CHAPTER XV
ANOTHER CONQUEST
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Bradley, but I am Dick Fenway."
Mr. Bradley looked up from his paper and saw Dick standing on theveranda beside him.
"Dick Fenway! My friend Fenway's boy."
"Yes, sir."
"I am glad to know you, very glad!" He shook hands warmly with theyoung man and turned to where his daughter was standing, looking atthem with a smile of interest. "Alice, this is Dick Fenway."
"It was good of you to come to us like this," she said pleasantly asshe gave him her hand. "Your father has spoken of you so often that wefeel quite as though we had always known you."
"You are awfully good, I am sure," replied Dick. "I know that fatherwould never forgive me if he heard that I had been at the same hotelwith you, without making myself known."
"Sit down, my boy, and tell us all about yourself." Mr. Bradley seatedhimself and pointed to a chair. "How long are you going to stay, andwho is that stunning girl I saw you with this afternoon?"
"Miss Barnhelm," replied Dick, a little embarrassed at the question."She is travelling with an old friend of mine, Mrs. Harlan. I happenedto meet them at Bar Harbor last week, and as it was dead as a doornaildown there, I begged them to allow me to come on here with them."
"She is very pretty and very reckless," said Alice. "I thought for amoment this afternoon that she would be drowned. Has she quiterecovered from her experience?"
"I think so," answered Dick. "Naturally she's a little nervous, or waswhen I saw her last. She is upstairs now with Mrs. Harlan, but theysent down word that they would go for a walk before dinner, so I guessshe's all right."
"A girl that looks like that ought to know enough to take care ofherself," remarked Mr. Bradley. "Did she think she could swim acrossthe sound?"
"It was her heart," replied Dick. "She can swim like a fish, but she'shad one or two little heart attacks lately, and she ought to keepquiet. The life-guard that brought her in said she was all right assoon as he got her in his boat, but it was a close call, and the worstof it is that she is very likely to do the same thing to-morrow."
"She is coming down the veranda now," said Alice, "and she looks quiteas though being half drowned was an every-day experience."
The two men looked up as Lola came toward them, and both rose as shestopped by Dick's side.
"Are you ready for that walk, Mr. Fenway?"
"Quite. May I introduce Miss Barnhelm, Miss Bradley, Mr. Bradley."
Lola greeted them pleasantly, and after a moment's coldness Alicefound herself quite won by her sweetness. She spoke of her adventureof a few hours before in a tone of regret for what she called "makinga show of herself," and her manner was so gentle and so modest thatAlice decided that she must be a girl of good family and, in spite ofthe looks of the woman with whom she was travelling, a very pleasantand desirable acquaintance. "Surely," she thought, "Mr. Fenway wouldnot introduce her unless she was all right in every way."
Lola, who was seated next to Dick, took advantage of a moment whenAlice turned to answer some remark of her father's, and whispered toDick quickly, "There come Bob and Mrs. Harlan; keep them away. I'llmeet you at dinner!"
"But," Dick protested, "why should I----"
"Do as I tell you!" She spoke so sharply that Dick, who had learned byexperience that to oppose her meant a painful scene, rose unwillinglyand went to head off his long-suffering friends, making rather a briefexcuse for his abrupt departure.
"I thought you had intended to take a walk before dinner, MissBarnhelm," said Alice.
"I had," replied Lola, "but I find myself more tired than I thought Iwas, and it is so comfortable here."
"It is," sighed Alice, "but I must dress. I see that you were wiseenough to get ready before you came down. Are you coming, father?"
"Why, no, my dear," replied her father. "I am going to take advantageof my age, and dine just as I am to-night. I'll sit here with MissBarnhelm, if she will allow me; meet me here when you come down."
"Very well, dear; I won't be long. Good-bye for the present, MissBarnhelm."
She left them together and went up to her room, a little surprised andtroubled at the evident interest her father had taken in thisstranger. Since her mother's death she had often felt a fear that hemight some day allow himself to become attached to some of the manywomen who, attracted by his wealth, had done all in their power tofascinate him. He was different from most men of his age. She knewthat. He was strong and well, and had much of the ardent spirit ofyouth still remaining, but so far as she had ever seen, he had shownno desire to respond to any feminine advances, had never in fact shownas much interest in any woman as he had in this girl, not only sincehe had talked with her, but before. She had not forgotten the glanceLola had given him as they had passed on the shore road, or hisadmiration for her prowess in the water. She dismissed any fears shehad, however. Miss Barnhelm was a lady; that was evident from hermanner. She was probably going to marry Dick Fenway; there had been anair of security in her attitude toward him that spoke of a completeunderstanding. How foolish of her to worry about such an absurdthought.
