside her
who can site be? There, they are gone.
I don't know where, I never shall, but I
know I have seen that face before !
When she smiled I was sure of it.
Torresdale can have the whole window
to himself now, since he insists upon ruin-
ing his eyes.
"Good-night, Torry," I said, and arose
to go.
He replied rather animatedly for him:
"By the way, Nick, who 's the child with
her?'
I looked at him a moment in sorrow,
and then we both laughed.
11
IV
HIS is what I heard to-day as I
approached Torresdale seated
in the corner with Harry
Lawrence.
Harry, I may add. is one ot ll,c Lau-
rences. He knows this and so little
else, but perhaps it is enough, he thinks.
"Though lie travels more than most Xew
Yorkers," Torresdale once said ot him,
"Harry will never in all his lite get away
from Xew York. He 's as provincial as
you are, Xick, though not so unworldly."
I was behind Lawrence's chair and he
did not see me at. first. "She 's some-
thing new, that 's certain," he was Baying
with an air of authority, tor Lawrence
would doubtless know her it she were not
new; that is, if she weie worth knowing,
and evidently he considered her qualified,
12
MY LOST DUCHESS
for he went on: "There 's a well-bred
poise, an aristocratic quietness about
that girl." Lawrence thinks he has it
too, and perhaps he has.
"Not only that, but the look on her
face, the blood in her body, she has an
air," said Torresdale, "an air that is born
and not made."
"Well, I wish I knew who she is, any-
way," said Lawrence, smoking comfort-
ably.
"If you really care to know," said
Torresdale with a manner of finality,
which made us turn toward him expect-
antly he is always saying things worth
listening to "'She 's the young Duchess
of Hetherington."
("Then the young girl with her," I ex-
claimed to myself, "is her daughter.")
"And the child," continued Torresdale,
turning squarely around and smiling
knowingly at me, "is her step-daughter."
13
MY LOST DUCHESS
Lawrence also now looked at inc. I
was glad 1 was standing out ot the light.
tor I telt annoyed by this.
"What !" he exclaimed, turning toward
me. "Do you mean to say that our Nick
here is another?"
"Her discoverer!" announced Torre-
dale. "He 's been hugging one oi the
windows for a month, holding his paper
upside down."
Lawrence laughed and touched the
bell. "I 'm disappointed in you. Nick."
he said. "I did n't think you 'd take ad-
vantage ot a woman behind her back!"
''Oh, Xick with his virginal air and hi-
mid-Victorian ideals." said Torresdale,
who likes to talk, "is a de\il and a
dreamer in disguise. I 'ye watched him.
Like so many of you tellows down-town
he 's still romantic-. There are more ot
that sort in Wall Street, if you onlv knew
it, than in my trade. We have a good
H
MY LOST DUCHESS
deal to say about such stuff, but you are
the ones who feel it."
"You do have a good deal to say," I
remarked, and he stopped at last.
"But see here," said Lawrence, "there
is no Duchess of Hetherington."
"I know it," said Tony; "but she is a
young duchess all the same."
"How do you know?"
"How do I know? Why, look at
her!"
At that moment she was returning up
the Avenue in the victoria, with the little
step-daughter; at least I suppose it was
the same one, I did not look at the child.
There was a mild scramble for the win-
dow.
"Nick," said Lawrence, chaffing, "you
should check those shoulders of yours out-
side in the cloak-room they obstruct the
view." But I made no reply for I had a
glimpse of her driving by with the ador-
15
MY LOST DUCHESS
able far-away look in her face, all uncon-
scious of the eyes shooting out at her
from behind our stone fortifications. In
a second or two it was all over and she
was gone.
"At the very least a duchess," mused
Torry.
"Or a queen," said Lawrence.
"Better yet." Torry replied, "a
woman."
"Good-niiiht," said I.
16
V
JORRESDALE and Lawrence are
over in the corner talking
about her. Let them talk!
Torresdale is describing her
charm with words of whose spelling I
might not be sure. Let him describe.
Oh, Torresdale, oh, all you fellows over
there, oh, all you other men in the world,
if you only knew how I am gloating over
you now !
It happened less than an hour since.
I had walked up-town from the office, as
usual. It was one of our fine brisk after-
noons of early spring we had to-day, we
who walk up-town, with a west breeze
from over the Jersey Palisades, and the
Hudson blue and crisp between; an ex-
cellent afternoon for walking, and I
17
MY LOST DUCHESS
ended up at the dub feeling very lit: hur-
ried down to flu- swimming-pool in the
basement, threw oft" my clothe.-, dived
head first into the clear exhilarating
water, and then, after an alcohol rub.
stretched out a bit in the resting-room,
with nothing to occupv my attention but
a sheet, and perchance a cocktail.
I had hardly gained my accustomed
chair by the window beiore I spied her.
(Her hours are becoming outrageously
irregular.) This time, as it happened,
she was walking down-town instead of
up, but that was not the most remarkable
thing about it. With her was a man, and
such a man a Fifth Avenue beggar, a
large, able-bodied impostor, former!} a
crook and well known to the police. He
was pressing closer and closer beside
her. apparently muttering insistently: she
was more than annoyed: she seemed
frightened, and the policeman was at
18
MY LOST DUCHESS
the other end of his beat, as the beggar
knew. One or two passers-by glanced a
second time at the strangely assorted pair,
but passed on without interfering God
bless them.
It takes a number of valuable seconds
to get to the cloak-room, hand in a check,
put on a hat and reach the Avenue. By
the- time I was there they were halt-way
down the next block. Suddenly I saw
her stop and turn back abruptly in my
direction, as if to get rid of the beggar
by this move. But he turned too. and
continued his demands as daringly as if
this were Naples instead of Xew York.
She, retreating and accelerating her pace,
as if now 7 in a panic, was holding out her
empty hands to show she had no purse.
I could hardly believe my luck, for it was
the first time such an opportunity had
ever come to me, and I had long since
abandoned all hope of it.
19
MY LOST DUCHESS
Now she saw me bearing down upon
them and raised her eyelashes tor the
purpose ot looking at me. Her glance,
said, rather frankly as it we were alreadv
(jiiite congenial, "Would you be so good
as to help me out ot this? You look so
capable."
I only raised my hat in a matter-of-
fact way as it I made a daily practice of
doing things like this for her, and grab-
bing that blessed beggar bv the back of
the neck, I quietly hustled him down the
cross street, shaking him now and then
from side to side. Halt-way down to
Sixth Avenue, I decided he was about
scared enough, so with a parting kick I
let him go. It was not a very hard kick
considering that this was the only chance
of the sort I might ever have tor another
quarter of a century, but it was a rather
satisfactory kick withal.
As I turned back toward the Avenue,
20
MY LOST DUCHESS
I think I had a glimpse of her for a mo-
ment at the crossing, as if she had been
looking on. Then I sauntered into the
club and quietly joined Torry as if noth-
ing had happened. He had arrived dur-
ing my absence. "You are just too late,
Nick," he said exultingly for he had
seen her on the way back evidently "the
show is over for to-day."
I picked up the evening paper calmly.
"What of it?" said I.
He and Harry are still laughing at
this. Let them laugh.
21
VI
AM atraicl that I am hope-
There arc a number ot
v, ho take the walk ir>-ro\vn
rc^iilarlx". and v\'c can not help rcco,;ni'/-
IT.L; one another's existence, even though
v. e do not acknowledge it. \Ye arc a
sort of walking-club, and natural ly \\'c
take a iriendlv fellow-members' interest.
in one another.
There is a certain j, r irl in gray.
This i.- a recent acquisition, and. tor
my part. I don't believe in ignoring new
members ot clubs as the older members
of some clubs do. She is a very small
person with all the tingling daintiness of
MY LOST DUCHESS
a geisha, and sometimes I feel like put-
ting her in my pocket. This girl has a
way of looking up at me tor a millionth
of a second merely to see if it is I
which interests me. Then she looks away
again as if saying, "Yes, it is you but I
am not interested; it is simply that you
are so big."
Then I always say though not aloud
"Ah, indeed"? Just so, you remember
me!" Then she patters along down-
town, tilting her pretty little figure for-
ward in the way so many of our girls
seem to enjoy walking, and I keep on
straight up the Avenue, and both of us
look grave and rather abstracted; and
that 's all there is to it.
So I consider it no sign of disloyalty
that just at this particular second I was
not thinking about the young Duchess.
I had not seen the girl in gray for a very
long time, and I was saying some such
23
MY LOST DUCHESS
as. "Where have you been all this
while V" or "You arc looking very well
to-day,'' when out ot the void there sud-
denly appeared, sai ing down upon me
like a beautiful rebuke, she. her-elt. alone
in all her glory and, incidentally, with
a most becoming boa around her neek.
Ot course she did not see me; her ga/e,
like her thoughts, was on high, tar above
and beyond any point I may ever hope to
attain. But as it happens, this was very
nice tor me. because I could luxuriate in
a tull clear look at her while approaching
and crossing each other's orbits. So tine
and tender and true, so rich and deep and
glorious. I telt that I had never really
known her before.
"It ever you cared for any one." I was
thinking, as all too soon we were about
to pass each other, and away "It ever
you cared. \<>u would think and thrill,
and live for no one else," and at that in-
24
MY LOST DUCHESS
stant, as it happened, she looked up and
caught my gaze fixed upon her not
rudely, I hope. She looked away again,
but instantaneously glanced back, suffused
me with a frank, friendly smile, blinded
me with a dazzling bow, and passed on,
while I felt my amazed eyes blink and
the blood rush to my tace. I could
hardly lift my hat.
As soon as I regained my senses I read-
ily understood how it had happened. It
was a natural mistake enough. The inci-
dent with the beggar had brought us face
to face, and seeing me suddenly again she
remembered having seen me before, did
not recall where or how, but thought for
the moment I was some one she knew.
If it had been any one else, for exam-
ple, the girl in gray I beg her pardon
for the thought I should not have been
so overwhelmed. I think I might even
have enjoyed it, made the most of it, en-
MY LOST DUCHESS
tercel into it with relish. There is :i twin-
kle in licr eye too, but there "s nothing
^tarry about it.
Yet I could not help rejoicing that the
Duchess remembered my lace, even while
it showed she had forgotten my service,
though I trust she did not notice my look
of shock and ama'/.emcnt as she bowed
and passed on.
I spend more time in walking now, and
that will do me jj;ood, tor I am taking on
weight a^ain. The walk up-town trom
Wall Street is not enough tor me. I ( u~o
on up to the Park these days, to see if I
cannot lower my record around the reser-
voir. It is <j;ood walking there, and- no
duchesses to distract one.
26
VII
;s I recall it now the first inti-
mation I had was a sharp
contraction in the wrists. I
felt it before I heard any-
thing, and then I became aware that the
most beautiful voice in the world was
sweeping and tingling through me, awak-
ening echoes from another world where I
once knew her face to face. I turned and
looked, and it was she.
"Are you not the one I bowed to?" she
said, with almost the same crisp, modu-
lated tones I had often fancied except
perhaps a trifle faster.
"Oh, yes," I said, observing my hand
taking off my hat as if a thing apart.
"It was a mistake," she said such
clear-cut words "You should have
2?
MY LOST DUCHESS
known that. Good-afternoon." She turned
and was gone, leaving me gasping. Then
the happy little trees and the shrubs at
the bend ot the path swallowed her up.
and I was alone again.
Flow could I ! Here was the loveliest
thing in all the beautiful, budding May
world coining to me in the most delight-
ful part ot the Ramble, and apologi/.ing
for speaking to me; and I stood .-till and
stared at her ami said nothing!
Poor little thing, probably she stayed
awake at night worrying about what 1
thought of her mistake, and then atter
getting up her courage to the point ot
speaking to me I did not even help her!
Before T reali/.ed if I was walking des-
perately in the direction in which she had
disappeared; but that part of the Park
has many diverging paths. I went faster
and faster, finally running. On the other
side of the Ramble two diverging paths
28
MY LOST DUCHESS
double and meet again. We doubled,
and suddenly we met again. Evidently
she had seen me first, and thought we
were to pass as strangers but not so.
"It was a perfectly natural mistake,"
I said earnestly.
She turned her face toward me, her
eyebrows shot up inquiringly, she looked
me over, nodded impersonally, and
passed on. But I was after her. "Please
do not worry about it."
Again the eyebrows shot up.
"Thank you," she said, in the same
delicate, superior way; "I have not wor-
ried." It was in the tone I should fancy
her considerately addressing a servant.
"Indeed," I said, "then why have you
taken the trouble to mention the mat-
ter?"
"To give you a chance to apologize,"
said the young Duchess in the quietest
voice, the most matter-of-fact manner,
29
MY LOST DUCHESS
and without stopping or turning she
glided on down the little path and out of
sight, walking as though she considered
it the greatest tun to walk, and thinking
the loveliest thoughts whieh had nothing
to do with me.
I sank into a convenient bench., and
looked tor my cigarettes.
''Well/ 3 thought I, smoking, "whether
she wanted to explain or expected me to
do so, at any rate she cared to have me
know a mistake had been made and I
have that much to be thankful tor."
It is possible that she is not a duchess,
though she has something of an English
voice ; but the look in the eyes is one
which T have seen only in American girls.
Whoever and whatever she may be. she
is more of a woman of the world than I
thought at first, and, by the same token,
the more interesting to me. She has
known and been sought by persons of
30
MY LOST DUCHESS
note at home and abroad, all sorts of ex-
periences has she had in her full and
picturesque existence.
What a delight it would be if, owing
to a dearth ot better men for the mo-
ment, she should see fit to twist me about
her little finger for a while.
VIII
FEW days later I met her on
the Avenue. It was quire tar
down, near Madison Square.
She saw me coming from
afar. I knew she saw me, and I re.-o-
lufely fastened my eyes on rhe North
Star, or where it ought to be. and tried to
look as if I were thinking beautiful far-
away thoughts having nothing to do with
duchesses. I felt her take me in with a
glance.
She thought I had not seen her at all.
and so would give me no credit tor my
self-denial. I kicked myself all the wax-
up to rhe Park, where I had a stupid
walk.
The next rime I saw her we were going
in the same direction. She was one of
32
MY LOST DUCHESS
those I overtook in my usual afternoon
walk up-town. She is not a very fast
walker after all, but it took me many
blocks to overtake her. She has such an
adorable back.
33
IX
>AWRENCE and I spent last
Sunday at Ogden's. Con-
stance Ogden is the one of
whom my aunt always says :
"Such a nice girl." I never contradict
my aunt, and yet she always reiterates it.
Miss Ogden has a fluffy pompadour,
and several million dollars in her own
right. But she has more than that; she
is a dear girl, and I like her very much.
We are the best of friends and talk in the
frankest way about all sorts of things,
and agree on most of them. There are
few girls to compare with her for sweet-
ness of nature and sincerity of manner.
If ever she marries any of us who hang
around her, she will spoil him to death.
I can see Lawrence, for instance he
34
MY LOST DUCHESS
is the most persistent at the family din-
ner-table, after he has become fat and
phlegmatic. Sometimes I confess I have
put myself in the picture, but that makes
an entirely different picture, for I appre-
ciate her more than Lawrence ever could,
though this never seems to occur to him.
I have always said that I would never
marry for money; yet if I were to dis-
cover that the girl I loved was an heiress
in disguise, I might not feel so awfully
cut up about it. Oh, well, one does n't
give up much time to deliberation when
spending Sunday in the country. Most
of us work indoors pretty hard all the
week, and when Saturday afternoon
comes we prefer exercise to planning for
our futures. Men and girls both are a
pretty frank, wholesome lot, and not
over clever like the cynical worldlings
Torresdale tells about in his stories. At
least, this is true of the crowd I have
35
MY LOST DUCHESS
most to do with, and I am informed by
tin- aunt; who ought to know, that they
include some of the "nicest people."
"But how can you tell them from the
others V" I said one day to my aunt.
"How can you tell which are the nicest?"
"By their names, my dear," said my
aunt.
We had just arrived and were having
tea on the cool terrace. Mrs. Ogden said,
"Xick. would you mind going down into
the garden and telling Mademoiselle that
tea is hereV I left her near the lower
fountain below the bo\vl ing-green," she
said, fanning herself.
I ought to know where that was
Constance and I had often strolled there
and I thought I would know a made-
moiselle when I saw one.
The Ogdens' garden is rather large,
and is old enough to have found itself.
It does n't look as if it were an Italian
36
garden made while you wait, as do so
many of our new and doggedly correct
young gardens in America. At any rate
it was fragrant and delightful down
there in the cool of the afternoon follow-
ing the hot, dirty ride out through the
Forty-second Street tunnel. It was just
the time of day I have grown fond of
lately, and it gave me a distinct pang to
think that possibly my Duchess would be
passing the window at this very moment.
But there stood the Duchess before me.
With a sunbonnet in her hands behind
her back she stood, all in white, looking
down at some goldfish in the fountain;
she had evidently been feeding them.
Her back was half turned toward me.
She did not stir. Nor did I. I only
waited at a respectful distance and ap-
preciated her sweet figure and the rather
remarkable profile. There was no dreamy
far-away look there at present; it was all
37
MY LOST DUCHESS
eager absorption in what she was doing,
with the lips protruding a bit, most inter-
estingly.
Torresdale, I suppose, could have seen
and described in worthy phrases how be-
witchingly the sott afternoon glow told
on her richly-colored complexion, and
how that background suited her, with the
fountain and its silvery ripples, and the
pergola with its fluttering leaves beyond;
and beyond that the great thick bank of
dark, cool trees. It is a great accomplish-
ment to be able to use your head when
your heart is using you so hard. All I
could do was to stand there and gaze. It
was not until long afterward that I knew
she was dressed in white, and recalled
that I had never seen her so costumed be-
fore, and wanted in the future never to
see her otherwise. I actually dreaded
hearing the sound of her voice, for I had
heard it once already and knew how it
38
She stood, all in white
MY LOST DUCHESS
could upset me. I am getting old and find
it necessary to look out for my nerves.
This did not seem to last more than an
hour or so when suddenly I had a strange
feeling. "She is going to turn," I said to
myself, and she did turn. She did not
start, her eyes merely laid hold of mine
and held them. My gaze reverently
bowed down to the ground before her.
Then the voice began, "I should
think," she remarked unexcitedly,
swinging her hat and the tingling qual-
ity was even more potent than when she
addressed me in the Park "I should
think you would be rather ashamed." A
pause. Still looking at me and swinging
her sunbonnet, "How long were you
going to keep it up 4 ?" She seemed rather
put out about it.
But I kept on gazing at the ground.
Here at last was the one of all the world
standing before me by a silvery fountain
41
MY LOST DUCHESS
in the fragrant twilight, with all the rest
of mankind a million miles away a
thing to dream of, and I said nothing,
The voice went. on.
"Do you think it manly, do you think
it thoughtful, do you think it kind?"
Perceiving that she was merely having
tun with me I managed to say: "I was
really trying very hard to call your at-
tention
"Oh, you were?'' she asked sarcas-
tically.
" but as it happened I could n't
speak just then.''
"How strange!'' she remarked. "Why
not?"
"Besides," I went on, ignoring her
question, "I did not know how anxious
you were to have me speak to you judg-
ing from a former experience."
She shot a look at me. "I 'm not anxious
to have you stare at me," she returned.
42
MY LOST DUCHESS
"I merely came to deliver a message,"
I said.
"Pray do so then. Can't you see how
embarrassing this is to me?"
Her lips were quite grave as she said
this but a dancing light in her wondrous
eyes showed how embarrassed she was
with me before her at her mercy.
"But the message was not for you," I
said. "It was for a little French girl."
"A little French girl?"
"Mrs. Ogden said I should find
'Mademoiselle' down here some place.
Have you seen any Mademoiselles wan-
dering about the premises?" I inquired
gravely.
"I am Mademoiselle," she said.
"You?" I exclaimed. "I thought you
were a duchess."
"No," she said, "a governess."
"Oh," said I, while she hurried on past
me with a curious smile on her face.
43
X
mi; others were out on the wa-
ter in the moonlight, but.
Mademoiselle and I were on
the terrace.
I was smoking and she was counting
falling stars, and did not seem to con-
sider me worth while talking to.
"I am sorry, but I do not know what
your name is/' said I, breaking into the
silence. '"I could not hear it."
She turned and looked at me qui/-
'/ically. "They call me 'Mademoiselle,'
she said, continuing to look at me in her
reposeful way.
"I know that, but what shall I call
you?" I said, smiling.
"Mademoiselle."
She turned away and looked out
44
MY LOST DUCHESS
over the water, the million-miles-away
look.
"Mademoiselle," I began. She kept
on looking out over the water and far
away for a little while longer, then she
slowly turned her face toward me with
an expression of calm, passive inquiry
the kind Torresdale used to call in his
earlier stories, "a look of well-bred in-
terest."
"I was just going to remark that it
seems rather odd our meeting out here,
after all. Don't you think so'?"
I had not said a word to her at dinner.
She was at the other end of the table and
seemed to lead the conversation, and to
be poking a little quiet fun at Lawrence,
who presently became aware of it, and
found the place she meant for him. Even
Mrs. Ogden seems to be rather in awe of
her new governess.
This governess now turned toward me,
45
MY LOST DUCHESS
and, looking gently perplexed, said,
"Odd?"
''After those little episodes on the
Avenue, it you happen to recall them,"
said I, flicking my cigar ashes.
"Episodes V" she asked. "On the Ave-
nue V Ah, to he sure, you are the kind
man who was so very obliging that day."
She looked at me with new interest.
"Thank you very, very much."
"I did n't mention it tor that reason,"
I returned, somewhat amused. ''Besides,
you amply repaid me by bowing to me the
next time we met." I looked at her and
smiled.
''Did I?" She looked back vaguely.
"Oh, yes; how stupid of me to torget."
"I don't consider it stupid," I said,
pausing. "But I felt sorry to be so soon
forgotten." Another, longer pause.
"Had it entirely left your memory?"
She turned toward me with the sort of
4 6
MY LOST DUCHESS
interest a kindergarten teacher might be-
stow upon a young charge. "I beg your
pardon you were saying ?"
I smiled and repeated my question. "I
was merely anxious to know whether it
had entirely left your memory?"
"No," she replied, with a period on
the end of the word. "There is another
falling star."
"By George!" said I to myself, "we '11
see about this I '11 make you pay some
attention to my remarks." I turned to
her gravely. "Would you mind very
much," I said, "if I ask how it happens
that you are not a duchess?"
"Because I have not married a duke,"
she said casually, as if accustomed to this
mistake, and not particularly impressed
by it, for she began to do something to
the pinnacle of her coiffure with both
hands, a captivating posture, her white
arms gleaming in the moonlight.
47
MY LOST DUCHESS
I have told 'you only what her
tingling voice said. Her manner said
with quite as tingling distinctness. "I
think you are rather an impertinent
person."
So I became quite flippant, and de-
termined to bowl her over. "But whv
ilon t you marry a duke V said I.
"I have never before seen so man}" tail-
ing stars at this time of the year. Have
you noticed them?" She turned toward
me, and, seeing my expression, suddenly
repeated: "I bc(j your pardon you were
saying "?"
"Oh, no matter," I replied. There was
a still longer pause; after this.
Suddenly becoming aware of my per-
sistent presence she assumed the kindly
kindergarten manner again, and. as if
saying to herself, "As long as this person
can talk only direct personalities, I sup-
pose I must humor him" "You are a
MY LOST DUCHESS
barrister, are you not'?" she asked me
kindly.
"We call them lawyers in this coun-
try," I said.
"I suppose you get not a little amuse-
ment out of your work"?" She was pa-
tronizing me.
"More amusement than money," I re-
plied.
Her manner was distinctly more gra-
cious now, and yet a little bantering.
"Do you hurry down to the city with an
important scowl, and come home with a
tired sigh like most of your kind"?"
"I go through all the motions," said
I.
She laughed at this and looked down
at me with some degree of interest. I
was sitting at her feet, and thinking that
her mouth when she laughed was about
the most charming mouth I had ever seen.
"I believe you are beginning to like me
49
MY LOST DUCHESS
a little better," I said humbly, looking
up at her.
"Quite so," she said calmly.
''Would you eonsider it very imperti-
nent in me to ask who you are and where
}'ou eame from?" I asked respectfully.
''No," with another tailing inflection,
as graceful but as cold as a falling star.
