STOLEN SWEETS
In the following week Edris came to London and stayed at her club,
but spent the greater part of each day at Seton’s rooms, and each
night going to the theater and afterwards to supper at the Savoy or
Carlton. For six blissful days they were inseparable. Then he saw her
off at Euston again.
They met in due course at Victoria five days before Christmas, and, as
he had to go to his club for letters, they took a taxi to St. James’s
Street. While in it she pressed into his hand a little packet, saying:
“This is just a little souvenir for you, my beloved,” and he saw again
that wonderful love-look in her splendid eyes.
On opening it he found it to be a new and very useful form of
matchbox.
He kissed her fondly for it, and read the little Christmas card which
lay within the packet. The words were charming. Truly she loved him.
Full of happy enthusiasm, they later on entered the Pullman in the
Continental express, and joined the Yuletide rush to Switzerland for
winter sports. Edris looked very attractive and charming as she sat at
the little table before him in her cloche hat and rich fur coat, and,
on their arrival at Dover, Mr. Hatton, the popular station-inspector,
came forward and greeted them, for he was an old friend of Darville,
constant traveler that he was. Hatton walked with them to the boat,
and stood chatting until the last moment. Then he raised his cap and
went ashore, while next moment the vessel cast off.
The sea was rather stormy that evening, but Edris was an excellent
sailor, having traveled much; nevertheless, on landing, they both
appreciated the cozy warmth of the Calais-Interlaken express, and
enjoyed their dinner in the restaurant-car. With them were several
young people who were _habitués_ of Wengen, and these they greeted
merrily, for the winter sports crowd is always a youthful and jolly
one.
That night, as Darville lay in his sleeping berth, with a young Oxford
undergraduate occupying the upper place, he reflected, and found that
he was happier than ever he had been in all his life. At last he
loved, and Edris, whom he adored, loved him truly. She had disregarded
their difference of age, and had become devoted to him. They had been
unable to kiss in public before they had separated for the night, but
she had squeezed his hand, and the look in her wonderful eyes was
all-sufficient.
As the train roared on in the night across those wide plains, where
half-filled trenches and rusty barbed wire still remain as mute
evidence of the storm of battle, he dropped off to sleep, and they
were already nearing the Swiss frontier when he awoke.
They breakfasted together, and afterwards, when the beds were unmade
and the compartment turned into a little _salon_, the undergraduate
joined his party, and Edris came and sat with him, eating some oranges
he had bought at Belfort.
“In the night I have been thinking of a pet name for you, darling,” he
said presently. “In Tuscany, where I spent my childhood days, we have
a term of endearment--carina, or dear little one. May I call you my
Carina?”
“Carina?” she repeated. “Yes, if you like. And I will call you Seti,
an unusual name.”
“Yes, I know,” he said. “Short for Seton, eh?” And he laughed merrily.
Four hours later the train slowly pulled up at the central station at
Interlaken before proceeding to Interlaken-East, which is the gateway
to the Bernese Oberland, the Jungfrau, and the other giant Alps.
Suddenly, as Darville glanced at the platform, he saw two men he knew.
They were Mr. Haller, proprietor of the Hotel du Lac at the East
Station, and one of the most popular men in the Canton of Berne, and
Mr. Reichel, of the Information Bureau of Interlaken, who had come to
the train to greet their English friends and welcome them back to
Switzerland.
In a few moments they were both in the compartment shaking hands. A
few seconds later, however, they were followed by a third and younger
man, of military appearance, tall, athletic, clean-shaven, dressed in
a dark gray suit.
“Why, my dear Weiss!” cried Darville. “You! What a pleasant surprise!”
And he shook the young man’s hand warmly.
“I’m staying here with my mother,” said Weiss, in excellent English.
“I heard from Mr. Reichel that you were coming, so I thought I would
greet you.”
“Splendid!” Darville exclaimed enthusiastically. “I’m awfully glad to
see you again! I’ll see you up at Wengen, I hope.”
The good-looking young Swiss glanced at Edris, who had already
recognized him by the photograph in her possession. And at that moment
Darville introduced them.
Weiss clicked his heels in true military fashion, and bowed before
her.
“I have heard of you as a lover of our Switzerland, Miss Temperley,”
he said. “I am so delighted to make your acquaintance. So you are
going up to Wengen, eh?”
“Yes. We were there last year,” she replied, her gray eyes dancing as
they met his.
“I hope you’ll come up and see us,” said Darville. “I’ll write to
you.”
“I shall be most delighted to come.”
“You’re a good skier. You’ll be able to take Miss Temperley for a run
or two.”
“Certainly,” he said. “It will be with great pleasure.”
As they were speaking the train moved across the town to the East
Station, where the change would be made into the rack railway which
runs up the valley to Lauterbrunnen, where another train climbs up the
side of the Wengernalp to Wengen, and on up to the towering Jungfrau.
