"And so I escaped. Her ladyship didn't like it, but it was worth a
tussle."
Priscilla leaned back luxuriously in the housekeeper's room at Raffold
Abbey, and laughed upon a deep note of satisfaction. She had discarded
all things fashionable with her departure from London in the height of
the season. The crumpled linen hat she wore was designed for comfort and
not for elegance. Her gown of brown holland was simplicity itself. She
sat carelessly with her arm round the neck of an immense mastiff who had
followed her in.
"I've cut everything, Froggy," she declared, "including the terrible
American cousin. In fact, it was almost more on his account than any
other that I did it. For I can't and won't marry him, not even for the
sake of the dear old Abbey! Are you very shocked, I wonder?"
Froggy the housekeeper--so named by young Lord Mortimer in his schoolboy
days--looked up from her work and across at Priscilla, her brown,
prominent eyes, to which she owed her _sobriquet_, shining lovingly
behind her spectacles. Her real name was Mrs. Burrowes, but Priscilla
could not remember a time when she had ever called her anything but
Froggy. The old familiar name had become doubly dear to both of them now
that Mortimer was dead.
"I should be very shocked, indeed, darling, if it were otherwise," was
Froggy's answer.
And Priscilla breathed a long sigh of contentment. She knew that there
was no need to explain herself to this, her oldest friend.
She laid her cheek comfortably against the great dog's ear.
"No, Romeo," she murmured. "Your missis isn't going to be thrown at any
man's head if she knows it. But it's a difficult world, old boy; almost
an impossible world, I sometimes think. Froggy, I know you can be
sentimental when you try. What should you do if you fell in love with a
total stranger without ever knowing his name? Should you have the
fidelity to live in single blessedness all your life for the sake of
your hero?"
Froggy looked a little startled at the question, lightly as it was put.
She felt that it was scarcely a problem that could be settled offhand.
And yet something in Priscilla's manner seemed to indicate that she
wanted a prompt reply.
"It is a little difficult to say, dear," she said, after brief
reflection. "I can understand that one might be strongly attracted
towards a stranger, but I should think it scarcely possible that one
could go so far as to fall in love."
Priscilla uttered a faint, rueful laugh.
"Perhaps you couldn't, Froggy," she admitted. "But you know there is
such a thing as loving at first sight. Some people go so far as to say
that all true love begins that way."
She rose quietly and went to her friend's side.
"Oh, Froggy, it's very difficult to be true to your inner self when you
stand quite alone," she said, "and every one else is thinking what a
fool you are!" The words had an unwonted ring of passion in them, and,
having uttered them, she knelt down by Froggy's side, and hid her face
against the ample shoulder. "And I sometimes think I'm a fool myself,"
she ended, in muffled accents.
Froggy's arms closed instantly and protectingly around her.
"My darling, who is it, then?" whispered her motherly voice.
Priscilla did not at once reply. It was a difficult confidence to make.
At last, haltingly, words came:
"It was years ago--that summer we went to New York, Dad and I. He was
from the South, so I heard afterwards. He stayed at the same hotel with
us, one of those quiet, unobtrusive, big men--not big physically,
but--you understand. I might not have noticed him--I don't know--but one
day a man in the street threw down a flaming match just as I was coming
out of the hotel. I had on a muslin dress, and it caught fire. Of
course, it blazed in a moment, and I was terrified. Dad wasn't there.
But the man was in the balcony just overhead, and he swung himself down,
I never saw how, and caught me in his arms. He had nothing to put it out
with. He simply threw me down and flung himself on the top, beating out
the flames in all directions with his hands. I was dreadfully upset, of
course, but I wasn't much hurt. He was--horribly. One of his hands was
all charred.
"He carried me back into the hotel and told me not to be frightened. And
he stayed with me till I felt better, because somehow I wanted him to.
He was so strong, Froggy, and so kind. He had a voice like a woman's.
I've thought since that he must have thought me very foolish and
uncontrolled. But he seemed to understand just how I felt. And--do you
know--I never saw him again! He went right away that very afternoon, and
we never found out who he was. And I never thanked him even for saving
my life. I don't think he wanted to be thanked.
"But I have never forgotten him. He was the sort of man you never could
forget. I've never seen any one in the least like him. He was somehow so
much greater than all the other men I know. Am I a fool, Froggy? I
suppose I am. They say every woman will meet her mate if she waits long
enough, but it can't be true. I suppose I might as well marry the Yankee
heir, only I can't--I can't!"
The low voice ceased, and there fell a silence. Froggy's arms were
folded very closely about the kneeling girl, but she had no words of
comfort or counsel to offer. She was, in fact, out of her depth, though
not for worlds would she have had Priscilla know it.
"You must just follow your own heart, dearest," she said at last. "And I
think you will find happiness some day. God grant it!"
Priscilla lifted her head and kissed her. She knew quite well that she
had led whither Froggy could not follow. But the knowledge did not hurt
her.
She called Romeo, and went out into the summer sunshine, with a smile
half tender and half humorous at the corners of her mouth. Poor Froggy!