MIDNIGHT CONFIDENCES
A FAINT knock at her bedroom door several nights after their picnic in
the woods startled Jean. It was half-past twelve o'clock, and thirty
minutes before all the guests in the castle had gone to their own
apartments, an informal dance having made them more tired than usual.
But Jean was not a coward, and, still brushing her hair, walked over to
her door. Immediately she heard Jack's voice on the outside.
"Please let me in, Jean dear, I hope I haven't frightened you." Then
Jack slipped inside and stood irresolutely in the center of the big
chamber. She was ready for retiring, clad in a pink dressing gown, with
her hair hanging in two braids over her shoulders.
"I was kind of lonely," she explained. "It is very grand for each one of
us to have an apartment to ourselves, but I am not used to it."
She sank down on a low cushion in front of the big open fire and in a
few moments was staring into it, having apparently forgotten her
cousin's presence in her own room.
However, without speaking, Jean went on quietly undressing. Then, when
she had finished, she too got into a kimona and piled her grate high
with fresh logs. The next moment she had placed herself on another
cushion by the side of her unexpected visitor.
But Jean asked no questions.
"I hope you are not very sleepy, dear," Jacqueline remarked finally. "Of
course you know that I wouldn't have disturbed you at such an unholy
hour except that there was something important I felt I must talk to you
about."
"It isn't--" Jean began. But to her intense relief Jack immediately
shook her head.
"No, it isn't and never will be again. And the sooner that all of my
family forget my miserable mistake, the happier you will make me. It is
something different and yet it is such a kind of intimate, personal
thing, I can't decide whether I have the right to mention it even to
you."
"Ruth and Jim?" the other girl queried. For the second time Jack
demurred.
"No." But she kept on gazing at the fire rather than at her confidante.
"See here, Jean," she inquired suddenly. "I wonder if it has ever
occurred to you that Frank Kent cared, well, cared more than just an
ordinary lot for Olive? Perhaps it does not seem exactly square of me to
be prying into Frank's and Olive's feelings for each other, but on my
honor I have a real reason for wishing to know."
Jean's big brown eyes opened wide with amazement. Was there any question
in the world farther from her imagination than this unexpected one?
Notwithstanding, Jean gave the subject a few moments of serious
consideration. "No," she replied at length, "I have been thinking over
all the time I can recall from Olive's and Frank's first acquaintance
with each other. And I don't remember a single occasion when he seemed
more than just a good friend of hers. To tell you the truth, Jack, I
personally should never have dreamed of Frank's being in love with Olive
in a thousand years! Whatever put it into your mind? Why you and Frank,
after you got over your first prejudice against his being the guest of
our old enemies, the Nortons, were much more intimate than the rest of
us. I always took it as a matter of course that he liked you best until
you had that quarrel in Rome. Lately, though, you seem to have made up."
Jack frowned. "Oh, certainly we were more intimate then. But in those
days Olive was too shy to reveal her real self or her emotions to anyone
except us. Besides, we were only children. Still, I used to notice even
then that Olive grew more cheerful and animated when Frank was around.
And afterwards in Rome and the last month since our arrival in England,
why haven't you _seen_ the change in her? Please think, Jean dear, for
it may be of the very greatest importance what you tell me. You see, I
am so stupid and make such dreadful mistakes about people caring or not
caring for each other; but somehow you are wiser. I feel I may trust to
your judgment. Do you think Olive--" Jack stumbled a little bit over the
fashion for putting her next question. "Do you think that Olive likes
Frank Kent better than anybody else?"
The silence was longer this time and Jean did not happen to catch a
glimpse of her cousin's face, being too deeply concerned over her
inquiry.
"I should never have conceived of such a thing myself, Jack," she
declared after pondering for two or three minutes, "but as you have put
it into my mind, why, possibly Olive _may_ be interested in Frank. He
has always been awfully good to her ever since their first meeting, and
he thinks her wonderfully beautiful and charming. I can't say, though,
that I am at all convinced that her feeling is serious. Oh, dear me, why
can't you two girls be as frivolous over affairs of the heart as I am! I
should like at least a dozen romances before I settle upon one."