While Darville was chatting with his friends, Haller and Reichel,
Edris stood in the corridor talking to Karl Weiss. Darville heard them
laughing merrily together. Ten minutes later all descended from the
_wagon-lit_ and crossed to the Hotel du Lac opposite the station, one
of the most popular of all the hotels in Switzerland, where the genial
Walter Haller ordered a bottle of champagne in honor of his friends
Darville and Edris Temperley.
They raised their glasses to each other as they stood in the lounge,
and then returned to the electric train for Lauterbrunnen. It was
already full of English folk, but places for Darville and his
companion had been reserved.
As soon as they had left the station, after much hat-raising, Darville
turned to the girl and asked:
“That meeting with Karl was quite unexpected. What do you think of
him?”
“Oh, I think him quite nice,” she replied, without apparent interest.
“Are you inviting him up?”
“Yes, darling,” he said, lowering his voice so that the others might
not hear, for there is no privacy in a Swiss railway-carriage. “It
struck me that he might go ski-ing with you, and amuse you. He’s a
good climber, and a good dancer. And I want you to enjoy yourself, as
you know,” he added honestly.
“It’s awfully good of you, Seti,” she said. “I like him, and I’m sure
he could take me for some lovely ski-runs. He’s Swiss, and these
mountains are his home.”
“Very well. I’ll write to him to-morrow,” said Darville, and, as the
train slowly ascended the picturesque valley, with deep snow
everywhere, in contrast to the rain and darkness of the English
December they had left, they were filled with anticipation of a gay
time amid the snows a mile high from sea-level.
At Lauterbrunnen they changed into the mountain railway, and presently
the train began to creep up the side of the mountain over many
viaducts and through many tunnels cut with marvelous skill by the
Swiss engineers, who are the most famous in all the world for the
construction of mountain railways. The Wengernalp railway, combined
with the highest railway in the world--up the Jungfrau to that
wonderful hotel cut out of the solid rock near the summit--are marvels
of engineering unequaled.
It was nearly six o’clock ere they arrived at the splendid Palace
Hotel at Wengen, which shares with the beautiful Regina the best
clientèle. The rooms they had in the previous winter season had been
reserved for them, and before they dressed for dinner they had both
found their party, and settled down, resuming the gay life they had
led during the past winter.
As Darville descended the stairs after the gong had gone he met Mr.
Burckard, the handsome young proprietor, who was, indeed, often in
London.
“Ah, my dear Mr. Darville!” cried the dark-haired Swiss, whose father
had kept the hotel until his death. “I was looking for you. Welcome
back. I wish you and Miss Temperley a good season ski-ing. Mr. Gale
wired me about your rooms, and, of course, I kept them for you. My
mother asks if, after dinner, you will both come and take coffee with
us?”
“Lots of thanks. I’ll be charmed, I want to hear how you got on last
summer, and what has happened down in Interlaken, where you have a
villa.”
“I’ll tell you everything. We’ll have a nice long chat presently,”
said the well-groomed young man. “Go along, and enjoy your dinner.”
And, as Edris descended the stairs at that moment, Mr. Burckard took
her hand in warm welcome, and bent over it.
Notwithstanding the fact that they were tired, they spent an hour with
Mrs. Burckard, a charming lady, and her son, and afterwards Edris
danced till midnight.
As, later on, she sat with Darville in a corner of the lounge, sipping
the usual “nightcap” she took in Switzerland, an orangeade, she looked
across the little _table-à-deux_ and said:
“Is it not delightful to be back here in this glorious country once
again, Seti, my beloved--and with you?”
For answer his hand stole beneath the table and grasped hers tightly.
Next day, as they strolled through the snowy streets down to the
skating rink, with its perfect surface, whereon was a crowd of
merry-makers of both sexes in their bright-colored sports suits, he
said:
“The day after to-morrow will be Christmas Eve. I want to go down to
Interlaken to see one or two friends. Would you like to go?”
“Oh, how jolly, Seti,” she replied instantly. “I love Interlaken.”
“Very well, darling, we’ll go down for the day,” he said.
Hence, early on the following morning, they descended by the little
mountain train to the picturesque valley at Lauterbrunnen, and about
half-past ten arrived at Interlaken, where Karl Weiss was awaiting
them.
“I heard that you were coming down,” he said, raising his felt hat.
“So I thought I’d meet you.” And then he greeted Edris, and shook her
hand.
They walked about the town together till noon, when they entered a
hotel near the Central Station kept by a friend of Darville’s. The
proprietor greeted them warmly, and ushered them up to his private
sitting-room, a large apartment overlooking the principal street.
Another Swiss friend, well known to Edris, had joined them, and
_apéritifs_ were brought.
