CHAPTER V
A CONTRETEMPS
More days passed and Mr. Heatherbloom continued to linger in his lastposition. It promised to be a record-making situation from thestandpoint of longevity; he had never "lasted" at any one task so longbefore. Miss Van Rolsen, to his consternation, seemed to unbend somewhatbefore him, as if she were beginning--actually!--to be more prepossessedin his favor. These evidences that he was rising in the stern lady'sgood graces filled Mr. Heatherbloom with new dismay; destiny certainlyseemed to be making a mock of him.
A week went by; two weeks--three, and still twice a day he continued tomarch to and from the park with his charges. The faces of all thenurse-maids and others who frequented the big parallelogram of greenbecame familiar to him; he learned to know by sight the people who rodein the park and had a distant acquaintance with the squirrels.
He became, for the first time, aware one day, from the perusal of acertain newspaper he always purchased now, that the prince had returnedto Russia. Although Miss Dalrymple refused to be interviewed, or toconfirm or deny any statement, it was generally understood (convenientphrase!) that the wedding would take place in the fall at the old VanRolsen home. The prince had left America in his yacht--the _Nevski_--forSt. Petersburg, announced the society editor. After a special interviewwith the czar and a few necessary business arrangements, the noblemanwould return at once for his bride. And, perhaps, he--Mr.Heatherbloom--would still be at his post of duty at the Van Rolsenhouse!
Since the day the prince had been with Miss Dalrymple in theconservatory, Mr. Heatherbloom had not seen, or rather heard, thatgentleman at the house. But then he--Mr. Heatherbloom--belonged in therear, and, no doubt, the prince had continued to be a daily, or twice,or three-times-a-day visitor to Miss Van Rolsen's elegant, if somewhatstiff, reception rooms. Now, however, he would come no more until hecame finally to "take with him the bride--"
The thought was in Horatio's mind when for a third time he encounteredher, face to face, on a landing, near a stair, or somewhere in thehouse, he couldn't afterward just exactly recall where, only that shelooked through him, without recognition, speech or movement of aneyelash, as if he had been a thing of thin air! But a thing that becamesuddenly imbued with real life; inspired with purpose! She had permittedhim to remain in the house, knowing his professed helplessness in thematter--she _must_ have divined that--playing with him as a tigress witha victim (yes; a tigress! Mr. Heatherbloom wildly, on the spur of themoment, compared her in his mind to that fierce beautiful creature). Hewould force her to tell him to go; she would certainly not suffer himto remain there another day if he told her--
"Miss Dalrymple, there is something I ought to say. I could not helpoverhearing you and the prince, one day, several weeks ago, in theconservatory."
After he said it, he asked himself what excuse he had for saying it. Ifhe had stopped to analyze the impulse, he would have seen how absurd,unreasonable and uncalled for his words were. But he had no time toanalyze; like a diver who plunges suddenly, on some mad impulse, into awhirlpool, he had cast himself into the vortex.
She looked at him and there was nothing _in nubibus_ to her about hispresence now. The violet eyes saw a substance--such as it was;recognized a reality--of its kind! Before the clouds gathering in theirdepths, Mr. Heatherbloom felt inclined to excuse himself and go on; butinstead, he waited. There was even a furtive smile on his lips thatbelied a quick throbbing in his breast; he thrust one hand as debonairlyas possible into his trousers pocket. His attitude might have beeninterpreted to express indifference, recklessness, or one or more of thesynonymous feelings. She thought so badly of him already that shecouldn't think much worse, and--
"So,"--had she been paler than her wont, or had excess of passion sentthe color from her face?--"you are a spy as _well!_"
His head shot back a little at the accent on the "well", but he thrusthis hand yet deeper into the pocket and strove not to lose that assumedexpression of ease.
"I--a spy? I did not intend to--you--" He paused; if he wished to sethimself right in her eyes, why should he have spoken at all? Mr.Heatherbloom saw he had not quite argued out this matter as he shouldhave done; his bearing became less assured.
"Is there"--her voice low and tense--"anything despicable, mean, paltryenough that you are not?"