"Who are you"?"
"The governess."
"Do you come from England?'"
"No."
A pause.
"Why do they call you Mademoi-
selle"?"
"I asked them to do so."
"A good reason; but why Mademoi-
selle?"
"I began the work in France. It is a
convenient title."
"Do you like your work?"
"I like the Ogdens."
50
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Are n't they lovely? Have you
known them long?"
"They are indeed lovely." She ig-
nored the rest. She evidently thought /
was patronizing licr, or trying to.
"I suppose," said I, "you do all this
sort of thing because it is an interesting
diversion, do you not?"
"I do 'all this sort of thing,' " she re-
plied, "for the same reason that you
practise law, presumably, though you
seem to enjoy cross-examination for its
own sake, do you not?" With that she
arose, tall and disdainful, and I came to
myself.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," I cried,
springing up; "I did not realize how im-
pertinent it must seem to you. I know
we have just met but it is simply that
I have happened to see a good deal of
you since you came to town, though I
don't propose to tell you where or how."
MY LOST DUCHESS
She was still rather disdainful there in
the shadow, but I thought she seemed a
little interested in this.
"The fact is. I have been seeing you
sometimes three days in succession !
What is more I have sometimes even been
on the watch for you, because, you see, I
had fallen into the habit of seeing you.
and missed you when you did n't come.
I could not help wondering where you
were, and what had happened to you.
You don't mind that, do you?''
She said nothing, but at least she did
not go.
"At any rate, I could not help it, even
if you did mind it," I went on, "any
more than I could help wondering who
you were and what it would be like to
know you, and how your voice would
sound, and whether you would be will-
ing to talk to me if we ever met. I
did n't want to meet you not a bit of it.
52
MY LOST DUCHESS
Because every time I have rushed around
to get introduced to any of you I have al-
ways been disappointed in you. But
when at last pretty suddenly this after-
noon you appeared! why you must ad-
mit that naturally I wanted to get the
answers to some of those questions I had
been asking for months. You see how it
is now, don't you?"
Her only reply to this long speech of
mine was to gather a little scarf she wore
about her shoulders and step back
through the open window into the li-
brary.
"All right!" thought I, "go in and
shut me out," and aloud I said, "I bid
you good-night," bowing formally to-
ward the indefinite dimness.
Then she spoke from the dark interior
of the room, her voice sounding timid and
tremulous, I thought.
"Am I another?" she asked.
53
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Another V" I repeated, perplexed.
disappointment?"
"Not yet," I said.
"Then I have that mueh to be thank-
ful for, have n't IV" she replied in a tone 1
which left no doubt that she was having
tun with me.
But she leaned out and gave my hand
a charmingly frank shake.
''Good-by, Mr. Nicholas Brooks.
After this, shun club windows."
XI
ER name is Hulda and she is
studying to be an actress. I
should think but little study
were required. I don't fancy
the idea of her going on the stage, but
Torresdale says that this shows her to be
a girl of spirit.
"The trouble with you," he said, "is
your mid-Victorian ideals." Then he
went on: "We all have something to do
here on this earth, or else we would n't
be on it. Every one ought to seek his or
her work live his own life realize his
own individuality."
As it happens, she does not find much
chance to realize her own individuality
at present. When they were in town she
managed to slip off for an hour or two
55
MY LOST DUCHESS
(very clay. Torresdale says. (So now I
know where she had been and what she
was thinking about when T used to watch
her walking buoyantly past the club win-
dow.) But since they went, to the coun-
try she has n't had a chance to take a single
lesson, though I presume she practises in
her room, in front of the mirror. Torn
and I think she ought to come into town
for the purpose about once a week, at
least. But he explained that such an ar-
rangement would involve telling Mrs.
Ogden, who is an old friend of Made-
moiselle's father, who does not approve
of his daughter's ambition. Mrs. Ogden
would also doubtless disapprove, and the
least she would do would be to tell Mr.
Rutherford Hulda's father. The worst
Mrs. Ogden might do would be. to get
another governess, and in that case we
don't know how Mademoiselle could at-
tain her ambition. Her father won't, help
56
MY LOST DUCHESS
her. On the contrary, quite the reverse.
Moreover, there is a second Mrs. Ruther-
ford. Hence there is also a new gov-
erness in the world.
Only, she is n't really a governess; she
is a tutor to Constance's little sister
Edith. "Why does she insist upon call-
ing herself a governess, then*?" I asked
Torresdale.
"I have an idea," said Torresdale,
"that it is because above all she is femi-
nine. The term 'tutor' connotes eye-
glasses and strenuosity imagine her
with either unfeminine adjunct." He
talks for hours in a most remarkable way.
I suppose he does appreciate people bet-
ter when he has phrases for them.
So the young girl sometimes with her
on the Avenue was little Edith Ogden !
It seems odd I never recognized the child
as she passed the club window. ("You
never looked at her," said Torry.) I 've
57
MY LOST DUCHESS
gone over the links with her frequently,
and she is a splendid little girl golfer.
Mademoiselle was a classmate of
Constance's at college or rather, I
should say Constance was a classmate ot
hers, for she was one of those epoch-mak-
ing Athenes at college who rule and are
worshiped by all, and whose colleagues
boast of having been there during their
reign. Hero-worship! It 's nothing to
heroine-worship !
At college she acted Rosalind under ttie
trees, and before that she acted with
striking success at the convent in France.
Torry says that acting is only one of her
stunts. I now recall having heard ot her
by reputation. Constance used to boast
of rooming in the same entry, and some
girls I know once got hold of a photo-
graph of their goddess, daringly had it
reproduced and distributed among the
under-classmen women, girls, under-
58
MY LOST DUCHESS
class ladies, whatever do you call them 1 ?
in this way a worthy student who was
helping to meet her own expenses made a
lot of money. My astral notion of hav-
ing seen her in a previous existence, by
the way, is reduceable to a rather poor
Pach photograph of her which Constance
once, when visiting my sister, showed me,
somewhat ostentatiously turning it over
so I could see the autograph on the back.
But I was a mere boy then and only took
a patriarchal interest in her enthusiasm.
The main point about all this is that she
cannot possibly be more than twenty-
five, in spite of her superior attitude and
kindergarten manner.
"Just how old is your fascinating
friend 1 ?" I asked Constance the other
day.
She looked at me a moment as if say-
ing, "Et tu Nickie'?" and replied with a
little laugh: "She and I, Nick, are old
59
MY LOST DUCHESS
enough not to like people to know how
old we are." Constance has a charming
precision in her intonations.
"She 's not much younger than you, is
she?"
So straightway Constance answered,
without laughing this time: "She 's not
younger at all ; she 's older than I a lit-
tle."
I have not been out to the Ogdens'
again, though Torry has. Mrs. Ogden
said she wanted me in August, but the
month is nearly over now. In short T
have not seen their governess again since;
the occasion of her warning me against,
club windows. At times when T have;
nothing better to do, T confess, I glance
out of the window, probably from force
of habit.
It is a dreary sight, the Avenue in Au-
gust, when every one is away and the
asphalt becomes oo7y and odorous, and
60
MY LOST DUCHESS
people of a sort seldom seen at any other
time take possession of the shops and
restaurants in such numbers and with
such bold assurance that the few lawful
rulers on the scene are made to feel
strange and out of place themselves.
"Our city leads a dual life," says Torres-
dale, "and summer is the brief but shame-
less season of the Other One."
Oh, where are the girls of yesterday?
Having a "perfectly lovely time," I trust,
wherever you are; becoming richly tanned
against the day of your glorious return in
the autumn, when, with a fine brisk
breeze that makes the flags stand out
straight, you will suddenly rejoin the
ranks of the walking up-town club to
gladden the Avenue and me with a
guileless smile as if you had never de-
serted us at all. I '11 be there to welcome
you.
We miss you very much. If it
61
MY LOST DUCHESS
were n't tor an occasional trip to town
for shopping or a dentist's appointment,
or an interest ing transit from railroad to
steamship (with steamer rugs and trunks
crowding the driver off the box). I don't
see how we could last out from one
week's end to another. Sunday is such a
blessed relict. Then we go to the coun-
try, too. tor a glad time ot it, and back
to work again on dreary Monday morn-
ing.
Yes, I have thought it over very calmly
now for two months, and have decided
that the charm is gone. She, alas, has
proved "another one," atter all. T knew
it would happen it I met her. I 'm sure
I did all I could to prevent that catas-
trophe. I can picture her to myselt with-
out becoming in the least excited. In
fact, T often do picture her to myself in
all her once fascinating phases.
Ah, well, perhaps it is better that it
62
MY LOST DUCHESS
should have died a peaceful, natural
death than from one of those violent dis-
illusionments by which in times past I
lost so many of her predecessors. I re-
call a certain brown and red girl her
name has escaped me with whom I
golfed one day in Westchester County
I don't recall the place. I adored her all
morning, but in the afternoon she forgot
her handkerchief and sniffed three times.
But I try not to look like a man with a
great sorrow as I walk up the Avenue aim-
lessly.
So it is all over and done for. Even if
sitting here at the window I should see
her
Great heavens ! But it 's impossible !
But there she is see how she walks ! Be-
hold the notable arch of the brows ! Con-
sider the poise of her swinging body,
walking as though it were no, now that
she is nearer she seems not so buoyantly
63
MY LOST DUCHESS
as of old. There 's a tender line of
trouble on her face. And why is she on
the other side ot the street '<* This is most
extraordinary. I wish I could find out.
But there, she is <j;one. She ou^ht not to
hurry so on a hot day. Confound her!
"You will please tell Mr. Torresdale
when he comes in that I have stepped out
for a moment, but will be back in time to
dine with him."
XII
i HERE were very few people on
the sunny side of the Ave-
nue, no one she knew was in
sight, so she thought and,
by heavens, she was putting a handker-
chief to her eyes every half minute. I
did not wait to reach the next corner;
quickly hurrying across I ran up behind
her but stopped there. What business
was it of mine, after all'? Being
a girl of spirit she would hate, of all
things, to be caught crying, and thus
I should only add to her discom-
fiture. So I followed at a distance
for almost half a block. Suddenly she
began to walk faster and held herself
very straight and stiff as though indig-
nant. I, too, walked fast. She looked
65
MY LOST DUCHESS
splendid in her wrath. Again the over-
worked handkerchief came into play
the poor bit ot a wet tiling, it pi( > rced me
to the heart. Three long strides brought
me to her side.
"May I not offer you in hie V" I said,
holding out a fre>h handkerchief sympa-
thetically. "It 's so much bigger. Ah,
do." I found myself saying in the mo.-t
matter-of-fact way, as if it were a cup of
tea.
She averted her face, .-baking her head.
"I have another, you know." said I
affably. ''I always carry two in weather
like this. That 's why I am able to offer
you a nice fresh, folded-up one, you see/'
She only made a sobbing sound and
kept her face averted.
"I 'm afraid yours won't last much
longer," I said sympathetically, walking
now beside her.
She turned and looked at me with that
66
MY LOST DUCHESS
notable directness of hers. I looked back
at her, my brows still knit, and looking
as serious and solicitous as possible. Sud-
denly she burst out laughing. As she
did so one rather huge tear spilt over the
edge and rolled down her cheek and
dropped off to the walk and was lost on
Fifth Avenue.
Thus we two on this hot August after-
noon went marching up the Avenue,
laughing and looking at each other. We
were passing that long, uniform row of
stone dwellings which somehow suggests
Paris, especially as you approach the
wide asphalt spaciousness of the Plaza,
but we were n't thinking about that for
the moment.
We became much better friends while
we were laughing together. Realizing
at last that we w r ere on the hotter side of
the Avenue we crossed over to the smug
row of trees which line the Park.
MY LOST DUCHESS
"All right now?" I asked solic'itously
as we dodged a Presbyterian Ilo-pira!
ambulance alter sonic [)oor devil over-
''All right now." she .-aid in the nicest
way. "You see I don't need any hand-
kerchief no\\' at ail." She turned h< r
eyes full u[)on me, beaming kindly: "''lint
I thank you ju>t as nuieh tor yours," .-lie
added.
"I do see." said I. deliberately. L 'T am
so ^lad." F added, and kept on looking.
She shitted her ^a/.e as though she
thought she had let me look in Ion;.:
enough.
"You came just in time," she said
lightly.
"DiclT"? How so?"
"You saved my lite. I 've had t he-
most dreadful experience!"
"Really!" said I sympathetically;
"any more beggars V
68
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Worse, much worse."
"It must have been before you passed
the that is, before I happened to pass
you on my walk."
"At his office," she replied.
"Oh, at his office," I said vaguely, but
she did not seem to observe it, becoming
reminiscently excited all over again.
"Good-by," she added suddenly. "See
where we are ! I must go back and take
my train and you must take your walk.
Thank you so much."
We were opposite the Ogdens' house
and I suppose the sight of the dreary,
boarded-up entrance and blank, waiting
windows reminded her. She turned
about.
I also turned about. "Would you
mind my going with you?" I asked, and
she let me.
"May I ask how you happened to get
into his office?" I went on.
MY LOST DUCHESS
''By appointment." she said.
"Oh, I see/' said I.
"He told me to come again in Au-
gust."
"Why Aupist?"
She looked at me quizzically.
"Good-by." she said jocularly. "I
merely want to say good-by to you in ad-
vance, before T tell you about it; because,
after I tell you about it you won't like
me!" She looked extremely grieved
about it.
"Proceed," said T.
"You are of the sort who cannot under-
stand, and those who do not understand
life is too short, to explain yourself to
every one."
"All right," said I, knowing now what
she referred to, but pretending I did n't.
"Good-by," she said again.
"Nonsense," said I.
"I am studying for the stage."
70
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Fine!" I shouted it so loud that I
awoke three babies in passing perambu-
lators.
She had stopped abruptly and was
looking at me. She had evidently ex-
pected a different answer.
"Really'?" she said. "I am sur-
prised."
"You see, you did not know me," said
I, shaking my head.
"I 'm afraid I did take you for a con-
ventionally-minded little man," she said,
dreamily.
"Not a bit of it," I replied emphat-
ically.
"I am so glad," she said. "And you
really like girls to become actresses'?"
"Bully!" said I.
"Girls you know 4 ?"
"We all have something to do here on
this earth," I said, "else we would not be
on it. Every one ought to seek his or her
71
MY LOST DUCHESS
work live his own lite rcali'/c his own
ndividuality."
She looked down the Avenue ahead of
i , smiling quietly.
"You and Mr. Torresdale seem to be
great friends,"' she <aid.
"We are. yrs. WhyV"
"Because, he Chares "/our views; (jiiotes
your very words, in fact."
"Perhaps they were his betore they be-
came mine." T acknowledged, laughing,
''but," I added .(juickh", "the}' 're mine
now, anyway! I had them hist."'
"That does n't matter." she said
kindly, as if really ^'lad I approved, "so
lonjj; as you really agree with me about
it."
"Well, don't I?" I said. "But how
about this brute who was disagreeable to
you V"
"He is not a brute he 's a theatrical
manager.''
MY LOST DUCHESS
"The same thing," said I.
Then she told me a good deal about it.
It was because she was all wrought up
and nervous after the experience and felt
the human necessity of talking to some
one, and I was lucky enough to turn up
at the right moment and be the one. It
gave me a delightful sense of intimacy.
She is not at all the confiding kind, this
self-contained young Duchess-governess.
"I tried during the previous season to
secure a small part even a thinking
part," she said, smiling. "I thought it
would be easy ("It ought to be," I
wanted to say, but suppressed it), but
none of them seemed to have anything
for me, not even the littlest bit of a
part."
("Those were the days she looked so
thoughtful and serious as she walked up-
town," I smiled to myself.)
"But they all told me that they might
73
MY LOST DUCHESS
be able to do something for me if I tried
it again in August. That was the best
time, they said ; when the}- were making
up companies for the new productions,"
she added. "Some of them were rather
nice to me about it. This is August," she
said rather pathetically, and opened her
hands, sighing.
"Don't drop your handkerchief," said
I. It was quite dry by this time.
"I would not have minded it so much
if it had happened earlier in the day, but
this was the last place I tried, and they
had in most cases kept me waiting a very
long time. 'It 's like a servants' em-
ployment agency,' I remarked to an
actress waiting in the chair next, to mine.
'Yes,' she said, 'except that we are n't
so independent.' I liked her for that, and
we became quite friendly. She had once
been something of a success, it seems, but
had made the fatal mistake."
74
MY LOST DUCHESS
"What 's that?" said I.
"She married."
"Is that a mistake?"
"Naturally; and now her husband 's
dead and she has two children to support.
She had such a kind, patient face."
The Duchess paused, and I thought,
"Tell her to keep out of it," but I did not
dare.
"Some of the managers remembered
me and some did not," she resumed.
I doubted that, but as she was sighing
in the most interesting way, I did not in-
terrupt her.
"None of them had anything to offer."
"Not even a thinking part?" said I
sympathetically.
"Not even a thinking part."
"Too bad," said I aloud. ("Glad of
it," I added to myself.)
"Finally, when I came to this last
place I did not want to go there very
75
MY LOST Dl CIIKSS
much, but I had to." she added, smiling
at me; "I knocked on the door: 'Come
in/ shouted a loud voice from within. I
waited. 'Damn \ou. stay out then.'
expected to set' him wither, lint he did
not. His coat and wai.-tcoat were off.
his hat was on and a man was buttoning
his boots. He glanced up and he
did n't take his cigar out ot his mouth
'Why did n't you come in when I told
you toV He did not rise nor apologize
tor the other omissions or anything.
Was n't it a good joke on meV"
"A joke!" I cried, raging.
"I replied to the manager, cuttingly.
'T thought possibly you were not pre-
pared to receive women callers, but I see
MY LOST DUCHESS
my mistake,' though that did not seem
to affect him at all. 'What d' you
want"?' was all he said. 'An engage-
ment,' I replied. 'Thought so. What
ran you do"?' he asked, staring at me as
though I were rather impudent. 'All
sorts of things in legitimate,' I said.
'What have you had most experience
in"?' 'Nothing.' 'Thought so.' Then I
fold him what I had done in amateur
acting, very foolishly, and how I had
been studying all winter. But he inter-
rupted me with a laugh. 'Can't do any-
thing for you to-day.' 'Might I in-
quire,' said I, 'if you think it possible to
give me a chance later?' 'Nope, proba-
bly not.' 'But you said last winter,' I
insisted 'We 're full up, that 's all,'
he growled and turned aside."
"Did he say that to you?" I asked,
searchingly.
77
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Indeed he did."
"In that tone of voice?"
"'Only worse."
"What is his name and address?"
"What are you going to do?"
"'What am I going to do! Remember
the beggar?"
"Yes, I saw you from the corner."
"Well, that, 's what. I mean to
do."
"Really?" she asked, looking up at
me.
"Natural!}", " I growled, looking down
at her.
"How nice!" she said.
"His name, please? It 's getting late.
He ma}' leave, his ollice."
"But of course you must n't think of
anything of the sort," she added.
"Who 's doing this?" I replied.
"I am very much obliged to you, but
it would never do," she said.
78
MY LOST DUCHESS
"But how can I make him apologize
otherwise?" I asked.
"No, you might be arrested."
"Not until after I have finished."
"But suppose it all came out in the
papers'?"
"I don't care."
"I do. My name would be men-
tioned."
"Well, then," I said, "I '11 just go and
quietly kick him about a while without
saying why."
But she only shook her head unrea-
sonably. "Not to-day," she said.
"You 're very inconsiderate," I said.
"Why not?"
"Because I should n't like it if you
were arrested. Good-by," she added, for
we had reached the station, I suddenly
discovered; and here was the usual after-
noon rabble of scowling, perspiring com-
muters.
79
MY LOST DUCHESS
"^ on have a provoking h,;il)if of say-
ing good-by," I remarked, still irritated.
"Good-by," she said. "Please don't
come any farther. Thank you for your
sympathy." And she hurried aeross to
write; a telegram.
80
XIII
, ox FOUND my sympathy,"
though r I, for my talk was
not finished, and I hate to do
things by halves.
I watched her writing a telegram, pre-
sumably to the Ogden stables to meet her
on this later train, and I dashed across
the room, bought a round-trip ticket, re-
turned to the telegraph place and wrote
one myself to Torresdale before she had
finished figuring out ten words on her
fingers. Mine was a long one, but it was
important, and I had n't time to be eco-
nomical : "Sorry unavoidably delayed
important business meet you on roof in
time for coffee."
"Oh," she said, looking up, "I
thought you had gone."
8l
MY LOST DUCHESS
''Gone no," I said, "hut I am going
with you. I mean, if you Ml let me.
Will you?"
She only looked at me.
"I find I '11 have to take a trip out your
way."
Her eyebrows shot up.
"If you don't believe it." I declared,
"read this telegram."
"How nice," she said.
"You won't mind if I go on your
train, will you? I '11 sit in another seat,
if you are tired of talking to me."
"How nice that you can come on the
same train," she said, and we passed
through the gate together. I sat down
beside her in the car, thinking it was go-
ing to be nice, and it. was n't at all. I
suppose she had something on her mind
or else the psychological moment was
past; it had lasted over an hour al-
ready.
82
MY LOST DUCHESS
At Liny rate, the trip was an anti-
climax. She was distrait, and became
more and more cold and oblivious of me
the nearer we approached the end of our
journey. I wonder if the nearness to the
atmosphere of the terrace recalled the
old cold, moonlight mood. Possibly it
was the natural reaction from emotion
and from telling me all about it. Maybe
it was some other peculiar feminine psy-
chological stunt, but the harder I tried
to make her comfortable and happy, the
more she drew away as if she hated me
for having seen her cry, though it. was n't
my fault, and I did n't mean any harm
at all.
"We 're almost there," she said, with a
sigh of relief.
"Almost," said I, with a sigh.
"Here begins the old daily grind once
more." We were rounding the bend in
the road. "I hate it I hate it I hate
8 3
MY LOST DUCHESS
it," .-.he said, as the air-brakes were
clapped on.
"Why. I thought they were >o nice to
you!'' I said in surprise.
"No one could be nicer."
"They all swear bv you."
"Yes. They intrust me with their
lives, their fortune-, and their love at-
tairs. But would you enjoy selling pea-
nuts when }'ou want to practi.-e law?"
\\ T C arose to go. "It depends upon the
price," said I.
"At an}' price," she murmured as she
touched my hand (with two fingers) to
get off the car.
"There are worse things than selling
peanuts/' I remarked senrentiouslv us we
crossed the platform toward the wagon-
ette.
She began to laugh quietly and turned
her wondrous eyes upon me. "As it I
did not know all the time," she whis-
MY LOST DUCHESS
pered as I helped her into the wagorrette
"that you would disapprove of any
girl's 'going on the stage,' as people call
it."
"Oh," I protested, "but"
"Ready, James." Then she turned to
me "But it was so nice of you to pre-
tend all the same. Good-by." Then she
was off, nodding and smiling back at me.
XIV
oRRr.sDAi.i-: was looking at the
moon when I reached him
on the club root-garden.
''Business all finished'! 1 "
asked Torry when I had completed my
rather elaborate apology.
"Oh, yes," said T.
"Then it 's time tor pleasure," he said,
ringing the bell tor a waiter to take my
order. I stretched out in my chair with
the comfortable sigh of a hard-working
man and looked up at the stars overhead.
That is one of the things that we all
ought to do more often in lite. I under-
stand, and though the}" were not much
in the way of stars through the lur/.e of
the city, still they were not so bad as a
contrast with the signs of the city far
86
MY LOST DUCHESS
down below us. The moon was there,
too, and it was nearly full.
"My boy, you work too long," said
Torresdale. "Were you working yery
hard?"
"Part of the time it was hard work."
"Hum," said he, "not when I saw
you."
"You saw me?"
"Across the street. I happened to be
up-stairs in the magay.ine room standing
by the window. My dear fellow, not a
word; you can haye me to dine with you
any time. I would have done exactly the
same thing in your case. Moreover," he
added casually, "you would have con-
fessed it to me eventually. I know you
better than you know yourself; you are
the poorest liar I have ever known."
Roof-gardens are not put down as very
poetic places, but. there is a romantic
charm about them to me. The roar of
MY LOST DI T CHKSS
the citv came up to us in our eery seclu-
sion with a rumbling, tar-away note.
