Rosalind at Red Gate Part 18

But we still followed the star with our eyes, and we saw it gain the end of the procession, sweep on at its own pace, past the casino, and then turn abruptly and drive straight for Glenarm pier. It was now between us and our own sh.o.r.e. It shone a moment against our pier lights; then the star and the fairy lanterns beneath it vanished one after another and the canoe disappeared as utterly as though it had never been.

I purposely steered a zigzag course back to St. Agatha's. Since Helen had seen fit to play this trick upon her aunt I wished to give her ample time to dispose of her canoe and return to the school. If we had been struck by a mere resemblance, why did the canoeist not go on to the casino and enjoy the fruits of her victory? I tried to imagine Gillespie a party to the escapade, but I could not fit him into it.

Meanwhile I babbled on with Miss Pat. An occasional rocket still broke with a golden shower over the lake, and she now discussed the carnival and declared the gondola inferior for grace to the American canoe. Her phrases were, however, a trifle stiff and not in her usual light manner.

I walked with her from the pier to St. Agatha's.

Sister Margaret, who had observed the procession from an upper window, threw open the door for us.

"How is Helen?" asked Miss Pat at once.

"She is very comfortable," replied the Sister. "I went up only a moment ago to see if she wanted anything."

Miss Pat turned and gave me her hand in her pretty fashion.

"You see, it could not have been--it was not--Helen; our eyes deceived us! Thank you very much, Mr. Donovan!"

There was no mistaking her relief; she smiled upon me beamingly as I stood before her at the door.

"Of course! On a fete night one can never trust one's eyes!"

"But it was all bewilderingly beautiful. You are most compa.s.sionate toward a poor old woman in exile, Mr. Donovan. I must go up to Helen and make her sorry for all she has missed."

I went back to the launch and sought far and near upon the lake for the canoe with the single star. I wanted to see again the face that was uplifted in the flood of colored light--the head, the erect shoulders, the arms that drove the blade so easily and certainly; for if it was not Helen Holbrook it was her shadow that the G.o.ds had sent to mock me upon the face of the waters.

CHAPTER XII

THE MELANCHOLY OF MR. GILLESPIE

I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; nor the courtier's, which is proud; nor the soldier's, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is politic; nor the lady's, which is nice; nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects; and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.--_As You Like It_.

I laughed a moment ago when, in looking over my notes of these affairs, I marked the swift transition from those peaceful days to others of renewed suspicions and strange events. I had begun to yield myself to blandishments and to feel that there could be no further interruption of the idyllic hours I was spending in Helen Holbrook's company. I still maintained, to be sure, the guard as it had been established; and many pipes I smoked on St. Agatha's pier, in the fond belief that I was merely fulfilling my office as protector of Miss Pat, whereas I had reached a point where the very walls that held Helen Holbrook were of such stuff as dreams are made of. My days were keyed to a mood that was impatient of questions and intolerant of doubts. I was glad to take the hours as they came, so long as they brought her. I did not refer to her appearance in the parade of canoes, nor did Miss Pat mention it to me again. It was a part of the summer's enchantment, and it was not for me to knock at doors to which Helen Holbrook held the golden keys.

The only lingering blot in the bright calendar of those days was her meeting with Gillespie on the pier, and the fact that she had accepted money from him for her rascally father. But even this I excused. It was no easy thing for a girl of her high spirits to be placed in a position of antagonism to her own father; and as for Gillespie, he was at least a friend, abundantly able to help her in her difficult position; and if, through his aid, she had been able to get rid of her father, the end had certainly justified the means. I reasoned that an educated man of good antecedents who was desperate enough to attempt murder for profit in this enlightened twentieth century was cheaply got rid of at any price, and it was extremely decent of Gillespie--so I argued--to have taken himself away after providing the means of the girl's release. I persuaded myself eloquently on these lines while I exhausted the resources of Glenarm in providing entertainment for both ladies. There had been other breakfasts on the terrace at Glenarm, and tea almost every day in the shadow of St. Agatha's, and one dinner of state in the great Glenarm dining-room; but more blessed were those hours in which we rode, Helen and I, through the sunset into dusk, or drove a canoe over the quiet lake by night. Miss Pat, I felt sure, in so often leaving me alone with Helen, was favoring my attentions; and thus the days pa.s.sed, like bubbles on flowing water.

She was in my thoughts as I rode into Annandale to post some letters, and I was about to remount at the postoffice door when I saw a crowd gathered in front of the village inn and walked along the street to learn the cause of it. And there, calmly seated on a soap-box, was Gillespie, clad in amazing checks, engaged in the delectable occupation of teaching a stray village mongrel to jump a stick. The loungers seemed highly entertained, and testified their appreciation in loud guffaws. I watched the performance for several minutes, Gillespie meanwhile laboring patiently with the dull dog, until finally it leaped the stick amid the applause of the crowd. Gillespie patted the dog and rose, bowing with exaggerated gravity.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I thank you for your kind attention. Let my slight success with that poor cur teach you the lesson that we may turn the idlest moment to some n.o.ble use. The education of the lower animals is something to which too little attention is paid by those who, through the processes of evolution, have risen to a higher species. I am grateful, gentlemen, for your forbearance, and trust we may meet again under circ.u.mstances more creditable to us all--including the dog."

