MR. AND MISS KNIGHT VERSUS CUPID.
The ice once broken between Mr. Knight’s party and the two young men,
the acquaintance progressed rapidly, and it soon became evident that
Rupert and Virgie found each other especially congenial.
The young Englishman managed to constitute himself the beautiful girl’s
escort upon almost every occasion when they were sight-seeing, until Mr.
Webster began to realize that he was _de trop_, or as he humorously
expressed it, but the “fifth wheel to the coach,” and he was forced to
look about him for other society to soothe his wounded pride.
He soon found it in the companionship of two sisters, who were traveling
with an aunt, and the dark eyes and sparkling beauty of the elder ere
long bade fair to make as much a captive of him as Virgie had already
made of Rupert Hamilton.
She was the loveliest girl that he had ever seen. Lillian Linton, and
the startling discovery which Rupert had made regarding her feelings
toward himself just before leaving Heathdale, were forgotten, and he
surrendered himself to the charm of her society, never questioning to
what it might lead, or what his feelings might be when the trip was
ended, and they should go their different ways.
But others began to consider these things if the youthful couple did
not.
Older and more experienced eyes could see that he was fast learning to
love the charming girl, and that she was also yielding her young heart,
with its first strong passion, to the handsome Englishman.
Mr. and Miss Knight could not fail to perceive the danger that lurked in
the pleasant companionship, and, while they liked the frank, manly
fellow uncommonly well, they were troubled at the thought of anything
serious growing out of it, while Virgie was in their care.
“Robert, I am afraid there is mischief brewing, and I feel very uneasy
about it,” Miss Knight remarked to her brother one day, as Rupert and
Virgie stole away together to a corner of the parlor in the hotel where
they were stopping to look over a collection of views, which the young
man had recently purchased.
Mr. Knight shot a keen, anxious look at them.
“I’ve been a little fearful of it myself, Stella,” he replied, gravely;
“but I do not know as we can prevent it.”
“We must prevent it,” returned his sister, firmly. “We must do our duty,
Robert; it would not be right to allow that dear child to become
entangled in a love affair while she is away from her mother. I should
never forgive myself, and she would never forgive us, if any harm should
befall her while she is in our care.”
“I cannot think there is anything wrong about the young chap,” returned
Mr. Knight, his eyes resting thoughtfully on the handsome face looking
so smilingly into Virgie’s; “he seems like a fine, manly fellow and has
no bad habits; he does not even smoke, which is a rare virtue among
young men nowadays.”
“But we know nothing about him or his family,” persisted the lady; “we
do not even know from what portion of England he came; at least I do
not.”
“Neither do I,” said her brother; “I have never questioned him and he
seems very modest about talking of himself; but if Virgie were my
daughter—and you know that I love her almost as well as if she were—I do
not think I should feel very much alarmed to have her fall in love with
as noble a specimen of manhood as young Hamilton appears to be.”
“I like him, too, Robert,” said Miss Knight; “he is every inch a
gentleman, and doubtless belongs to a good family or he would not have
been so carefully reared. Still I am troubled; I want Virgie to go home
as free as she came, and—I feel as if young Hamilton ought to be put
upon his honor—at least until we can give her back to her mother, when,
of course, our responsibility will cease. I can read the signs of the
times pretty well, if I have grown to be an old woman, and, if we do not
look out, they will be acknowledged lovers before another fortnight goes
by.”
Mr. Knight looked thoughtful.
“Well,” he responded after a moment of silence, “we shall not be
together much longer. Hamilton leaves this party as soon as we have done
California to go to Mexico with another company, so——”
“Yes, I know that,” interrupted his sister, “and that is just what is
going to precipitate matters if we are not on our guard. When the time
comes for them to separate you do not suppose he will leave her without
begging for some word of hope?”
“Stella, you reason remarkably well,” said Mr. Knight, laughing, “and I
think it will be best to put a flea in the boy’s ear. I suppose it will
be better for me to get the name of being a meddlesome old fogy rather
than run any risk of future unhappiness for our dear girl.”
Miss Knight appeared to be satisfied with this decision of her brother,
and dropped the subject.
The party was at San Jose when this conversation occurred. They were to
remain several days in the beautiful city, making it their headquarters
also while visiting points of interest in its vicinity, and Mr. Knight
resolved to make a bold stroke at once at the disagreeable task that his
sister had imposed on him, and have the matter off his mind.