Edris, passionately fond of music, having been trained by some of the
best masters of the piano in Europe, seated herself at the piano, and
began to play several of the latest fox trots. Meanwhile, Darville
noticed that at the further end of the room there was suspended from
the electrolier a large bunch of mistletoe.
In a spirit of mischief, and without dreaming of the consequences, he
pointed it out by gesture to Karl, who laughingly ordered the drinks
to be put upon a small table immediately beneath it.
Then, when Edris had finished, Darville exclaimed:
“Won’t you come over here and have your vermouth?”
She accepted the invitation, and, crossing to an arm-chair, utterly
unconscious of the mistletoe directly above her, she sank into it and
took up her glass.
Ere she was aware of it Darville had bent over her and kissed her, an
action followed next moment, before she could extricate herself, by
Karl Weiss. Then both men roared with laughter at her confusion.
“No, really!” she protested, starting up. “That isn’t fair! I never
noticed it up there. Seti, you’re an infernal brute--and as for Mr.
Weiss--well--it’s quite horrid!” And she turned her laughing eyes upon
him, really quite enjoying the joke, even though appearing highly
indignant.
They all walked back along the broad, tree-lined Höheweg, the
principal boulevard, which, lined on one side by huge hotels, is open
to the other with gorgeous views of the high, snow-clad Jungfrau and
the other mountains of the same chain. Weiss and Edris walked in
front, while Darville and his elderly friend, Müller, walked behind,
until they arrived at the Hotel du Lac, where all four lunched
together, the good-humored Mr. Haller joining them at coffee.
At one o’clock each day in winter, when the express from Calais comes
in, the Hotel du Lac is besieged by a crowd of hungry English
travelers, most of whom are known to the smiling, dark-haired,
well-groomed Herr Haller, whose fame for geniality and good fellowship
has been carried by travelers to the uttermost corners of the world.
Luncheon ended, they went into the lounge, when Mr. Müller said to
Darville:
“There is a thing unique here, up on the side of the mountain--an ibex
park. The ibex is becoming extinct in Switzerland, so our Government
have established a sanctuary in order to preserve them in their
natural mountain home. Why don’t you go up and see it?”
“It means climbing. I suppose,” Seton said, as he leaned back in the
wicker chair, smoking comfortably after his meal.
“Yes, a bit. But it’s most interesting.”
Darville laughed and shook his head. “I have to go across to the
railway manager’s office to get my season ticket renewed,” he said.
“That’s rather more important.” Then, turning to Edris, he added, “I
won’t be long. Wait for me, and we’ll go back into the town together.”
Müller left to go home as Darville crossed the road and passed along
to the railway office. He was only there ten minutes, but when he
returned to the hotel the _concierge_ informed him that the lady had
gone out with Herr Weiss.
This struck him as strange. But he strolled back to the town feeling
that they had gone down to the stationer’s, as Edris wanted some
notepaper. There he learned that they had not been seen, so he went to
various shops where he thought they might go, but all to no avail. So
when evening was closing in he hurried back to the East Station to
catch the last train back to Wengen, utterly mystified at the sudden
disappearance of his beloved.
He was in ignorance of what had really happened. The instant he had
gone his friend Weiss, the man whom he had befriended and whom he
trusted, suggested to Edris that they should go together to see the
ibex, and she hesitatingly consented. They climbed the hill, saw the
sure-footed little animals springing from rock to rock, and then
returned to the hotel. Seton had not returned, for he was eagerly
searching for them in the town, so Karl suggested that they should
walk along the edge of the blue lake of Brienz, which they did.
And on the way he slowly took her hand in his. At first she withdrew
it. But presently she allowed it to rest there, until, suddenly,
before she was aware of his intention, he had taken her in his arms
and kissed her on her lips.
“No!” she cried. “It is not fair! You have taken me at a
disadvantage!”
But he only laughed, and together they walked back to the station,
where to Darville, eager and anxious, they made excuses.
Edris entered the compartment which Darville, greatly annoyed, was
already occupying, and, as the train moved off, he, in entire
ignorance of what had occurred, bade Weiss a warm good-by, inviting
him up to Wengen on the day following Christmas.
When the train had left, and they were alone, he turned to Edris, and
said:
“I really think, dearest, that you ought not to have gone away from me
this afternoon. I only crossed the road, and as soon as I had gone you
escaped me with Karl.”
“I’m really awfully sorry, darling,” she said, the other man’s kiss
still upon her lips. “But we couldn’t find you, so he was just
pleasant to me--that’s all. He is a really good friend of yours, and
speaks so well of you. I hope you are not annoyed, my dearest. You’re
not jealous now, are you? Karl is going to Canada almost directly. Did
he tell you so?”
“Yes,” Darville said. “He can’t get a job here, it seems, so he has
decided to go to Canada.”
And at that moment they stopped at Zweilütschinen, the little
junction for Grindelwald, and private conversation was no longer
possible, for others were in the carriage.