CHAPTER VII
DEVELOPMENTS
That night, as if his rest were not already sufficiently disturbed, adisconcerting possibility occurred abruptly to Mr. Heatherbloom. It wasborn in the darkness of the hour; he could not dispel it. What if theperson in whom he had confided in the park were not all she seemed? Hehated the insinuating suggestion but it insisted on creeping into hisbrain. He had once, not so long ago, in his search for cheap lodgings,stumbled upon a roomful of alleged cripples and maimed disreputables whomade mendicancy a profession; their jibes and jests on the credulity ofthe public yet rang in his ears. What if she--his casual acquaintance ofthe day before--belonged to that yet greater class of dissemblers whoply their arts and simulations with more individualism and intelligence?
Mr. Heatherbloom sat up in bed. Naughty might be worth five or even tenthousand dollars. He remembered having read at some previous time abouta certain canine whose proud mistress and owner was alleged to haverefused twenty thousand for him. The perspiration broke out on Mr.Heatherbloom's face. Was Naughty of this category? He looked very"classy," as if there couldn't be another beast quite like him in theworld. What had been the twenty-thousand-dollar mistress' name; notVan--impossible!
But the more he told himself "impossible", the more positive grew acertain perverse inner asseveration that it was quite possible. And whatif the person in the park had known it? He reviewed the circumstances oftheir different meetings; details that had not impressed themselves uponhim at the time--that had almost escaped his notice, now stood outclearer--too clear, in his mind. He remembered how she had brightenedastonishingly after the brief fainting spell when he had made hisill-advised proposal. It had been as elixir to her. He recalled how shehad met him every day. Had it been mere chance? Or--disconcertingsuspicion!--had she deliberately planned--
For Mr. Heatherbloom there was no sleep that night. At the first signsof dawn he was up and out, directing his steps toward the park, as acriminal returns to the haunts of his crime. No faces of any kind nowgreeted him there; only trees confronted him, gaunt, ghostlike in theearly morning mists. Even the squirrels were yet abed in their miniatureSwiss chalets in the air. The sun rose at last, red and threatening. Henow met a policeman who looked at him questioningly. Mr. Heatherbloomgreeted him with a blitheness at variance with his mood. Officialdomonly growled and gazed after the young man as if to say: "We'll gatheryou in, yet."
It was past nine o'clock before Mr. Heatherbloom ventured to approachthe house; as he did so, the front door closed; some one had beenadmitted. He himself went in through the area way; from above camejoyous barks, a woman's voice; pandemonium. Mr. Heatherbloom listened.Later he learned what had happened; a young woman had brought backNaughty; a very honest young woman who refused all reward.
"Sure," said the cook, who had the story from the butler, "and she spokeloike a quane. 'I can take nothing for returning what doesn't belong tome, ma'am. I am but doing my jooty. But if ye plaze, would ye be lookin'over these recommends av mine--they're from furriners--and if yez behavin' ony friends who be wanting a maid and yez might be so good as torecommind me, I'd be thankin' of yez, for it's wurrk I wants.' Think avthat now. Only wurrk! Who says there arn't honest servin' gurrls,nowadays? The mistress was that pleased with her morals an' hermanners--so loidy-loike!--she gave her the job that shlip av a Jane had;wid an advance av salary on the sphot."
"You mean Miss Van Rolsen has actually engaged her?" Mr. Heatherbloom,face abeam, repeated.
"Phawt have I been saying just now?" Scornfully. "Sure, an' is it earsyou have on your head?"
Mr. Heatherbloom, a weight lifted from his shoulders, departed from thekitchen. He had wronged her--this poor girl, or young woman, who, in herdire distress, had appealed to him. How he despised now the uncharitabledark thoughts of the night! How he could congratulate himself he hadobeyed impulse, and not stopped to reason too closely, or to questiontoo suspiciously, when he had decided to act the day before!
All is well that ends well. All he had to do now was to complete asunostentatiously as possible his term of service--But perhaps he wouldbe released at once?
No; not at once! Those anxious to supersede him began to dribble in, itis true; but they faded away, one by one, after interviews with Miss VanRolsen, and returned no more. They were a mournful lot, these would-be,ten-dollar-a-week custodians; Mr. Heatherbloom wondered if his ownphysiognomy in a general way would merge nicely in a compositephotograph of them?
His duties he performed now as quietly as he could. Two weeks more, tendays, nine, eight! Then? Ah, then!
