CHAPTER XII
FESTIVITIES
The windows in Strathorn House shone bright; from within came the soundof music; in the billiard room, adjoining the spacious hall, a number ofpersons were smoking, playing, or watching the dancers. At one of thetables two men had about finished a game; by the skilful stroke of himwho showed the better score, the balls clicked briskly, separated, andcame together once more.
"Enough to go out with!" The player, Captain Forsythe, counted hisscore. "Shall we say another, Steele?"
"Not for me!" John Steele placed his cue in the rack. "I'm out for abreath of air." And he stepped through an open French window, leadingupon a balcony that almost spanned the rear of the house.
"Mr. Steele seems to be rather out of form to-night." A plump, shortwoman with doll-like eyes, who had been watching the game from a seatnear-by, now spoke, with subtle meaning in her accents.
"Quite so. Can't really understand it. Steele can put up a deuced stronggame, don't you know, but to-night--Did you notice how he failed at oneof the easiest shots?"
"That was when Jocelyn Wray looked in," murmured the other.
"Miss Wray!" Captain Forsythe set the balls for a practice shot. "Well,Steele's a splendid chap," he said irrelevantly.
"You have known him for some time?"
"Not a great while; he's rather a new man, don't you know. But SirCharles is quite democratic; took him up, well, as one might inAustralia, without," good-naturedly, "inquiring into his family or hisantecedents, or all that sort of rubbish."
"Indeed?" Her voice was non-committal. "But as for its being rubbish--"
"Oh, I say, Mrs. Nallis!" The other's tone was expostulating. "Strongman; splendid sort of chap, Steele! A jolly good athlete, too! Witnessour little fencing contest of this morning!"
"True! You are an evident admirer of Mr. Steele, Captain Forsythe. Andif I am not mistaken," she laughed, "others share your opinion. SirCharles, for example, and Jocelyn Wray. She didn't look displeased thismorning, did she? When the contest was over, I mean. Not that I wouldimply--of course, her position and his--so far apart from a socialstandpoint." A retort of some kind seemed about to spring from thelistener's lips but she did not give him the opportunity to speak; wenton: "Besides, when I came here, I understood a marriage had been, or wasabout to be arranged between Sir Charles' niece and--"
"Not interrupting a bit of gossip, I trust?" a cynical voice inquired;at the same time a third person, who had quietly approached, paused toregard them.
"Ah, Lord Ronsdale!" Just for an instant the lady was disconcerted."Gossip?" She repeated in a tone that meant: "How can you?"
He waved his hand; leaned against the table. "Beg your pardon! Verywrong of me, no doubt; only the truth is--" his lashes drooped slightlyto veil his eyes, "I like a bit of gossip myself occasionally!"
"We were talking about your friendly set-to with John Steele," saidCaptain Forsythe bluntly.
The nobleman's long fingers lifted, pulled at his mustache; in thebright glare, his nails, perfectly kept, looked sharp and pointed. "Ah,indeed!" he remarked. "Steele is handy with the foils; an all-roundsportsman, I fancy; or once was!" softly.
"Never heard of him, though, in the amateur sporting world!" observedthe lady. "Never saw his name mentioned in any gentlemen'sevents--tennis or golf tournaments, track athletics, rowing, and allthat."
"No?" Lord Ronsdale gazed down; half-sitting on the corner of the table,he swung one glossy shoe to and fro.
"Perhaps he's hiding his light under a bushel?" said the lady.
The nobleman made a sound. "Perhaps!"
"I was asking Captain Forsythe about his antecedents. No one here seemsto know. Possibly you can enlighten us."
"I?" Lord Ronsdale's tone was purring. "Why should I be able to? But Isee Miss Wray," rising and walking toward the door. "My dance, don't youknow."
She gazed after him. "I wonder why Lord Ronsdale does not approve of, orshall we say, dislikes Mr. John Steele?"
"Eh?--what?--I never noticed."
"A man notice?" She laughed. "But your game of billiards? You arelooking for some one. If I will do--?"
"Delighted!" he Said with an accent of reserve.
Meanwhile the principal subject of this conversation had been walkingslowly on the broad stone balcony toward the ball-room; there he hadstopped; then stepping to the balustrade, he stood looking off. Thenight was warm; in the sky, stars seemed trying to maintain their placesbetween dark, floating clouds. Near at hand the foliage shimmered withpale flashes of light; the perfumes of dew-laden flowers were like thoseof an oriental bower. Faint rustlings, soft undertones broke upon theear from dark places; mists seemed drawn like phantom ribbons, now here,now there. He looked at the stars; watched one of them, very small, dropinto the maw of a black-looking monster of vapor. As it vanished thesound of music was wafted from within; John Steele listened; they werebeginning once more to dance.