We were quite alone in the southeast
corner ot the' root, seated in comfortable
outdoor chairs with our teet braced
against the granite coping tliat walls us
in so that we need not tee! as it about to
tall out upon the Avenue. Behind us.
near the elevator entrance, somebody was
playing shuffle-board. Otherwise it was
quiet, and troni where we sat we could
see nothing urban on our horr/.on above
the coping except a tew church spires,
and. it we turned, a couple ot tall hotels
to the north, which elbowed their way up
above the other neighboring buildings
and intrusively looked down over our pri-
vate garden wall quite in the manner of
smart hotels.
Our voices had the thin, out-of-door
quality, and the air was cool and clean
away up there, and the moon was just as
88
MY LOST DUCHESS
good as if it were on a terrace in the coun-
try. In fact it was quite like being in
the country, except that there were no
mosquitos. I looked down from the
moon and found Torresdale gazing at me
quizzically.
"Is n't she delicious?" said Torres-
dale.
"Who?' said I.
"For a governess," Torresdale added.
I played with the syphon. I did not
feel like hearing him dissect her charm
this evening; but Torresdale had dined,
was under the moon, and was with a man
who was amused by his command of
words and play of fancy usually.
"There is a subtle flavor about that
girl," he said, with cigarette smoke com-
ing out of nose and mouth, "a bouquet,
a delicate fragrance as of old wine which
one misses in so many of our modern
strappers with their brown and brawny
MY LOST DUCHESS
anus. It ought to appeal to your early-
Victorian sentimentality, Xick."
I intimated that. I did not care to dis-
cuss a lady in a club.
"Another Victorian ideal!" he
laughed; "you 're always in character,
always consistent. Did ^he ever show
you her eye-smile V he went on imper-
turbably.
I was drinking just then and did not
rep]\-.
'''She has the neatest trick of looking
very grave 1 around the mouth and yet
smiling palpably in the eyes. She must.
have 1 learned that when she was at school
in France. There, 's a Gallic quality in
it."
"What are you writing nowadays?"
said T.
"I 'd like to write about her, but"
he shrugged his shoulders "I know my
magnificent limitations. What in the
90
MY LOST DUCHESS
world was she talking to you so earnestly
about"?"
I did not see what business this was of
Torry's. "I am sorry," I replied, "but
the fact is, she told me in confidence."
"Really," said Torresdale, laughing
easily, "how very interesting. The pretty
governess," he went on glibly, "meets the
handsome young lawyer handsome and
brilliant, I should say, young lawyers
are always brilliant meets him by
appointment, evidently." He left a
pause for me to make a sign of contra-
diction or confirmation; I did not fill the
pause, so he went on : "They are seen
hurrying up the Avenue on a hot after-
noon in earnest conversation. The bril-
liant young lawyer cuts the dinner he had
invited his dear friend to. Query: 'Did
he dine with the pretty governess'?' '
I finished my drink and put down my
glass.
91
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Don't he an ass," I said.
''Yes. I fear you are another victim,"
lie rattled on. "Lawrence, is done tor.
lie has transferred all his devotion for
Miss ()u r den to Miss O^den's sister's gov-
erness.' 1
"Lawrence is a fool."
"Don't take him so hard. Nick; he 's
merely amusing and does not know it.
He can't help it; think of his handicaps."
"What can she see in him?" I asked
abruptly, and Torry laughed at me a^ain.
"Who can tell, who can tell." he
mused. "She is all things to all men."
"Are there so many of them?"
"Only as man}' as have visited Red
Hill." The Oldens are ^reat entertain-
ers. "Bill}- Ouirk is one of them. So is
Purviance. Lawrence's father is an-
other." Torry added.
"What, that old man with the white
mustache !"
92
MY LOST DUCHESS
"But he has pink cheeks," said Torres-
dale symbolically. ''Do you blame me
for being worried even about you"? Not
that it is so surprising to hear of the old
Colonel's capitulation, but when I ob-
served his son who well, Lawrence has
his points, but for the sake of argument
we '11 admit that he is a snob and she is
not an heiress, only a governess. Now,
you also have been devoted to Miss Og-
den, and you," he paused and smiled,
"are not a snob."
'Rot!" I growled.
"That means that you are still true to
the plump little heiress? Well, I 'm
glad to hear it. My mind is relieved."
My face was in the moonlight and I felt
him looking at me.
The picture of dear, gentle Constance
rose before me, all unconscious of being
discussed and of being called plump!
"Miss Ogden and I are better friends
93
MY LOST Dl CITKSS
than ever," said I with unnecessary em-
phasis.
"Ah! At last you Ve said something.
Atter all, the object ot speech is to ex-
press thought, not to conceal it, as some
ot you so-called 'reserved' people think
reserved because you don't know how to
talk. So she 's been telling you. too,
about her work, has she?" lie evidently
meant Miss Rutherford. "Just like a
girl, flatters each man into thinking he 's
her special confidant and adviser, then
tries to cover her tracks by exacting
secrecy from each one. I gave the Mad-
emoiselle credit tor having better head
than that. Did she tell you I was going
to write a play tor her some day V"
"No. she did not honor me to that ex-
tent," T replied, tor he rather amused me
with his assumption ot superior intimacy.
Perhaps I felt a bit provoked at her. too.
"Some day," he replied. ''First, how-
94
MY LOST DUCHESS
ever, she must get a job." I was unpleas
antly reminded of her own story of tht
actress who called it an employment
agency. "And I am going to get her one
if pulls can bring it. You 'ye got to
have a pull for everything, and every-
thing can be got by a pull. Most of you
people think that any woman with a
pretty face and a fine figure can walk
straight out of the drawing-room on to
the stage."
"Go to the devil," thought I.
"She has temperament, and, above all,
beauty; all she requires is hard work and
an opportunity, which I am going to get
her"
"Are you"?" said I.
although there 's a prejudice now-
adays against society girls."
"She 's not a 'society girl.' '
"She 's not of the profession, my boy.
They 're always 'recruits from society'
95
MY LOST D I : CHESS
when they 're not brought up in the pro-
fession. Oh, well, she '11 do some prat
tiling some day, Xick. The time will
come when we '11 boast of having known
that governess/''
"T do already." said I, not fancying
his patroni'/ing tone when applied to her.
''She does not seem to be very stage v as
yet," I added.
"Natural!}," said Torresdale with a
smile for my word "stage}-." ''She is not
one of your stage-struck 'young lad}' elo-
cutionists/ though people think she is be-
cause she is turning to the stage as
the medium best adapted to her talent
for interpreting life the inherent
beauty and grace and tenderness of liv-
ing as well as its little ironies. Hers is
an art impulse, but I don't suppose you
know what that means, though you prob-
ably think you do."
"Do you?" I asked.
96
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Only to a certain extent," he replied,
unruffled, and then went on with his sub-
ject. "She has excellent ideas. For in-
stance, she says that she has never seen on
the stage and this shows her good head;
I feared she would want to begin with
CiinitUc or A'Ln/chi! has never seen a
real American lady girl ot to-day. There
have been plenty of provincial ingenues,
and pseudo-cynical society women, so-
called ; there have been Daisy Millers and
M'lisses and Geraldines galore, but did
you ever see a genuine, wholesome, yet
fine-grained American girl like, for in-
stance," he turned to me "Constance
Ogden?"
"I had n't thought about it," said I.
"Frank, without being bold; humor-
ous without being cynical; and aristo-
cratic without being impressed by it
ah, there 's the girl."
I smoked and said nothing.
97
MY LOST DUCHESS
"After all, there is nothing like that
other 'inherent grace and dignity' which
conies of wealth and position, say what
we niav of certain other qualities in girls
who are not like Con.-tance. Xick. you
are a lucky man !''
"What do YOU want, anyhow?" said
T, scowling at him.
"Scotch and carbonic." lie replied,
placidly, "and then an open cab. I have
a long night's work ahead of me. Some-
times I envy you even-houred chaps who
lead normal lives,'' he .--aid. as we entered
the elevator, "who fall in love and marrv
and have families and become staid and
respectable and like other people. Let
me drive you down."
"Thank you," I said, "but T always
walk home to bed unless T ni above
Ninetieth Street/'
"That, 's right, that ? s right/' he said;
"good, simple, normal, exercising chap,
98
MY LOST DUCHESS
a man who sweats give me the man
who sweats. Good-night. That 's one
reason why I like you." And he drove
off, leaving a little air of mystery behind
him.
99
XV
IIAVK to report that I have
seen her again ( in a white
troek ). and that I am now
in the thick ot an emi>arra- ; -
smg mistake, and at a loss to kno\v how
to get out without making it more em-
barrassing.
Torresdale. it seems to me. has missed
his calling. He should have lived in a
former age sometimes I wish he had
so that he could have practised intrigue
at a French court, instead ot wasting \\].~
talents in petty affairs at Red Hi!:.
where we spent the week-end together.
At first I was at a loss to understand
what he was up to. but now I be ieve I
have the key to the little mystery. !
confess, I thought Torresdale man ot
100
MY LOST DUCHESS
the world enough not to play games of
this sort, but perhaps he sincerely be-
lieves he is doing me a good turn. For
during our talk on the roof I undoubtedly
led him to suppose (or did he deliber-
ately lead me to declare?) that I was
still interested in Miss Ogden as of
course I am and still immune from the
prevailing attack of "the pretty gover-
ness" as also I am. It is all very juve-
nile and absurd, but apparently he has
given Miss Rutherford to understand
that I am an ardent but helpless admirer
ot Miss Ogden; and as a good and glib
friend he has solicited her generous and
potent aid in my modest behalf with
the result that she gracefully but stead-
fastly kept out of my way for Constance's
sake, except for a few casual moments
here and there, which she eagerly devoted
to telling how fine and true and good
Miss Ogden was, which I knew already.
101
MY U)ST DUCHESS
It was not within my power to correct
the impression Torresdale had created,
without assuming an attitude toward
gentle Constance 1 which would have 1 been
brutally ungallant. So I could only
agree with all her stanch friend said,
and hope that the air would be cleared
before we left: but it only thickened.
This is always a most distasteful situa-
tion for a man, especially when it con-
cerns a girl one respects and admires as
much as I do Miss Ogden.
The worst of it is that I cannot bring
myself to protest against Torresdale's
possibly playful meddling in my affairs
because 1 , whatever nun be his game, he
apparently means well by me. T should
judge from what she said in the few mo-
ments I had her to myself that he had
spent most of the man}' hours Itc had her
to himself in dilating with many phrases
upon what a fine fellow T am!
102
MY LOST DUCHESS
The first thing she said to me when
my brief turn came at last even before
she launched forth on the other theme,
was '"'I wonder if you appreciate your
friend Air. Torresdale as much as he
does you !"
"I trust so," said I.
Her mouth was sober, but there was
that suggestion of a smile in her rather
remarkable eyes to which Torry had re-
ferred on the roof.
"And I wonder if you appreciate
yourself as much as he does." We were
all having tea between sets at the ten-
nis-courts, and she was seated at the end
of a marble bench there with an arm
thrown over the carved back. The
arm was in a thin white sleeve. I was
on the grass beside her. "Do you?"
she asked, swinging the suspended
arm.
"I trust so," I replied, thinking that I
103
MY LOST !)l C'lIKSS
appreciated her a good deal in that
posture.
"Did you know that he would do any-
thing in the world tor youV"
"Xo doubt, of it," I replied.
"And did you know that you would do
anything in the world tor liini?"
"Good ot him to say so,'' I answered,
wondering.
"Yes," she went on, somewhat de-
murely, I thought; "you are one ot The
'squarest' fellows he has ever known
one of the few friends worth having.
Did you reali/e that he had grappled you
with hooks of steel V"
"I knew that he was a great admirer
of" Stevenson's," I replied.
"And of yours!" she rejoined again,
with the sober mouth and her smiling
eyes. "Is it pleasant to be grappled with
hooks of steel "i? Does n't it ever hurt?"
"It 's the real thing," I said.
104
MY LOST DUCHESS
She paused a moment and remarked:
"I should think Mr. Torresdale must be
extremely fortunate to have such a
friend."
"You might try it and find out," I
suggested.
"What he particularly admires about
you," she went on, undeterred, and pre-
tending to be quite enthusiastic about it,
"is that you have no underbrush."
"Underbrush?"
"No superficial subtleties. Your at-
mosphere is not tinted."
"Really?" said I. "So glad my
atmosphere is n't tainted."
"No, tinted."
"Oh, tinted; well, go right on!"
"You are a vital, elemental person.
You have that rare thing nowadays
character. And, let me see oh, yes, you
have a nature as big and strong and
straight as your body, or something to
105
MY LOST DUCHESS
that effect." I was stretched out on the
grass, and she glanced down toward me.
"That makes it pretty big." she added.
"The last time I saw you,'" I inter-
rupted, regaining a sitting posture, "we
talked about \ou. Do you happen to
remember*?"
"All the more reason tor talking anout
something bigger and more important this
time."
"I enjoyed it," I demurred.
"Enjoyed which ?"
"The other subject."
"You know you like this one all men
do." And I did a little, but I had had
enough.
"Did you know you were all that?"
she asked.
"Did n't you?"
"That is n't half of it," she answered,
"only I 've forgotten the rest."
"Very well, suppose we let it go at
106
MY LOST DUCHESS
that. I am a wonder. Now, how about
you?"
"Oh, yes, I recall : you have a clear
head, a logical mind, and need only to
be awakened to find yourself and become
an ornament to your profession. The
dear! Is n't she wonderful?"
The governess had suddenly turned
and was now ga/ing with unrestrained
admiration at Constance, who at that
moment was dispensing tea with the
gentle dignity we all admire in her. She
made a cool and pleasant picture there
with the silver and white of the table
against the deep green foliage beyond.
"That is the way with everything she
does," said Mademoiselle; "she makes it
seem so gracious and right."
I agreed with all she said and did not
try to change the subject, for it seemed so
unkind to do so, though this did not hap-
pen to be what I wanted to talk about
107
MY LOST DUCHESS
just then. My silence, however, she evi-
dently construechis reticence, tor her earn-
estness tell away and she stopped with
a knowing smile.
"I don't see why you smile." I re-
marked.
''Oh, I 'm not smiling at her I 'm
smiling at you." And she continued to
do so. "There is nothing very subtle
about you, is there?" and looked upon me
with qui'/y.ical amusement, reminding me
of the look I have seen girls bestow upon
men announcing their engagements.
There always seems to be a jeer in that
look.
But not a word did she say to me
about her work or herself though I
later overheard her talking earnestly with
Torry about both. T suppose from the
temperament and training he can better
understand each of these interesting sub-
jects. One afternoon on the Avenue she
108
MY LOST DUCHESS
informed me that life was too short to
bother with those who did not under-
stand.
But I, too, should be interested to hear
as much as she might be willing to tell
me about the progress of her art, even
though I may be guilty of having a con-
ventional view of it. I should be very
glad to be of service to her, if she should
allow, for I want her to succeed in her
chosen career as much as I want her to
keep out of it. And this shows incident-
ally how absolutely objective my atti-
tude toward her is, for if I were senti-
mental about this girl, which I am not, I
would want her to fail. But I do not.
If I were in love with her I would put
obstacles in her path. But I do not. If
I were in love with her I would lose
appetite, lose sleep, lose interest in other
people. But I do not any of these things.
So I am immune. Therefore I can say
109
MY LOST DUCHESS
with perfect candor that I desired to see
more of her than she allowed, and that
Torresdale's complacent way of shunting
me off toward Constance and the other>
while he quietly monopoli'/.ed the gov-
erness rather got on my nerves. I par-
ticularly loath the type of man who
creates a vulgar scramble tor a girl. I
did n't think it of Torresdale. It seems
so bucolic. So T became more silent and
inert as the visit progressed.
110
XVI
was on the yacht the next
day that she said to me:
"Oh, men are so queer !' :
"A very original remark,"
I observed to myself, for I felt unac-
countably provoked with her, too.
"How so?" I asked, looking charmed at
her cleverness.
"Because they are either too con-
ceited," I followed her eyes across the
deck, and as I live and am a villain, I was
glad to see Torresdale there "or else,"
she went on, turning her eyes toward
me, "or else they are too modest."
"I don't see how I can be that after all
you told me about myself."
"Who said I meant you? That
clearly puts you in the other class."
ill
MY LOST DUCHESS
"But,'' I said gravely, "vou did mean
me."
"Yes, T meant you," she said.
"But you are quite wrong. You see
now, don't you?''
"Not in all ways,'' she said, looking
across the deek again. This time I saw
Constance leaning forward in her deck
chair listening to the "interesting Mr.
Torresdale," as they call him. in the most
interested manner. Remembering my
mistake of the da}" before. I determined
this time not to keep silent.
"Is n't she complete?" I said to Miss
Rutherford. "Plow she looks her part!"
At first the governess laughed softly
to herself. "It. is hardly necessary," she
said, "to ask who you 're talking about."
She paused and added, "She is the won-
derfullest, the truest, the finest, and the
best," said Miss Rutherford; "and I
know girls pretty well, even if T
1 12
MY LOST DUCHESS
wish there were a word meaning coquetry
without suggesting a sentimental smirk
of the vintage of 18^0, then perhaps I
could tell you how she looked when she
added: "even if I don't understand
men."
"But don't you?" I asked. "I had an
idea that they were all easy to you; that
}ou just, gave them one look and knew
all about them."
"Not always," she said, and smiled in
a way to say, "You know what I mean
though you pretend you do not."
But I did not know and looked back
blankly.
"I did not understand you at first,"
she said, "and you, you know, are quite
elemental."
"Suppose you interpret," said I.
"The object of speech, as I take it, is to
express thought, not conceal it."
"Then why don't you?" she rejoined,
MY LOST DUCHESS
and with that cryptic- reply the ^ r ov-
erness, wlio sccnis to be the commodore
<>t this afternoon's cruise, took it into
her head to make a tack, to ju^le up the
members ot the ])arty in the quiet unos-
tentatious way some women have, with
the result that 1 found niyseli beside Con-
stance, and heard Torresdale addressing
Miss Rutherford in his ^ r lib manner:
"My dear Miss Rutherford, the days of
Galahads " the rest of it I did n't hear.
With men he 's a ^ood enough fellow, but
in a crowd of women he always throws
on a lot of unnecessary lu^s.
All the same I noticed that, the gov-
erness looked up at him with the most
charmed expression as though thinking.
"What a relief!"
"Is n't it nice when two very congenial
people, ^et together V" said Constance.
She talks very rapidly.
I turned and looked into her sweet,
114
MY LOST DUCHESS
gracious face. "Those two, I mean," she
said, and added, "I have been hearing
such pleasant things about you."
"Good heavens, more!' thought I.
"Torry is an awfully fine fellow, too!"
I said, smiling.
"How in the world did you know it
was Mr. Torresdale?" Constance has a
charming puzzled expression; she is al-
ways so unconscious about it.
"Because it is just like him," I replied.
"Is n't if?" she exclaimed in her quick
way, though usually I must confess she
is not so enthusiastic as I am about
Torry.
"He is afraid, though, that you don't
take yourself seriously enough."
"How so?"
"Down-town, for instance."
"Oh, yes, I do besides, there would be
plenty of others to make up for my lack
of it, Constance."
115
MY LOST 1)1 CIIKSS
''^ ou must not he content with any-
thing but a very great succe'ss. I would
so like to sec -you do something, ^i ou
can."
"Somehow you always make me iecl as
though I could," 1 said I.
"Kvery one says you can," she replied
quickly.
''Just watch me hereafter," 1 answered
laughing.
"I will," she said. "I will see that
you don't take an}" more whole after-
noons to take us to luncheon, a< you did
the other day in town. That was very
wrong. But mother never reah/es
things, and I am afraid 1 forgot. I don't
know what we would do without Ilulda,
she is the general manager of the whole
family/ 1 Constance looked far across
the water at the lighthouse on the point.
"How do you like her. XickY" she added.
"Is n't she beautiful V"
I 16
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Yes, indeed."
''She admires you so much."
"Another? Oh, Lord! I am glad to
know that I am such a fine fellow."
"Site has been talking to me about
you," said Constance, ignoring my re-
mark. "She says you are true."
"I would like to be," I added, glancing
as I had been doing all through our talk
across the deck. '"Look at him. I am
afraid your governess is playing the devil
with Torresdale."
"He can take care of himself," she
said.
"I believe he does," I added.
"But somehow I like him better than
I ever did before," she said, and then,
quite abruptly for her, she turned and
ran to the pilot-house to say it was time
to go home for dinner. But I saw that
she was blushing and that she did not
want me to see it
117
MY LOST DUCHESS
I suppose she. too. is becoming inter-
ested in Mr. Torre-chile ami did n't want
me to micss it. But I did!
XVII
>T was Torresdale who told me
they were hack in town
again, and I was very glad
to know it as I had not seen
them tor a rather long time.
I had been off on my vacation which
did not come until the fall of the year
because the head of the firm was abroad,
and the upper underlings in the office
wanted their vacations first.
Torresdale invited me to dine with
him to celebrate my return, he said;
but that, was not the reason as I soon
saw. It was a good dinner. His dinners
always have distinction, even when com-
posed of the simplest courses. He once
told me that I was quite devoid of a gas-
tronomic instinct, but that he had hopes
119
MY LOST DUCHESS
of inculcating in my midst an adequate
standard of appreciation to go through
life with.
"''They have come back to town.,"
Torn' said, with the oysters, lie never
lets you have a cocktail, it he knows you
well enough to refuse. ''[ don't mind
the assault upon the stomach." he says,
''but I do object to the insult to the food
about to find its way there. My dinners
need no cocktail," he said, and added:
"The}- have come back."
"Who the oysters V" I asked, inno-
cently enough.
"The Ogdens," he said. "Please, tor
my sake, don't use Tobasco. That 's a
good fellow. Thank you."
"I had a great time up in Maine," I
said, and told him about it all through
dinner, which consisted of oysters,
clear soup, terrapin, canvasbacks with
browned hominy, celery salad, Camem-
120
MY LOST DUCHESS
bert and coffee. Champagne all the way
through, and that 's all.
But ! The oysters were all of one size
and color, thoroughly cooled all the way
through, but not half fro/en; the soup
had substance and distinction in its clar-
ity; the terrapin was specially prepared
tor him in a special way, and tasted like
terrapin rather than Maryland; the
ducks (which he said were not really can-
vasbacks, but redheads, though he would
not send them back it I did not object,
and I did n't) were cooked but nine min-
utes; the celery salad was made out of
only the most succulent parts of the stalks
(neither the hearts nor the greenish
ends) ; the cheese was ripe and inclined to
run; the coffee was made in a special pot
for him, dripped through I don't know
how many times; and the champagne was
'89 Veuve Cliquot where he found it I
don't know. There was no other wine,
121
MY LOST DUCHESS
not even Burgundy with the duck. Af-
ter dinner he gave me a little very old
brandy in a very big goblet.
You would be surprised if T told where'
this dinner was, because it is by no niean>
a well-known dining-place. We did not
go to the club because we wanted to talk
uninterruptedly. Tt was one of the older,
smaller hotels on the Avenue no longer
considered smart; a dignified if some-
what passe house whose apartments were
occupied mostly by flabby women, judg-
ing from the majority of the tables about
us. They ate listlessly and some ot them
read books between courses.
"I see why you brought me to this
joint," I whispered to Torn', indicating
a neighboring table.
"That is not the only reason," smiled
Torry recogni'/ing as T had done the fa-
miliar cover of one of his own books.
"To be read by vapid souls like that-
122
MY LOST DUCHESS
what a trade, what, a trade ! No, I
brought you to this quiet place
"So we should not be bothered by peo-
ple who know you'?" I suggested.
"I had n't thought of that," he replied.
"I like to be known, I like to be both-
ered. No, it was because at the popular
restaurants nowadays I rind that there
are so many other personal orders sent
down to the chef that, these things
could n't receive the delicate attention
they require to make them worth while.
Anybody can order a dinner; it is n't
what you send down, but what they
bring up, which makes or mars a dinner.
