V. A SUNDAY ENCOUNTER
It was a sunny Sunday morning and the church parade was popular.Lady Frances and Quentin were walking together when Prince Ugojoined them. He looked hardly over twenty-five, his wavy black hairgiving him a picturesque look. He wore no beard, and his dark skinwas as clear as a girl's.
"By the way," said Quentin, "Lady Saxondale tells me you are tomarry a former acquaintance of mine."
"Miss Garrison is an acquaintance?" cried the prince, lifting hisdark eyes. An instant later his gaze roamed away into the horde ofpassing women, as if searching for the woman whose name broughtlight to his soul.
"Was an acquaintance, I think I said. I doubt if she remembers menow. She was a child when I knew her. Is she here this morning?"asked Phil, secretly amused by the anxious look in the Italian'seyes.
"She will be with Lady Marnham, Ah, I see them now." The youngprince was looking eagerly ahead.
Quentin saw Miss Garrison and gasped with astonishment. Could thatstunning young woman be the little Dorothy of New York days? Hecould scarcely believe his eyes and ears, notwithstanding theintroductions which followed.
"And here is an old New York friend. Miss Garrison, Mr. PhilipQuentin. You surely remember him, Miss Garrison," said Lady Frances,with a peculiar gleam in her eye. For a second the young lady atQuentin's side exhibited surprise; a faint flush swept into hercheek, and then, with a rare smile, she extended her hand to theAmerican.
"Of course, I remember him. Phil and I were playmates in the olddays. Dear me, it seems a century ago," she said.
"I cannot tell you how well the century has treated you," he said,gallantly. "It has not been so kind to me."
"Years are never unkind to men," she responded. She smiled upon theadoring prince and turned again to Quentin. "Tell me about New York,Phil. Tell me about yourself."
"I can only say that New York has grown larger and better, and thatI have grown older and worse. Mrs. Garrison may doubt that I couldpossibly grow worse, but I have proof positive. I am dabbling inWall street."
"I can imagine nothing more reprehensible," said Mrs. Garrison,amiably. Quentin swiftly renewed his opinion of the mother. Thatestimate coincided with the impression his youth had formed, and itwas not far in the wrong. Here was the mother with a hope loftierthan a soul. Purse-proud, ambitious, condescending to a degree--awoman who would achieve what she set out to do at all hazards. Lessthan fifty, still handsome, haughty and arrogant, descended througha long line of American aristocracy, calm, resourceful, heartless.For fifteen years a widow, with no other object than to live at thetop and to marry her only child into a realm far beyond the dreamsof other American mothers. Millions had she to flaunt in the facesof an astonished, marveling people. Clever, tactful, aggressive,capable of winning where others had failed, this American mother wasrespected, even admired, in the class to which she had climbed. Herewas the woman who had won her way into continental society as havefew of her countrywomen. To none save a cold, discerning man fromher own land was she transparent. Lord Bob, however, had a faintconception of her aims, her capacity.
As they walked on, Quentin scarcely took his eyes from MissGarrison's face. He was wearing down the surprise that thesweetheart of his boyhood had inspired, by deliberately seekingflaws in her beauty, her figure, her manner. After a time he felther more wonderful than ever. Lord Bob joined the party, and Quentinstopped a second to speak to him. As he did so Prince Ugo was atMiss Garrison's side in an instant.
"So she is the girl that damned Italian is to elevate?" said Mr.Quentin to himself. "By George, it's a shame!" He did not see LordBob and his wife exchange a quick smile of significance.
As they all reached the corner, Quentin asked: "Are you in Londonfor long, Dorothy?" Lady Frances thought his tone a trifle eager.
"For ten days or so. Will you come to see me?" Their eyes met and hefelt certain that the invitation was sincerely given. "Lady Marnhamis having some people in to-morrow afternoon. Perhaps you'll comethen," she added, and Phil looked crestfallen.
"I'll come," he said. "I want to tell you the story of my past life.You didn't know I'd been prime minister of a South Americanrepublic, did you?"
She nodded and they separated. Prince Ugo heard the last words ofthe American, and a small, clear line appeared for an instantbetween his black eyebrows.
Lady Frances solemnly and secretively shook her finger at Quentin,and he laughed with the disdain of one who understands and denieswithout the use of words. Lord Bob had wanted to kick him when hementioned South America, but he said nothing. Quentin was inwonderful spirits all the way home.