CHANCE
She considered him with guileless eyes. He was _too_ good-looking, too
attractive, too young, and far too much pleased with himself. That was
the impression he gave her. And, as he was, in addition, plainly one of
her own sort, a man she was likely to meet anywhere--a well-bred,
well-mannered and agreeable young fellow, probably a recent
undergraduate, which might account for his really inoffensive
breeziness--she felt perfectly at ease with him and safe enough to
continue imprudently her mischief.
"If you are going to begin at the beginning," she said, "perhaps it
might steady your nerves to repeat your own name very slowly and
distinctly. Physicians recommend it sometimes," she added seriously.
"My name is John Seabury," he said, laughing. "Am I lucid?"
"Lucid so far," she said gravely. "I knew a Lily Seabury----"
"My sister. She's in Paris."
"Yes, I knew that, too," mused the girl, looking at him in a different
light--different in this way that his credentials were now
unquestionable, and she could be as mischievous as she pleased with the
minimum of imprudence.
"Do you ever take the advice of physicians," he asked naïvely, "about
repeating names?"
"Seldom," she said. "I don't require the treatment."
"I was only wondering----"
"You were wondering what C. G. stood for on my satchel? I will be very
glad to tell you, Mr. Seabury. _C_ stands for Cecil, and _G_ for Gay;
Cecil Gay. Is that lucid?"
"Cecil!" he said; "that's a man's name."
"How rude! It is _my_ name. Now, do you think your mental calibre
requires any more re-boring?"
"Oh, you know about calibres and things. Do you shoot? I _can_ talk
about dogs and guns. Listen to me, Miss Gay." The subject shifted from
shooting to fishing, and from hunting to driving four-in-hand, and
eventually came back to the horses and the quaint depot-sleigh which was
whirling them so swiftly toward their destination.
"Jack Austin and I were in Paris," he observed.
"Oh--recently?"
"Last year."
"I thought so."
"Why?" he asked.
"Oh, I suppose it was one of those obsessed premonitions----"
"You are laughing at me, Miss Gay."
"Am I? Why?"
"Why? How on earth is a man to know why? _I_ don't know why you do it,
but you do--all the time."
"Not _all_ the time, Mr. Seabury, because I don't know you well enough."
"But you know my sister!"
"Yes. She is a dear."
"Won't that introduce me? And, besides, you know Jack Austin----"
"No, I don't."
"Isn't that odd?" he said. "You don't know Jack Austin and I don't know
Mrs. Austin. It was nice of her to ask me. They say she is one of the
best ever."
"It was certainly nice of her to ask you," said the girl, eyes
brightening over her muff.
"I was in Europe when they were married," he said. "I suppose you were
there."
"No, I wasn't. That sounds rather strange, doesn't it?"
"Why, yes, rather!" he replied, looking up at her in his boyish,
perplexed way. And for a moment her heart failed her; he _was_ nice, but
also he was a living temptation. Never before in all her brief life had
she been tempted to do to anybody what she was doing to him. She had
often been imprudent in a circumspect way--conventionally unconventional
at times--even a little daring. At sheer audacity she had drawn the
line, and now the impulse to cross that line had been too much for her.
But even she did not know exactly why temptation had overcome her.
There was something that she ought to tell him--and tell him at once.
Yet, after all, it was really already too late to tell him--had been too
late from the first. Fate, Chance and Destiny, the Mystic Three,
disguised, as usual, one as a German conductor; one as a large mottled
man; the other as a furry footman had been bumped by Seabury and jeered
at by a girl wearing dark blue eyes and chinchillas. And now the
affronted Three were taking exclusive charge of John Seabury and Cecil
Gay. She was partly aware of this; she did not feel inclined to
interfere where interference could do no good. And that being the case,
why not extract amusement from matters as they stood? Alas, it is not
well to laugh at the Mystic Three! But Cecil Gay didn't know that. You
see, even _she_ didn't know everything.
* * * * *
"You will like Jack Austin," he asserted.
"Really?"
"I'm willing to bet----"
"Oh, wait till we know one another officially before we begin to make
wagers.... Still, I might, perhaps safely wager that I shall not find
your friend Jack Austin very agreeable to-night."
