A FORMER ACQUAINTANCE
"I was never so ashamed of any one in my life."
Jack flushed, but, ignoring her sister's speech, extended her hand to
the young man who was seated in the motor car beside her.
"I am afraid you don't remember me," she began, "it has been a long
time, and we never knew each other intimately in the past. But it is
kind of you to have driven over to the ranch."
Then getting into the car, Jack sat down in the vacant place which had
been saved for her between her sister and their visitor.
"Just the same, I believe I should have known you," Peter Stevens
returned, looking at her with what Jack considered was certainly not an
expression of admiration. "Do you think, Mrs. Kent, a fellow is apt to
forget a girl who could ride and hunt and shoot better than nearly any
young man in Wyoming? I was a bookworm in those days and have remained
one, but that did not prevent my jealousy of you."
"Please don't refer to my dreadful outdoor accomplishments," Jack
murmured, "not after I have gotten myself into such disfavor with my
family." The little glance, half of appeal, half of humor which she at
this instant bestowed upon her companion made the muscles of his face
suddenly relax and his blue eyes less cold, so that Jack caught at least
a fleeting likeness to the boy she had once known.
As a matter of fact, Peter Stevens, who was still in the early twenties,
had appeared so much older than she had dreamed possible that Jack would
not have recognized him without first having been told his name.
Then his face hardened again.
"Well, most of us grow up, Mrs. Kent, but perhaps you are one of the
persons who do not. I am told you prefer not to use your title in the
United States."
To Jack's mind, as there was plainly no answer to this speech with its
scarcely courteous reference to her recent impulsive action, she turned
toward her sister.
Frieda Ralston had developed into the type of matron one might have
expected from her spoiled girlhood and--more important--her childish
and self-satisfied temperament. She dearly loved her older sister;
except for her husband and baby, she loved no one so well; but she also
loved the opportunity to assume an attitude of offended dignity which
usually had succeeded in making the members of her family do as she
wished.
Moreover her sister's recent escapade had seriously shocked and annoyed
her, not for her own sake, but for her sister's. She had wished Jack to
make a charming impression among their neighbors and old friends. No
one, as she believed, could be handsomer or more delightful than her
sister, Lady Kent, and Frieda declined to lay aside the title. Yet here
was Jack, after having probably disgraced herself by her latest
performance, meeting one of the most prominent of the younger men in
Wyoming, dressed in an old, discarded riding habit, dusty, her hair
blown about her face, looking at least ten years younger than she
actually was; in fact, as if she had never left the ranch, never been
married or seen anything of the outside world.
As a matter of fact, Frieda now and then felt slightly resentful of the
suggestion, occasionally made by strangers, that she was the older of
the two sisters. But this Frieda thought must be because she was getting
just the tiniest bit stouter than she would have preferred to be.
However, she did not care seriously. This afternoon, as Jack tried to
catch her sister's eye, she thought that Frieda looked prettier than
usual, in her beautifully made blue cloth tailor suit and the little
blue feather hat which made her eyes appear even bluer and the fairness
of her skin more conspicuous.
She also considered that Frieda was partly justified in her anger, but
that she must not be allowed to display her temper or to lecture her
older sister before a stranger.
The next instant, leaning over, Jack whispered a few words to Olive
MacDonnell, who with her husband, Captain MacDonnell, was occupying the
seat in front of her own. Professor Henry Tilford Russell, Frieda's
husband, was next to Jim Colter, who was driving the car.
What Jack whispered was:
"You'll stand by me, Olive, you and Bryan; as usual, I seem to have
gotten into more troubled waters than I realized."
And Olive had nodded with the sympathy and understanding which Jack had
always been able to count upon from the days of their earliest
acquaintance when Olive had taken refuge at the Rainbow lodge and
Jacqueline Ralston had sheltered and protected her.
The following moment Jack stretched out her arms toward Frieda's little
girl, who was sitting in her mother's lap.
"Let me hold the baby, please, Frieda dear, you must both be tired."
Then as Peace climbed over into her aunt's lap, Jack pressed her cheek
for an instant against the little girl's head.
She and Peace had a deep affection and understanding of each other. But
then the child was captivating to everybody. Inheriting Frieda's
exquisite blonde coloring, Peace had a spirituality her mother never
possessed. She was several years old, but so frail that she seemed
younger in spite of her wise, old-fashioned conversation.
"Tired?" she murmured.
Jack shook her head.
"There is nothing the matter." It often troubled her and Frieda, the
little girl's curious knowledge of what was going on in the minds of the
people about her without an exchange of words.
Frieda now glanced at her sister and her own little girl and her
expression altered. She loved seeing them together and had no feeling of
jealousy. Indeed she used to hope that some of Jack's vigor, the
extraordinary and beautiful vitality which made her different from other
persons might be transferred to her own little girl.
