"Thank Heaven for New York once again, to be free, to breathe without
the suffocation of those black things clinging about me, to get under
the bracing air of a Northern climate once more. I wonder if you could
command or persuade Carlita to leave off that dreadful placard of woe
and let us have a little music and laughter once again?"
Jessica Chalmers threw herself into an arm-chair, crossed her knees
upon each other, lifted her dainty foot to a graceful angle, and
glanced up at her mother with a smile upon her lips that was really
very pleasant to look at. She wore a negligee of pale blue and silver
that became her wonderfully well, and there was an expression of fond
admiration in the eyes of the mother that returned her smile.
"I don't think I would undertake it if I were you," she replied,
thoughtfully. "After all, it can make very little difference to you.
I am not anxious that Carlita should go much into society, as if she
marries before she reaches the age of twenty-one I shall be docked just
eight thousand a year. It isn't a fortune, I grant you, but it is a
tidy little sum for pin money. I think you have been rather blind to
the fact that Carlita is an exceptionally beautiful girl, and--and--"
She did not complete her sentence, and Jessica shrugged her shoulders
indifferently.
"She is welcome to it," she answered, indolently. "You know that is one
thing I never envied any one in my life. On the contrary, I think it
must be rather a bore to be continually thinking of it and fearing to
lose it. It is style that tells--chic--and Carlita hasn't an atom of
that. Don't fear; I shall not be in the least jealous of your pretty
protege. She and I are as far apart as the antipodes. She is the most
utterly namby-pamby little nonentity that I have ever met."
Mrs. Chalmers turned away and walked toward the window, looking down
into Fifth Avenue. She was silent for a moment, then, with her lips set
curiously, answered slowly:
"If she is, it will be the first half-breed Mexican and Indian that I
ever knew to be either a nonentity or namby-pambyish. You may be right,
my dear Jessica, but you will pardon me, I know, if I say that I don't
believe it."
A reply was prevented by the entrance of a maid bearing a card. She
did not take it to the mistress of the house, but straight to Jessica,
who looked at it, then sprang to her feet with a little exclamation of
delight.
"Leith Pierrepont, by all that's wonderful, and so soon!" she cried.
"Show him in, Marie!"
But almost before the order had been given a young man entered the
room. He was tall, singularly handsome, with the bearing of a West
Pointer. His eyes were a deep, luminous gray, shaded by lashes and
brows that were black. His hair was also black, with a suggestion of a
wave in it that was exceedingly attractive. It was brushed away from
a brow as fair and smooth as a girl's, but there was no weakness in
the face. Its strength was one of its greatest attractions, but it was
not in the least in harmony with the indolence of his movements, the
careless, nonchalant grace of his speech.
People said of him that he had never been in a hurry in his life, but
certainly no one ever accused him of being slow. He was as picturesque
as he was handsome, with a slow, rare smile that women loved.
He extended a large, white hand with artistic, tapering fingers, which
closed over Jessica's with a warmth of pressure that was infinitely
strength-giving, his eyes lighting with a pleasure he did not hesitate
to express.
"Halloo, Leith, old man!" cried Jessica, not loudly, not coarsely, but
with a fascinating slanginess of manner that no one under heaven could
ever imitate. "Thought you were in the jungles killing tigers. When
did you get back, and did you bring me that skin you promised? 'Pon my
soul, I'm glad to see you! Heard the news?"
"You always take my breath away, Jessica," he answered, with the
irresistible smile spreading over his face. "How do you do, Mrs.
Chalmers. What have you been doing to yourself? Time has been going
backward, the old traitor. I never saw you looking so well. It isn't
fair in the very least, robbing young girls of their rightful prey.
Is there any news, Jessica? I haven't heard any in so long that I can
scarcely believe it possible."
It was a long speech for him. He did not usually trouble himself to
such an extent, and when he had finished he threw himself into a chair
as if exhausted.
"News--well, I should say so!" exclaimed Jessica, her brown eyes aglow.
"When did you get back?"
"Yesterday."
"Then you haven't heard. We arrived this morning."
"Really? From where?"
"Louisiana. We've been having an addition to the family; but it's a
grown-up one. Mamma has another daughter."
"You don't mean it?"
"Yes, truly. What do you think of it?"
"How can I tell until I have seen her? You didn't take me for a
clairvoyant, did you? But really, for selfish reasons, I'm awfully
sorry. It will spoil the number and break up all our sport."
"Not much!" exclaimed Jessica, with conviction. "Rather than that I
should send her back to the savages that she came from. Did you bring
Olney Winthrop back with you?"
"Yes, poor old chap. He had rather a narrow shave with a panther, and
then was almost carried off with jungle fever. He will certainly not
remind you of the flesh-pots of Egypt when you see him. He is all
broken up, and insists that there is nothing that will restore him like
a little game. I have come to ask if you will have us this evening?"
"Well, rather!" exclaimed Jessica.
"My dear," said Mrs. Chalmers, dubiously, "do you think you had
better--so soon?"