"Well, I presume you are in a fair way to have them, sweet cousin,"
Jacqueline returned. "And tonight I feel as though I could almost echo
your wicked wish. But, Jean dearest, I have _got_ to find out how Olive
really feels. I can't tell you why now, yet it is of more interest to me
to know than anything else in the world."
And suddenly Jack's face flushed with such a wonderful, radiant color
that Jean caught her breath.
What she saw, however, made her turn her eyes away.
"I will find out for you if I possibly can, Jack," she then replied
quietly, without asking any further questions or attempting to probe
the mystery of why Olive's attitude toward their host should be of such
vital import to Jacqueline Ralston.
"You know though that Olive is desperately shy and reserved," Jean
added, "and has never confided in anybody except you and Miss Winthrop.
Don't you think, after all, perhaps Olive likes Donald Harmon more than
we guess? She and Don would be such a suitable match and her grandmother
is so anxious for it."
But Jack shook her head. "No, I am afraid not," she returned and was not
aware of how much the word "afraid" meant to her cousin's ears. "Olive
told me yesterday that Don had asked her to marry him and that she had
refused him. She told him that she would take the whole responsibility
for the refusal upon her shoulders, that she would write her grandmother
and explain that Don had done his best. The opposition to the plan had
been hers. So Madame Van Mater must do as she had threatened and leave
Don the larger share of the fortune. Poor Don was dreadfully broken up
over Olive's thinking that he had asked her on account of her
grandmother's desire, or because of the money that they were to share
if she accepted him. Don honestly loves Olive, I think, though I don't
believe she returns it in the least. Indeed, Olive told me that she had
never given up her old plan of going out west to teach the Indians as
soon as she feels she has learned enough through her studying with Miss
Winthrop at Primrose Hall. Actually she announced that she was going to
take a teacher's place there next winter for the experience it would
give her. But of course I don't think that Olive means this not if she
cares--if she cares for Frank." Jack got up from the floor. "Dear, I
won't keep you awake any longer. Only there is one more favor I should
like to beg. Will you stay with me as much as possible until you can
find out what I have asked you?"
And Jean only nodded, as her cousin kissed her good-night and went away.
She sat for some time gazing into the fire instead of getting into bed.
Not a particularly good mathematician in her school days, still Mistress
Jean had rather a talent for putting two and two together under certain
circumstances. She had not felt it fair to ask questions of Jack, yet
there could be nothing disloyal in trying to penetrate a mystery for
herself. Especially as she should never betray her conclusions.
Jean pondered. In the first place there was not the least doubt in her
own mind that among the four Ranch girls Frank Kent certainly liked Jack
best. He always had liked her and it was perfectly plain how much her
unfortunate affair with Captain Madden and her unkind treatment of him
had hurt him, although he was not the type of man to betray himself so
openly as Donald Harmon had. Jack's feeling for Frank, Jean had believed
until tonight to be merely friendly. They had many of the same
interests, both loved horses, animals of all kinds, and the business
that went with the running of a big place like their old ranch or the
immense estate, which had been in the Kent family for many generations.
However, since the last hour, Jean was no longer assured of Jack's
impersonal attitude. There was no doubt that her cousin had in her mind
at present two fears--one that Olive, her dearest friend, cared for
Frank, the other that Frank, instead of returning Olive's affection, was
beginning to fall in love with her. Something must have recently
occurred to give Jack this impression. Jean did not believe that she
would ever have attempted to probe Olive's emotions unless this had been
the case.
So here was the difficulty of the situation according to her train of
thought. If Olive really did care for Frank Kent, Jean understood
Jacqueline Ralston well enough to realize that nothing could induce her
to accept his suit. For Jack would never accept her own happiness at the
price of another's; and surely not when the other person was her dearest
friend, for whom she had always felt a kind of protecting devotion.
Yet if Olive did not love Frank, and Jack felt herself able to return
his affection, it would be both cruel and unnecessary to refuse to
listen to him.
At last Jean tumbled into her big, four-posted bed; but even then she
could not go at once to sleep. What a delicate mission she had taken
upon herself and how ever was she to perform it? For Olive must never
suspect any possible motive behind her questioning.