Concerning Belinda Part 7

"Yes; I knew you weeks ago."

Belinda lost her grasp upon her dignity and laughed.

"Then it isn't like going to Albany with a perfect stranger," she said with an air of profound relief.

The trip to Albany is a short one--much shorter than the railway time-schedules indicate. Both Belinda and Morgan Hamilton are prepared to testify to that effect. Also, they are willing to swear that the time between the arrival of the Chicago Express at Albany and the coming of the next New York train is grossly over-estimated. As the local train pulled into the Albany station a look of conscious guilt mingled with the excitement upon Belinda's face.

"I wonder if they will come," she whispered.

"I'd forgotten all about them," confessed the man at her side.

The look of guilt deepened. She had forgotten, too.

They came.

From afar off the waiting couple saw Eva May's mighty bulk and the dapper figure at her side.

Belinda stepped forward and the girl saw her. There was a pause, a moment's frightened silence, then Evangeline Marie made a noise 'twixt a groan and a squeal and clutched her beloved one's arm.

Monsieur de Puys looked quickly around, saw the small but determined Nemesis in his path, and swore eloquently in good Anglo-Saxon.

"Get into a cab," he said harshly to the hysterical girl beside him; and, as she made a move to obey, he turned threateningly to Belinda--but a tall, square-shouldered figure intervened, and two contemptuous eyes looked down at him.

"That's enough, you contemptible whelp," said a very low but emphatic voice. "Your game's up, and you don't marry an heiress this trip. Now, get out, before I kick you out. If it weren't for the ladies I'd treat myself to the satisfaction of kicking you before you could go. I'll cut it out on their account, but if ever I hear of your speaking to that girl again or mentioning her name to anyone I'll make it my business to look you up and thrash you within an inch of your scoundrelly life."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'Your game's up, and you don't marry an heiress this trip'"]

The red lips of Eva May's hero curled back from his white teeth in a snarl. The shallow, handsome face was white and vicious, but the insolent black eyes of the coward could not meet those of the man before him. A curious crowd was collecting.

"Get out of this," said Morgan in a voice that held a warning.

And the Frenchman went at once, muttering ineffectual vows of vengeance, but with never a look toward the fair Evangeline Marie, who was weeping upon Belinda's shoulder.

The next train from the west took on only three pa.s.sengers at Albany--a fair, good-looking young fellow in riding clothes, a fat, red-eyed girl in riding habit, and a pretty young woman in conventional garb. The fat girl fell into a seat, shut her eyes, and sobbed occasionally in a spasmodic way.

The man held out his hand to the young woman.

"I'll go into the smoker. I can't be of use any longer, but I'll see that you get a cab, and----"

He hesitated, looked at her imploringly.

"And--if--if I----

Belinda smiled.

"Why, I'd be delighted," she said in answer to the question in his face.

"Oh, may I come? Really? That's awfully good of you."

And as he sat in the smoking-car puffing mechanically at a cigar that was not lighted Morgan Hamilton vowed a thank-offering to the G.o.d of chance.

CHAPTER IV

A WOLF IN THE FOLD

MISS LUCILLA RYDER, clothed in stateliness as in a garment, was conducting a business interview in her study.

Facing her, sat a slender young woman gowned in black. The black frock, the black hat, the black gloves were simple, un.o.btrusive, altogether suitable for an impecunious instructor of youth; but there was a subtle something about them that would have whispered "French" to a worldly-wise observer, even if their wearer had not been speaking the purest of Parisian French in a voice calculated to impart melody to any language.

Miss Lucilla bent upon this attractive applicant for the position left vacant by the illness of Madame Plongeon--long-time French chaperon in the Ryder school--what she fondly believed to be a keen and penetrating scrutiny.

Mademoiselle de Courcelles met the judicial glance with a sweet and deprecatory smile.

In Miss Lucilla's hand were several letters, each written in flowing, graceful French upon stationery bearing an imposing crest. Madame la d.u.c.h.esse de Rochechouart, Madame la comtesse de Pourtales, Madame la comtesse de St. Narcy had in those gracious letters expressed their enthusiastic appreciation of Mademoiselle de Courcelles's rare qualities of mind and heart, their absolute confidence in her integrity and ability, and their deep regret that they had been unable to persuade her to remain in Paris and continue her supervision of the education of certain prospective dukes and counts.

One note, less aristocratic in character, was from Mrs. Dent-Smyth, head of the teachers' agency to which the Misses Ryder resorted in emergencies like the present one.

This worthy lady wrote frankly that as Mademoiselle de Courcelles's advent had been almost coincident with Miss Ryder's request for a teacher, there had been no time to investigate the Frenchwoman's Paris references. Mrs. Dent-Smyth was, however, of the opinion that these references seemed most satisfactory, and she believed that a personal interview with the applicant would convince Miss Ryder that the young woman was a very superior person, and her French of a superfine quality.

Miss Lucilla, albeit maintaining a non-committal exterior, mentally agreed with Mrs. Dent-Smyth. Mademoiselle de Courcelles was distinguished in appearance, polished in manner, sweet of voice. She spoke English haltingly, but her French was of a quality to suit the most exacting of parents. To all of Miss Ryder's questions she made deferential, modest, yet self-possessed answer.

She was, it seemed, but newly come to America. Financial reverses had forced her, an orphan of good family, to earn her living. There were wealthy and influential friends who were willing to help her, but a De Courcelles--Mademoiselle spoke the word proudly--could not live upon charity. She had taught in the families of several of these friends, but the situation was impossible, and she had decided that it would be easier to live her life among strangers, where she would be unhampered by old traditions and a.s.sociations.

Sounding t.i.tles flitted through the tale, brought in quite casually, but proving none the less impressive to a thoroughgoing republican.

Miss Lucilla listened thoughtfully, glancing from time to time at the crests upon the letters she held. As a freeborn American she scorned to truckle to the effete aristocracy of Europe; but still, she admitted, there was really something pleasing about a t.i.tle. Of course she had always been very particular about looking up references, but this was an exceptional case. She would consult Miss Emmeline.

Now when Miss Lucilla says that she will consult Miss Emmeline, her mind is already made up. Miss Emmeline has never, by any chance, volunteered an opinion upon a subject without having first heard the elder sister's opinion upon the same subject. Having heard, she echoes.

"I believe this young person will be a great addition to the staff,"

said Miss Lucilla.

"I'm sure of it," murmured Miss Emmeline.

"We might possibly mention in our next circular the names of the n.o.ble families with which she has been a.s.sociated in France."

"Certainly," echo answered.

So Mademoiselle de Courcelles was engaged.

Twenty-four hours later the new French teacher and three large trunks were installed in a small room on the top floor of the Ryder school. The size and number of the trunks excited comment among the servants, but the expressman who carried Mademoiselle's impedimenta up four flights of stairs noticed that the trunks were surprisingly light in weight.

From the first Mademoiselle was a success, and by the time she had spent a fortnight in the school her popularity among the girls moved many of the teachers to jealousy, and even wakened in Belinda's heart a slight sense of injury to which she wouldn't have confessed for worlds. Miss Barnes, herself impervious alike to adoration or disapproval, expressed her opinion of the new comer with her usual frankness.