"We will leave you at the lodge, Jack, to dress for dinner, if you will
come up to the big house later;" Frieda remarked with a change of tone.
"Mr. Stevens has been kind enough to say he will remain all night and
motor back to Laramie in the morning."
Was it natural vanity on Jacqueline Ralston's part or an effort to
reinstate herself in the good graces of her family that she bathed and
dressed with unusual care, brushing every particle of dust from her
long, heavy, gold brown hair which waved from her temples to the low
coil which she wore at the back of her neck?
Jack's evening dress was black chiffon without an ornament or jewel and
was the first change she had made from her mourning. To any one less
physically perfect than Jacqueline Kent, the severity of the dress might
have been trying. But her skin was clear, her color, without being
vivid, gave a sufficient flush to her cheeks, her lips were a deep red,
her eyes gray and wide and with a singular sincerity. Moreover, Jack's
outdoor tastes, into whatever indiscretions they might lead her, had
kept her figure erect, beautifully modeled and well poised, and a
beautiful figure is far more rare than a beautiful face.
Walking up with Jimmie as her escort to the big house, Jack confessed to
herself that she felt slightly bored. Unexpectedly she had grown a
little tired, or if not tired, not in the mood to endure any more family
criticism at the present time, and would much have preferred spending
the evening alone with her son.
She had confessed her offence to Jimmie, wishing him to hear from her
what she had done. But Jimmie, not appreciating the social error she had
committed, had appeared immensely proud, even jealous of her prowess,
insisting that she should begin to give him lessons in the art of
lassoing early the following morning.
Personally Jack wondered just to what extent her family had been
unnecessarily critical in their attitude. Would her neighbors judge her
action so harshly that it would interfere with their friendliness toward
her? It was always hard for Jack to live in an atmosphere of
unfriendliness.
So far as her former acquaintance was concerned she had no vestige of
doubt. Peter Stevens had been absurdly shocked and offended by her
exhibition of what had seemed to him unwomanliness. But personally Jack
did not care a great deal for his opinion, she had not liked him
particularly, and it had occurred to her that it might be just as well
if he were shocked occasionally. He looked prim and too much an old
bachelor for so comparatively young a man.
However, what really startled Peter Stevens was Jacqueline Kent's
appearance, when he came into the drawing room a few moments before
dinner and found her standing alone before a small fire.
He controlled with difficulty an exclamation of surprise, having not
thought her even handsome earlier in the afternoon. And he had
disapproved of her action more keenly than he believed himself to have
revealed. Now as Jack began talking to him he appreciated not only her
beauty, but the fact that she had become a charming woman of the world
and probably had seen more of life than he had seen in spite of his
success in his profession and his political ambitions.
"You are a Republican, aren't you?" Jack asked, and then added: "I
believe you have been elected a member of the State Legislature in
Wyoming and the people are talking about you for one of our United
States Congressmen. Politics seem to me a great career, perhaps the
greatest of all careers, these days, so may I congratulate you?"
Peter Stevens smiled, pleased of course, as any one might have been.
"Perhaps it is a bit premature to talk of my running for Congress, Mrs.
Kent, but if I do may I count on your support?"
Laughing, Jack shook her head.
"No, at least I can make no promises. You see, I don't know whether I am
a Republican or a Democrat, or what my politics may be until I have been
in my own country sufficiently long to study conditions. Maybe my vote
will go to a woman candidate, if there happens to be one in my
district."
"You don't intend by any chance to be my opponent?"
Smiling over the impossible aspect of his suggestion but in an
unusually pleasant frame of mind, Peter Stevens pushed a large chair
over toward the fire so that Jack might sit down. An instant later he
drew his own chair up beside her.
"Oh, perhaps I may be your opponent some day, who knows?" Jack returned,
accepting the challenge good-naturedly. "But first it might be as well
for me to learn whether I am an American citizen. May an American woman
who has married a foreigner after the death of her husband assume her
former nationality if she so desires?"
"You do desire it, wish to give up your title and all it means in
England, and even in the United States for that matter? You will be much
admired in any case, I am sure, Mrs. Kent, but after all, Lady Kent has
a more romantic sound! You feel sure you will not regret your decision?
I have not yet had an opportunity to look up the question you have just
asked me and I don't want to answer you without being positive as to the
exact law in the matter. My impression is, however, that the choice lies
with you; that a woman may resume her former citizenship in the United
States if she so wishes and returns to her own country to live."
At this instant Frieda and Professor Russell entered the drawing-room,
and a little later, when the rest of the family had joined them, dinner
was announced.
Afterwards, although sitting beside each other at dinner, as the
conversation was general Peter Stevens had no opportunity for any
further personal conversation with Jacqueline Kent.
He was by no means convinced that he liked her. He found most girls and
women tiresome after a short acquaintance. However, the girl he had
formerly known had at least developed into what appeared to be two
conflicting personalities.