Like all other arts it takes complete ab-
sorption, the real personality of the
artist, to make not an apparent but a
real success. There are a surprising num-
ber of fairly excellent cooks in New York
with a real feeling for their work, plenty
for one city full of philistines, but the
123
MY LOST DICHKSS
trouble is to <j;et their excellence. Now
my old friend Leon, down-stairs, is a
true artist that is \vhy hr lost his job
at a Imp', hyphenated hotel: ];ke many
arti.-ts he lacks in executive, he could not
handle a bi^ cre\v of cheis. So he is eat-
ing; his h.eart out here cooking tor women.
Yes. any one with a memory can learn
ho\v to order a dinner, especially a simple
one like this, but so tew people can make
"Like this," I added.
''There is nothing original about this
dinner." he said. "The late Billy Flor-
ence, the actor, was ;,;'ood enough to in-
clude me at one ot his dinners once, years
ap). when \ was a tmnd undergraduate.
'I his was his order. Someho\\' everything
tasted better in those da)\s - but th.at 's
not Leon's tault. ^'ou will be ^,'lad to
see Constance apiin !"
I looked u[) quickly.
124
MY LOST DUCHESS
"I 've noticed," he added, "that you've
been cnr/y to ask about her all evening."
To be sure, I did want to see her very
much, but as it happened the Duchess
was in my mind at just that particular
moment. I suppose the mention of the
actor put her into my head.
"Nicholas, it is encouraging to see a
man of your age who can still blush
why close your mouth so tight? Let go,
tell me about it if you want to. What
are friends for?"
"The fact is," I replied, "I was going
to ask you about. is the governess still
with them?"
"Aha! My turn now no, I have for-
gotten how to blush, or surely I would
now. The governess oh, Nick, my
friend, prepare yourself for bad news."
"Well, what is it?"
"The governess," he began slowly,
looking at my eyes
125
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Yes, has she left?"
''Miss Rutherford" lie was exasper-
ating! y slow
"Gone on the stage?"
"Worse." He looked at me with
eunous intcntness. I telt a-^ it he
knew he was exasperating me and en-
joyed it.
"Mademoiselle'' he began slowly-
"lias done tor your poor old pal. I am
in love with the girl/'
I put down my glass.
"Are you?" I asked, and in that mo-
ment but not until then- I realr/.ed
that I, too. was in that blessed, cursed
condition.
"Madly," he replied.
"Good work," T answered, face-
tiously, but tried to make it sound
heart}-.
"From your tone 1 should judge you
had n't much hope tor me."
126
MY LOST DUCHESS
"But you have hope though, have n't
you?"
"Only a little. Do you wonder that. I
hesitated about speaking of it even to
you?"
I did n't know what to say or where to
look. Such confidences are always ex-
tremely embarrassing to me in any case,
but in this instance and with Torresdale
watching my eyes apparently not in the
least embarrassed I wanted to turn out
the lights and run away.
"You two suit each other very well," I
said, smiling foolishly and looking across
the room.
"I wish you 'd persuade her of that."
"Want me to try?" I asked jocu-
larly.
"You will?" he returned eagerly.
"You mean it?"
I was rather surprised at his taking me
up so suddenly.
127
MY LOST DUCHESS
''She believes in you." he went on:
"Nick, you arc the kind they trust." He-
was apparently quite serious now. and
had an earnest droop about the corners
of his mouth, which rather touched me.
Yet it seemed odd tor this ,vily man of
the world to be taking me into his con-
fidence, to be 1 intrusting me with his dear-
est interests; [ did n't know this sort, of
thing was done. But he was in love.
"Really"?" I said, thinking of many
things. ''I did n't suppose that I en-
tered into her existence 1 enough for her
to have opinions about me one way or
the other."
"She says that you ring true, are a real
person she agrees with me in that, and,
by the way, in nearly everything else T
say about you. Nick."
A flood of recollections came over me.
He had always been generous to me: had
praised me to her until it was almo.-t
128
MY LOST DUCHESS
ridiculous to her and to Constance.
Why was I hesitating?
"I '11 back you if you really wish me
to butt in," I said, laughing.
''Thanks, old chap," he replied, grip-
ping my hand, "I knew I could count on
you. But, see here, you must not give
me credit I don't deserve. In talking
about you I '11 confess I 've not confined
myselt exclusively to your virtues.
We 've discussed you pretty freely, old
man. You know how it is when one
gets to talking with those who speak
the same language about those whom it
cannot hurt."
I considered it a sign of the honesty
of the man underneath the affectations,
his making this admission, especially in
view of the delicate and rather absurd
act of friendship he seemed seriously to
expect of me. But I could not help won-
dering what she had said in discussing
129
MY LOST DUCHESS
me "pretty freely." I did not like to a.-k.
so I only said lightly. "You are more
honest than I am, Torresdale."
To which he replied. "But T am not
honest at all. you know. I don't even
pretend to be."
'"T do," said I. "and you 've beaten me
at my own ^,'ame."
"I can rely on you. Xiek." he an-
swered, and we said ^ood-night.
But, oh, such a nijjht!
130
XVIII
SHALL not describe that
night. There are ugly mo-
ments in every man's life
which he would like to veil
even from his own memory. But I will
say this, that it is rather startling, after
living for more than a quarter of a cen-
tury a pretty decent civilized century at
that, thinking tolerably well of yourself,
suddenly to wake up and discover that
after all you are a good deal of a savage.
All through that long, vivid night of hor-
ror maybe his vintage champagne or his
drip coffee had something to do with
making it more vivid I spent hour after
hour as the elevated trains throbbed past
down at the corner, picturing to myself
not in my dreams, I was never before so
9
MY LOST DUCHESS
wide awake pictured with lurid satis-
faction the pleasant process of strangling
Torresdale to death with my own capable
fingers.
But, oh, I love her so ! T love her, I
love her I keep saying it over and over
and over, as though to make up tor all
the time lost when I thought T did not
love her.
Sometimes T whisper it while hurrying
about on business down in the dark vor-
tex of Commerce. Those dimly-lighted
canons of the region of tall sky-scrapers
are rather different from the pastoral
valleys my boyhood's imagination had
pictured as the proper background tor
this sort ot thing. But T love her just as
much. Sometimes I say it aloud late at
night when no one is around and T have
trudged up the long, lonely Avenue to
ga/.e at her window. It is not a "case-
ment," and I am not kept from her by
132
MY LOST DUCHESS
a moat and drawbridge; but I love her
and I want her, and it hurts as much.
What a blind fool I was to think I did
not love her. All the while I suspected
that I did, but simply would not ac-
knowledge it even to myself, until the
trembling moment that I heard him say
that he did. Then I knew.
I can see him now as he said it. He
was smoking a cigarette, I remember,
leaning forward with both elbows on the
table, his heavy eyelids drooping and
under them his gaze fascinating me.
"Mademoiselle has done for your poor
old pal," he said. He blew out a cloud
of smoke and dropped his finished cigar-
ette in his discarded water glass in his
careless manner. "I am in love with the
girl," he sighed.
As I recall it, I emitted a foolish laugh
and made some inane reply. But it was
as if he had dropped a spark into a lake
133
MY LOST DUCHESS
of oil, and heaven help me out of this
now.
To wait until a better man conies
along, and that man your friend, who
confides his hopes to you. bespeaks your
aid then fall in love through jealous}'!
What a way to fall in love !
"Fall in love!" T had always thought
it signified a soft-sighing, blissful state:
rosebuds and moonlit terraces; congenial
banter and pretty speeches. I thought it
was a sentiment, I feared it was a fake.
But now I know.
He did not hesitate; he did not stop to
consider whether she measured up to
some impossible ideal he had been seek-
ing like a boy; he saw a glorious woman
there and straightway loved her, being
a man.
134
XIX
H, the sheer loveliness of her!
The sweetness and the radi-
ance ! The daz'/ling radi-
ance; the dancing, stinging
sweetness! Oh, the cool serenity of her
splendid presence; oh, the piercing, mad-
dening loveliness of her overwhelming
eyes!
But I can't help it; that 's the way I
go about all day long, down-town, up-
town, asleep and awake. I never thought
it would be like this.
And all this while I am working harder
than I ever worked before. It is the only
thing to do. Down-town they don't
know what to make of it. But it no
longer interests me to speculate on what
people think about me. Night comes, my
135
MY LOST DUCHESS
desk is closed \vith a bang, off go my
thoughts again, dragging my heart after
them. . . .
Not in m}' wildest moments had I
dreamed of receiving tor my own a gift
of suc'h immeasurablene.ss. The thought
ot loving her was too suffusing!}" daring.
At best I thought ! might, by some rare
good ehance, be so favored of the god-
as to happen along at a time of need to
punch a beggar or boot a theatrical man-
ager are about all I would lie good for
and so make her glad again as is her
birthright.
And so when another man, a man T
know and have supped with, ran in and
dared! . . . But he is less unworthy of
her than all of us other men who want
her; he comes as near deserving this as
any mere man could and I am to help
him win her!
Will she want him to win her"? I
136
MY LOST DUCHESS
should like to think not, but I fear she
will. If so yes! yes! I tell myself,
above all things, her happiness.
I tell myself I will help, but can I
make myself try? To fight for her would
be a joy, to die for her a privilege, but
to live for her thus! . . .
I had always believed I might be up to
playing the hero if the time should corae.
I remember hoping that it might come,
as boys will. Here it is upon me', and I
am shrinking like a coward.
But I gave my word to Torresdale, and
my work is cut out for me. I am to see
her this afternoon.
137
XX
ii A vi: seen her.
But great good did it do
Torresdale; though. God
knows, T tried hard enough.
I met with unexpected obstacles. Every
time I led skilful]}', as I thought up
to the subject, I found myself there all
alone ! She had flitted off elsewhere with
a guileless smile which made me wonder
why. Has Torresdale been making more
progress than he let me know? Has he
become too dear to her to endure the
mention of his name by me? Or is it
merely that she thought I was trying to
avoid a certain other subject? Certain
it is that every time I referred to Torres-
dale and I dragged in his hateful name
a do/en times s//c dragged in with the
138
MY LOST DUCHESS
kindest persistence and that most charm-
ingly objectionable smile the no longer
always welcome name of Constance.
Indeed, our talk sadly lacked the high,
heroic note I had so painfully planned to
insert. Perhaps it was her fault; she is
not a very serious person; she somehow
does not seem given to being renounced.
Perhaps it was all my fault in not choos-
ing the right time and place for renun-
ciation; the sparkling Avenue in the
frivolous twilight hour with the throb-
bing life of the city about us no place
surely for self-abnegation! I '11 do bet-
ter next time.
But witness that I made an honest
effort at least at the start. The very
first thing I said, when the door had
closed behind us and we were alone upon
the street, was calculated deftly to lead up
to the subject of my friend Torresdale.
"How does your stage work go*?" I
139
MY LOST 1)1 CHKSS
ventured, and braced myself tor the shock
that would come when she swung her
ga/.e around and up at me.
''Quite well, thank you," she said, and
looked away again to bow most gra-
ciously to some one passing. "Constance
tells me that you arc 1 doing tine 1 !}- down-
town. I am very glad."
"Glad, are you?" thought I to myself.
"I believe you have the most adorable
mouth in the world." Aloud I said:
"You have resumed your lessons with
What 's-his-name, the retired actor. Tor-
resdale tells me."
I observed her face 1 closely at the men-
tion of his name, but to me her face was
as inscrutable as it was beautiful, and
her answer was: "Yes. Constance says
you argued your first case in court the
other day. She and 1 agree that it is
good, your doing court work; so many
modern lawyers
140
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Have you seen any more managers'?
Torry thinks that you
"Constance also says
"Torry"
"Constance
Then we both laughed a moment, and
the carriages and people passed by us
two laughing together, as happened ages
ago in August. They were different peo-
ple then; so perhaps were we, but it was
the same laugh. There is so much to say
about this very human laugh of hers
(though this to be sure has nothing to
do with Torresdale). For instance, it is
one of those laughs which bring the
lashes almost together, leaving only a
little peeping place for the eyes to gleam
through merrily. At times a rare dimple
appears in one cheek which straightway
vanishes mysteriously, leaving the place
quite smooth again as if suddenly realiz-
ing that, after all, a dimple were a rather
H3
MY LOST DUCHESS
frivolous, incongruous thing for a girl
of her height. Strangely enough I can-
not recollect with certitude whether it is
the right or the left cheek. (\Yill make
note of this the next time it appears.)
Our laugh was soon over and I pro-
ceeded once more to the object of our
meeting but with a somewhat familiar
result.
"Suppose we take turns," she suggested
in the low-voiced way she does her jok-
ing, dropping her eyes instead of raising
them as most people do at such times.
"You first, 1 ' I said, realizing now that
her clothes were tawney brown, and hop-
ing she would always wear that dress
hereafter. But having led me away from
Torresdale, she shifted the subject to
something else, though T can't remember
what. I know that there was but one
subject' in my mind, and of it T could not
speak.
144
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Constance is going in for settlement
work this season," presently said Con-
stance's good friend, interrupting my
thoughts. "Is n't it just like the dear?"
"Who 's that? Oh, yes; yes, indeed,
quite like her."
She began laughing quietly as we
crossed a side street, a hansom-cab sud-
denly separating us.
"You were laughing back there," I
said.
"Yes."
"At me?"
"Oh, yes."
"Why?"
"Because I could n't help it."
"I 'm glad I 'm amusing."
"It 's always amusing. I 'm sorry, but
the funniness of it always appeals to
me."
I was silent for several steps, but in
this growing silence, keeping time to our
MY LOST DUCHESS
footsteps, there was a clamoring chorus
of "I love. you. T love YOU oh, ! love
you. I love you, I love you oh. I love
you."
Presently she spoke in a very nice.
sympathetic way, "Forgive me. Do! I
did not mean to be a jarring note."
Xot knowing how to answer T said
nothing. She came a little closer.
"Come, don't make me have such
bitter remorse. I 'm very, very sorrv
now."
T remained silent.
''T '11 never, never do it again."
To her T made no reply; to myself T
said: ''Look at the eyes, listen to this
pleading note! T must make the most of
it." T had forgotten there was a man
named Torresdale, and she, thank heav-
ens, had let up on Constance.
"You laughed at me, Miss Ruther-
ford!" I said in a hurt tone.
146
MY LOST DUCHESS
"But I '11 never, never do it any more,"
she pleaded in a childlike manner.
"Oh, yes, you will. You always laugh
at me. I ought to be used to it," and I
came near adding aloud: "If you don't
stop looking at me that way, I '11 shout
aloud and shock these passers-by who are
staring at you." I believe some young
woman I had seen before was passing;
she was dressed in gray, or something, but
I hardly noticed.
"But, incieed, believe me, I 'm most
sympathetic about it, and I 'd like so
much to be your friend only," she said,
looking very sad, "only you won't let
me."
"I don't think you really want to be
a friend of mine," I said soberly.
"Oh, but I do. You don't really know
me"
"That is true," I said accusingly;
"you are different every time I see you."
147
MY LOST DUCHESS
''Dear me!" she replied, "that 's such
an old, old thing to say to a girl."
"Because it 's so true." There were ^o
many old, old things I wanted to say to
her.
"Ton are very different, too," she re-
plied with conviction.
"Nonsense," I replied.
"And men have no right to be differ-
ent. Sometimes I am very much im-
pressed by you."
("Hear, hear!")
"I 'm almost afraid of you."
"Of me?"
"But for the most part-
"Yes?"
She hesitated. "For the most part?"
I said, leaning forward eagerly. We
were passing the brilliant rugs of an
oriental shop, I remember, and were quite
alone.
"For the most part, you seem about
148
MY LOST DUCHESS
eighteen," she concluded. Then added
suddenly as if remembering something.
"Yes, it 's just like Constance to want to
be useful on the East Side. She is so
good. It will be a great blow to a num-
ber of men, to be sure. But think how
they '11 adore her over there." We had
turned home again. "What do you
think of the idea? She has such a high
regard for your opinion."
"Fine idea," I said vaguely, and then
suddenly realizing that our walk was half
over and that I had done nothing for
Torresdale, I asked abruptly:
"Is n't Torry a bully chap?'
She made no answer.
"I tell you," I declared earnestly,
"he 's one of the best fellows in the
world."
No answer.
"You think so too, do you not?"
Miss Rutherford burst out laughing.
MY LOST DUCHESS
''Why do you laugh?" I asked sternly.
Then she laughed again. "So trans-
parent," she said.
"What do you mean?" I asked quickly.
"'Why did you change the subject from
Constance so abruptly"? Why have you
suddenly taken such vehement interest in
Mr. Torresdale?"
"But why did you suddenly begin talk-
ing about Constance"?" T asked accus-
ingly.
"Why did you avoid the subject?" she
retorted, smiling as it from a superior
height.
"And why do you avoid Torn'?"
"Avoid 'Torry?' ' she asked, per-
plexed. "Dear me. what an idea. Why
should T avoid a subject so congenial to
both of us?"
I have thought over tin's reply a long
time.
But she only smiled at irritating inter-
150
MY LOST DUCHESS
vals the rest of the way home, while I
trudged along at her side, trying unsuc-
cessfully to keep my gaze from her sweet
profile.
Not another word did I say about. Tor-
resdale, not one bit of good have I done
him.
Instead of trying to -make her care for
him I was only trying all the while to
discover whether or not she cared for him
already.
But surely that is something I should
know in order to have a working basis.
Therefore I made a point of seeing her
soon again.
XXI
[HAT do you mean by that?" I
asked, rising to take the cup
of tea she was good enough
to make for me. We were
in the library. I had ehosen an afternoon
when I knew 7 that Constance would be
making calls with her mother in order
that I might talk freely of Torresdale.
"That under your ingenu exterior you
have a depth!" she said, filling her own
cup, "a hidden depth which most people
know nothing about, would never dream
of even discriminating people like my-
self," she added, showing that she was
merely chaffing. She was in blue, and it
seemed strange to me that she did not
always wear blue.
MY LOST DUCHESS
"I have a hidden depth, have I?" I
was interested to hear that, I had a hid-
den depth.
"Yes," she said, smiling at me. "One
can't see the bottom of a muddy stream,
but that does not mean that it is very
deep, you know."
"I see," said I, "I 'm a clear one, am
I?" She leads the conversation as she
wills usually away from Torresdale,
unfortunately.
"Yes, but so deep that it is impossible
to see it all, or to appreciate its quiet
force." She was trying to look solemn
as she said this. "For instance, if it
had n't been for what clearly came up
to the surface Wednesday -
"Wednesday?" I asked.
"Or whenever it was, the last time I
saw you."
"Much longer ago than that: it was
Tuesday."
153
MY LOST DUCHESS
Ci But the point is," she said, taking
pains to miss mine, as T could see by her
twinkling ryes, "that until then I could
not help being rather skeptical. So many
things made me so. But mnv I am fully
convinced."
"Fully?" 1 asked.
"Perfectly," she answered, smiling in
a .-uperior fashion.
"Then perhaps you will be good
enough to tell me what you are convinced
of. I am interested in this myself. It
is not every one who can have hidden
depths."
"Convinced of what is in the hidden
depths!' 1 she replied with her lovely
laugh, and to see her look at me with her
head tipped to one side one might have
thought we were the most understanding
friends in the world. It is the left cheek
the infrequent dimple chooses.
She referred of course, as I now see, to
154
MY LOST DUCHESS
Constance, but at the moment I was blind
enough to believe she had guessed that I
was working, valiantly, for Torresdale
and jealous enough to fear she approved
of my efforts in his behalf. I find it im-
possible nowadays to think clearly until
an hour or two after I leave her; I am up
in the clouds the whole time, except when
down in the depths.
"Now let me ask you something," I
began, stirring another cup of tea, "will
you 4 ?"
"Ah," she replied, brightening, "I
would so like to be taken into your confi-
dence."
She would so like to be taken into my
confidence when I would so like to take
her in my arms.
T wrenched off a few years of my life
and said, "Do you think I stand any
chance of success in this project?" I 'm
afraid my voice betrayed a struggle,
155
MY LOST DUCHESS
which, however, must only have helped
to mislead her.
She looked at me in such an ado r able
way, such a tantalizing way, then said
softly: "It could do no harm to try/'
Her tone was non-committal enough,
but her words sent icicles to my heart.
"But do you want me to try?'' 1 I inquired,
smiling only with my lips.
"By all means,'' she replied, dropping
her eyes, as if expecting me to begin
forthwith.
"Then I will try," said I, and straight-
way took a long breath to begin wooing
for Torresdale at last. But on my life I
could not think of a thing to say. T be-
lieve my resolution was sufficient T trust
so, but words, only the words failed me;
and the longer I waited the more awk-
ward I became. She too was ill at ease
for once, "And no wonder!" thought T.
"Has n't she given me permission to talk
to her in behalf of my friend"? Laughing
, 5 6
MY LOST DUCHESS
permission, to be sure, but she means it
all the same as her forced conversation
and over-facetiousness shows." But I
had nothing to say.
What a pleasant position to place a
girl in ! What a loyal way to treat a
friend ! What a fool I w r as to give my
word to Torresdale, and what I fool he
was to open up ways for me which I have
entered on the pretext of helping him,
knowing in my "hidden depths" it was
only for myself.
When at last I left the presence I was
wringing wet with dishonest sweat and
had to go to the club and take a plunge.
In the cool-minded calm which followed,
it was borne in upon me that if I really
meant to keep my word to Torresdale I
must employ some means less direct and
dangerous.
Therefore I decided to appeal to Con-
stance.
157
XXIT
AVTM; been very busy helping
Torresdale ot late I had seen
but little ot Constance (or
ot Torry either, tor that mat-
ter) ; but evidently she did not care, tor
she snubbed me all evening and seemed
as nearly unkind as Constance could be.
I could not help smiling to think how
mistaken her good friend Hulda had
been in her well-intended endeavors to
make me believe that Constance cared tor
me. How little, after all, girls under-
stand one another !
"But. Constance," I said, "there is
something I nni.<t talk to you about,
something which cannot wait much
longer," and glancing at me in an odd
way. as though tired out b\ my persistent
annoyance, she let me lead her away from
158
MY LOST DUCHESS
the other men to a quiet corner of the
picture gallery, saying nothing.
"Won't you sit clown'?" I asked.
She allowed herself and her pretty
fluffiness to sink into a window-seat.
"I am afraid," I added, observing her
closely, "that you have been dancing too
much again." It seemed to have made
her hand tremble.
Constance shook her head but said
nothing, being fatigued.
"Now then," I began. "First of all,
don't you really consider it a crying pity
that she is going on the stage?" I said
this in an adroit manner as if it had just
occurred to me, but I had a purpose in it,
as you will see, and was watching her out
of the corner of my eye. I saw her eye-
brows go up and then come down again.
We had not been speaking of Hulda.
"She is in love with the idea," said
Constance quietly.
159
MY LOST DITHKSS
"I know all that, bur there are so many
better things to be in love with/'
"For example V" she asked.
"The East Side," I replied gallantly.
"I am afraid you can't convince her
of that."
"I can't convince her ot anything.
That 's why T am seeking your aid in the
matter."
"My aid?" echoed gentle little Con-
stance. ''You flatter me." She uses
these stereotyped phrases sometimes, but
her voice and manner lend them distinc-
tion. "Why don't you apply to Itcr?"
she said, and looked up at me.
"I have done so," said I. "It I had
been successful I should not have ap-
pealed to you in this matter."
"This matter? What matter?" asked
Constance, in her rapid manner of
speech. "You have n't confided in me.
you know."
160
MY LOST DUCHESS
"I am very anxious to do so though.
I am doing it now, you see."
Constance waited. She has a great
deal of her mother's repose.
"Well," I began, "your little sister's
governess is rather stunning, you know."
"Indeed yes."
"And men you know how men are.
They can't help it, Constance."
There was a pause.
"But I should think," said Constance,
looking straight down the long room,
"that men would prefer to attend to
all that sort of thing by the direct
method. It seems somehow nicer to me."
"Sometimes it is necessary to apply all
sorts of methods, you know."
She seemed to be considering the mat-
ter.
"It is really a difficult thing to meddle
with," she said.
"Amen!"
161
MY LOST DUCHESS
"It is so delicate almost fragile,
don't you think":*"
"I agree with you again. We always
agree, don't we. Constance"?"
"And she alwavs seems so much older
than I, Nick not that she is- much
older; I only mean that it would be very
hard owing to our peculiar relations;
she knows so much, is more experienced,
more brilliant, more beautiful, more
everything."
"Of course 1 it is like you to say that.''
