CHAPTER XIV.

Neil Lowell had never looked better in his boy's attire than when he

had completed his toilet for dinner that evening, and stood before the

glass taking a last survey of himself, very much after the manner of a

girl. Then he opened the door and went down-stairs.

As he entered the drawing-room, his first impression was that it was

empty, but as he advanced into the room, he saw the form of a man

leaning over a table upon which some rare etchings were carelessly

tossed.

"It is 'Edith's cousin,' I suppose," he muttered with a smile.

The slight noise of the entrance attracted the stranger's attention,

and he lifted his head.

Neil started; an hysterical cry rose to his lips, but before the guest

had advanced he had recovered his perfect self-possession.

"You are Miss Edith's 'cousin,' I think," he said with a smile,

advancing and extending his hand. "I don't suppose that Miss Alice

intended us to meet in this fashion or she would have told me your

name. I am Neil Lowell."

The gentleman paused, looking down upon the slight figure with a

puzzled expression.

He took the extended hand in his as though half unconscious that he had

done so, then pulling himself together, he said slowly:

"I am Lynde Pyne. I have heard your name mentioned by my cousin as the

private secretary of Mr. Pryor, of whom Miss Alice has made frequent

mention in her letters. You must really excuse me, but your face is so

strangely familiar to me, that I cannot recover from the surprise of

it."

"Now that you speak of it, I remember seeing you on 'Change the other

day. The day that Lake Shore took its great boom. Do you not recall it?"

"No!" shaking his head slowly, "it was not there. I did not see you

there, but----"

The sentence was interrupted by the entrance of the girls.

Introductions followed, and were barely completed, when the butler's

announcement of dinner was made.

With a heart beating almost to suffocation, Lowell offered his arm to

Miss Edith Pyne, and conducted her to the dining-room, seating her upon

his right, while he occupied the host's position.

It placed him where every eye rested full upon him, and Alice cried

gleefully:

"Is it not extraordinary? Look! Did you ever see so great a resemblance

as that between Mr. Lowell and Edith?"

There was no need to call attention to it, for every one in the room

had observed it before, but Lowell's face was crimson.

"You compliment me too highly, Miss Alice," he stammered. "No doubt

that is where Mr. Pyne saw a resemblance in me to some one, if it is

true."

But Pyne shook his head.

"No," he said; "I must have seen you, yourself! I can't----"

The sentence was dreamily discontinued, and the girls began to chatter

upon other subjects, while Lowell and Pyne maintained an uncomfortable

silence.

"It is so delicious to be here!" Edith cried joyfully, "only it will

be for such a short time. Mamma insists that I shall spend part of the

visit with Evelyn Chandler. I ought to be pleased, I suppose, but I

can't. I should not say it before Lynde, but I don't half like her."

If his life had depended upon it, Lowell could not have prevented

himself from raising his eyes to those dark, compelling ones before

him. They were fixed curiously upon his face. A slow color surged into

the pink cheeks and the eyes of the boy were lowered.

An excitement that he could not control leaped into Lynde's eyes.

"Why should you not say that before Mr. Pyne?" questioned Miss Pryor.

"If rumor is correct his engagement with Miss Chandler is at an end."

Lowell held his breath, waiting for the answer.

Not a movement was lost upon Pyne.

"Then rumor does not speak correctly!" snapped Miss Pyne. "I wish to

Heaven it did. The engagement was broken by some kind of row between

Mr. Chandler and Lynde at the time those robberies were committed, but

Evelyn would not have it. She made her father straighten matters out,

and Lynde was hooked again, and will be landed in January. You see, the

fish is about tired out, and the fisher-woman will soon be triumphant."

Lowell felt himself growing ghastly.

A cold perspiration was growing about his mouth; but knowing that

Pyne's eyes were fixed upon him, he forced a smile to his lips, and

glanced in Pyne's direction.

"Then I presume we are to congratulate you?" he said, in the form of an

interrogation.

The trembling of the voice was not lost upon Lynde, who never removed

his eyes from the boyish face.

"Yes," he answered slowly, "you may congratulate me if you wish."

"I should murder him if he did!" ejaculated Miss Pyne. "You know that I

don't like Evelyn, and she knows it, though mamma insists upon it that

I shall be the essence of glucose in her presence. Bah! what you want

to marry her for is more than I can see. You are not in love with her,

and you know it."

"Young ladies," interrupted Mrs. Pryor, with a good-natured smile,

"don't you think this conversation had better be discontinued? It is

the first time I ever heard of discussing a gentleman's _fiancee_ so

uncomplimentarily in his presence."

"Pooh! We are all like brothers and sisters here!" exclaimed Miss Pyne.

"It is only in the family, you know. Mr. Lowell don't count. Did you

ever see Miss Evelyn Chandler, Mr. Lowell?"

For a moment Lowell hesitated, then the answer came:

"Yes."

"Do you admire her?"

"If you mean do I think she is beautiful, yes."

"But do you think she is good? Do you think she is what she appears?"

"You must excuse me, Miss Pyne. I have not your right to discuss the

lady in question."

Mrs. Pryor, not approving the conversation, arose from the table,

giving the signal to the ladies.

Lowell arose, and opened the door for them to pass through, then he

resumed his seat.

He was the host, in the absence of Mr. Pryor, and he knew that he must

remain at the table until his guest was ready to leave it.

During the time that the butler was arranging the cigars and wine upon

the table, after the departure of the ladies, he felt those glowing

eyes fixed upon his face.

The wine was poured, and the butler handed the cigars.

As they were passed to Neil, he glanced up, and saw those curious,

questioning eyes still fixed upon him. He selected a cigar with

greatest nonchalance; the lighted candles were placed for their use,

and the butler retired.

As though it were an occurrence of everyday life, Neil cut the end from

his cigar, stuck it in his mouth, and was about to apply it to the

flame, when Pyne put out his hand and laid it upon that of the boy.

"Don't do that!" he said gently.

Lowell did not need to affect the surprise that came to his eyes.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Because it will make you sick!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you have never smoked a cigar in your life, and that it

will nauseate you."

For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence, then Neil laughed

shortly.

"You are correct," he said, his face flushing. "I never did! Mr. Pryor

was taking me to task about it to-day, and I determined to learn. I did

not dream that I should handle it so awkwardly. Will you excuse me,

then, if I take a cigarette instead?"

"Certainly; but I don't think I feel inclined to smoke, if you will

excuse me altogether. The chatter of those girls has upset me. It has

brought back memories which I thought I had conquered. Neil Lowell,

there is a question that I should like to ask you. What is it that

you know of Miss Evelyn Chandler? And what relation are you to Leonie

Cuyler?"

The man's face was lighted with a brilliant crimson. His eyes glittered

with excitement.

He arose from his chair and stood over the boy, one hand resting upon

the table, the other upon the back of Lowell's chair.

The boy lifted his eyes to the thrilling face, and very slowly arose to

his feet.

Leonie, the Typewriter: A Romance of Actual Life · 第 14 / 37 章