The picture they made as they filed down the oak staircase two by two
and all attired in their antique costumes was one long remembered by the
servants of Ten Eyck Hall, who had gathered below to see the
masqueraders. Miss Stuart and the major, standing together at the door
of the red drawing room, were amazed and delighted.
"Is this a company of ghosts," cried the major, "ghosts of my dear
departed ancestors returned to the halls of their youth?"
"Look at the dears!" exclaimed Miss Sallie. "How pretty they are in
their ancient finery! Ruth, my child, you are the very image of the
portrait of your great-grandmother at home. And here is Bab, who might
have stepped out of an old miniature."
"So she has," replied Ruth. "In that pink dress she is a perfect
likeness of the miniature the hermit had."
"José," said the major kindly, for he could not insult a guest by
believing evil of him until it had been actually proved, "you do not
belong to this company of belles and beaux. You look more like a Spanish
gallant of an earlier day, in that velvet coat and cavalier hat. As for
you two slips of girls," he continued, smiling at Mollie and Grace, "you
might be my two colonial great-aunts stepped down from their frames. But
come along, now. We must have a little fun, after all this trouble you
have taken to amuse us. Strike up, my poor bruised Jimmie, and we'll
have a dance."
Jimmie had volunteered to furnish the music. His face, in its present
state, needed no further disguise, he said. The furniture was moved
back, the rugs rolled up, and in a few minutes the dancers were whirling
in a waltz. There was a change of partners at the second dance, and Bab
found herself dancing with José. He was not familiar with the American
two-step, so, after a few rounds, they stepped out upon the piazza for a
breath of the cool evening air.
"Aren't you afraid to stay out here, José, after your experience of the
other night?" Bab asked.
"Are you afraid, Barbara?" he replied.
"Why should I be?" she answered. "It was evidently you the assassin was
after."
He winced at the word "assassin," and did not reply. The two stood
gazing silently out onto the stretch of lawn in front of the house.
Presently José sighed deeply.
"I am afraid you are unhappy," said Bab sympathetically.
"Madamoiselle Barbara," he replied, "I am in great trouble. I tell you
because you have already been more observing than the others, and
because I see you keep your counsel."
"Why don't you ask Major Ten Eyck's advice, José?" asked Barbara, "he is
so kind and gentle. I know he would love to help you."
"In this case," replied the Spaniard, with a frightened look in his
eyes, "he might not be so kind. I am afraid to tell him. To-night I
shall decide what to do. It may be that it would be better to go away. I
cannot tell, now."
"Tell me, José, have your troubles any connection with the Gypsies?"
"Yes," he assented.
A shadowy figure moved up the lawn and approached the house. José
stirred uneasily.
"Who is that?" he whispered. "Don't you think you had better go in?"
"No," replied Barbara. "I am not afraid, if you are not."
It was Zerlina, and, seeing the two people on the porch, she paused
irresolutely.
"What is it, Zerlina?" called Barbara. "Do you want to see anyone?"
"My grandmother is over there," replied the girl, pointing to the
shrubbery. "She has come to tell fortunes, if it pleases the ladies."
Zerlina did not look at Bab, as she spoke. She was looking at José, long
and curiously. And he returned the gaze with interest.
"You have not seen Mr. Martinez, Zerlina?" asked Bab, recalling how he
had stolen away in the woods when the Gypsy danced for them.
Zerlina bowed coldly, and José took off his cavalier hat; but neither
said a word, and Bab felt somewhat embarrassed at the silence.
"Wait a moment, Zerlina, and I will ask the major about the fortunes,"
she said, stepping through the French window. Just as she parted the
curtain, she turned to say something to José, and saw Zerlina quickly
hand him a note. Bab's face flushed angrily.
"This business ought to be stopped," she said to herself. "We'll all be
slain in our beds some fine night. Why can't José be frank? The entire
band of Gypsies might be a lot of robbers, for all we know."
The revelers inside were all interested to know that Granny Ann had come
at last to tell fortunes, and Zerlina was dispatched at once to bring
her grandmother back. When the old woman passed through the room on her
way to the library, where the fortunes were to be told, she took a rapid
survey of everybody there. She examined the girls and boys in their
masquerade costumes, looked curiously at Jimmie's bandaged countenance,
and finally her eyes rested on José leaning on a balcony rail outside.
While the fortunes were being told, there was a concert in the drawing
room. Grace sang in her high, sweet soprano voice, followed by another
of Zerlina's Gypsy songs. Then José was induced to sing a beautiful
Spanish love song, and finally Jimmie gave a comic version of "The Old
Homestead" in which he himself acted every part.
After the fortunes were told Granny Ann sent word that there was one
person she had not seen, and go she would not until she had seen him.
"Who has not yet been in?" demanded the major.
There was no reply.
"José, you have not seen her, have you?" asked Mollie.
"No," replied José; "I do not wish to go."
Word was sent in to Granny Ann, who sent a message back that she
insisted on seeing the young man.
"Oh, go ahead, José," urged Stephen. "It's only for a few minutes, and
we want to have another dance before bedtime."
José bowed and disappeared from the room. Soon after Mollie touched Bab
on the arm.
"Bab," she whispered, "come out on the porch. I have something to tell
you."
The two girls stole out onto the moonlit piazza, while Mollie continued
in a low voice: "I know I should not have done it, but I followed José
into the library, by the dining-room door, and hid behind a curtain. I
was curious to see what Granny Ann would do. He had hardly got into the
room before she commenced talking in a loud voice. She spoke in a
foreign language, but she seemed terribly angry, and shook her fist in
his face. He was quite gentle with her, and just stood there, pale and
quiet. I felt so sorry for him. Once I thought she would strike him, but
he never flinched or dodged. What do you suppose it means, Bab, dear?"
"I don't know, Mollie," replied Barbara, "There is some mystery about
José. Something happened to-day that put him in a very unfortunate
light, but I'd rather not tell you until to-morrow. Don't dance with him
any more to-night, but be kind to him, little sister," Bab added, "for I
do feel sorry for him."