I put in sincerely.
"It she and I were less intimate it
really would n't be so hard, strange to
say. I have told her so man}' things as
if she were my older sister and so -
"So you refuse V" I asked, and oh. that
I should confess it. I was hoping that she
would refuse.
She hesitated a moment and then
looked up at me. "Of course I Ml do
162
MY LOST DUCHESS
anything you ask of me," she said
quietly.
"Fine!" I shouted. "That 's very fine.
Shall we go back and dance*?" I wanted
to change the subject for a while.
"But what do you wish me to do,
Xick?" Constance was fanning herself
rapidly. "I don't feel like dancing."
"You can decide how best to do it;
you know her and I suppose you know
how she regards him."
"Regards whom 4 ?"
to
"The man we 're talking about
Torry."
Constance stopped fanning quite ab-
ruptly; and to me, observing her closely,
this seemed significant. "Why, are
there others'?" I asked, laughing to hide
my sudden alarm.
"Oh, yes," she replied, "but one never
knows how many. Let 's dance."
"Do you feel like it? You know the
163
MY LOST DUCHESS
doctor warned you that it you kept up
your East Side work and this pace
too"
"Oh, bother the East Side, bother the
doctor, I want to dance!" and dance she
did. "They 're so suited to each other.
Nick," she declared with the enthusiasm
girls always manifest in match-making.
"Yes, I suppose the}' arc suited." said
I, grinding my teeth.
"Oh, he 's such a fine fellow." she said
as we approached the other side of the
floor.
"Bully chap," said I weakly. "One
of the very best," I added vigorously.
"He is just the man to make her su-
premely happy," she said, beaming at
me.
"Ah, yes!" said T, echoing her tone as
best I could.
"Maybe I can do a good deal to aid
your friend."
164
MY LOST DUCHESS
"That 's good of you," I said.
"You 're dancing with spirit this even-
ing." We reversed again. "How do
you intend to work it, Constance?"
"Oh, bring them together constantly
at the house."
"I see. He comes a good deal already,
does n't he?"
"Yes; but never fear, I can manage it.
Mother would n't approve; she has other
plans for Hulda, but mother need n't
know."
: ' I see," said I. "You 're pretty good
at this, are n't you?"
"Then, too," she went on enthusias-
tically, "I can subtly let her know how
highly I regard him."
"Of course," said I. "You regard him
pretty highly, don't you?"
"Oh, yes."
"And does she regard him pretty highly
too?" I did not want to seem like pry-
165
MY LOST DUCHESS
ing, but how I waited for Constance's an-
swer to this question.
"She thinks the world of him," said
Constance enthusiastically.
"How encouraging you are!" I sighed.
"Though sometimes," Constance added,
"I have fancied she does not altogether
trust him. But maybe that 's merely my
own prejudice against him. But I am
all over that prejudice now; so will she
be when I tell her what you think ot him.
That ought to have more weight than
anything," said Constance flatteringly.
"I have already dwelt a good deal on
my admiration," said I.
"So that is what you have been talk-
ing about to her so earnestly ? What a
loyal friend you are ! Oh, Nick, you
should have let me help you long ago."
"But you see it 's such a delicate thing
to handle," I remarked.
"Oh, I will be careful."
166
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Almost fragile, is n't it"?'
"Not when it 's an old friend like Mr.
Torresdale."
"You don't think you 're too intimate
a friend of Miss Rutherford's?" I asked.
"Your relations are peculiar, you
know."
I was leading her across to Mrs. Og-
den, who was suppressing a yawn, for it
was rather late.
"You must leave it all to me," she said
with enthusiasm.
"No," said I, vigorously. "I will still
keep a hand in it, Constance."
"Do you think you 'd better talk to
her any more about it?" asked Constance
thoughtfully; "you might overdo it."
"Never fear," said I.
"It might do no good. She might think
that it was merely a man's loyalty,"
urged Constance. "But when I, who
know you so well, tell her what you really
167
MY LOST DUCHESS
think this is really a woman's work.
Xiek. }'ou might bungle it." -he said.
"We '11 see." said I. "Good-night."
"Oh, don't go," -he .slid.
''I 'm tired out." said I, "and 1 'ye. got
my day's work to do to-morro\y."
"Bungle it!" said I to myself grimly.
as I marched down the long, silent Ave-
nue. "It strikes me I 've done unfortu-
nately well."
168
XXIII
H A vi' tried to keep away, but
I can not. Telling myself it
is for Torresdale's sake I in-
vent opportunities for seeing
her. I tear it does him no good, I know
it does me harm, and yet I go and go
again.
She, all unsuspecting and with the
kindest heart in the world, looks upon me
sympathetically as a poor, lorn lover as
indeed I am! who comes to her for ad-
vice and is too abashed to ask it. And
being what she is she even subtly tries to
hold out hope for me, which if I really
were in love with Constance might prove
my undoing and then think how sorry
this kind governess would be ! But it is
sweet and like her, for she wants us all to
be happy.
169
MY LOST DUCHESS
So she allows me to come close to her
where I may see how fair she is and, oh,
how fair I find her!
"Now that I know it can not hurt
you," she seems to say, ''I will let you
look into my eyes and see how true my
friendship is." And I ga/e and ga/e, not
wanting her friendship, and knowing well
how it will hurt until my heart clamors
and my head whirls, then take to my
heels only to come back again.
Torresdale now r goes more often than
ever to the Ogdens. He has the excuse
of talking to her about her stage work.
She has decided to take his advice, I hear,
and stud}' another year before making a
second attempt to go on the boards. Ah
well, good luck to her.
"You never speak of your stage work
to me," I said to her yesterday, skilfully
shifting the subject, for she had been tell-
ing me for my encouragement that it was
170
MY LOST DUCHESS
very wrong to sacrifice happiness to false
pride.
"No wonder I don't speak of my 'stage
work,' as you call it," she said.
"Why is it no wonder?" I asked.
"You don't approve of my ambitions,"
she said with something of the archness
of the first days of our acquaintance be-
fore she assumed the kindly sympathetic
attitude. She is a girl and can't help it,
she is a beauty and can't help doing it
well.
"You know you hate it," she said.
"What nonsense!" I replied.
"How would you like one of your own
sisters to do it?" she asked, looking at me,
and being so transparent, I was seen by
her to shudder.
"I can't help it," I said. "Forgive me,
but I hope I will never see you on the
stage."
"There is nothing to forgive," she said.
171
MY LOST DUCHESS
''And you need not come to see me on the
stage."
"Oh, it 's all right,' 1 I replied, trying
vainly to hedge and at the same time to
do Torresdale a good turn; "only there
are other things in lite than interpreting
it. Seems to me it is a pretty good
thing not to forget to live in the mean-
while."
"But think how much more selfish that
is," she declared.
Maybe she was in earnest; maybe she
was joking; I can never tell.
"That, 's monastic; that 's medieval," I
replied. "We would not be given lives
if we were n't meant to live them."
Then I tried to explain that her views
were impious and illustrated rather elo-
quently by pointing out a bush we were
passing in the Park. "What right would
it have to hold in its buds when the spring
comes," I said or something equally sen-
1 7 2
MY LOST DUCHESS
tentious; "the best good it can do in the
world is by becoming a bang-up bush."
"Of course you regard it that way and
like to think of buds and things." I
looked up and saw fun in her eyes, then
knew that I was supposed to be the blush-
ing lover again. Dear little Constance,
it all seems so unfair to her. Fancy how
she would feel if she knew a man she did
not care for was being joked about aspira-
tions which he did not happen to enter-
tain. They will make me hate Constance
if they keep this up, and that is a still
more horrible thought. But I can't help
it. It is all your fault, Torresdale; on
thy head be the sin.
"How are you and Torry getting on
with your play?" I ventured again val-
iantly.
"What play?"
"Is n't he writing a play for you 1 ?"
"Some day he says he intends to," and
173
MY LOST DUCHESS
then she dropped her eyes or did she
raise them? lowered her voice, or did
she raise it? Whatever she did seemed
abundant proof to me of how she loved
him and of how adorably unattainable
she was for me.
"I should think you would be very
fond of Torry,'' T said.
"He has stalwart friends," she said,
looking at me.
"He deserves better ones," I declared,
taking the bit between my teeth and re-
fusing to be guided by my anxious ego.
"I hope you will appreciate him, Miss
Rutherford." And then I had to mop
my brow.
"I think I do," she said, in the young
duchess manner once again. It might
have had a dozen different meanings. I
thought of all of them. One thing alone
was clear: I cannot keep this up. The
best way I can serve Torresdale and save
174
MY LOST DUCHESS
myself is to run for it, and that is what I
am doing.
They are giving me more responsibility
down in the office and thanks to that I
am going away for a long trip in the
West. That makes a convenient break,
and when I return the habit of staying
away will no doubt be securely estab-
lished.
175
XXIV
UK Avenue sparkles with a
joyous hoi Ida)' crowd; the
jubilant sky-scrapers reach
high in their exuberant
might; the staccato ot horses' hoots, the
laughter ot the passers-by make happ\
music in the clear, frosty air. I am with
you once again and it is good to be here.
How the white* smoke curls and swirls
in the west bree/e. In the dreary old
clays before steam and high buildings
they had to get along as best the}' could
with eastles and knight's plumes. Here
comes a cove}' of jolly little matinee
girls, talking vivaciously, their eyes still
big from the satisfying sentiments they
have enjoyed. Here is a group ot sturdy
undergraduates home for the holidays
176
MY LOST DUCHESS
and properly reckless. Here are my old
friends the engaged couple, still engaged
and happier than ever, peering into the
windows of antique shops, doubtless plan-
ning their marriage for the spring. We
shall miss them on the Avenue, but others
will take their place.
It is twilight now and the lights have
been turned on, the long, even rows meet-
ing in perspective and glowing pleas-
antly. Dressmakers' little girls are hur-
rying along with bundles bigger than
themselves. Next best to wearing the
dresses is the pride of carrying them; not
many people are granted this distinction
boys never, for they would not carry
the bundles with such awed respect.
Across the way, in the Park, children
are coasting down a little hill. The snow
is a bit soiled by the city, but the sleds
glide as easily and the coasters are quite
as happy.
177
MY LOST DUCHESS
Every one I see seems glad to-day, and
so am I, for at last I am to see her.
"I 'LI. find out, sir; please step in.''
A small clock ticking energetically in
another room. The muffled patter of
horses' hoofs outside along the asphalt.
But louder and faster than these seem my
heart-beats while waiting for the familiar
rustle.
"No, sir, not at home."
"Say I 'm sorry to have missed her.
Merry Christmas to you, Robert."
"Same to you, sir."
The dull closing of the door, and the
cold nakedness of the bleak Avenue
stretching monotonously in both direc-
tions; strident voices of ubiquitous chil-
dren across the way ; hordes of vulgar,
selfish-faced people; hideous brazen ho-
tels; poor pinched- faced little girls work-
178
MY LOST DUCHESS
ing overtime and carrying such big bun-
dles how hard and hateful and dreary
it all is, in the dusk and gloom. See that
frowsy woman of the town; such a
pathetic leer as she turned down the side
street which stretches drearily down to
the darkness and despair of the river.
What a sorry lot we all are. The loafers
on the benches hug themselves to keep
warm, hands folded under their arms,
chins on their chests, thinking, thinking,
like me, like all of us "each one busy
with his woe."
She had promised to be at home to me
at this hour. I counted upon it for so
long how could she forget!
I COULD not keep on by the same route;
it was all too eloquent of her. I know
just how the corner looks at this time of
the evening where first I saw her face to
179
MY LOST DUCHESS
face, just as I know the architectural de-
tails of everv house ill the ncle >treet
down which I pushed the beggar. All
up and down the Avenue there are land-
marks of the journey T have been travel-
ing for so long.
I crossed over to Madison Avenue, an
inoffensive little thoroughfare, tavored
of lovers and baby carriages. As it hap-
pened I saw a pair of lovers ahead of me
as I turned in, a happy pair, 1 judged,
from their attitude and slow pace. They
were walking in the same direction, but
I would soon overtake them so that they
could not flaunt their happine-s in my
face for very long. Besides. I am used
to it, I should not mind.
They were only half a block ahead of
me but the light was in my eyes and they
were lost in the shadow. Presently that
light was behind me and they emerged
into the brightness of another light
180
MY LOST DUCHESS
which flared up suddenly at that moment.
Tt was Hulda and Torresdale. They
were talking earnestly, and their faces
turned toward each other were silhouetted
for me against the darkness beyond.
Never shall I forget that picture in black
and white. He was half turned toward
her as he walked and she was smiling up
into his face. If I could only forget that
smile. Then they passed out of the white
light into the dark shadow and left me
gazing after them alone. I turned reso-
lutely to the west. Even the Avenue was
better than this.
12
181
XXV
STOLE into the club and up-
stairs to a room that is usu-
ally very quiet, although it.
is called the "Conversation
Room"; a pleasant, subdued place of
beautiful proportions and ugly wall dec-
orations. Down-stairs the rooms were
full of men, laughing, talking, drinking,
smoking I wanted to get away from
them. What I really wanted was to get
away from myself, but this seems impos-
sible, I have learned. Time passed as T
sat alone by the fireplace.
"Hello, Nick, how are you, dear old
chap?" It was Torresdale, and he was
sauntering la'/ily across the room toward
me, with one hand in his pocket and the
other outstretched most heartily toward
me. His is a very flattering cordiality.
182
I told him that I was well and glad to
see him, two lies. I felt ill at ease in his
presence and longed to have him leave
me. Strangely enough I felt almost
afraid of him, as if there were some-
thing momentous and sinister in his heart-
iness.
"You have treated me shabbily lately,"
he was now saying, touching a bell for a
servant. "I have seen nothing of you;
won't you dine with me to-morrow?"
"Can't. Engaged."
"Congratulations!" he returned face-
tiously, but I only smiled feebly. It
seemed such puerile wit, and I was in no
humor even to pretend to like it.
"I 've really seen so little of you," he
repeated in his most charming manner,
looking very regretful as he said it.
"I have been out of town," I replied.
"Yes; I hear you have been working
hard, doing nothing but saw wood lately,
183
MY LOST DUCHESS
eh? The}- tell me you h;ive taken a great
brace clown at the oilice."
"Who said so?" I asked.
"\\ ho do you suppose?" he replied,
insinuatingly. I retiised to join in his
mood. ''Who would be most likely to
know about you?" he continued teas-
ingly, "and to want to talk about you?"
He laughed a little at me.
"I suppose you mean Miss Ogden." T
said impatiently, wishing to get it over
with.
"No, I don't!" he replied to my sur-
prise.
"Who then?" I asked, looking up.
"I mean Constance," he replied
laughing at me.
"T see," said T, and he leaned back in
his chair to scrutini/.e me. chuckling
softly.
"Oh, Nicholas. Nicholas, you are such
a beautiful bluffer." smiling in the inti-
184
MY LOST DUCHESS
mately insinuating way I have seen him
smile at her and she seemed to like it.
"But you are right to stick to business,"
he added. ''When a young man disap-
pears from the club," he mused, "I al-
ways ask, is he studying medicine or is he
engaged to be married"?"
"I am neither," said I, laughing it off
and arose to go.
"I am not studying medicine," he said,
smiling at me, "but, Nick, you can imag-
ine how I would like to be the other
thing." I had not asked him, but there
was a very decent look on his face as he
said this, and he made me feel more
kindly toward him.
"I am sure I have done what I could
to comply with your extraordinary re-
quest," I said guiltily.
"I am sure you have, Nick; you need
not tell me that. And I appreciate it
too. I have been trying to show my
185'
MY LOST DUCHESS
appreciation, if you care to know
it."
"Very good of you, I am sure. Would
you mind telling me how?"
I did not intend this to sound sarcastic
and I don't believe it did, for he replied:
''Suppose you ask Con I mean Miss
Ogden " and laughed teasingly. "'I am
leaving no stone unturned for you, my
boy. A little touch here, a little dab
there. Soon all will be right."
"That 's good of you." said I; "but I
wish you would not take so much trouble
in my behalf."
"But it 's a pleasure!" he declared.
"It never seems to occur to you," I re-
joined, "that you might be mistaken in
your inferences."
It seemed to me that with his quick per-
ceptions he perceived exactly what I meant
to convey but he only replied, patting me
affectionately on the arm: "Don't yield
186
MY LOST DUCHESS
to those passing moods, my boy. That is
the way so many people make lifelong
mistakes. I know you better than you
know yourself and don't make any
mistakes. Well, you need n't look so
solemn about it," he added lightly.
"Why do you avoid me lately 1 ? Don't
you trust me?" he asked.
I had not accused him.
"I was wondering," I said, "whether
you did well to trust me"
"I '11 take my chances!" he laughed,
and made me take a drink with him.
Perhaps I was emboldened by this, for
I said with what lightness I could com-
mand: "Well, Torry, tell me, are you
making progress?" feeling like an intrud-
ing meddler as I did so. He looked at
his watch.
"I must be going on," he said.
"Good-by glad to have had a glimpse
of you once more."
187
MY LOST DUCHESS
There followed a bad night. I eould
not blame it to champagne this time. In-
deed, now that I think of it, I had not
dined at all that evening.
All through the blackness ot the night
I saw the brightness ot her taee smiling
up at him as I had seen it gleaming in
the ring of light on the street corner,
while he. drinking in the richness ot it
with his critical, heavy-lidded eyes,
leaned toward her as it to take possession
of her. While I la)- there stretched out
rigid on the bed but throbbing like an
engine, I carried on some notably bril-
liant dialogue with my friend Torres-
dale, and I fashioned feverish scenes far
more powerful than any in his stories.
We met on a far-awav, distant vast-
ness. I don't know just what a vastness
is but I saw the wilderness I used always
to picture on hearing certain passages of
the Bible. All three of us were there.
188
MY LOST DUCHESS
She stood silhouetted against the pale
orange dawn on a high cliff, looking
down upon us, serene and beautiful as
ever. And then . . . oh, well, never
mind the rest; of course I came out on
top !
But that does not seem to be the way
things are managed nowadays.
189
XXVI
HE young Duchess was sitting
on a circular marble bench in
the garden near the fountain
where I saw her on that
memorable occasion nearly a year before.
She was dressed in white again.
"But if I really cared for a girl, I 'cl
tell her so," she was saying, "if I were a
man." The accent was not on /, it was
on the last word, and there seemed to be
a wealth of scorn in it.
"But suppose circumstances
"Bah! A man would n't balk at cir-
cumstances." She seemed to be rich in
scorn this afternoon.
"But can't you imagine certain possi-
ble contingencies
"No, I can't; all false pride."
"Oh, but I don't mean just what you
190
MY LOST DUCHESS
do. I am speaking of a different sort of
thing. Unfortunately, one has to con-
sider"
"Consider? Nonsense! Oh, if I
were a man, I would show you men how
to do the business."
I looked at her critically for several
seconds, then swallowing other things I
said: "I am very well content that you
are not a man."
"Ah, you would be afraid of me," she
said tauntingly, "if / were a man."
"Oh, but I am already, you know!"
said I, and added: "How would you do
the business? Why don't you teach me?"
"For one thing, I would not continu-
ally run away. And I would not inva-
riably assume an attitude of humble infe-
riority."
"I see; that 's what you would n't do;
now kindly tell me what you would do
teach me."
191
MY LOST DUCHESS
"\Vhy, I would stride into her pres-
ence with a bold front, sure of myself and
sure of her." The Duchess imitated the
stride, the bold front, and the sureness.
"I see,'' said I. "''Suppose you were n't,
though?"
''Then I "d pretend to be ! And I
would make love to her with mi^ht and
main, sweep hei off her teet and into un-
arms and "keep her there forever."
When I finally recovered my breath I
ventured to make this inquiry:
"You say you 'd make love to her--
fell me how that \s done." tor I did not
mean to miss anything. She scrutinr/ed
me with a smile. "Sometimes you take
me in completely with that in^enu man-
ner of yours."
"I have heard there were a <^reat many
different ways." I said.
"Oh, yes," she said; "some men for in-
stance
192
MY LOST DUCHESS
"You, I suppose, have had to listen to
all the ways there are, have you not?"
She looked thoughtful a moment and
shook her head. "No," she said, "I don't
believe so," and seemed so earnest, and
honest about it that T had to burst out
laughing, which relieved my feelings
greatly.
"But I only want to know how you
would do it," said I.
"It would depend on the girl," she
said. "Give me a girl."
"I can't think of any," I said, being
able to think of only one.
Whereat she laughed compassionately
and looked down upon me once more.
"I should n't think you would find it
so difficult," she said, encouragingly, and
glanced up toward the house as she did
so. "I should n't think you 'd have to
look far."
"To be sure," said I, turning about
193
MY LOST DUCHESS
and facing her, "you, for instance-
that 's not far."
"Oh," she cried, really startled for
once, "that 's hardly far enough!"
"All the same," said T, judiciously, "I
should think you would do."
"At a pinch?" she asked.
"At a pinch," I said, getting up to
walk to and fro.
"That makes it more difficult," she re-
plied, smiling a little consciously.
"Yes, I should think it -icould be rather
difficult," said I, sympathetically.
"What?" she said straightening up,
"to make love to me?"
"Successfully," I added gravely.
"Oh," she said, relaxing, but looking
up at me as she did so, "I don't believe
you really need teaching.
"You promised!" said I, anxiously.
"Well," she began, then hesitated,
laughed, and looked at me.
194
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Well 4 ?"
"For one thing," she began tenta-
tively, "we always like to be told how
nice we are."
I looked at her critically. "You are
rather nice," I said.
She raised her chin as if to remind me
that I was only a pupil this afternoon.
"It should be done more subtly than
that!" she said scornfully.
"What else?" I inquired.
"We always like our looks to be
praised."
"You," I remarked judiciously, "are a
rather good-looking girl."
She shrugged her shoulders, for that
was not very subtle either. "And our
intelligence to be acknowledged."
"You must know a good deal," said I,
quite brusquely, "or else how could you
hold down your job?"
"But above all," she rejoined emphat-
195
MY LOST IHTHESS
ically, "his attitude must be respectful,
worshipful ; there must he subtle homage
in the tones of his voice, in his every
movement when in my presenee."
"I thought you >aid he must stride in.
sure of himself sure of you take a su-
perior attitude, and all that?"
"Yes, but it is n't necessary to be rude.
to remind one of things one would like
to forget once in a while."
She was smiling still, but as I live
there was a quiver about the eorners of
her mouth. My heart leaped to m\
throat. I stopped walking up and down.
''Any man that could be rude to you.''
T declared with perhaps unnecessary em-
phasis, coming (-loser to her. "ought to
be drawn and quartered, then chopped
into fine pieces and burned. Any man
who would stride into your presence with
arrogant assurance, and not fall down at
your feet and humbly beg your pardon
196
MY LOST DUCHESS
why, why good heavens, don't you see
nobody could feel that way with you!
because, because you are you, you see !
Now if I were going to tell you," I rat-
tled on blindly, "that I dared to presume
to care tor you, I would go down on my
knees before you, like this, and I would
bend my head, so, and explain before-
hand that I was telling you all this, not
because I thought you cared a rap to hear
it or because I dreamed of standing any
chance, but because it would probably
make me feel a little better to have it
out and over with, and you in the
greatness of your heart would pos-
sibly grant me this favor because you
hate to see even a beggar suffer unneces-
sarily."
She laughed nervously about the beg-
gar. "As a rule," she said, "I don't like
them to kneel." I started to my feet.
"Then I would come up very close to
197
MY LOST DUCHESS
you, like this," she was still sitting on the
bench and drew back as I bent over her
"and I would look into your wonderful
eyes so, very intently you see, because
it would be for the last time, and then
you would see what was there and I
would only say, 'I love you, oh, I love
you so! I don't know why I love you as
I do; of course yon are the most beau-
tiful and the best, but that can account
for such a little bit of it. I only know
that I love yon, love you, love you. I
always shall.' '
She had kept drawing farther and
farther back in her seat as if trying to get
away from me as I, leaning over her.
went wildly on; and now her head was
back as far as it could go against the mar-
ble panel. Her hands were tightly closed
at her sides and she looked up into my
eyes, which were near to hers, as if help-
less to escape, and as if pleading to have
198
MY LOST DUCHESS
me stop. Suddenly she sprang to her
feet and brushed past me, gasping: "Here
they are!" Then I came to myself, just
in time, as Constance came down the ter-
race steps, followed by Harry Lawrence.