As they were leaving the table of the Anjerais House after dinner that
evening he slipped his arm within Rupert’s in a confidential way and
said, with a genial smile:
“Mr. Hamilton, I am going out for a little quiet stroll about the city;
will you come with me?”
Rupert had been meditating a cozy _tête-à-tête_ with Virgie on the
veranda, while the band discoursed sweet music on the stand near by, but
he was too well bred and unselfish to refuse an old gentleman’s request,
and unhesitatingly responded:
“Thank you, sir, I shall be happy to accompany you.”
When they were in the street Mr. Knight turned his steps toward the park
near by, and, after walking up and down its beautiful avenues for a
while, he seated himself upon a rustic bench and motioned his companion
to sit beside him.
Then he turned frankly to him, and, speaking with great kindness, said:
“My young friend, it has always been my practice, when I had any
disagreeable duty to perform, to adopt the most straightforward course,
and, as I have something on my heart which I wish to say to you, I trust
that you will pardon me if I speak out freely.”
Rupert Hamilton’s heart gave one tremendous bound at these words, and he
cast a startled look into the friendly face beside him, knowing
intuitively what was coming.
“If I am in any way connected with this disagreeable duty, sir, I hope
you will speak frankly,” he managed to stammer.
“Thank you. I felt sure that you would receive what I have to say in a
friendly spirit,” Mr. Knight continued, pitying the embarrassed lover
sincerely. “I am an old man, my boy, but I have been young and do not
forget the temptations and pleasures belonging to youth; neither can I
find it in my heart to blame two charming people for recognizing a
congenial spirit, and turning to each other for companionship; but——”
Rupert Hamilton turned now, and looked squarely into his aged friend’s
countenance.
“In other words, sir, you wish to speak with me regarding my admiration
for Miss Alexander, which, of course, I know you have not failed to
remark,” he said, in a manly, outspoken fashion, that pleased Mr. Knight
well, though a deep red flush mantled his cheek.
“You are right, that is just what I wish to confer with you about,” the
elder gentleman returned, adding, “You will no doubt appreciate the
responsibility of my position, when I tell you that Miss Alexander is
the only child of a very dear friend, and the young lady was intrusted
to my own and my sister’s care, during the journey, because her mother
was not herself able to accompany her. We therefore feel that it would
be very unwise and dishonorable on our part, to allow her to receive,
from any one, attentions which might tend to hamper her future in any
way. For this reason, I wish to speak a word of caution to you. Virgie
is very young, and I do not believe she has given a thought to what
might result from this pleasant intercourse, and I should deeply regret
it if she should become involved in any affair of the heart while away
from her mother.”
“You are right, sir;” Rupert answered, gravely, after a moment of
thought, “and I thank you for your timely admonition, else, in a moment
of impulse, I might have been led to betray more of my regard for Miss
Alexander than would be wise or right, under the circumstances. I will
deal as frankly with you, as you have dealt with me, and confess that I
admire her more than any young lady I have ever met. She is very lovely,
and”—the flush on his handsome face deepening—“were you her father
instead of her temporary guardian, I should boldly ask your permission
to address her with the hope of some day winning her affection.”
Mr. Knight smiled upon the eager lover.
“I imagine that I have spoken none too soon,” he said. “I am afraid that
sly little god, Cupid, has already wrought more mischief than I will be
able to remedy. But I admire your candor, Mr. Hamilton, and if you
desire a more intimate acquaintance with my pretty little ward, by and
by, I will give you her address and you can seek her in her own home,
where there will be no ogre to rear obstacles in your path.”
“Do not call yourself hard names, Mr. Knight,” Rupert said, regarding
him with a look of profound respect. “I am sure you have done only what
you believe to be right.”
“Thank you; you may be assured that it was not an agreeable duty,”
returned the publisher, with a shrug of his shoulders, adding, with a
roguish twinkle in his eyes, “and if Virgie were my daughter I think you
would not have found me a very obdurate parent. Truly, young man, I like
you exceedingly well, and when we go back to New York, I will do all in
my power to favor your suit, if you are then of the same mind as now.”
“You are very kind, sir,” Rupert said, gratefully, “and now, as I may
not have another opportunity to make the request, if you will give me
Miss Alexander’s address, I shall consider it a favor.”
Mr. Knight drew forth a card and wrote it for him, wondering why he
should speak as he had done about not having another opportunity to get
it.
A little later they returned to the hotel, where Rupert at once sought
the manager of the excursion, and did not join the company again for an
hour or more.