"Poor father," she said to herself; "how angry he would be with me ifhe knew of what I had been thinking."
Had she been able to see the growing intimacy between Lola and the oldman of whom she was so fond, it is probable that her fears would nothave been so easily overcome. They were chatting away already quitelike old friends. Lola was leading him to tell of some of hisadventures in the lumber camps of Northern Michigan, and incidentallygaining a good idea of his vast power in that region and of the greatvalue of his timber lands and pulp mills. She was a good listener,interrupting him only to encourage his confidence and quick to see andappreciate any good points in his somewhat long, drawn-out stories ofpersonal prowess. He looked at her with great approval. "Here was agirl who had real brain, who knew a man when she saw one, and was noteither afraid of or repelled by a few white hairs." Her fresh beautyand something in the bold friendliness of her eyes as she sat lookingat him thrilled him as no woman had had the power to thrill him foryears. How wonderful it would be, he thought, if--but no; she wasyoung. What chance after all would his millions have with a girl likethis? What need she care for wealth with beauty like hers? Dick Fenwaywas probably the lucky man. Damned young loafer. Good God! How gladlyhe would give all he had to be that age again! To be thirty and backin the lumber country with his axe, and his youth, and his girl!Strong desires, fought down and smothered out of respect for a deadwife and a living daughter, blazed up again, fired by a spark fromthis young woman's eye. There was something in her look that seemed totell him that to her he was not old, not rich, not past all chance ofwoman's love or hope of romance. She was looking into his eyes aswomen had looked years ago, and she was finding there what they hadfound. She was seated very close to him, bending forward, eagerlylistening to his story, her hand resting on the arm of his chairtouched his; she did not draw it away; how warm it was, how soft. Whatwas this woman? This young girl, who in a few moments had gained thepower to stir into life feelings that he thought had been foreverburied with the other things that had made life so sweet? What wasthere in her boldness that charmed without offending him?
The story he was telling ended abruptly in the middle. They sat therein the gathering darkness silently. The little warm hand that laybeside his own slowly turned and closed about his. His heart leaped;he bent toward her, but she sprang up with a low laugh, and before hecould speak she was gone.
Alice found him there when she came down a little later.
"How well you look, father dear," she exclaimed. "I am sure that thisplace is doing you good. You look almost young."
"Why shouldn't I?" he answered gayly. "A man is as old as he feels,and I don't feel like an old man to-night."
As they went in to dinner they met Dick Fenway waiting in the hall.
"I don't seem to be able to find Miss Barnhelm," he announced ratherimpatiently. "You didn't hap
pen to notice what became of her, didyou?"
"She went down the steps, I think," replied Mr. Bradley, "although ithad grown so dark that I couldn't be sure of it. Come on, Alice; weare late now."
They went into the dining-room, leaving Dick alone. Mrs. Harlan andBob found him there, quite out of temper, when they appeared readydressed for dinner.
"Where the devil can Lola be?" he growled angrily. "It is almost eighto'clock."
"Well, you may do as you please, my dear boy," said Mrs. Harlanfirmly, "but I'm not going to wait. How about you, Bob?"
"Well," replied Bob very earnestly, "I would do an awful lot for Lola;she's behaving splendidly, and she's a big credit to the party to-day,but she couldn't expect a fellow to take a chance of missing hisdinner."
"You two go on in. I'll find her." Dick turned and left them, goingdown the steps to the shore road and glancing up and down, in the hopeof seeing her. He could make out a couple down by the water, theirfigures looming dimly through the darkness; lovers probably, hethought; they seemed to be walking very slowly and very near together,but he could see nothing of the solitary form for which he waslooking. She was not in her room; he had made sure of that, and as faras he could see in the dim light, this one couple had the shore tothemselves. He was conscious of a feeling of envy; if only Lola and hecould sometimes do as these two were doing; forget everything but oneanother; be together like that, alone. He would be content if he wassure of her love; he, who had asked much of women, would be satisfiedwith so little, but Lola seemed to have no sentiment. Things would beall right, of course, after they were married, but now it was hard.They were coming toward him slowly, those two, and as he stood therewaiting he watched them idly.