"Rats!" cried her daughter, inelegantly, but without the slightest
indication of vulgarity. "Do you think I am going to be shut off from
the world because Carlita has come here? Come off! Come by all means,
Leith, and bring Olney Winthrop. We'll see if we can't bring a little
life back to his veins. And you might ask Redfield Ash, if you should
happen to run across him. Four is not a good number for poker, and
Redfield Ash is the most unlucky man alive. By the way, would you like
to see our savage?"
"I am always interested in anything or any one that concerns you."
Her eyes lighted pleasantly as she touched a bell and said to Marie:
"Ask Miss de Barryos to come here, Marie."
"What a very swell name. Is she a Mexican?" inquired Pierrepont.
"Her father was. Her mother was an old school friend of mamma's, and I
do believe mamma is afraid of this half-breed."
"Nonsense, Jessica."
"It is true, just the same. You never saw such a change in your life
since the savage came among us. I really think she expects to see the
scalping-knife in the girl's hand every time she comes--Oh, Carlita! I
sent for you to introduce one of our dearest friends, Mr. Pierrepont.
Miss de Barryos, Mr. Pierrepont."
Leith Pierrepont arose and looked into the girlish face. He knew from
the fire in the dark eyes and the crimson glow in the olive cheeks that
she had heard every word that had been spoken concerning her, and there
was an expression of sympathy in his eyes as he put out his hand.
Carlita did not take it. She stood there for a moment haughtily erect,
dumb with indignation, her fierce anger rising in bitter words to her
lips; but she repressed all sound, forbade herself the utterance of the
torrent of hot, wrathful words that arose to her lips, and bowed coldly.
Pierrepont withdrew his hand and placed it carelessly upon the back of
his chair, as if he had not observed the cut, and said quietly:
"It is a great pleasure to me to meet you, Miss de Barryos. Miss
Chalmers tells me that your father was a Mexican. I knew Juan de
Barryos. I met him in the City of Mexico a number of years ago. He was
the nephew of the Count of Regla, one of the old Spanish grandees, and
one of the most picturesque characters in Mexican history. Juan de
Barryos was an owner of mines of enormous extent, as was his uncle, the
more world-famous Count of Regla. Juan de Barryos was a relative of
your father?"
He asked the question curiously, half interrogation, half exclamation,
and she answered proudly:
"Juan de Barryos was my father's brother and my guardian until the time
of his death."
"Really! Then by my friendship for your uncle I ought to be allowed to
claim some sort of acquaintanceship with you, ought I not?"
"I never saw my uncle but twice," she returned, coldly. "His friends
were not mine."
Jessica crimsoned, half with anger, half amusement. She was not
anxious that Carlita should make a good impression upon this man, but
her reply was almost rude. Still Pierrepont was unruffled. He turned
indifferently to Jessica:
"I am afraid I have overstayed my time," he exclaimed. "May I call it
an engagement and bring poor Winthrop tonight?"
"Decidedly."
"Then good-afternoon. Miss de Barryos, I am very glad to meet Juan de
Barryos' niece, in spite of the fact that she knew him almost as little
as a stranger might. It was a great misfortune to you, for he was a
charming man. Good-afternoon, Mrs. Chalmers."
He shook hands with his hostess and was gone. But almost before he had
disappeared, Carlita had slipped away to her own room.
She stood there in the center of the room with her hands pressed
passionately upon her breast, allowing her fierce anger full play upon
her features.
"They hate me!" she cried, fiercely. "Hate me, because of that cursed
blood of the Indian that flows within my veins. They hate me! Oh, God,
if I could but open them and let it out drop by drop. If I could but
be like others are. They hate me and I have allowed them to see their
power to hurt me; but it shall not be so again. I will show them that I
am not the thing for which they have taken me. I will show this woman
and her daughter that I am not the weak, characterless thing that they
have thought. They shall regret their words. I swear that--I swear it!"
And in the meantime Leith Pierrepont walked indolently down the street,
musing dreamily.
"What a deuced pretty thing she is," he said to himself. "What eyes!
What a complexion! I don't believe I ever saw a woman in my life who
looked like her. My dear Jessica, I am afraid you have made a mistake
in allowing this addition to be made to your family. She is the very
most beautiful, wonderfully picturesque girl that an artist could
fancy. If she doesn't make a sensation, then I'm mistaken. Heigh-ho!
Leith, old fellow, if she plays such havoc with every man's heart as
she has with yours in this short time, I shall be sorry for the other
women. What a confounded shame it is that she has fallen in with the
Chalmers. I wonder how it happened? I believe for the first time in my
life I am curious. Carlita de Barryos! She's of a rattling good family,
if there is a trace of Indian in her--which I don't believe altogether,
and she's the most graceful person I ever met, and the highest-tempered
to have absolute self-control. God! wasn't she furious! Cursed little
vixen is Jessica, but fascinating. Carlita de Barryos! Upon my soul,
old fellow, I believe you've seen the first woman you ever saw in your
life that you'd like to make your wife! Funny, too, that I should meet
her there--there of all places. The longer a fellow lives the more
waggish the world grows for him."