"Very good," pronounced Hulda to
me in her most duchess manner, "very
good indeed. I had no idea that you
were so clever at imitations." Then she
laughed nervously, but whether from
fear that the others had overheard or
from certainty that this was no imita-
tion at all, I was in no condition to deter-
mine.
I said nothing, for the reason that I
knew not what to say. Her laughter
ended, and now there was a memorable
silence.
"Well, what 's the joke 4 ?" broke in
Lawrence.
"He has been telling me a story most
amusingly," said Hulda.
201
MY LOST DUCHESS
Apiin the silence. I aiding it man-
fully.
'"Well, fell if fo us," said Lawrence.
Ruf Constance never said a word.
Having glanced once af me. she looked
af Hulda rafher longer and fhen not
af ei flier of us a^ain.
"He is <^oin.^ fo fell you," said Hulda
fo Constance; "he was only practising on
me."
"Thanks," said Constance very quietly,
with her back turned. "I should not care
to hear if."
"What the deuce!" said Lawrence,
perplexed, impatient. "What the deuce!
Come on and ^et some tea." For that
had been their message for us.
I left on the next train. There was
only one thinjj tor me to do now.
202
XXVII
IORRKSDALK!" I cried, bursting
into his room. "I 've got to
have a talk with you when
can you see me? Will you
dine with me this evening? Can't you
make it luncheon"? When may I ex-
pect you? Have you breakfasted"?
Could you come now?"
Torresdale finished the sentence he
was writing, put down his pen, took off
his glasses, rose, crossed the room, and
shook my hand with deliberation. "How
do you do?" he said. "So glad to see
you. Do sit- down. No, in the big Eng-
lish chair. It becomes your Gothic style
better. There !" He pushed me down
with both hands. "Now then, dear old
chap, will you tell me the occasion for
203
MY LOST DUCHESS
this disphiy of emotion V" He leaned
over to touch a button on the desk and I
waited until the buy// in an inner room
eeased, then I answered, now more
calmly. "I was afraid I would miss you;
that was all. Why don't you have a
telephone?"
"To prevent interruptions." he replied
whimsically.
"Your servant did all he could to keep
me out," I said as the latter entered.
"Don't jump on him tor it."
"Scotch," ordered Torry, but kept on
looking intently at me.
"No," T said; "I won't stop now. I
looked all over town tor you last even-
ing but I don't want to interrupt you
now."
"You have already," said Torry sim-
ply. "So it 's all ri^ r ht, you see. I don't
care to eat at this time of the day, thank
you."
204
MY LOST DUCHESS
"I won't take much of your time,"
said I.
"I never begrudge my friends any
amount of my time; they can have
hours. All I request is that they keep
out of my psychological moments which
are sometimes the result of weeks and
months of baffling toil and travail of
soul. That 's what you down-town fel-
lows can't understand about interrup-
tions."
"I am sorry," I repeated.
"But this is not one of those mo-
ments," he added gracefully, "so " and
he pushed the decanter toward me.
"Thank you, I '11 take mine without
Scotch," I said, reaching past the old-
fashioned decanter for the quaint little
silver water-pitcher. "I never drink in
the morning," I added in order to make
things seem less strained.
"Is it morning?" he inquired, wearily
205
MY LOST DUCHESS
lifting his heavy lids to the small French
clock on the mantelpiece.
It was eleven of a bright Sunday
morning, and Torn: was in evening
clothes. "What do you want to talk
about, old man." he added, filling his
^lass, and ! gained an impression that he
was not so careless as lie pretended to be.
Now I had planned to carry him oft" to
an elaborate luncheon at the quiet hotel
where 1 he had taken me tor that memora-
ble dinner, and lead up to it gradually:
but perhaps it was just as well. "I want
to talk about lied Hill." \ said abruptly.
"You mi^ht do worse," he said, lift-
ing the ^lass to his lips. "^ ou mi^'ht do
worse," he repeated, putting it down
a^ain; "though ot course we both are
prejudiced," he added. ''I had heard
they are out in the country apiin," he
glanced la/ily over toward a small Louis
XIV desk near my seat. There was a
206
MY LOST DUCHESS
litter of envelops and letters there in
various sorts of writing. I abhor that
sort of furniture. Most of Torry's stuff
is of that sort exeept my chair, which he
once told me he had purchased expressly
for me, fearing that I 'd break the gilt
things. "They have asked me out there
for this week," he began affably. "By
the by, I thought you were spending
Sunday there."
"How did you know that?"
"Oh, I heard."
"I was, but I left last evening in
order to see you."
"I suppose you and Constance ' he
began with a view to leading the con-
versation as usual it seemed to me. But
that was not what I was there for.
"I came to tell you," I said interrupt-
ing rather rudely, "that this thing has got
to stop! I can't keep it up any longer.
That 's all I came to say. Go on with
207
MY LOST DUCHESS
your writing.'' I rose to go. He began
to laugh at me.
"Suppose you sit clown and make that
speech all over again; it was a good
one," he said. "What the deuce are you
talking about?" lie added, shitting his
position so that he was in the shadow and
my face was still more strongly in the
daylight.
"You can guess what I am talking
about," said I.
"Don't!" he burlesqued a shudder.
"Don't be so tragic about it." He lighted
a cigarette.
"Torry," I said, "tell me honestly, are
you a friend of mine or not?"
He laughed and said with simplicity,
"Yep."
"There have been times when I
doubted it," said I, flushing angrily.
"I would n't do that, if I were you,"
he said.
208
MY LOST DUCHESS
"I am sorry, but I could not help my
feelings."
"Doubted my friendship?"
"I feel better for confessing it."
"But you don't doubt it now?" He
looked at me and I looked back at him.
"Don't you believe in me, Nick'?" he
asked.
I looked a little while longer and then
I lowered my gaze and said: "If you be-
lieve in yourself, then I believe in you."
"Why, my dear old boy!" said Torry,
smiling at me quizzically, "I should
never dream of doubting your sincerity."
"Perhaps you had better do so," said I.
"Nothing could make me," he said,
gazing at me and shaking his head slowly.
"Perhaps you will be convinced when
I tell you that there have been times
when I wanted to wring your neck," I
said.
"Bad as that, eh?"
209
MY LOST HITHKSS
"I can't keep up the pretence anv
longer of being what I 'in not. So I
came here to tell you about it. I 'in
sorry to make such a scene oyer it." I
laughed uneasily.
''What do vou mean?" he asked.
"Briefly this: two men can not care
tor the same woman and remain tnend-.
At least, not when [ am one ot them. It
may go on in your books, but not here.
Now you know what I mean."
He seemed about to speak, then
checked himself. He reached for his
glass, then drew back his hand and began
to laugh.
"You great kid, you! What a mess of
trouble you haye giyen yourself for noth-
ing. Why. my dear fellow, I don't want
your millionairess; she has no tempera-
ment." Then he took his drink.
I am certain that lie knew what my
words meant to convey. So what he
21O
MY LOST DUCHESS
thought to get by bluffing I can not im-
agine unless it were merely to gain
time. I only looked back at him intently,
for I made up my mind that he would
have to make the next move if T had to
stare at him for an hour. Somehow as I
gazed down upon him he seemed very
puny and absurd, and for once I was not
impressed by his cleverness, his success, or
his temperament. They all seemed like
upholstery to me, Louis XIV upholstery,
though that may have been because I was
hating him.
Presently he made a sudden movement
and raised his eyebrows, as if with the
dawn of a new idea. "Ah? Is it
possible that I have made a mistake?"
he asked in his delicately modulated
voice.
I only looked at him.
"You don't mean that you have shifted
a steady old horse like you?"
211
MY LOST DUCHESS
I sneered a little, still looking clown
upon him.
"But, old man," he said, palpably on
the defensive now, "how could I guess"?
Why, that 's not in character. Don't
you remember what you youiselt said"?
That she had proved a disillusionment"?"
I kept on looking.
"Did n't you"?'' he asked.
"But there is no doubt about what I
mean now, is there"?" I asked.
"None whatever," he replied, and
laughed with apparent interest. "This is
quite exciting," he added.
"Then I '11 go," said T.
"Oh, no, you won't," he said, jump-
ing up to intercept me; "not yet. This is
not at all a nice way to go." He
laughed. "Nick, 'is all over between
us?' ' He still had the impudence to be
amused with me.
I knew it was best to go, and yet I
waited.
212
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Come, sit down; tell me all about it.
These things 'will happen. It is unfor-
tunate, but it 's nothing to look that way
about."
"There is nothing to tell," I said.
"Are you to be congratulated?" he
asked. "Don't forget that I am to be
your best man; I make such a bully best
man. I think I 'd make a better best man
than a bridegroom. Am I the first to con-
gratulate you*?"
"Of course there is no occasion for that
sort of talk," said I.
"Do you mean that she has turned you
down?"
"I have n't given her a chance to."
"Have n't you?" he asked, apparently
surprised.
"Naturally not. I had to see you
first."
"That 's so; that 's just like you, Nick;
you 're such a nice boy; but you can now,
as far as I am concerned can't you?
213
MY LOST DUCHESS
You have given me fair warning--
have n't you? Do you think she has
guessed?"
"If she has not she soon will," T re-
plied, laughing with him now. ''That 's
why I had to see you."
"Well, well," he said, "that is very
niee of you; but don't take it so trag-
ieally. It '11 come out all right in the
end. We Ml still be good friends, won't
we, Nick"?"
T suddenly perceived what a lot he was
getting out of me, how I was playing
into his hands as usual and turned on my
heel abruptly. "You remember what I
said about wringing your neck?" I re-
marked.
"Dear me!" he laughed. "And this is
one of the times'?"
"T 'm afraid so," said T.
"Bad habit; you must break it, Nick."
I started out, he stopped me again.
214
MY LOST DUCHESS
"Is n't it queer about these things'?
Love makes asses of us all. It may be a
grand passion, but it makes its victims
very small. Good-by and do take it
easy when you get out there, take it
easy."
From the hall as the man was handing
me my hat I saw him cross back to his
desk, sit down calmly, put on his glasses
and take up his pen again, seemingly easy
and secure. But at the time I only felt
the relief of getting the load off my mind
and I felt almost jubilant as I hurried
down to the street.
215
XXVIII
RAND CKNTRAI. hurry!'' I
shouted to the first empty cub
in sight. Then I raced sac-
^ rilegiously down the Avenue,
and through the familiar Sunday .streams
of stiffly-starched people, who used to di-
vert me and now seemed only a stupid
crowd, fond of crossing the street slowly
in front of my cab. I had but a few
minutes to catch one of the infrequent
Sunday trains.
No doubt it would seem odd, my sud-
den reappearance, but not more odd than
my abrupt departure Saturday afternoon.
And neither thing was as wild as what I
had in mind to do when I got there. I
was possessed of a consuming, an unrea-
soning longing to get it out and over with
now that I had the right to do so.
2l6
MY LOST DUCHESS
They had just finished luncheon and
were taking coffee on the terrace when I
was announced.
"So you have come back again," said
Mrs. Ogden, rather coldly it seemed to
me as I came out to shake her hand. The
others turned and looked, and I felt that
they all saw through me, not only the
family, but even the other guests who
were there with coffee-cups in their hands.
This helped to make me rather incoherent
in my mumbled explanation, I fear, and
Mrs. Ogden did not nod and help me out
as usual, but merely waited heavily for
me to finish. I turned to salute Con-
stance. Her hand was as cold as ice, but
not so chilling as her manner.
And then I turned toward Hulda,
thinking: "What do I care how the others
treat me now that I am going to see
you?'' 1 But all that I saw was her long,
lithe back as she disappeared with one of
217
MY LOST DUCHESS
the girl -guests clown the steps between
two marble urns of trailing flowers.
"'You have had luncheon?" Constance
asked, her look following the direction of
mine.
"Oh, yes,'' said I, laughing as if she
had said something witty. "Or rather,
no," I added.
"Do come in," she said, leading the
way to the dining-room. The way she
said it made me follow slowly
Possibly it was because the servants
had begun clearing the table and did
not fancy being interrupted, but I felt as
if they too must be feeling coolly toward
me. Even the luncheon was cold. Con-
stance apologized in her most precise
manner.
"I am sure it is all my own fault," I
assured her. She did not contradict me.
We must have said something more
during that ghastly meal, but I can only
218
MY LOST DUCHESS
recollect telling her that I had n't a very
good appetite and that she said that she
was sorry. Ordinarily I might have
burst out laughing and asked what it
was all about, have had it out and
over with, but this was not ordinary.
Something had happened; it was in the
atmosphere; but I could not make out
what it was, though I stayed on through-
out the chilling afternoon and evening,
hoping that by so doing I might see
Hulda. That first glimpse of her was
my last.
It seemed plausible enough when I
heard later in the afternoon that she had
gone out with some of the rest for a Ion"
o
run in Harry Lawrence's new touring-
o
car an engagement which had been
made, I assumed, before my arrival. But
when it v/as announced that she was din-
ing in her room, because of a slight cold
acquired during the afternoon, and was
219
MY LOST DUCHESS
still too ill all the evening to come
down-stairs then at. last I got it
through my head that she was avoiding
me. Why'?
She was not down for breakfast in the
morning, but as we drove off in the
wagonette I thought I detected the glint.
of a white frock behind the mullioned
windows on the landing of the stairs.
Why'?
220
XXIX
HE earth has gone all the way
round once more. I am still
upon it. breathing, eating,
smoking, working, worrying.
(We take days off for the Fourth of
July and New Year's, but seldom for
our love affairs.) In all this time I
have learned nothing except how the
Avenue looks when the dank, gray dawn
comes in over the East River gas-houses.
Then I wrote a note.
"If you don't mind very much," it
said, "I am coming out to call upon you
Wednesday afternoon late. I hope you
will let me see you it is important.
Will you?"
It is difficult to see three hours' hard
labor in that note, but that is what it
221
MY LOST DUCHESS
cost, all the same, and I hope the House
Committee will never discover how much
club paper I wasted upon it. The labor
was wasted too. for the note received no
answer. So I telephoned; "Miss Ruther-
ford was engaged." Then I telegraphed
no reply. On 'Wednesday I called
anyway.
"Yes," said Robert, the butler, who
approves of me, "Miss Rutherford is in."
He disappeared with my card. I sat
down in the reception-room and waited,
trembling a little.
"Miss Rutherford is not at home," said
Robert, returning.
"Thank you," 1 said, and retreated in
my sorry-looking hack, defeated.
"On the other side of the house, on the
terrace or peradventure in the garden is
Torresdale," T announced to myself.
"Very likely she is in white, or maybe
it is the blue check gingham frock,
222
MY LOST DUCHESS
or else it is but what does it mat-
ter^"
I DINED at a miserable tavern in the vil-
lage and then drove out again, choosing
an hour when I knew she would be in the
school-room with Edith, her charge. I
wrote on my card, "Won't you please see
me, only for a moment." Surely I had
a right to call upon her as any other man
upon any other girl.
"Miss Rutherford begs to be excused,"
said Robert, returning.
He saw my face and seemed sympa-
thetic. "Very sorry, sir," he ventured,
dropping his eyes.
"Thank you," I said. "Good-night,
Robert."
"Good-night to you, sir."
As I stumbled out in the darkness to-
ward the light of my Jehu's hack I dis-
223
MY LOST DUCHESS
tinctly heard Torresdale's high-pitched
laugh ring out of the other side of the
house.
"Waiting for lessons to end," I said
to myself. "To the station," I said to
niv driver.
224
XXX
HAD all sorts of theories to
explain different elements of
the situation, but no one the-
ory explained the whole
thing completely. Nor did this note
from Hulda clear it up. I speak of this
note as if accustomed to receiving many
of them; it was the first and the last. It
is of no importance to record how I be-
haved about it.
"I cannot tell you how sorry I am to
be [she had written "seem" and had
crossed it out for "be"] so rude to you.
You are entitled to a far better explana-
tion than I can give, but I am hoping
that you will find it possible in some way
to forgive me without any explanation.
Good-by Please not to call upon me
again. Believe me, sincerely yours."
225
MY LOST DUCHESS
I made a million meanings out of this.
"Good-byY" What nonsense! Do
not call again"? I came that afternoon
at six o'clock.
"Miss Rutherford has gone, sir."
"Indeed? For how long?''
"She has left us, sir. She is not com-
ing hack."
"Gone, eh"? Where?"
"She did not say, sir went very
sudden like."
"She must have left an address for for-
warding letters, Robert."
"Not with me, sir.'' Then he added
in a lower voice: "Her luggage went
down to town, sir, on the 10.06."
"And you are quite sure she is not
coming back, Robert?"
"That seems to be the general under-
standing, sir."
Robert was an old, discreet English
servant. I fancy he has witnessed and
226
MY LOST DUCHESS
taken part in all sorts of household situa-
tions in the years that have made him
gray and scholarly-looking. I thought
he could find out her address if he wanted
to try.
"Robert," said I, giving him a present.
"Yes, sir." He looked up at me with
intelligence in his inscrutable counte-
nance.
Then I thought better of it. "Noth-
ing. Good-by, Robert," I said to him.
"Thank you, sir; thank you. Good
afternoon, sir," and I had my farewell
glimpse of the hall of Red Hill.
227
XXXI
HAVE scoured the town for
her, bur found her not. I
have sought out her friends,
but none has seen her none
had even heard the news I bore, of her
having left the Ogdens. Wherever she
has gone, whatever she is doing, it is
clear she does not care to let me know or
follow.
228
XXXII
IHEN came out of Red Hill,
most unexpectedly, this re-
markable letter from my
aunt, telling much I wanted
to know, a great deal I did not care to
hear, but nothing of what now, more
than ever, I am determined to discover
where my love has flown.
"You great, naughty boy," my aunt
wrote, as aunts will, "I 'd like to shake
you, if you were n't so big. Why am I
so fond of you? You are n't worth it.
"Now, my dear, foolish nephew, I am
not going to scold you for anything you
have done, because knowing you I fear
it might only make you do more and
worse! If you wish to flirt with pretty
governesses do so by all means and I 'm
229
MY LOST DUCHESS
sure you chose an exceptionally pretty
one. On!}', tor pity's sake. 'Jon't get
caught at it. But if you should he so
incautious, then do not proclaim yourself
guilty by blushing like a boy or. il you
can't break that engaging habit ot blush-
ing, pray at least restrain your incrimi-
nating impulse to flee from view by the
next train; or, if you should be so unim-
aginative as to do that, at any rate, when
you have cooled down at a distance, do
not straightway return the next morning
so avowedly, so indelicately, so obtru-
sively, for the sole purpose of seeing the
interesting young person again; or, it
you should so far forget yourself, do.
please, final Iv come to your sense's and
cease to pursue a governess when she
shows the good sense to avoid you. In
short, do not be a fool.
"But, oh, dear me! It becomes worse
and worse, the more I learn of the little
230
MY LOST DUCHESS
comedy (which the Ogdens are doing
their best to make into a tragedy) : spe-
cial trips out from town to call upon the
young woman without so much as in-
quiring for the others! dining in the
village to call again; sending in touching
appeals on your card; the telephone-bell
ringing; messenger boys busy, and so on.
I myself have been a witness to some of
this, and I am bound to say but
no, I '11 say nothing, for fear you '11
tell me that you have conceived a
boundless passion for a governess. Tell
me so if you wish tell her too, if you
like only do not, I beg of you, flaunt it
in the face of the girl you are going to
marry. Girls do not like it.
"Altogether you see you have made it
exceedingly difficult for your poor de-
voted aunt whom you do not appreciate
to persuade the Ogdens that you are
still attached to Constance, and that this
231
MY LOST DUCHESS
amusing affair has been merely a harm-
less bit of gallantry such as every man
at one time or another, after marriage, if
not before, yields to when a pretty
woman makes up her mind to tempt him.
But the Ogdens were always simple,
homely folk excellent stock to marry
into, Xick and their conservative no-
tions of propriety are severely shocked.
Yet, thanks to me, they no longer blame
you. Being women they understand the
helplessness of a mere man and more
especially a guileless boy like your big.
handsome self in the hands of a design-
ing female who has brains to back her
beauty.
"We had all observed you suspiciously
for some time, you may as well know,
and so the garden scene and these sub-
sequent astonishing gaucheries on the
part of its hero were all that were needed
to fan little Constance's smoldering
232
MY LOST DUCHESS
jealousy into a flame of fury which ill
becomes her Ogden repose. And now the
governess, from being an ornament to the
household, a comfort to its mistress, a
beautiful influence to its daughters, the
most efficient of social secretaries, and a
dear friend of the family, whom 'we con-
sidered one of ourselves,' has suddenly
been transformed into a brazen adven-
turess, a vain and selfish traitress, who,
in the guise of confidante to trustful Con-
stance, has played the most outrageous
trick one sweet girl can play upon an-
other.
"Of course, they take an extreme view
of the matter and are, I think, rather
uncharitable, but women always are to-
ward other women when there 's a man
in it. They don't seem to realize that the
poor girl has her way to make in the
world and can not stop to consider the
interests of others, even those to whom
MY LOST DUCHESS
she is beholden. Doubtless she thought
that you were worth the capturing. You
look it. You have the air of one who
can command the things which being
a bachelor you are fortunate enough to
enjoy. How was she to know that you
are quite as penniless as herself? It was
a perfectly natural mistake. Even Becky
Sharp made her mistakes at first, you
recollect. When older she will investi-
gate beforehand and thus save herself
much time and all concerned a lot of
trouble. Well, -he knows now. I told
her. Hence her abrupt retreat from the
field. (So if you are concerned over
anything you may impulsively have -aid,
you nice, innocent child, do not worry
any longer. She will never hold you to
it, my dear.)
"In my only intenicw with her she
still maintained a statuesque calm, the
pose of blameless superiority, as if site
234
MY LOST DUCHESS
were the injured one, which had so exas-
perated Mrs. Ogden, and which con-
vinces me that the young woman is quite
justified in believing in her future on the
stage. 'I suppose you know that you have
ruined my nephew's prospects in life,' I
said abruptly; 'he has no others, Miss
Rutherford,' I added.
"I am convinced that she was surprised
at this she must have been but she is
such a consummate actress that she con-
cealed her chagrin and disappointment
under a mask of lofty indignation. 'I
am sorry for him,' she said really quite
condescendingly 'but after this, sup-
pose you do your own match-making. I
am little Edith's governess, not your
nephew's,' and she swept out of the room.
"Two hours later she left the place
with your amusing Mr. Torresdale.
Where she has gone, or what she is doing,
we do not know, but I am convinced that
235
MY LOST DUCHESS
she can take care of herself. The field
is clear. Come when I give the signal.
Constance still believes that she hates
you furiously. That is encouraging
rather than otherwise the little dear.
She will forgive you if you approach her
as I direct. Women will always forgive
when they can't get what they want
without forgiving."
236
XXXIII
>OMiNG up the Avenue glis-
tening in a soft spring rain I
found my love alone, walk-
ing very slowly toward the
north with a fine, brave look on her
sweet young face. All I could see at
first were certain downy tendrils of light
brown hair which the bright spring mist
made sparkling and wonderful against
the black velvet collar of her long blue
rain-coat; then came into view the deli-
cate line of her cheek, and I knew that it
was my beloved and that I had found
her, alone in the teeming city where such
as she should never be alone. The slop-
ing shoulders under the loosely fitting
coat such inefficient shoulders for bat-
tling with the world, the slender young
body, not fashioned for fighting all
237
MY LOST nrC'HESS
that is tender and appealing in woman
called to me there in the mist and rain.
There was little now of the mysterious
personage about her, no strange duchess
to be worshiped from afar; she was my
heart's desire, the woman I wanted for
my very own; my mate, to protect and
care tor till the end. And this I swore
she should be as I hastened to overtake
her. I could not speak. I only ran to
her side rejoicing and startled her so
cruelly.
"Oh!" she cried, and then "It is
you?" she asked in such a different tone
and with a little flutter of mam- sudden
sensations, one of them relief. I think,
for she sighed as if quite content to have
me there for the moment, and gave me
her hand. Through two thicknesses of
gloves it set me all a-tingle.
"I have frightened you," was all that
I could say at first.