He glanced around; splashes of color met the eye; hues that shifted,mingled; came swiftly and went. In the great hall, staring Lelys andKnellers looked down from their high, gilded frames; the glaring lightsof a great crystal chandelier threw a flood of rays over the scene atonce brilliant and dazzling. Steele stepped toward the window, paused;his eyes seemed searching the throng. They found what they sought, aslender, erect form, the gown soft, white, like foam; a face, animated,joyous. For an instant only, however, he saw the beautiful features;then as Jocelyn turned in the dance, around her waist glimpsed a blackband, tipped by slender masculine fingers; above, a cynical countenance.Or was it all cynical now? A brief glance showed more than the habitualexpression, a sedulousness--some passionate feeling? Lord Ronsdale'slook seemed once more to say he held and claimed her; that she was his,or soon would be.
A fleeting picture; she was gone and other figures intervened. JohnSteele stood with hands tightly clasped. Then his gaze graduallylowered; he moved restlessly back and forth; but the music soundedlouder and he walked away from it, to the end of the balcony and againlooked off--into darkness.
The moments passed; a distant buzz replaced melody; the human murmur,the scraping of strings. From the forest came a far-away cry, themelancholy sound of some wood-creature. He continued motionless,suddenly wheeled swiftly.
"That is you, Mr. Steele?" A voice, young, gay, sounded near; JocelynWray came toward him; from her shoulders floated a white scarf. "Youhave come out for the freshness of the garden? Although," she added,"you shouldn't altogether seclude yourself from the madding crowd."
"No?" In the eyes that met hers flashed a question, the question that hehad ever been asking himself since coming to Strathorn House, that haddriven him there.
Did she note the strangeness of the look she seemed to have surprised onhis face? Her own glance grew on the instant slightly puzzled, showed apassing constraint; then her manner became light again. "No. Especiallyas--You are leaving to-morrow, I believe?"
"Yes." He tried to speak in conventional tones; but his gaze swervedfrom the graceful figure with its dim, white lines that changed andfluttered in the faint breath of air, stealing so gently by them andaway. "My time is almost up; the allotted period of my brief Elysium!"he half-laughed.
"And yet it was rather hard to get you here, wasn't it? You remember youquite scorned our first invitation," gaily.
"Scorned?" In the semi-darkness he could only divine her features. "Thatis hardly the word."
"Isn't it? Well, then, you had business more important," she laughed.
"Not more important,--imperative." Was his voice, beneath an assumptionof carelessness, just a shade uncertain? again it became conventional."I--have enjoyed myself immensely."
"Have you?" She glanced at him; a flicker of light touched the strongface. "So good of you to say so! I believe that answer is the properformula. Invented by our ancestors," lightly, "and handed down!"
He did not at once reply; again she caught a suggestion of thatsearching look she had noted before, and after a moment the girl turne
d;walking to a rose-bush that partly screened one end of the balcony, shebent over the flowers. "Of course I might use my influence with my auntto have the time allotted you, as you put it, extended. Especially asyou are so appreciative!" she laughed. "Until after the children's fete,for example! What do you say? Shall I plead for you until then? If youwill promise to make yourself very useful!"
"I--you are very good--but--"
"Don't!" She spread out her hands. "Forgive me for presuming to thinkthat Strathorn House and its poor attractions could longer keep Mr. JohnSteele from smoky London-town and the drone of its courts!"
"It is not that"--he began, stopped.
"Go; we abandon you to your fate." It may be that he had made her feelshe had been somewhat over gracious, as he had, once or twicebefore,--that night at the opera, when they had first met; afterward ontaking leave of him on the return from Hyde Park. But she only laughedagain, perhaps a little constrainedly this time. "You will miss therevival of a few old rural pastimes!" she went on. "That sounds quitetrivial to you though, does it not? Several of our present guests willstay, however; others are coming; Lord Ronsdale," lightly, "has evenbegged to remain; we shall probably lead the old country-dance."
"Lord Ronsdale!--You!"--The flame again played in the dark eyes, morestrongly now, no longer to be suppressed.
"Mr. Steele!" Her brows arched in sudden surprise; she drew back alittle.
