Lord Loveland Discovers America Part 33

"I do know," Isidora broke in. "I know you are poor, and in a lot of trouble, and you might have gone to prison. But you're a gentleman, all right. You're You, and that's enough. If you care about me same as I do about you, why, all the rest----"

"But I--I mean, I'm sure you--don't really care," stammered Val, checking himself on the verge of saying something rude.

It would have simplified matters if he had said it, for Isidora's opinion of her own high value as Alexander's rich, desirable daughter made it too easy for her to misunderstand.

"I do care. You needn't be afraid," she a.s.sured him. "I wouldn't have said a word--I'd o' waited for you to speak if things had been different, but I saw how you felt by the way your eyes looked a minute ago, and I wouldn't stop for manners, because, I says to myself, he's too much of a gentleman to tell a girl he loves her, when he's got nothing and she everything."

"I hope I am too much of a gentleman to----" Val began desperately, but she cut him short, with one little plump, Patchouli-scented hand over his mouth.

"I know it! That's what I said. You don't need to tell me," she hurried on. "We'll have to run away and get married. Then Pa'll forgive me. I'm all he's got. He couldn't bear me to want for anything. But it's no use asking him first. He----"

"Dear girl, I have no idea of asking him----"

"No, of course. You ain't so silly. His heart's set on my taking Leo, but I wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole, now. My hero! I'll marry you tomorrow."

"The devil you will!" said Alexander.

They stood together at the door, he and Leo Cohen, who had persuaded the old man at last, on one excuse or another, to invite him upstairs.

Neither Loveland nor Isidora had heard the door open; neither knew how long the eavesdroppers had listened outside.

The girl struggled up from her knees, and as Loveland bounded out of the big chair she caught his arm, nestling against him.

"You villain, stealin' my gal's love, behind my back, and enticin' her to run off with you!" stuttered Alexander, purple with fury.

"I didn't----" began Val, indignantly.

"What, you didn't?" roared the Jew. "You want me to believe my gal asked you to marry her?"

Loveland started as if Alexander had struck him, and flushed to the forehead. Involuntarily he glanced at Isidora, who looked up at him beseechingly. "Spare me!" the almond eyes implored.

"No. I don't want you to believe that," he said. And how hugely he would have laughed had he been told a few weeks ago that he would let himself be misunderstood and shamed for the sake of a girl like Isidora! But now he did not feel it strange that he should make this sacrifice for her.

And curiously enough, it seemed to be Lesley Dearmer's voice, Lesley Dearmer's eyes, which--haunting him always--bade him spare this common little Jewess, at any cost.

"You're a d----d sneak," said Alexander. "Ain't you ashamed of yourself?"

"No," answered Loveland.

"Shows what you are, den. You're a tief. You try to steal my daughter, because you tink you get her money."

"Oh, Pa, he loves me! It's me he wants!" wailed Isidora, weeping, yet not daring to defend her lover at the expense of womanly self-respect.

What good would it do him, she thought, for her to confess who had proposed a runaway marriage? Her father would be no less angry with Gordon, and he would be a great deal more angry with her--so angry that he would watch her always, perhaps insist on an immediate wedding with Leo Cohen. No, she could not speak; and besides, it would be too humiliating, before Leo. So she only sobbed, and sobbed the louder, when Loveland gently but firmly unlinked her arm from his.

"You're a little fool, Izzie, or you wouldn't believe any such a ting,"

Alexander scolded her, somewhat softened by her tears. "A feller like dat--a fraud, a liar----"

"If you were a younger man you wouldn't dare to say that," Loveland cut him short. "It's you who are lying."

"What--you call me a liar? You--you cheat, you convict!" sputtered Alexander. "Take dat for your impudence!" And rus.h.i.+ng at Loveland like an angry bull, he struck him with both podgy fists.

Isidora screamed, and seized her father's arms, struggling with him, crying out that he was wicked, cruel, ungrateful to the man who had saved his house from burning.

"Don't be afraid, I'm not going to strike back," Loveland rea.s.sured her.

"He knows that."