238
MY LOST DUCHESS
She looked up at me with such dear
trust in her cloudless eyes. "Now I 'm
not frightened/' she said, and let. her
ga/.e rest on mine for a moment longer,
with a glow my heart made the most of.
I shall never forget that look; that much,
at least, is to be mine forever. She was
no longer frightened, yet there was
evidence of a little tumult within, which
even the rain-coat failed to hide.
So for a space we two walked side by
side in silence, each wondering how
fared the world and how much was
known across the gulf of scarce a yard
between us.
"It 's such an adorable afternoon," she
said.
"Is n't it?" I responded, looking down
at her face.
"See the soft, floating mists."
"I have seen them," I responded.
There was a pause, then: "'Oh, I 'm
239
MY LOST DUCHESS
so sorry about it all," she broke out ab-
ruptly.
"About what?"
"Everything."
But I had room in my heart only to
be glad, and said nothing. All that had
happened since last we were together
seemed a long nightmare, now ended.
What the future held for me would be
discovered in a little while; but tor the
present it was enough to know that she
was beside me, and. best of all, that she
was willing, even glad, perhaps, to be
there. Of Torry I did not think at all
for the moment. She still found much
to say about the mist and the reflections
on the glistening street.
"I am glad to see you," T interrupted.
"I have tried to see you for a long time."
There was a pause. "I begged you not
to," she replied.
"You did not tell me why."
240
MY LOST DUCHESS
"I had hoped you would not ask that."
"You prefer not to let me know?"
There was another pause; for an in-
stant her shadowy eyes sought mine
I '11 swear it with a thoughtful tender-
ness I had never dreamed could be there,
and they seemed as clear and frank and
free from guile as a little child's how
was I to know? Then, before my surg-
ing heart could word its clamoring, she
was away, soaring out of my reach like
the young duchess of other days, for,
looking down at me with an amused
smile: "It 's nice to have seen you," she
said conventionally; "good-by. You
must n't come with me."
I ignored that, having no thought of
complying. "I sent you a number of
letters," I said.
She made no comment.
"Did you receive them?"
"I received them."
241
MY LOST DUCHESS
"You did not. answer."
"No."
"Are you answering now?"
"Please come no farther." she replied.
"How tar are you going?"
"I? I 'm going very tar." She
stopped to dismiss me.
''I, too, am going very far." I did not
stop.
'"'It will only make more trouble." she
said, but started on with me.
'Tor you?" I asked.
"Xo, oh, no," she replied. "Xothing
can make an}" more trouble tor me."
She said it lightly, as it wanting no
one's sympathy, but on her sweet profile
T saw a look which cut me to the heart.
T felt a melting glow of tenderness and
then a suffusing wrath a passion of pro-
tection. "As tor those who have been
unkind to you!" I began, somewhat ex-
citedly it seems, for she put a restraining
242
MY LOST DUCHESS
hand upon my arm and bade me hush
as if I were a boy. There were other
people in the world, I now discovered,
some of them were passing us in the mist
upon the Avenue. I looked down at the
hand on my arm. She took it away.
"You must promise not to do anything
of the sort," she said, laughing at me,
though not unkindly. "You do promise,
do you not?"
I promised nothing, but was reminded
of a time long ago when I wished to
thrash the theatrical manager who had
been rude to her. That was the day she
ceased to be the strange lady of my im-
agination and became the woman of my
heart, though I did not know it then.
We walked on in silence for a moment.
"By the way," she said, "tell me what
you thought of doing; but you must n't
do it !" she added quickly.
I laughed from sheer joy of her.
243
MY LOST DUCHESS
''Let 's not think about all that just
now,'' I said, walking taster. "We are
taking a walk. Nothing else matters."
But the taster we walked the taster
beat my heart, and the higher up the
Avenue we went the higher rose my
hopes.
"This is where I met you with your
beggar," I said. "You remember the
beggar?"
"The dear beggar!' she answered,
then added: "He brought me a good
friend I proved unworthy ot him."
She seemed to mean it, and was thinking
it over, apparently, her ga/e tar away to
the north, as she used to look when lirst
T saw her on this street, long, long ago.
T smiled and held my peace, biding my
time. "Back there by St. Thomas's was
where you once spoke to me by mistake.
Do you recall that?"
"Every time I pass."
244
MY LOST DUCHESS
"And here is the club window where I
used to look at you. Did you ever for-
give me for that*?"
"I liked It."
"But you stopped coming by this way
after you knew it."
"Not until after you found out that T
knew it."
"How did you happen to be coming up
the Avenue this time?" I asked.
She answered at once: "Hoping to see
you."
She said it casually, but I took heart.
"Just to see me?"
"Just to say good-by. This is our last
walk together, Nick. May I call you
Nick?"
I did not refuse her permission to call
me Nick. But for my part, I could not
believe it would prove to be our last
walk, though as yet I would not tell her
so. "Then let 's make it. a long one," I
245
MY LOST DUCHESS
replied. "Do you remember the path
around the reservoir in the Park? It
fine up there on a day like this, little
waves slapping against the stone ma-
sonry, and the smell ot the water, and
sometimes there are wild duck- out in
the middle."
"Let 's go up and see 'the ducks,'' she
said.
So, side by side, we marched upon the
reservoir, but I forgot all el.-e except
that we two were together. Ot what >he
thought I could only guess and hope.
By and by we came to a little bridge
leading off from the reservoir over the
bridle-path. This we crossed, and T re-
member how a reckless rider came plung-
ing through below us, and 'that we could
not see him, though so near, tor the tog
had closed in thick about us. The gal-
loping died away in the hidden distance.
Soon we came upon the Ramble with
246
MY LOST DUCHESS
its tangled paths, where once we met,
where first I heard her speak, before we
knew each other. I thought of that; she
too, perhaps I did not ask her. And
now we reached a broad and open grassy
space with trees on either hand, though
these we could not see, nor aught else now
except each other, as on we strode to-
gether through the soft and ever-thick-
ening mists. It was silent ' and mys-
terious there, and we might have been
upon a lonely moor, a million miles from
the city and its strident noises, though in
its very center, the calm storm-center;
and now my heart set up a furious clamor
to be heard.
"We must turn back now," she said,
so evenly, so easily. "See, it is growing
dark. Our last walk together has been
very nice."
"No, our first one really together,"
I replied, turning toward her gently as I
MY LOST DUCHESS
spoke, "but not the last. All those other
walks, all I tried to do it was all a lie.
I love you," I said, close to her glinting
hair. "I think you know that."
"Don't, Niek!" she cried with a gasp
as if I had hurt her thoughtlessly. "I
did n't know it, I did n't!" and now was
all a-tremble. "Yes I did, but you
must n't." Yet through her crimson dis-
tress I thought I saw a golden gleam of
rejoicing at my words. But the fog was
thicker than ever now and the light was
nearly gone.
"Must n't? I will!" I declared.
"Nothing can stop me now r !" and I
pressed close to read her shadowy face.
"I can," she said more to herself than
to me, "and I will!" she kept retreat-
ing quickly from me "I don't want you
to. I came to say good-by."
"Good-by? What nonsense!" I cried,
as with a bound I overtook her. "I have
248
I c;ime to say good-by
MY LOST DUCHESS
found you now at last the real you."
And I loomed high before her in the fog,
blocking her escape, I thought.
But beside her branched another path
I could not see. Down this she darted.
An intervening bush concealed her as I
quickly turned to follow. I heard her
footsteps. I rushed toward the sound.
The sound ceased suddenly. There
was utter stillness. I could see nothing.
Then like a whisper in my ear, "Good-by,
Nick," I heard almost beside me. She
had stepped off the asphalt path. She
was out there upon the soundless grass
somewhere. I pressed through the dense
fog toward the voice. My outstretched
hands found only mist. I spoke her
name. I knew that she was near me.
She kept silent. I called louder. "An-
swer me, Hulda!"
No answer came.
Presently, far below me, I heard a
251
MY LOST DUCHESS
li^ht step cross the walk. I ran to the
spot. She was <:one.
Then silence, and the. fo<j;. and after
that black darkness.
XXXIV
[HEN I reached the club, not
many minutes later, the first
man I saw was Torresdale,
standing calmly before the
broad hall fireplace, legs apart, hands in
pockets, talking glibly to a group of
men I do not know about English poli-
tics.
Hating myself for appealing to the
man I hated and feared above all men,
but who alone might tell me what I
now must know, I drew near him. "Just
a moment," I said, apologizing for the
interruption, "it is important," and led
him apart.
"Oh, is that all you want to know*?"
he said, smiling quizzically at my, dis-
comfiture. "I thought from the way you
253
MY LOST DUCHESS
began that you had been caught in this
cra'/y market, and were going to strike
me for a loan. Did you ever see such a
market ?"
"Do you, or do you not know what
she is doing, where she is staying?" I
asked, hanging upon his answer, wishing
to ask a thousand other questions.
"Naturally," he replied easily. "Win-
did n't. you ask me long ago? You seem
to have avoided me lately, Nick. In fact,
I thought you had lost all interest in us."
How I hated him for that "us," won-
dering what it meant, and knowing the
futility of inquiring. "Then you '11 tell
me where T can find her?"
"Why not?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said, biting my lips,
"but will you?"
"No," he replied, with a sickening
pause; "I '11 do better: I '11 take you to
see her, this very evening. Sorry I can't
254
MY LOST DUCHESS
dine with you; I have sent up my order
with this gang," he said, turning toward
the group he had left to speak with me.
"Don't eat a big dinner, Nick; we '11
start early. Oh, by the way, old chap"-
he put his hand on my shoulder "inter-
esting mix-up out at Red Hill, I under-
stand."
"I assumed that you understood it," I
replied, moving out of reach of his arm.
"Not entirely. But I have done what
I could to restore order."
"Have you 1 ?" said I, moving farther
away; "you were n't successful."
"It '11 come out all right in the end,
my boy, it '11 come out all right in the
end," he called after me. So, laughing
and saying: "Until after dinner then,"
he turned toward his friends and stepped
lightly into the conversation again as if
my interruption had not occurred, as if
I did not enter his existence.
255
MY LOST DUCHESS
I dined with a classmate who is now a
clergyman and with whom I forgot to
converse, keeping my eye on the time,
and then was allowed to wait many min-
utes by Torresdale who, when he joined
me in the hall, was profuse in his apolo-
gies for forgetting. Xow in apparent
haste he ordered a cab and scribbling an
address upon the club stables' card,
handed it to the man at the door as it in
too much of a hurry to tell me our des-
tination.
"Mind telling me where you 're taking
me?" I asked as he jumped in beside me.
"You said you wanted to see the
Duchess, did n't you?"
I made no reply.
"I am taking you to see the Duchess."
I did not fancy his debonair jocularity
as if nothing had happened. "Mind
making another matter equally clear?" I
asked.
256
MY LOST DUCHESS
He laughed indulgently at my sar-
casm. "Fire away," he said.
"Did you ever think I really cared for
Constance Ogden?" It seemed necessary
to put it thus brutally.
"I did n't think much about it. Hulda
and every one else seemed to think so
your aunt said so. Oh, I saw your aunt
out there the other day. She 's all in a
panic over you; had received a cold little
note from Constance breaking an engage-
ment for next week because you are
to be one of your aunt's party. Con-
stance used her mother's health as a pre-
text. So palpably a pretext that, 'if it '11
do for them, it '11 do for me,' says your
aunt to herself she has humor, Nick
and over she came on the run to inquire
after 'dear Maggie's' health. She 's a
great piece of work. She had guessed
the real trouble in a minute. When she
arrived she found Mrs. Ogden in such a
257
MY LOST DUCHESS
healthy rage that she forgot even to men-
tion her regular symptoms which must
indeed have alarmed your aunt. They
got right down to business. Oh, she 's
a piece of work. Wish I had an aunt
like that she 'd make a man of me."
I waited until he finished, then I re-
peated: ''Did you ever think I really
cared for Constance'?"
"I thought you ought to. It would
have been more in character."
"You mean you wanted me to."
"Well, for that matter, what did you
want me to do, eh?"
"Only to play the game fairly."
His face suddenly turned toward me.
I could not see its expression in the dim
light, but his tone showed resentment.
"Of course you know I would n't stand
that from most fellows. Wait till the
end of the game before you make such in-
sinuations."
258
MY LOST DUCHESS
The cab rumbled along in silence for
a moment. Then he went on again, as if
unruffled: "Yes, it 's a grand old mix-
up. I would n't have missed it for the
world all the elements of real comedy.
Of course I was n't on the inside, but a
good deal percolated through could n't
help doing so. Why, the very at-
mosphere of the place reeked with it.
Even the men-servants and the maid-
servants are on, and for all I know the
oxes and the asses too. Are n't a pack
of women amusing when once they turn
on a person they have liked?" He
paused a moment. "By the way, Nick,
they tried to make me think that you,
too, had been rather horrible not only
to them, I mean, but to me. Now, what
do you think of that?"
"I have n't been thinking much about
you, I 'm afraid," I muttered. "Miss
Rutherford is dependent on her own re-
259
MY LOST DUCHESS
sources, T understand. How is she to
support herself ? Do you happen to
know?"
"I told them there was nothing in their
amusing charges. T 've got all that 's
coming to me,'' he chuckled, "I 'in not.
worn- ing/'
"Has she secured another position as
governess or something?''
"Dear, no! She can't. The Ogdens
have seen to that. As your wonderful
aunt says, 'she is decorative but dan-
gerous' no one wants governesses who
will flirt with one's guests. Here we
are."
The cab drew up before an old-fash-
ioned high-stooped house, exceedingly
shabby. It was on a side street, not far
from Broadway. Torresdale led me to
the basement entrance. From behind a
cage-like door an old man arose, bristling,
then said, "Good evening, Mr. Torres-
260
MY LOST DUCHESS
dale," quite respectfully, "you 're kite,
sir."
Wondering, I followed my companion.
Near the entrance hung a sort of bulletin-
board. Upon it I saw a list of names
and numbers. We passed through a
dingy hall, musty smelling, then turned
to the left through an opening in a thick
wall, evidently cut through the side of
the house, and then into a darker passage
and up a step or two. I saw brighter
lights beyond and heard suppressed voices,
one of them angry. They echoed oddly.
It was a bleak, barn-like place, quite spa-
cious, with the raw, bare bricks of the
wall behind us, and in front, platforms,
scaffolding, and dirty canvas-covered
frames with numbers daubed on them.
"Old-style house," said Torresdale.
"See what a high paint-loft." I looked
up and saw ropes and pulleys reaching
far overhead into the darkness. "I once
261
MY LOST DUCHESS
had a production of my own here." he
said. Just then I saw a woman scurry-
ing past, dressed in an extravagant cos-
tume, and realizing that I was behind
the scenes in a theater. I thought of
man}- things. Dust and disillusionment
lay thick about me.
''A fine old stage"- -Torresdale was
still talking "see how deep it is. They
annexed that once respectable home we
came through for dressing-rooms. That
leaves plenty of off-stage space, you see.
Man}' a famous old player has made hi>
bow here and man}' a poor one too. for
that matter dead and now forgotten.
We 'd better go out in front; we '11 be in
the way here presently. The grips have
struck the first set and now the}" 're hust-
ling up the one for the second act.
Everything 's stiff and unwieldy at first.
This is the dress rehearsal. T/u'\' have to
rehearse tltcir parts as well as the players,
262
MY LOST DUCHESS
That 's why the stage-manager 's swear-
ing so. To-morrow is the first night.
They '11 be still more excited then. This
production has been rushed through in a
hurry."
I followed where he led, past men in
shirt-sleeves sweating, and through a
dirty iron door behind the boxes and out
into the auditorium.
A handful of people there, mostly of
the profession, it seemed, nearly all of
them men, smoking. Their hats were on.
Several of them nodded at Torresdale
abstractedly. There was the feeling of
a lull, a waiting expectancy. A group of
men were standing down by the orchestra
railing, leaning upon it discussing some-
thing earnestly. An elderly man was
gesticulating excitedly before a young
one who shook his head doggedly.
"The old man is the producer. That
young chap is the author," said Torres-
263
MY LOST DUCIIKSS
dale "the one biting his nail-, poor
devil. They 're trying to bull}'
him into taking one ot their 'sug-
gestions.' They are as bad as editor-."
he added with a smile, "and not so
polite."
We took seats half-way down. ""What
is the name of this play V" 1 asked.
"It is n't a play: it 's a musical piece."
he replied, "and it 's ^oin^ r to make a hit
-a bi<; hit."
"She 's not ^oin^ to appear in that sort
of thin^V" I exclaimed.
"But this is a very nice, refined one,"
said Torresdale, lau^hin^ a little at me.
I suppose. ''Ot course, this is n't just the
sort of beginning we wanted for her. but
you know how it is, one has to take what
one can <j;et, you know. Man}' a famous
actress has bejjjun her climb toward the
heaven of stars from this round of the
ladder. Wait and see."
Was this one of his jokes? T did not
264
MY LOST DUCHESS
think I would see her here, but I
waited.
I heard hammering behind the cur-
tain, and the loud voice again, "Look
out for those top-lights!" Finally the
noises stopped. "Stand by!" called the
voice, "stand by!"
The talking near us ceased. The house
was darkened, the footlights were turned
on, the orchestra began its work, and the
curtain arose upon a rather beautiful syl-
van dell, representing a court in fairy-
land, it seemed, with a chorus of fairy
youths and maidens flitting about, who
presently came down to the footlights
and began singing.
"Look up, you need not worry," said
Torresdale, not unkindly. "She 's not on
in this number."
The elderly man I had noted before,
the producer, raised his hand for quiet.
The singing ceased, the orchestra stopped
in the middle of a bar. Every one turned
265
MY LOST DUCHESS
toward him respectfully. "Would you
mind beginning over again "?" he asked
in a kind, melodious voice; "and you,
Margery, please be careful not to mask
those up-sf.age with your wings it 's all
right, dear, we are n't used to them yet,
you know/' So the}- began over again.
"You see how considerate the}' are'?"
asked Torresdale, poking me. "Most
misunderstood people in the world. To
be sure, you can still find the martinet
method employed by some producer.--, but
more and more of them nowadays are dis-
covering that it -pays to be kind. Players
are as sensitive as children, but they '11
w r ork their heads off for you if you 're
kind, kind and firm."
A fairy in diaphanous garments came
on and waved a wand or did something.
Others came on and some of them sang
and some of them danced. I did not
know just what was taking place.
"Some of these little things have tal-
266
MY LOST DUCHESS
cut," Torresdale resumed, critically; "a
kind of talent you people down-town
seldom appreciate, though you like to
watch it. They are foolish, flighty chil-
dren for the most part, and yet some-
times even one of these enjoys a certain
sense of creation, gets an artistic satis-
faction which you and your kind can
never know or understand. For example,
that eminently caressable-looking one
there in baby blue to match her infantile
smile, she does this sort of thing eight
times a week for fifteen dollars per, and
manages to keep a touring-car on her
savings. Pity her if you must and she
will be pathetic enough some day but
don't mind if meanwhile she, too, some-
times feels, under that tinsel-covered
corsage, a certain sense of superiority to
your complacent smugness, your impris-
oned respectability, which people like
you think so fine and enviable."
"Oh, shut up!" I said, unable to con-
267
MY LOST DrC'HESS
trol myselt an}" longer. "Why did you
!>ring me here?"
He turned and smiled at me. ''Wait/'
he said.
There was a flare oi music and then a
burst ot applause as three pretty, fhiilv
girls ran out dressed in very long trains
with huge white picture hat-. But she
was none of the>e. From the other side
three slender voung men came mincing
out, dressed in v.'hite flannel suits and
straw hats. Some ot the professional
audience applauded their triends.
T felt Torresdale's eyes upon. me. and
once I glanced at him. He was smiling
quizzically.
"T think T '11 go." T said; "you know
she 's not here."
He put a restraining hand on mv knee
and just then. "The Duehe.--s!" shouted
the chorus. "Here comes the Ducht 1 .
and as the}- pointed toward the back oi
268
MY LOST DUCHESS
the stage the side of the enchanted hill
opened, and I saw the Hulda I had lost,
a few hours ago in the mist.
Even in my dumb amazement I could
not fail to note how radiant and won-
derful she was in court robes with a
coronet on her head ; and, whether she
liked the tinsel make-believe or hated it,
she was playing the part well, in such a
way that no one might guess what she
felt beneath.
It gave me a strange, dreamlike effect
of unreality to see her up there, and with
it came that haunting sense of recogniz-
ing something experienced once before.
T had felt the same thing the time I first
discovered her a governess at Red Hill.
There, too, she seemed to be playing a
part and with this same easy grace, this
same detached and sparkling interest in
the things about her, this same undis-
turbed indifference to what I or all the
269
MY LOST DUCHESS
world might think of her. A moment
before I feared that she might be marred
and cheapened by appearing here: no\v I
knew that her superb disdain could carry
her through anything, with grace and
dignity and halt-smiling humor. How
hopelessly I loved her! and how had I
dared to tell her soV
Again I became aware of Torre-da e
ga/ing at me. "Yes, Nick, a pretty good
entrance for a beginner.'" he whispered.
"You 'd never guess that girl was scared
to death perhaps she is n't: 1 don't
know. She never lets any one find out
what she really feels. She 's such a thor-
oughbred. What a walk! What a pres-
ence! I wonder where she learned it."
There was no applause, because she
was only an "extra" without a line to
speak, to be unnamed upon the program,
unknown even to this audience. Rut a
hush of respectful attention had come
270
MY LOST DUCHESS
over the house. Her delicacy made an
appeal even to those who did not appre-
ciate nor desire delicacy.
Now she came quietly down the stage
and took her place beside a gilded throne
on the left, and others in turn were an-
nounced and hailed by the waiting
chorus. "The Princess!" they shouted,
and, finally, "The Queen, the Oueen!"
more ecstatically than ever, and this time
all burst into loud huzzahs, as the star
entered, bowing to the applauding little
audience, and took her place swaggeringly
upon the throne with the ladies of the
court grouped about and the chorus
dancing before her.
"Look at our Hulda!" whispered Tor-
resdale enthusiastically. "See how still
she stands. See how contained and re-
served she looks, as if unaware of the
most critical audience she will ever have,
within a few yards of her. There ! She
2 7 1
MY LOST DUCHESS
sees YOU and she never even moved. I
was not supposed to brinjj; vou here. I
could n't reMst it. She makes that poor
queen look like what she i- in real ifV.
\o wonder (jenevieve ha- be: r un to kirk
make trouble tor Hulda. Mo-' actresses
when the}- try 'hi<:h-lif c" part- think the}'
must hold their chins in the air like tha f
and snub everybody in su:ht. It 's ludi-
crous and rather pathetic the way they
try to assume an air of haughty supe-
riority. But look at t!ie Duche . It
is n't merely because Hulda happens to
have been presented at a real court that
she is doin^ this so well. It 's because
she does n't have to assume anything;
she 's ^ot it already. She 's //.' T tell
you. Nick, before the week is out they '11
be flocking here to see our Duchess walk."
A^ain I felt his qui'/y.ical eyes upon
me, but I made no comment.
272
MY LOST DUCHESS
"The word will go out along Broad-
way that there 's something new here,
something new and different. She '11 be
made; she '11 soon be famous; my predic-
tion will come true. . . . Do you re-
member that evening on the club roof-
garden? I said the time would come
when we should boast of having known
that governess."
And now my blood began to boil, as I
thought of to-morrow with the public
here to ogle her. For the moment I had
forgotten this. The music and the lights,
the glitter and the glamour I had been
dazzled. But now I realized what it
\vould mean. This handful of specta-
tors near me did not matter; they looked
upon her with cool, professional eyes,
critical, impersonal. But to-morrow!
My hands clenched as I thought of
certain ones who attended every first
night. Her beauty and her fresh young
273
MY LOST DUCHESS
charm, her sparkling smile, her quiet
poise I knew how their eyes would
fasten on my Hulda. It was not a plea-
ant thought to contemplate in an}" case:
but tor me who loved her and had so
nearly won her not halt a day ago. it
was exquisite torture.
"Torn'," I remarked as quietly as I
could, "why have you let her do diis
sort of tiling?"
"Why are most of them doing it.