Then it seemed as if a change had come over him. He was quiet and
preoccupied, almost spiritless. Virgie noticed it, and wondered what
could have occurred to make him so. He did not devote himself as
exclusively as usual to her, although he was never far away from her.
When the party broke up for the night, after an unusually merry evening,
he went to her with a sinking heart.
She looked up at him with shy eyes and a dimpling smile, that almost
made him break a resolve that he had made since he last saw her.
“You have not been like yourself this evening, Mr. Hamilton,” she said.
“Have you had bad news, or are you not quite well?”
“Neither, Miss Alexander,” he replied, looking down upon her bright face
with eyes that kindled and glowed in spite of the restraint that he was
imposing on himself. “I am simply experiencing a good deal of regret
that I must leave some of my pleasant companions; I am going to join a
party for Mexico immediately.”
“Are you?” Virgie asked, with a start, and looking greatly surprised,
while she lost some of her lovely color.
She thought it very singular that he had not before mentioned the fact
of his intention to leave at this point. She knew that later on he was
intending to go farther South.
“Yes,” he said, his heart beating heavily, as he read the regret in her
eyes. “Some gentlemen have arranged for an ocean trip, intending to
touch at the Santa Barbara Islands and land at San Diego, whence they
will proceed into Mexico. I am going with them.”
All the light had died out of Virgie’s face during this explanation. It
seemed as if there was nothing left for her to enjoy during the
remainder of the tour.
She had never realized before how dependent for enjoyment she had been
upon his society, and now he was going another way. Perhaps they would
never meet again; he would doubtless go directly back to England after
his return from Mexico, and that would end this delightful episode of
her life.
Her heart cried out against the separation, and, like a flash, it came
to her how much this frank, noble young Englishman had become to her.
She did not know what to say to him; she stood there silent, wretched,
and pale as the snowy lace that lay in folds upon her white neck.
“You—have changed your plans quite suddenly, have you not?” she at last
managed to stammer.
“It is rather an unexpected move,” he tried to say, in a natural tone;
“but I may never have another opportunity to take a voyage upon the
Pacific Ocean, and it seems best that I should go.”
It would have taken but very little more to have broken the fair girl
down entirely. In all her life she had scarcely known a trial, hardly a
wish ungratified, and this had come upon her like a thunderbolt from the
sky.
She knew that she ought to make no sign before him, and yet she could
not repress all feeling.
Her lips quivered slightly and there was a wistful expression in her
eyes as she lifted them to him and said:
“I am sorry that you are going, Mr. Hamilton. We shall miss you sadly.”
“Shall you?” he cried, eagerly, his face growing luminous. “Thank you,”
he added, checking himself again. “I am sorry, too, to leave you; but,
Miss Alexander, I shall be in New York early in the spring. May I hope
to renew our acquaintance there? May I come to see you in your own
home?”
A rosy glow leaped into the young girl’s face at this request. A heavy
load dropped from her heart, a sweet, new hope began to bud within her
soul.
“Yes, indeed; do come, Mr. Hamilton. I know that mamma will be glad to
meet you,” she said, cordially.
“Thank you; but will you also be glad to see me, Vir—Miss Alexander?”
the young man asked, in a low, eager tone, and there was an expression
in his eyes of which he was wholly unconscious, but which told his fair
companion much that he had fully intended should remain hidden deep
within his own heart until he could stand before Mrs. Alexander, tell
her how tenderly he had learned to love her daughter, and ask her
sanction to his suit.
“Yes, I shall be glad,” Virgie breathed, softly, her white lids hiding
the happy light in her eyes, though there was a tell-tale glow upon her
cheek.
Some one was approaching them and he knew he must leave her, though she
had never seemed so lovely to him as in that shy, sweet mood.
“I leave early to-morrow morning, therefore I must say good-night and
good-by now,” he said, trying to smile as he extended his hand to her,
though his voice was a trifle unsteady.
She laid hers within it and looked up archly, as she replied:
“I shall not say good-by to you, Mr. Hamilton. I do not like the words.
I will bid you good speed, wishing you a pleasant voyage and a safe
return.”
His fingers closed over the small hand with a fond, lingering clasp,
then with one last look into her dear face, he turned away, to make his
adieus elsewhere, knowing that he should not see her again for months,
but feeling as if his soul had quaffed some strangely inspiring elixir
during that last moment or two in her sweet presence.