So they settled the terms of the wager; cigarettes versus the inevitable
bonbons.
"Everybody likes Jack Austin on sight," he said triumphantly, "so you
may as well send the cigarettes when you are ready;" and he mentioned
the brand.
"You will never smoke those cigarettes," she mused aloud, looking
dreamily at him, her muff pressed alongside of her pretty cheek. "Tell
me, Mr. Seabury, are you vindictive?"
"Not very."
"Revengeful?"
"Well--no, I don't think so," he replied. "Why?"
"I'm much relieved," she said, simply.
"Why?"
"Because I've done a dreadful thing--perfectly dreadful."
"To me?"
She nodded.
Perplexed and curious, he attempted to learn what she meant, but she
parried everything smiling. And now, the faster the horses sped, the
faster her pulses beat, and the more uncertain and repentant she became
until her uncertainty increased to a miniature panic, and, thoroughly
scared, she relapsed into a silence from which he found it beyond his
powers to lure her.
For already a bright light was streaming out toward them from somewhere
ahead. In its rays the falling snow turned golden, every separate flake
distinct as they passed a great gate with the lodge beside it and went
spinning away along a splendid wooded avenue and then straight up toward
a great house, every window ablaze with light.
John Seabury jumped out and offered his aid to Cecil Gay as several
servants appeared under the porte-cochère.
"I had no idea that Jack Austin lived so splendidly," he whispered to
Miss Gay, as they entered the big hall.
But she was past speech now--a thoroughly scared girl; and she lost no
time in following a maid into the elevator, whither Seabury presently
followed her in tow of a man-servant.
"Luxury! Great Scott," thought Seabury. "This dubbing a palace a cottage
is the worse sort of affectation, and I'll tell Jack Austin so, too."
The elevator stopped; the doors clicked open; Seabury turned smilingly
to Cecil Gay, but she hurried past him, crimson-cheeked, head bent, and
he followed his pilot to his room.
"Dinner is hannounced at 'awf awfter height, sir," announced the man
with dignity.
"Thank you," said Seabury, watching a valet do sleight-of-hand tricks
with the contents of his suit-case. And when he was alone he hopped
nimbly out of his apparel and into a bath and out again in a high state
of excitement, talking to himself all the while he was dressing.
"Good old Jack! The Mrs. must have had the means to do this sort of
thing so well. I'm delighted!--de--lighted!... If ever a man deserved
affluence, it's Jack Austin! It suits him. It will do him good. It
becomes him.... Plucky fellow to go on grinding at the law!... Only
thing to do, of course--decent thing to do--self-respect and all
that.... But, by jingo!"--he looked about him as he stood buttoning his
collar. "Hah!" stepping to the wall and examining a picture--"Great
Jenkins!--why, here's a real Fortuny--in a _bedroom_!"
He cared for good pictures, and he stood before the exquisite aquarelle
as long as he dared. Then, glancing at his watch, he completed his
toilet, opened his door, and, scorning the lift, fled blithely down the
great staircase on pleasing bent--and on being pleased.
A big drawing-room, charmingly lighted, and gay already with the chatter
and laughter of a very jolly throng--this is what confronted him as a
servant offered him a tray containing cards.
"I don't see my name here," he said, examining the slim envelopes.
"Beg pardon, sir--what name, sir?"
"Mr. Seabury."
The servant looked and Seabury looked in vain.
"An oversight," commented the young fellow, coolly. "I'll ask Mrs.
Austin about it." And he walked in, and, singling out the hostess,
advanced with smiling confidence, thinking to himself: "She _is_ pretty;
Jack's right. But--but, by George!--she looks like Cecil Gay!"
His hostess received him very charmingly, saying that it was so good of
him to come; and he said it was so good of her to have asked him, and
then they said several similar things. He spoke of Jack--mentioning him
and continuing to another subject; and she smiled a trifle uncertainly.