He seemed about to speak but with an effort checked himself and lookeddown. "I beg your pardon." His face was half-turned; for a moment he didnot go on. "I beg your pardon." He again raised his head; his face wassteady, very steady now; his words too. "Your mentioning Lord Ronsdalereminded me of a social obligation; which I have neglected, orforgotten; the pleasure," with a slight laugh, "of congratulatingyou--is that the word? Or Lord Ronsdale,--he, I believe, is the one tobe congratulated!"
"Congratulated?" Her face had changed, grown colder. His hand graspedthe stone balustrade, but he forced a smile to his lips. "I can notimagine who has started--why you speak thus. Lord Ronsdale is an oldfriend of my uncle, and--mine, too. But that is all; I am not--have notbeen. You are mistaken."
"Mistaken?" The word broke from him quickly; the strained expression ofhis face gave way to another he could ill conceal. Before the light inhis gaze, the fire, the ardency, her own slowly fell; she turnedslightly as if to go. But he made no effort to stop her, spoke no word.She took a step, hesitated; John Steele moved.
"Good-by," he said slowly. "I am leaving rather early in the morning; Ishall not see you again."
"Good-by." She raised her head with outward assurance. "At least untilwe meet in London," she ended lightly.
"That may not be--"
"Why, you are not thinking of leaving London?" with gaiety perhaps atrifle forced, "of deserting your dingy metropolis?"
He did not answer; she looked at him quickly; something in his face heldher; a little of the lightness went from hers.
"Once more, good-by, Miss--Jocelyn."
His look was now resolute; but his voice lingered on her name. Heextended his hand in the matter-of-fact manner of one who knew very wellwhat he had to do; the girl's eyes widened on him. Did she realize hewas saying "Good-by" to her for all time? She held her head higher,pressed her lips slightly closer. Then she sought to withdraw her handbut he, as hardly knowing what he did, or yielding to sudden,irresistible temptation, clasped for an instant the slim fingers closer;they seemed to quiver in his. The girl's figure moved somewhat from him;she stood almost amid the roses, dark spots that nodded around her. Thebush was a mass of bloom; did she tremble ever so slightly? Or was itbut the fine, sensitive petals behind her that stirred when kissed bythe sweet-scented breeze?
John Steele breathed deeply; he continued to regard her, so fair, sobeautiful! A leaf fell; she made a movement; it seemed to awaken him torealization. He started and threw back his head; the dark, glowing eyesbecame once more resolute. An instant, and he bent; a breath, or hislips, swept the delicate, white fingers; then he dropped them. Her handswung back against the cold stone; on her breast, something bright--anornament--fluttered, became still. Behind, a bird chirped; her glanceturned toward the ball-room.
"I--"
Other voices, loud, merry, coming from one of the open French windowsinterrupted.
"Jocelyn!" They called to her; faces looked out. "Jocelyn!"
"Yes!" She was walking rapidly from him now, a laugh, a little forced,on her lips.
On the balcony a number of persons appeared. "A cotillion! We're goingto have a cotillion; that is, if you--"
"Of course, if you wish." The gay group surrounded her; light, heedlessvoices mingled; then she, all of them, vanished into the ball-room.
John Steele moved slowly down the stone steps leading to the gardenbelow. One thought vibrated in his mind. Sir Charles had erred when hetold him that day in the park of his niece and Ronsdale. Perhaps becausethe wish was father to the thought--But the girl's own assurancedispelled all doubts and fears. He, John Steele, had been mistaken.Those were her words, "Mistaken!"
He could go away now, gladly, gladly! No; not that, perhaps; but hecould go. If need be,--far from England; never to be seen, heard of,more by her. He could go, and she would never know she had honored byher friendship, had sheltered beneath her roof, one who--As he walkeddown the dimly lighted path somebody--a man--standing under the trees,at one side, at that moment touched his arm.
"I should like to speak with you, sir!" said a voice, and turning with aquick jerk, Steele saw the familiar features of Gillett, the formerpolice agent; behind him, other men.
"What do you want?"
The Scotland Yard man coughed significantly. "Out here is a nice, quietplace for a word, or so," he said in his blandest manner. "And if youwill be so good--"
John Steele's reply was as emphatic as it was sudden; he had beendreaming; the awakening had come. A glint like lightning flashed fromhis eyes; well, here was something tangible to be grappled with! A laughburst from his throat; with the quickness of thought he launched himselfforward.
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