The Hillman Part 21

"I am out of breath," she said, her head thrown back, perilously near to John's shoulder. "Lord Amerton dances so well. Give me some champagne!"

"And you--you dance divinely," he told her, as he filled her gla.s.s.

"If we were alone," she whispered, "I should want you to kiss me!"

The stem of the wine-gla.s.s in John's fingers snapped suddenly, and the wine trickled down to the floor. A pa.s.sing waiter hurried up with a napkin, and a fresh gla.s.s was brought. The affair was scarcely noticed, but John remained disturbed and a little pale.

"Have you cut your hand?" Sophy asked anxiously.

"Not at all," he a.s.sured her. "How hot it is here! Do you mind if we go?"

"Go?" she exclaimed disconsolately. "I thought you were enjoying yourself so much!"

"So I am," he answered, "but I don't quite understand--"

He paused.

"Understand what?" she demanded.

"Myself, if you must know."

She set down the gla.s.s which she had been in the act of raising to her lips.

"How queer you are!" she murmured. "Listen. You haven't got a wife or anything up in c.u.mberland, have you?"

"You know I haven't," he answered.

"You're not engaged to be married, you have no ties, you came up here perfectly free, you haven't even said anything yet--to Louise?"

"Of course not."

"Well, then--" she began.

Her words were so softly spoken that they seemed to melt away. She leaned forward to look in his face.

"Sophy," he begged, with sudden and almost pa.s.sionate earnestness, "be kind to me, please! I am just a simple, stupid countryman, who feels as if he had lost his way. I have lived a solitary sort of life--an unnatural one, you would say--and I've been brought up with some old-fas.h.i.+oned ideas. I know they are old-fas.h.i.+oned, but I can't throw them overboard all at once. I have kept away from this sort of thing. I didn't think it would ever attract me--I suppose because I didn't believe it could be made so attractive. I have suddenly found out--that it does!"

"What are you going to do?" she whispered.

"There is only one thing for me to do," he answered. "Until I know what I have come to London to learn, I shall fight against it."

"You mean about Louise?"

"I mean about Louise," he said gravely.

Sophy came still closer to him. Her voice was as soft as the lightest, finest note of music, trembling a little with that one thread of pa.s.sion. She seemed so dainty, so quiet and sweet, that for a moment he found himself able to imagine that it was all a dream; that hers was just one of those fairy, disquieting voices that floated about on the summer breeze and rippled along the valleys and hillsides of his c.u.mberland home. Then, swift as the fancy itself, came the warm touch of her hand upon his, the lure of her voice once more, with its trembling cadence.

"Why are you so foolish?" she murmured. "Louise is very wonderful in her place, but she is not what you want in life. Has it never occurred to you that you may be too late?"

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"I believe what the world believes, what some day I think she will admit to herself--that she cares for the Prince of Seyre."

"Has she ever told you so?"

"Louise never speaks of these things to any living soul. I am only telling you what I think. I am trying to save you pain--trying for my own sake as well as yours."

He paid his bill and stooped to help her with her cloak. Her heart sank, her lips quivered a little. It seemed to her that he had pa.s.sed to a great distance.

"Very soon," John said, "I shall ask Louise to tell me the truth. I think that I shall ask her, if I can, to-morrow!"

XIII

John's first caller at the Milan was, in a way, a surprise to him. He was sitting smoking an after-breakfast pipe on the following morning, and gazing at the telephone directory, when his bell rang. He opened the door to find the Prince of Seyre standing outside.

"I pay you a very early visit, I fear," the latter began.

"Not at all," John replied, taking the pipe from his mouth and throwing open the door. "It is very good of you to come and see me."

The prince followed John into the little sitting room. He was dressed, as usual, with scrupulous care. His white linen gaiters were immaculate, his trousers were perfectly creased, the hang of his coat had engaged the care of an artist. His tie was of a deep shade of violet, fastened with a wonderful pearl, and his fingers were perhaps a trifle overmanicured. He wore a bunch of Parma violets in his b.u.t.tonhole, and he carried with him a very faint but unusual perfume, which seemed to John like the odor of delicate green tea. It was just these details, and the slowness of his speech, which alone accentuated his foreign origin.

"It occurred to me," he said, as he seated himself in an easy chair, "that if you are really intending to make this experiment in town life of which Miss Maurel spoke, I might be of some a.s.sistance to you. There are certain matters, quite unimportant in themselves, concerning which a little advice in the beginning may save you trouble."

"Very good of you, I am sure," John repeated. "To tell you the truth, I was just looking through the telephone directory to see if I could come across the name of a tailor I used to have some things from."

"If it pleases you to place yourself in my hands," the prince suggested, "I will introduce you to my own tradespeople. I have made the selection with some care."

"That will suit me admirably," John declared. "If you will just give me the addresses--I couldn't think of taking up your time."

"I have, fortunately, an idle morning," the prince said, "and it is entirely at your disposal. At half past one I believe we are both lunching with Miss Maurel."

John was conscious of a momentary sense of annoyance. His _tete-a-tete_ with Louise seemed farther off than ever. At the prince's suggestion, however, he fetched his hat and gloves and entered the former's automobile, which was waiting below.

"Miss Maurel!" the prince remarked, as they glided off westward, "is, I believe, inviting a few friends to meet you. If you would feel more comfortable in town clothes, I think the tailor to whom I am taking you will be able to arrange that. He makes special preparations for such emergencies."

"I will do what you think best," John agreed.

They spent the morning in the neighborhood of Bond Street, and John laid the foundations of a wardrobe more extensive than any he had ever dreamed of possessing. At half past one they were shown into Louise's little dressing room. There were three or four men already present, standing around their hostess and sipping some faint yellow cordial from long Venetian gla.s.ses.

Louise came forward to meet them, and made a little grimace as she remarked the change in John's appearance.

"Honestly, I don't know you, and I don't believe I like you at all!" she exclaimed. "How dare you transform yourself into a tailor's dummy in this fas.h.i.+on?"

"It was entirely out of respect to you," John said.