"Yes, he knows dat, because he knows youse a coward," Alexander sneered, wheezing asthmatically. "You come over here to cheat Noo York, but you ain't done it, not much. Lucky for you you ain't in prison. Now you get out of my house, quick--see? You just git."

"That's exactly what I'm anxious to do," said Loveland. "Goodbye, Miss Alexander."

"Oh, you ain't leavin' me forever?" cried the girl. "Pa, don't send him away like this. He--he ain't to blame." She hesitated, stammering: then a wild longing to keep her lover at all hazards overcame fear and scruples. "It was me who----"

"Don't," said Loveland. "You can do no good. I shan't forget your kindness. We won't see each other again, but you must forget tonight, and marry some man who can make you happy. Goodbye once more." And pus.h.i.+ng regardlessly past Cohen, who hovered near the door, he sent the commercial traveller sprawling as he walked out of the room.

Black d.i.c.k, who had been told to guard the broken window of the restaurant, in the master's absence, had heard all or most of the disturbance, from the foot of the stairs, and he ran after Loveland to suggest the wisdom of getting money from Alexander.

"He am a mighty wicked ole man," whispered the Negro. "You done a lot fur him, an' now he kick you out o' de house widout wages."

"I shall never get a penny from the old beast. It's useless to try,"

said Loveland, heavily, seeing a vision of homeward-bound s.h.i.+ps sailing away without him on board. "Goodbye, d.i.c.k. I wish I had something to give you to remember me by, but I haven't."

"Lawd, why I'm a rich man, wid money in de bank," protested d.i.c.k. "Do you tink because I got a black face, I take suffin' off'n you? No; on de odder hand I lend you what you like, sah, and you pay me back when you like. You've tret me like a gemman."

Loveland thanked him, curiously touched; and as he refused the loan he found himself, somewhat to his own surprise, shaking hands warmly with the coloured cook.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

"Wanted: Juvenile Leading Man"

Bill Willing sat reading in the coldest corner of the writing-room, in the Bat Hotel. Somehow, when he had not denuded himself of his last nickel, and could afford to pay for a corner anywhere, it was always the coldest corner, because he blithely sacrificed his chances of the warmer ones to others. But he was not conscious that his corner was cold tonight. There was that in his heart which would have made the edge of an iceberg seem a comfortable resting-place; and he was so deeply absorbed in his paper (which was one devoted to the interests of the stage) that Loveland had to speak to him twice before he heard and looked up.

At any other time he would have started, stared, and wanted to know whether Loveland's battered appearance was due to a fight or a fire; but now in self-absorption unusual for him, he noticed nothing strange.

"Just look at this, my boy," he exclaimed, his eye sparkling with excitement, as he pointed to a paragraph which he had marked with red ink from a bottle on the table. The paragraph was an advertis.e.m.e.nt, in the midst of a column of other advertis.e.m.e.nts, apparently all of the same nature, and that column was one of five or six on a page entirely devoted to such advertis.e.m.e.nts. Still, the few lines were evidently of the most vital importance to Bill, and Loveland supposed he had hit on the offer of some wonderful situation, such as he had been looking for all his life.

"Wanted," was the attractive word which headed the paragraph: and that was what Val had expected; but as he read on, he grew puzzled.

"Wanted--For Repertoire Work, Juvenile Leading Man. Must be tall; good looker, not over thirty; gentlemanly manners and appearance, slim figure, fas.h.i.+onable wardrobe on and off stage. No boozers or loafers need apply. Write at once enclosing photo, and stating experience, age, weight, and lowest salary, to Jack Jacobus, Managing Star Tour for Lillie de Lisle, the Little Human Flower; Modunk, Ohio."

Loveland read the advertis.e.m.e.nt over, half aloud, his friend following every word with the keenest interest and delight.

"Great Scott, ain't it the grandest ever?" Bill demanded, with a beaming smile.

"I don't understand," said Val. "Are you going to try for the engagement?"

"I?" echoed Bill. "Lord, no."

"Well, then what are you so excited about?" Loveland wanted to know.