He did not see Miss Van Rolsen again nor Miss Dalrymple. He encounteredthe fair unknown, though, his acquaintance of the park, occasionally, asshe in demure cap and white ruffled apron glided softly her allottedway. Sometimes he nodded to her in distant fashion, sometimes she got bybefore he actually realized he had passed her. She seemed to move soquickly and with such little ado; or, it may be, he was not veryobservant. He didn't feel very keen on mere minor details these days; heexperienced principally the sensation of one who was now merely "markingtime", as it were--figuratively performing a variety of goose-step, theway the German soldiers do.
But one day she--Marie, they called her--stopped him.
"I understand from one of the servants that it cost you your positionto--do what you did. You know what I mean--"
He looked alarmed. "Don't worry about that."
"But shouldn't I?" Steady dark eyes upon him.
"On the contrary!" Vigorously.
"I don't understand--unless.--"
"The salary--it is nothing here"--Mr. Heatherbloom gestured airily. "Ishould do much better--one of my ability, you understand!--elsewhere."
"Could you?" She regarded him doubtfully. "But, perhaps, they--It wasnot very pleasant for you here, anyway. Miss Van Rolsen--her niece, MissDalrymple--does not like you." He started. "It was easy to see that;when I mentioned regretfully that the good fortune that brought me wherethere is plenty; to eat should have been the cause of your being indisfavor, she stopped me short." Mr. Heatherbloom studied the distance."'The person you speak of intended leaving anyhow,' she said, and hervoice was--_mon Dieu_!--ice."
The listener swallowed. "Quite so," he said jauntily. "Miss Dalrympleis absolutely correct."
She regarded him an instant with sudden, very mature gaze. "I can'tquite make you out."
"No one ever can. Don't try. It isn't worth while. Which reminds me"--herattled on--"I did you an injury; an injustice--"
"Ah?" she said quickly.
"In my mind! You will excuse me, but do you know that night after I hadconsigned him to your care in the park, I afterward felt quiteanxious--"
"For what?" She came closer.
"Wondering if you--Ha! ha!" Mr. Heatherbloom stopped; in his confusion,his endeavor to turn the conversation from himself and Miss Dalrymple,he seemed to be getting into deep waters.
"You wondered what?" In a low tone.
Since he now felt obliged to speak, he did, coolly enough. "If you hadsome ulterior motive!" he said with a quiet smile.
She it was who now started back, and her face paled slightly."Why?--what ulterior motive? What do you mean?"
He told her in plain words. She breathed more evenly; then smiledsweetly. She had a strange face sometimes. "Thank you," she said. "Youare very frank, _mon ami_. I like you none the less for it. Though youdid so injure me--in your thoughts!" Her eyes had an enigmatic light."Well, I must go now to Miss Dalrymple. She is beginning to be so fondof me." She drawled the last words as if she liked to linger on them."You see I, too, have a little Russian blood in me." Mr. Heatherbloomlooked down. "And I think she loves to hear me tell of that wonderfulcountry--the white nights of St. Petersburg--the splendid steppes--thegrandeur of our Venice of the north. Of course, she is immenselyinterested in Russia now." Significantly. "Its ostentation, itssplendor, its barbaric picturesqueness! But tell me, what is her princelike? He is very handsome, naturally! Or she would not so dote on
him!"
Mr. Heatherbloom's features had hardened; he did not answer directly."She likes to talk about Russia?" he said, half to himself.
Marie shrugged. "Is it not to be her country some day?"
"No, it isn't!" The words seemed forced from his lips; he spoke almostfiercely. "She may live there with him, but it will never be hercountry. This is her country. She is its product; an American to herfinger-tips. And all the grand dukes and princes of the Winter Palacecan't change her. She belongs to old California; she grew up among theorange trees and the flowers, and her heart will ever yearn for them inyour frozen land of tyranny!"
"Oh! oh! oh!" said Mademoiselle Marie. "How eloquent monsieur can be!Quite an orator! One would say he, too, has known this land of orangetrees and flowers!"
"I?" Mr. Heatherbloom bit his lip.
But she only shook a finger. "Oh! oh!" Altogether like a differentperson from his casual acquaintance of the park! He gazed at hercloser; how quickly the marks of trouble, anxiety, had faded from herface; as if they had never existed.
"What do you mean?" he asked, looking into eyes now full of a new andpeculiar understanding.
"Nothing," she said and vanished.
He gazed where she had been; he could not account for a sudden strangeemotion, as if some one had trailed a shadow over him. A premonition ofsomething going to happen; that could not be foreseen, or averted!Something worse than anything that had gone before! What nonsense! Hepressed his lips tightly and went about his duties like an automaton.
Eight days--seven days--six days more!--only six--