Her smile was still more vague and uncertain when he laughingly
mentioned the dinner-cards; and she said it was a vexing oversight and
would be immediately arranged--glancing rather sharply at an amiable
gentleman standing near her. And this amiable gentleman came up to
Seabury and shook hands very cordially, and said several agreeable
things to which Seabury responded, until new arrivals separated him from
his hostess and the amiable gentleman, and he fell back and glanced
about him. And, after a little while an odd expression came into his
eyes; he stood very still; a slight flush slowly spread over his face
which had grown firmer. In a few moments the color went as it had come,
slowly; the faint glitter died out in his eyes.
There were several people he knew among the guests; he nodded quietly to
young Van Guilder, to Brimwell and others, then crossed to speak to
Catherine Hyland and Dorothy Minster. He was very agreeable, but a
little distrait. He seemed to have something on his mind.
Meanwhile his hostess was saying to her husband: "Who _is_ that, Jim?"
And her husband said: "You can search me. Didn't you ask him?" And his
wife responded: "He's talking to nearly everybody. It's curious, isn't
it?" Here she was interrupted by the flushed entrance of her unmarried
sister, Cecil Gay.
Meanwhile, Seabury was saying coolly: "I haven't seen Jack yet."
"Jack?" repeated Dorothy Minster. "Which Jack?"
"Jack Austin."
"Oh," said Miss Minster, who did not know him; "is he to be here?"
But Seabury only smiled vaguely. His mind, his eyes, his attention were
fixed upon a vision of loveliness in the foreground--a charmingly
flushed young girl who knew everybody and was evidently a tremendous
favorite, judging from the gay greetings, the little volleys of
laughter, and the animated stirring of groups among which she passed.
Watching her, quite oblivious to his surroundings, the servant at his
elbow was obliged to cough discreetly half a dozen times and repeat "Beg
pardon, sir," before he turned to notice the silver salver extended.
"Oh--thank you," he said, picking up an envelope directed, "Mr.
Seabury," and opening it. Then a trifle surprised but smiling, he turned
to find the girl whose name was written on the card. She was speaking to
the hostess and the amiable man who had first greeted him. And this is
what he didn't hear as he watched her, waiting grimly for a chance at
her:
"Cecil! _Who_ is that very young man?"
"Betty, how should _I_ know----"
"Look here, Cis," from the amiable gentleman; "this is some of your
deviltry----"
"Oh, _thank_ you, Jim!"
"Yes, it is. Who is he and where did you rope him?"
"Jim!"
"Cecil! What nonsense is this?" demanded her hostess and elder sister.
"How did he get here and who is he?"
"I did _not_ bring him, Betty. He simply came?"
"How?"
"In the depot-sleigh, of course----"
"With _you_?"
"Certainly. He wanted to come. He _would_ come! I couldn't turn him out,
could I--after he climbed in?"
Host and hostess glared at their flushed and defiant relative, who tried
to look saucy, but only looked scared. "_He_ doesn't know he's made a
mistake," she faltered; "and there's no need to tell him yet--is
there?... I put my name down on his card; he'll take me in.... Jim,
don't, for Heaven's sake, say anything if he calls Betty Mrs. Austin.
Oh, Jim, be decent, please! I _was_ a fool to do it; I don't know what
possessed me! Wait until to-morrow before you say anything! Besides, he
may be furious! Please wait until I'm out of the house. He'll breakfast
late, I hope; and I promise you I'll be up early and off by the seven
o'clock train----"
"In Heaven's name, who _is_ he?" broke in the amiable man so fiercely
that Cecil jumped.
"He's only Lily Seabury's brother," she said, meekly, "and he thinks
he's at the Austins'--and he might as well be, because he knows half the
people here, and I've simply _got_ to keep him out of their way so that
nobody can tell him where he is. Oh, Betty--I've spoiled my own
Christmas fun, and his, too! _Is_ there any way to get him to the
Austins' now?'
"The Jack Austins' of Beverly!" exclaimed her sister, incredulously. "Of
course not!"
"And you _let_ him think he was on his way there?" demanded her
brother-in-law. "Well--you--are--the--limit!"
"So is _he_," murmured the abashed maid, slinking back to give place to
a new and last arrival. Then she turned her guilty face in a sort of
panic of premonition. She was a true prophetess; Seabury had seen his
chance and was coming. And _that's_ what comes of mocking the Mystic
Three and cutting capers before High Heaven.
[Illustration]