A man and a girl, of course; no two men or two women ever walked likethat. He laughed to himself as he realized the sentimentality of hismood. The man was very tall; even in the darkness one could tell thathe was young and strong. The girl was small, delicate; something inher bearing reminded him---- "By God! It is Lola!" He started forwardand met them at the foot of the steps just as they came out of theshadow into the light thrown out by the bright illumination of theveranda.
"Lola!" He stood facing her angrily, glancing from her to the youngfellow at her side, a sun-burned, wind-tanned young giant in looseflannels. "Where have you been?"
"Why, I took a little walk, Dick," she answered calmly. "I met Mr.Blake, and he was good enough to offer to stroll back with me. Mr.Blake is the life-guard who fished me out of the water this afternoon.This is Mr. Fenway, Mr. Blake."
"Oh!" Dick returned the young man's bow rather curtly. "I am glad ofthe chance of thanking you again, Blake. I would have looked you up,of course, in the morning. I was in my bathing suit at the time, andwhen I got dressed you had gone off duty. Here." He had taken out hispocketbook as he spoke, and now drew out a bill and held it out.
"I thank you very much, Mr. Fenway," said the young man with whatseemed to Dick to be surprisingly good manners for a fellow of hisposition, "but I can't take it. Miss Barnhelm had already rewarded memost liberally." He raised his cap politely, and with a brief goodnight stepped out of the circle of light and was swallowed up in thedarkness.
"What the devil are you laughing at, Lola?" demanded Dick angrily. "Doyou see anything especially funny?"
"Oh, no, dear; not at all," she answered, "and I think it would be agood thing if we were to go in to dinner."
Once in the dining-room, Lola's high spirits seemed to desert her. Sheseemed languid and rather moody, and in spite of Bob's really eloquentdescription of various dishes that he had stamped with the seal of hisapproval, she refused to do more than nibble at a crust of bread anddrink a glass or two of champagne, of which she had grown very fond.
After dinner they went out on the veranda and met Mr. Bradley andAlice, and by them were introduced to many of the guests of the hotel.Lola, who in spite of her present bad temper was looking very well,soon found herself the centre of a lively group. There was no doubt atall of her success; she received the two infallible proofs--admirationfrom the men, envy from the women. She found herself seated next tothe sweet-faced old gentleman whom she had noticed at the lunch table;he had his little granddaughter seated on his knee, and a very smalland very aristocratic French poodle perched upon the arm of his chair.
Of all the group these two alone, the child and the dog, refused todevote themselves to Lola; the child, after one long look into hereyes, had thrown her arms about the old man's neck and hidden her faceon his shoulder; the dog had bared his little teeth in a snarl at thefirst touch of her hand.
"Quiet, Tony," reproved Mr. Miller sharply, as he changed the dog tothe other arm of his chair. "I can't think why he should act soqueerly, Miss Barnhelm, nor you, either, Molly," he said as he strokedthe child's head lovingly. "You are both tired out, I think, and youmust go to bed."
"Will you come upstairs and hear me say my prayers in a little while,grandfather?" asked little Molly in a low voice. "Nurse and mother arethere, but I think God can hear me better when you are with me."
LOLA GOES TO KEEP HER APPOINTMENT AT THE STEEL PIER.]
"I will come, of course, Molly." He looked up at Lola with a smile."This little girl is worried about her father, who is on the ocean,but I have told her that God always considers the prayers of littlegirls who pray for those they love."
"You believe that?" questioned Lola with something very like a sneer,"or do you think it is the proper thing to tell a child?"
"I believe it," said the old man gently, "or naturally I would notteach it to this little girl. I have told her that God's power isinfinite, but that his purpose is not always easy for us tounderstand. I know, however, that such prayers as hers must do greatgood to her and to him she prays for. Don't you?"
"No," replied Lola coldly, "I do not." She resented the look of coolinquiry in this man's eye; he was a famous writer, they had told her,an authority on many subjects of which the very names were new to her.Well, he could not study her, or if he tried he would find that shewas not the empty-headed creature his rather amused look seemed to sayhe thought her.
"I know nothing of the kind," she went on calmly, "and I am surprisedthat a man like you can believe such worn-out old superstitions."
"That need not surprise you, that we believe, this child and I," hesaid gently. "Belief is so very easy to us. She is very young, and Iam very old, and to such belief comes naturally. It is, I think,because the very young are fresh from God's presence and because thevery old are drawing nearer to it."
He rose as he spoke and, taking the child's hand, bowed to Lola kindlyand went into the hotel, the little dog following them gravely.
"I've had enough of this," declared Lola, rising angrily. "I'm boredto death! You people do as you please; I'm going to bed!"