Xick? Why did you and I do a lot of
unpleasant apprentice jobs when we be-
gan our trades? Did you think that be-
cause she happens to be good-looking and
has played leading roles in amateur
comedy she could practise a difficult pro-
fession without learning it could jump
upon the stage and grab the star's part
out of her hands? "\ ou have heard tales
of that sort. You probably believed
them. They don't come true. She '11
274
MY LOST DUCHESS
have to learn to act before she becomes
an actress."
"She '11 not learn it here," T answered.
"This is no play this is a parade."
"Then why don't you get her a part
in a real play?" he asked.
I had no answer.
"It 's too late in the season, Nick," he
said. "Xo new plays are being produced
just now. This is the best we could get
for her to start with. Could hardly have
got this, even with her looks and my
pull, if I had n't written in the bit for
her myself. The playwright is a friend
of mine. I thought you 'd like the name
of the part a delicate compliment to
you."
"Tony, you ought n't to let her do it."
"Nick, you ought n't to make her do
it."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well Nick, it was n't my fault she
275
MY LOST DUCHESS
lost her job at Red Hill." He indicated
the stage and. "You "re responsible for
her being up there," lie said. . . . "That
side-piece is too tar on stage. I '11 be
back in a moment.'' As he rose he leaned
over me. "My boy." he said, still
smiling, but I thought more kindlv. "on
the whole you are taking it rather well.
Abstract! v it is hard, of course, lor me to
understand your extreme view, but sit-
ting beside you T find I can almost sym-
pathize with it. T get an inkling of it
every now and then. It 's very quaint."
Then he strolled down to speak to some
one.
While he was busy with the others I
stole in behind the scenes, unnoticed, and
waited until she left the stage, relaxing
slightly from her make-believe, I
thought, as she drew nigh, walking
slowly. She did not see me as I waited
there in silence, a little dizzy at the
276
MY LOST DUCHESS
thought that she was coming toward me
and that now at last we were to meet
each other face to face again, she who
had vanished in the mist and I who loved
her. She came so near that by the strong
light behind me I could see the paint
upon her tender cheeks, the thick particles
of black clinging to her wondrous lashes.
Without a start or any sign to show that I
had been discovered she turned a little to
the left and disappeared behind a bit of
scenery. Perhaps she had not seen me
waiting in the shadow.
T sought the ancient doorkeeper,
bribed him, and sent her word that I was
there to see her upon a matter of im-
portance. I stayed in the deserted hall-
way. Word came back that she was very
sorry not to see me, and please not to
wait.
Then I hurried out, for I knew that the
second of the two acts was nearly fin-
^77
MY LOST DIXTIKSS
ished, to a hotel around the corner, and
scrawled this line: "I Mease ict me see you,
if only tor a moment. It is so im-
portant." This I sent sealed to her
dressing-room. My answer came back
swiftly, and was brief: "Impossible." It
was written hurriedly in her hand on my
envelop, apparently with the thick black
pencil used for shading her eyes. The
envelop was empty.
So I waited outside 'the stage-door. I
waited long.
"What are they doing in there all this
time"?" I asked the doorkeeper.
"Running through the second act
again." he said, and grinned at me im-
pudently. A man pacing up and down
before the stage-entrance was not to him
an unfamiliar sight. And as I realized
this, the disquieting thoughts came flood-
ing over me afresh. I could no longer
keep them from me when I tried.
278
MY LOST DUCHESS
And I was responsible for her being
here. . . .
Waiting is such nervous work.
SHE was the last to come out from the
dressing-rooms and hang her key beside
the bulletin-board.
She came alone and wore once more
the long blue rain-coat of our misty after-
noon. She seemed such a plucky girl, so
quietly confident and oh, so innocently
unconscious of what lay before her on the
morrow. I, w T aiting in the shadow, could
hardly wait for her to reach me.
"Hulda!" I burst out in an excited
whisper, "you must n't do this! It 's
out of the question! This place these
people and to-morrow! You of all
women !" I was overwrought by the
day's emotions, and did not realize how
this would affect a girl of spirit.
279
MY LOST Dl CTTKSS
I was dimly aware fha< I !r.ul startled
her, but she was calm \\ hen .-he answered :
""\ on need not come to-morrow.
"Xor you, IIuld;i. flulda! \vill you
marry me?"
She was not -tarried now. nor wa- she
any lon^'( j r calm. S!ie seemed tunou-.
''I'hanks tor your generosity," she said:
''I could not dream of imposing upon it."
and turned tcn\'ard the open stap'-en-
trance a<j;ain as it e.\[)ei'tinij; some one.
Tt made me- frantic. "Hulda! stop 1
What does all this mean? At least.
have a ri^ht to understan.il \'ou, a ri ^In-
to some sort of explanation. \Yhy are
you doin^; this thin;.r"? And v.'hy. TIukl;i.
wliy did }"ou look tor me to-day?"
"To say ^ood-by. Perluups }'ou did
not hear me. I 'm reach'. I'orr}'." slie
called. He approached, talking briskly
with two other men.
"Good-night, old chap," said Torrcs-
280
MY LOST DUCHESS
dale to me as if nothing had happened.
I stood aside to let them pass. Her long
blue rain-coat brushed my arm.
281
KT must have been well on
when I
tramping
toward mornin
ended my nigh
at Torresdale's rooms. I
now was desperate.
He was sitting in the dark before an
open fire, but seemed glad to welcome
me. Fie said he had been thinking about
me, and turned on the lights.
"Torry," I began at onee, ''tor God's
sake, help me. will you? ^ ou say I got
her into this hole; won't )'ou help me get
her out before to-morrow night? She
does not reali'/e what she 's doing but
vou surely reali'/e !"
He looked up and laughed as T began.
but checked himself. "I be^ your par-
don, Xick," he said, ''but you look so
tragic. You sound as if you 'd gone to
282
MY LOST DUCHESS
a Bowery joint from a rescue mission.
You are taking it too seriously. You are
almost hysterical. Nick, upon my word,
I don't believe you ever were in love be-
fore; a great big boy like you!"
I turned away. I was in no mood for
this sort of thing.
"Wait," he said. "Sit down, Nick."
"Torry," I resumed, for I could not
afford to lose my temper now; too much
was at stake; "I don't know what your
real attitude toward her is" I paused
for a reply; none came except his quiz-
-/ical, smiling scrutiny "nor hers to-
ward you; but you seem to have some
influence over her. I have not. She
does n't confide in me. But you know
what my attitude toward her is. Could
we work together on this thing? Will
you help me prevent her going on with
it?" If he had any regard for her, I
thought, he must surely feel as I did.
283
MY LOST DUCHESS
"The lingering taint ot Puritanism
that ha-- wrought such havoc in all our
Anglo-Saxon art!" he laughed, "the ig-
norant prejudice against the stage, which
keeps it down down, so they can keep
on condemning it. I suppose. So vou
want to cut short her artistic- career?'' he
asked, "just at its promising inception.
What a pity !"
"Artistic rot," I answered. "Think ot
the crowd there to-morrow night, think
of their looks, their comments guess the
rest."
"Comments^ T heard nothing but the
most flattering comments, I heard her
pronounced a queen this evening and so
she is, though you used to be content to
let it go at a duchess, I believe. The
staring will be no worse than at real
queens at their coronations. 1 saw a cor-
onation once; the personal comments
were n't half so flattering. A cat may
281
Sit down, Nick
MY LOST DUCHESS
look at a king; why not a man at a
queen ? You must be jealous."
"Oh, shut up," I said, "you know what
I mean. I 'm not working for myself in
this. I simply can't stand her being on
the stage."
"Well, why don't you marry the
girl?" he asked. "That 's the usual
way."
I did not like his tone. "No man is fit
to marry her," I returned reverently.
"That 's what they always say," he
mused, "and yet did you ever know any
of 'em to let a little thing like that stand
in the way? You '11 probably marry
her. I '11 bet you two to one you marry
her." Again he gave me his eager scru-
tiny.
I arose to go. "Then if you won't
help me I must try it alone somehow,"
I sighed; "I don't know just how."
"Nick," he said, detaining me, "it
287
MY LOST DUCHESS
does n't seem to occur to you that, this is
asking a lot of me. You see, I have put
her on the stage; it 's to my interest to
keep her there. She may make me
famous as well as herself. Even it I 'm
never luck}' enough to star her in a piece
of my own, at least. I can always boast
that. I gave her her start. 'Hulda Ruth-
erford"? oh, ACS, I discovered her, I knew
her when she was only a governess' and
all that sort of thing, you know."
"Torry, if you have the slightest real
regard tor Miss Rutherford ' I began.
"To-night," he went on, ignoring my
interruption, "at the close of the rehearsal
they offered her a permanent engagement.
That 's why we were so late in getting
out. Oh, you 're not the only one she
impressed to-night. Tt 's seldom they
take the extra people so seriously. They
wanted her to sign at once before the
other managers see her to-morrow night
and snap her up, you understand?"
288
MY LOST DUCHESS
"And I suppose you made her do it*?"
He smiled oddly. "No, I advised her
to wait."
"In order to get a more advantageous
offer?" I asked, seeing my hopes fade.
"Nick," he said, changing his tone
abruptly to a frank friendliness, "in a
way you 're right about this thing. Per-
haps you have influenced me. She 's too
fine for what she 's doing. Of course the
stage is not so naughty as you and your
sort prefer to think, and in any case she
can take care of herself. Think of her
derisive smile! But it will be an awful
nuisance for her. It 's such a bother to
be beautiful; and yet, what woman
would not give all she has for that dis-
quieting possession. But think of our
Hulda as a public beauty ! It will never
do. It will spoil the very quality we
adore about her most I was especially
impressed with that to-night her deli-
cate elusiveness, her arrogant aloofness.
289
MY LOST nrC'HESS
X"o, Xick. she was not made to be a
'servant of the public.' It 's not her
metier"
I knew he enjoyed watching me shud-
der, but I felt now as though he. too,
were capable of shuddering, and I
thought better of him than I had in
months.
"And yet," he said, ''there 's this
stupid, humdrum, human habit of eating
and sleeping. Even she can not break
herself of that. What would you say to
something of this sort, for earning a quiet
living in the surroundings she 's accus-
tomed to?" He tossed me a note from
the table.
It was from Mrs. LI. Harrison Wells,
a young matron rather great in her world,
with whose name I dimly recalled hear-
ing Torresdale's linked in idle gossip.
She said that she would be delighted to
have Miss Rutherford fill the place left
290
MY LOST DUCHESS
vacant by the marriage of her late secre-
tary. "It means helping entertain her
guests," he said. "Mrs. Wells is rather
lazy."
"Thank God," I said too grateful to
be jealous. Evidently Torry had writ-
ten to Mrs. Wells some time ago. Per-
haps he had felt as I did all along.
"When did this arrive"?" I asked.
"Only this evening, at dinner."
"You showed it to her"?"
"On the way home that 's why I
bluffed off the governor until I could see
her alone. Nick, she refused Mrs.
Wei Is' s offer."
"Refused it! Why?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
We looked at each other. I searched
his calm, impenetrable eyes. I won-
dered what he knew and was holding
back.
"Torry," I said, "what does it mean?
291
MY LOST DUCHKSS
Can that girl be so fascinated b}' all that
tinsel-tawdry make-believe?"
He laughed at my phrase. "She hates
the tinsel-tawdry make-believe."
"Then why. in the name of reason,
did she refuse this offer?"
Again he shrugged. "Nick/' he said,
"I know just enough about women to
know that I know nothing."
Then he seemed anxious to get at his
work, which he said was a love story.
292
XXXVI
'ILD plans scudded through my
mind in sleep, and wilder
ones at each fitful awakening.
Despise and hate me as she
would, I could not let her do the thing she
chose to do, since now there was a fair
alternative. I no longer cared (or
thought I did n't) how she regarded me;
her future was more important to me than
my own. She had arrived at a crucial
*
parting of the ways, and I made up my
mind she should not take the way she
blindly had selected.
If necessary I would meet and inter-
cept her at the door so I pictured it
and carry her away by force, and so
spoil her chances. My will was now op-
posed to hers, and mine would prove the
master so I thought.
293
MY LOST Dl'CIIKSS
Indeed, when dav and clearer vision
eanie. this wild intention hardened into
fixed resolve, tor no milder plan .-eemed
possible. She had not told me where -he
lived. Torre-dale, who knew, declined
to tell me. He said (whether truthfully
or not) that she had made him promi.-e
not to. At the theater they refused to
pve me her address. None of her friends
had even seen her.
Meanwhile there was a day's work to
worry through.
As twilight approached the lover in me
for I could not kill my love for her,
though knowing her I saw clearly now
that what I meant to do would kill all
that mi^ht be left of the kind regard she
bore me the lover led my footsteps to
the pleasant paths in our beloved Park
where but a day ap) my hopes had
reached their height, and where I lost her
when so nearly won.
*
294
MY LOST DUCHESS
Here was the reservoir where we
walked in silence through the mist, and
here the little bridge where the reckless
rider and my heart galloped hard in con-
cert. And here was the open space among
the trees where the world stood still when
I told her that I loved her, and every-
thing had told me she was mine except
the mere words, and then I lost her. And
here
Here I found her now.
295
XXXVIT
is if the intervening hours had
never been, and merely the
tog had lifted, she was
standing quite still and quite
alone upon that very spot, with a
thoughtful look upon her half-turned
face.
She did not hearmv swift approach for,
jUSt as she had used the soundless grass
to slip away from me, it served my pur-
pose now to come up elo.se behind her,
speaking her name.
I had surprised her. But she was far
from glad as when I found her on the
wet Avenue the day before. She flushed
with displeasure and she bit her lip. and
asked me what T wanted there, as though
it were her private park, and I a poacher.
But I was not abashed.
296
MY LOST DUCHESS
"I? Oh, I was merely looking for
you," I replied, the cooler of the two;
"and you?"
"I was looking for my path," she said
hastily, explaining that she lived nearby.
"It 's always so confusing here."
"So I found it yesterday," said I.
"You look confused. Let me show you
the right path," I added. "I am not con-
fused to-day."
"I have found it now," she answered,
and started off abruptly, I following
closely.
"This is not the right way," I said, de-
taining her.
"I '11 take which one I please," she de-
clared emphatically, "and I will go
alone."
"You 're quite mistaken in both those
matters," I answered. "You '11 take the
one I say, and, as it happens, you 're not
to go alone."
297
MY LOST IM CTTKSS
"Indeed?" she cried, indignant now,
and turned oil from the main path
through a little copse, but she was not to
escape me again. "Xo." I slid, overtak-
else run into them. T
little light left in the Park, and not far
away passed a tew belated people bound
for dinner.
"Don't make yourself ridiculous," she
sneered, "they will see you."
"I know it, so take care." I answered.
"Think how they would -tare if you
caused a scene here in a public park!"
She stood still now and looked at me,
defiant. I looked down at her. "You
could n't stop me if I cared to go on,"
she said more lightly, as though tem-
porizing.
I told her I was pleased that she did
298
MY LOST DUCHESS
not care to go on, but that I could easily
stop her.
"Pooh!" she said, laughing now to
show how calm she was. "How could
you stop me?"
"Well, for one thing, ) T OU are only a
girl. I could easily hold you in my arms,
you know. I 'm so much stronger."
"Pooh!" she said again. "You! You
would n't dare!" and turned to go the
other way. I seized her sharply by the
wrist. She gasped. "Don't be absurd,"
she breathed.
"Then don't go," I said, but did not
release her hand. The people had passed
on, their minds on dinner. We had that
part of the Park to ourselves.
"What are you going to do with me?"
she asked timidly. It was mock timidity,
as if she still were master of us two, but
she was not, for it was no longer as a
suppliant lover that I stood before her
299
MY LOST DUCHESS
now. Not my interests but hers were in
my mind this made all the difference.
I felt a confidence and dominance I had
never known before in the presence ot
this woman. Also. 1 was quite aware
that her hand was in my ^rasp anil that
it was ripd. Thus we two stood con-
fronting each other in the fading li<Jit.
each resolute, determined. She shot such
glorious looks ot scorn at me. They
glanced off. harmless and I searched her
shadowy eyes until they turned away
from mine.
"Do you wish to make me late?" she
asked with ^rave dignity.
"Yes."
There was a little pause.
"Are you trying to humiliate me?"
"No. To save you from worse humili-
ation."
Her lip curled. Then, in an anxious
tone: "It 's really time for me to ^o," she
300
MY LOST DUCHESS
said. "I have an obligation to meet. I
have a sense of honor, even if you have
not."
"Your part is unimportant. It can be
cut. No one will miss it."
"Indeed!' she cried, with growing
wrath.
"However, it does n't matter you 're
not going to that place again."
She laughed as if indulgent. "Oh,
yes, I am," she said confidently.
"Oh, no, you 're not."
"I will!"
"You can't !"
Again we looked at each other, my
grasp tightening a little on her wrist.
"So that is all settled," I said. "Now,
I have something else to say to you
"I do not wish to hear!" she flung
back instantly.
"If you think that I mean to tell you
that I care for you, you 're much mis-
301
MY LOST DUCHESS
taken. T 've done that once. Do you
suppose I ni the sort to repeat it"? No.
Before we part \ve are to understand each
other clearly, for once, for all even
if it proves to be the last time \ve ever
meet."
"I '11 have that to be thankful for. a^
least." she interjected halt aloud.
"'Last night I begged you to ex-
plain"
"I '11 never explain!" she cried ex-
citedly.
"I know it that 's why I 'm going to
do it."
"] don't care to hear your explana-
tion."
"I know that too, but you 've got to.
I know all about you now."
"You know nothing about me!'
"Everything! T can read you like a
book. T know why you acted as 3-011
did when you discovered that T cared
302
MY LOST DUCHESS
for you. I know why you avoided me.
I know why you turned to Torry for
help. I know why you went on the
stage. I know why you refused to leave
it."
"You do not!" she cried, almost inar-
ticulate with rage.
"But I do ! The explanation is so
simple that it 's strange I did not guess
it from the start. I know why you are
so angry with me now." She was strug-
gling to be gone and I grasped her by the
other hand and turned her toward me.
"It 's because you love me ! That 's why
you are here and caught!"
And oh, now, the look upon her face !
Never before was such a sight for the
eyes of man. Proud, scornful, superb
but trapped, dismayed, disarmed. I saw
her summon all her virgin strength, and,
like an angry Artemis discovered, she
shot the bolt that should destroy me:
303
MY LOST Dl'CHKSS
"I Life you!'' she hurled, and her
(.vondrous face in glorious wrath was but
a little distance from my o\vn. Oh. what
terrific scorn was in her tones. But I was
not terrified. I liked it.
"Xo,' 1 I cried, no lorvjer pretending to
be calm, "you love me!'
"'Oh, how I Itafc you!"
"It 's love. You love me almo.-t as
much as I do you! Ever}- iia-h ot your
burning, hating eyes tells me that
you love me every quiver ot your
lovely mouth ever}' tremor ot your
slender bod}'. Xo. Hulda, it 's no
list 1 struggling I shall never let you go.
You love me! That 's why you tor-
mented me at lied Hill that 's why you
ran away at last thinking you had been
unfair to some one else. That 's why }ou
were so furious at. my disapproval of the
stage that 's why you took this work
you hated to punish yourself and hide
304
MY LOST DUCHESS
from me, thinking I would not care
to follow there believing it would
cure me yet hoping all the time it
would n't and fearing all the time it
might. Ah, Hulda! that 's why you
came looking for me yesterday because
you could n't help it, Hulda you
could n't keep away, you lovely, lovely
thing! Why, you love me so that you
would even give me up! so I might
have what you can't bring so romanti-
cally you love me that 's why you came
here now to view once more the scene
of sacrifice here where love has brought
us both to find each other when we
foreswore love. Oh, Hulda, Hulda,
you 're not a worldly duchess you 're a
glorious girl in love with me! Say it,
Hulda, for you 're caught, and I shall
never, never let you go." My arms
found her and held her fast.
Still striving to be free of me, but
305
MY LOST DUCHESS
glorying in her un-ucee . "Oh." she
sobbed, "'can't you see how miserable
you 're making meV"
'"X\>." I cried, "only how happy you
are that 's why you cry. Look at me
and deny it. it you can deny it, it you
dare!"
Bravely she raised her dewy eyes to
ga'/.e me down. She looked, she did not
dare! Her eyes fluttered and fell. Her
head drooped like a drenched rose.
For a moment her cool hand- held my
eager face in check, her eyes sounding
my soul. then. "Oh. Xick. Xick!" she
cried, sheer gladness breaking through
her voice, as, surrendering to the happi-
ness that was her- and mine, she gave
herself to me at last.
AT the moment of her sweet surrender,
there in the gathering dusk, I only knew
306
MY LOST DUCHESS
the joy of what I had won, not the full
value of it. This came a little later when
thought returned, and we looked at each
other with new eyes, wondering how such
things could be granted mere mortals.
But now I know. And what am I that
she should love me so ! How can I hope
to earn what I have won. I can only
gaze and wonder and be glad.
WE had left the blessed Park when,
where, or how, I do not know -and pres-
ently we found ourselves floating down
the also blessed Avenue.
"Look at the time!" she said. "You
have made me miss my dinner, Nick."
"You must have your dinner," I said,
and thought rapidly. "We must be mar-
ried at once."
She gasped a little, but smiled bravely.
"Why at once?" she asked quite casually.
307
MY LOST DITIIKSS
"Think lio\\' much time we have
wasted apart already ; and then. we can
have dinner together."
She thought this over a while. Sud-
den! A' >he eried. "Oh. here conies Tony
to take me to the theater there, in the
hansom, under the light. Dear old
Torry."
"Why '"dear"?"
"So was the beggar."
"For the same reason"?"
"Only, Torry never begged. ^ on did
it for him, Xiek oh. so awkwardly! So
awkwardly that sometime.- you seemed
very attractive."
''Let 's turn the corner/' I -aid. not
\\ anting to see Torresdale just now.
"Xo, he sees us. Lie sees everything.
He admires you so. X"ick. lie 's a good
friend of yours you don't know how
good a friend."
"He has peculiar ways of showing it."
308
MY LOST DUCHESS
"He does n't show it, he hides it. He
thinks he 's a cynic he 's a dear."
Torry, drawing up at the curb, was
now saluting. "Why, Xick! Are \oii.
raking her to the theater? I 'm shocked !' :
"He 's thinking of taking me to din-
ner!" laughed Hulda, perfectly poised.
"Is n't he daring?"
"Why, we 're just going to get mar-
ried," I remarked in a daxe.
"Married?" repeated Torresdale, and
burst out laughing.
"But he would n't take me to dinner
otherwise," said Hulda, now crimson.
"Where does one get married?" I in-
quired, trying hard to look practical.
Torry laughed again. "One? I
never tried it, but I know it takes two-
two and a best man and a carriage.
Good! I can be your best man after all,
Nick! What did I tell you? And here!
this cab will do for the carriage." He
309
MY LOST DUCHESS
jumped out beside u-. "Get in. get in.
both of you. I '11 go and telephone to
Harrison ah, so that 's why you dined
with him last evening. Nick, and I '11
telephone to Amy. H ul da and to the
theater, too I "11 telephone to every-
body then I "11 jump on a ear and beat
you down there. Oh, ! 'm always such a
b;i!l\- best man. Xiek, did n't I tell you
I "d make a better best man than a bride-
groom"? (ret in, T tell you. I ? m run-
ning this part of it get in!"
There was no resisting him. I helped
Hulda m and turned to him, "Torry,
you you- -are all right.'' I said, want-
ing to say more, not knowing how.
"Oh, I Ye had my fun out of it. I
like to see the wheels go round. I told
you it would come out all right in the
end. Rut if ! had n't shuffled the cards
well, let it go at that. Jump in beside
her. man. The carriage waits also the
bride."
310
MY LOST DUCHESS
I clasped his hand and then sprang in.
"By the by," he said, leaning toward
us at the open doors of the cab, "what
are your prospects in lite, you two had
you thought of that?" He glanced
across Fifth Avenue where stand the
houses of the might}' rich.
"Certainly," I answered confidently,
"T have a thousand in the bank. That 's
enough."
"Oh, beautiful !" he shouted, laugh-
ing, "a thousand dollars! Think of it!
In this day and generation ! And in this
city of all cities on this street! Well,
God bless you."
And then as he slammed the door we
heard him quote :
"God gave them youth,
God gave them love,
And even God can give no more."
FINIS