Mr. Heatherbloom moistened his lips; he strove to think of a reply,sufficiently comprehensive to cover all the features of the case, butnot finding one at once apologetic and yet not so, remained silent. Hemade, however, a little gesture with his hand--the one that wasn't inthe pocket. That seemed to imply something; he didn't quite know what.
She came slightly closer and his heart began to pound harder. A breathof perfume seemed to ascend between them; the arrows in her eyes dartedinto his. "How much--_what_ did you hear?" she demanded.
"I--am really not sure--" Was it the orchids which perfumed the air? Hehad always heard they were odorless. The question intruded; his brainseemed capable of a dual capacity, or of a general incapacity ofsimultaneous considerations. He might possibly have stepped back alittle now but there was a wall, the broad blank wall behind him. Hewished he were that void she had first seemed to see--or not to see--inhim. "I didn't hear very much--the first part, I imagine--"
"The first part?" Roses of anger burned on her cheek. "Andafterward?--spy!" Her little hands were tight against her side.
He hesitated; her foot moved; all that was passionate, vibrant in hernature seemed concentrated on him.
"I don't think I caught much; but I heard him say something about fate,or destiny, and men coming into their own--that old Greek kind of talk,don't you know--" He spoke lightly. Why not? There was no need of beingmelodramatic. What had to be must be. He couldn't alter her, or what shewould think. "Then--then I was too busy to catch more--that is, if I hadwanted to--which I didn't!" He was forced to add the last; it burst fromhis lips with sudden passion; then they curved a little as if to askexcuse for a superfluity.
She continued to look at him, and he looked at her now, squarely; astrange calm descended upon him.
"And that," he said, "is all I heard, or knew, until this morning, whenI saw in the paper," dreamily, "he was coming back in the fall for--"
The color concentrated with sudden swift brightness in her cheeks. "Yousaw that--any one--every one saw--Oh--"
She started to speak further, then bit her lip, while the lace stirredbeneath the white throat. Mr. Heatherbloom had not followed what shesaid, was cognizant only of her anger. Her eyes were fastened onsomething beyond him, but returned soon, very soon.
"Oh," she said, "I might have known--if I let you stay, through pity,you would--"
"Pity!" said Mr. Heatherbloom.
"Because I did not want to turn you out into the street--"
She spoke the words fiercely. Mr. Heatherbloom seemed now quiteimpervious to stab or thrust.
"I permitted you to remain for"--she stopped--"remembering what you oncewere; who your people were! What"--flinging the words at him--"you mighthave been. Instead--of what you are!"
Mr. Heatherbloom gazed now without wincing; an unnatural absence offeeling seemed to have passed over his features, making them almostmask-like. It was as if he stood in some new pellucid atmosphere of hisown.
"Of course," he said, as half speaking to himself, "I must have earnedmy salary, or Miss Van Rolsen wouldn't have retained me. So I am not arecipient of charity. Therefore,"--did the word suggest far-awayschool-boy lessons on syllogisms and sophistries--"I have no right tofeel offended in that you let me remain, you say, 'through pity', whenas a matter of fact it was impossible for me to tender my resignation,in view of--" He finished the rest of a rather involved logicalconclusion to himself, taking his hand out of his pocket now and passingit lightly, in a somewhat dragging fashion, over his eyes. Then he gazedmomentarily beyond, as if he saw something appertaining to the "auldlang syne", but recalled himself with a start to the beautiful face, thethreads of gold, the violet eyes.
"You will see to it now, of course"--his manner became brisk, almostbusinesslike--"that I, as a factor, am eliminated here? That, I mayconclude, is your intention?"
"Perhaps," said the girl, a sibyl for intentness now, "you would preferto go? To be asked to! You would find the streets"--with swiftdiscerning contempt--"more profitable for your purpose than here, whereyou are known."
"Perhaps," assented Mr. Heatherbloom. He spoke quite airily; thensuddenly stiffened.
At his words, the sight of him as he uttered them, she came abruptly yetnearer; her breath swept and seemed to scorch his cheek.
"I should think," she said, "you would be ashamed to live!"
"Ashamed?" he began; then stopped. There was no need of speaking furtherfor she had gone.