The crowd turned away mystified, while Gillespie, feeling in his pocket for his pipe, caught my eye and winked.

"Ah, Donovan," he said coolly, "and so you were among the admiring spectators. I hope you have formed a high opinion of my skill as a dog trainer. Once, I would have you know, I taught a Plymouth Rock rooster to turn a summersault. Are you quite alone?"

"You seem to be as big a fool as ever!" I grumbled in disgust, vexed at finding him in the neighborhood.

"Gallantly spoken, my dear fellow! You are an honor to the Irish race and mankind. Our meeting, however, is not inopportune, as they say in books; and I would have speech with you, gentle knight. The inn, though humble, is still not without decent comforts. Will you honor me?"

He turned abruptly and led the way through the office and up the stairway, babbling nonsense less for my entertainment, I imagined, than for the befuddlement of the landlord, who leaned heavily upon his scant desk and watched our ascent.

He opened a door, and lighted several oil lamps, which disclosed three connecting rooms.

"You see, I got tired of living in the woods, and the farmer I boarded with did not understand my complex character. The absurd fellow thought me insane--can you imagine it?"

"It's a pity he didn't turn you over to the sheriff," I growled.

"Generously spoken! But I came here and hired most of this inn to be near the telegraph office. Though as big a fool as you care to call me I nevertheless look to my b.u.t.tons. The hook-and-eye people are formidable compet.i.tors, and the b.u.t.ton may in time become obsolete--stranger things have happened. I keep in touch with our main office, and when I don't feel very good I fire somebody. Only this morning I bounced our general manager by wire for sending me a letter in purple type-writing; I had warned him, you understand, that he was to write to me in black. But it was only a matter of time with that fellow. He entered a bull pup against mine in the Westchester Bench Show last spring and took the ribbon away from me. I really couldn't stand for that. In spite of my gla.s.sy splash in the asparagus bed, I'm a man who looks to his dignity, Donovan. Will you smoke?"

I lighted my pipe and encouraged him to go on.

"How long have you been in this bake-oven?"

"I moved in this morning--you are my first pilgrim. I have spent the long hot day in getting settled. I had to throw out the furniture and buy new stuff of the local emporium, where, it depressed me to learn, furniture for the dead is supplied even as for the living. That chair, which I beg you to accept, stood next in the shop to a coffin suitable for a carca.s.s of about your build, old man. But don't let the suggestion annoy you! I read your book on tiger hunting a few years ago with pleasure, and I'm sure you enjoy a charmed life.

"I myself," he continued, taking a chair near me and placing his feet in an open window, "am cursed with rugged health. I have quite recovered from those unkind cuts at the nunnery--thanks to your ministrations--and am willing to put on the gloves with you at any time."

"You do me great honor; but the affair must wait for a lower temperature."

"As you will! It is not like my great and gracious ways to force a fight. Pardon me, but may I inquire for the health of the ladies at Saint What's-her-name's?"

"They are quite well, thank you."

"I am glad to know it;"--and his tone lost for the moment its jauntiness. "Henry Holbrook has gone to New York."

"Good riddance!" I exclaimed heartily. "And now--"

"--And now if I would only follow suit, everything would be joy plus for you!"

He laughed and slapped his knees at my discomfiture, for he had read my thoughts exactly.

"You certainly are the only blot on the landscape!"

"Quite so. And if I would only go hence the pretty little idyl that is being enacted in the delightful garden, under the eye of a friendly chaperon, would go forward without interruption."

He spoke soberly, and I had observed that when he dropped his chaff a note of melancholy crept into his talk. He folded his arms and went on: "She's a wonderful girl, Donovan. There's no other girl like her in all the wide world. I tell you it's hard for a girl like that to be in her position--the whole family broken up, and that contemptible father of hers hanging about with his schemes of plunder. It's pitiful, Donovan; it's pitiful!"

"It's a cheerless mess. It all came after the bank failure, I suppose."

"Practically, though the brothers never got on. You see my governor was bit by their bank failure; and Miss Pat resented the fact that he backed off when stung. But the Gillespies take their medicine; father never squealed, which makes me sore that your Aunt Pat gives me the icy eye."

"Their affairs are certainly mixed," I remarked non-committally.

"They are indeed; and I have studied the whole business until my near mind is mussed up, like scrambled eggs. Your own pretty idyl of the nunnery garden adds the note _piquante_. Cross my palm with gold and I'll tell you of strange things that lie in the future. I have an idea, Donovan; singular though it seem, I've a notion in my head."

"Keep it," I retorted, "to prevent a cranial vacuum."

"Crushed! Absolutely crushed!" he replied gloomily. "Kick me. I'm only the host."