It is said that a woman magnificently robed is superior to all earthly
tribulations. Such was the case with Jennie as she left her carriage,
walked along the strip of carpet which lay across the pavement under a
canopy, and entered the great hall of the Duke of Chiselhurst’s town
house, one of the huge palaces of Western London. Nothing so resplendent
had she ever witnessed, or even imagined, as the scene which met her eye
when she found herself about to ascend the broad stairway at the top of
which the hostess stood to receive her distinguished guests. Early as
she was, the stairway and the rooms beyond seemed already thronged.
Splendid menials in gorgeous livery, crimson the predominant colour,
stood on each step at either side of the stair. Uniforms of every
pattern, from the dazzling oriental raiment of Indian princes and
eastern potentates, to the more sober, but scarcely less rich apparel of
the diplomatic corps, ministers of the Empire, and officers, naval
and military, gave the final note of magnificence and picturesque
decoration. Like tropical flowers in this garden of colour were the
ladies, who, with easy grace, moved to and fro, bestowing a smile here
and a whisper there; and yet, despite her agitation, a hurried, furtive
glance around brought to Jennie the conviction that she was, perhaps,
the best-gowned woman in that assemblage of well-dressed people, which
recognition somewhat calmed her palpitating heart. The whole environment
seemed unreal to her, and she walked forward as if in a dream. She
heard someone cry, “The Princess von Steinheimer,” and at first had a
difficulty in realizing that the title, for the moment, pertained
to herself. The next instant her hand was in that of the Duchess of
Chiselhurst, and Jennie heard the lady murmur that it was good of her
to come so far to grace the occasion. The girl made some sort of reply
which she found herself unable afterwards to recall, but the rapid
incoming of other guests led her to hope that, if she had used any
unsuitable phrase, it was either unheard or forgotten in the tension of
the time. She stood aside and formed one of the brilliant group at the
head of the stairs, thankful that this first ordeal was well done with.
Her rapidly beating heart had now opportunity to lessen its pulsations,
and as she soon realized that she was practically unnoticed, her natural
calmness began to return to her. She remembered why she was there,
and her discerning eye enabled her to stamp on a retentive memory
the various particulars of so unaccustomed a spectacle whose very
unfamiliarity made the greater impression upon the girl’s mind. She
moved away from the group, determined to saunter through the numerous
rooms thrown open for the occasion, and thus, as it were, get her
bearings. In a short time all fear of discovery left her, and she began
to feel very much at home in the lofty, crowded salons, pausing even
to enjoy a selection which a military band, partly concealed in the
foliage, was rendering in masterly manner, led by the most famous
_impressario_ of the day. The remote probability of meeting anyone here
who knew the Princess reassured her, and there speedily came over her
a sense of delight in all the kaleidoscopic bewilderment of this great
entertainment. She saw that each one there had interest in someone
else, and, to her great relief, found herself left entirely alone with
reasonable assurance that this remoteness would continue to befriend her
until the final gauntlet of leave-taking had to be run; a trial still to
be encountered, the thought of which she resolutely put away from her,
trusting to the luck that had hitherto not deserted her.
Jennie was in this complaisant frame of mind when she was suddenly
startled by a voice at her side.
“Ah, Princess, I have been searching everywhere for you, catching
glimpses of you now and then, only to lose you, as, alas, has been my
fate on more serious occasion. May I flatter myself with the belief that
you also remember?”
There was no recognition in the large frightened eyes that were turned
upon him. They saw a young man bowing low over the unresisting hand he
had taken. His face was clear-cut and unmistakably English. Jennie saw
his closely-cropped auburn head, and, as it raised until it overtopped
her own, the girl, terrified as she was, could not but admire the
sweeping blonde moustache that overshadowed a smile, half-wistful,
half-humorous, which lighted up his handsome face. The ribbon of some
order was worn athwart his breast; otherwise he wore court dress, which
well became his stalwart frame.
“I am disconsolate to see that I am indeed forgotten, Princess, and so
another cherished delusion fades away from me.”
Her fan concealed the lower part of the girl’s face, and she looked at
him over its fleecy semicircle.
“Put not your trust in princesses,” she murmured, a sparkle of latent
mischief lighting up her eyes.
The young man laughed. “Indeed,” he said, “had I served my country as
faithfully as I have been true to my remembrance of you, Princess, I
would have been an ambassador long ere this, covered with decorations.
Have you then lost all recollection of that winter in Washington five
years ago; that whirlwind of gaiety which ended by wafting you away to a
foreign country, and thus the eventful season clings to my memory as
if it were a disastrous western cyclone? Is it possible that I must
re-introduce myself as Donal Stirling?”
“Not Lord Donal Stirling?” asked Jennie, dimly remembering that she had
heard this name in connection with something diplomatic, and her guess
that he was in that service was strengthened by his previous remark
about being an ambassador.
“Yes, Lord Donal, if you will cruelly insist on calling me so; but this
cannot take from me the consolation that once, in the conservatory
of the White House, under the very shadow of the President, you
condescended to call me Don.”
“You cannot expect one to remember what happened in Washington five
years ago. You know the administration itself changes every four years,
and memories seldom carry back even so far as that.”
“I had hoped that my most outspoken adoration would have left
reminiscence which might outlast an administration. I have not found
forgetting so easy.”
“Are you quite sure of that, Lord Donal?” asked the girl archly, closing
her fan and giving him for the first time a full view of her face.
The young man seemed for a moment perplexed, but she went on, giving him
little time for reflection. “Have your diplomatic duties taken you away
from Washington?”
“Yes, to the other end of the earth. I am now in St. Petersburg, with
ultimate hopes of Vienna, Princess. I happened to be in London this
week, and hearing you were to be here, I moved heaven and earth for an
invitation.”
“Which you obtained, only to find yourself forgotten. How hollow this
world is, isn’t it?”
“Alas, yes. A man in my profession sees a good deal of the seamy side of
life, and I fully believe that my rapidly lessening dependence on human
veracity will be shattered by my superiors sending me to Constantinople.
But let me find you a seat out of this crowd where we may talk of old
times.”
“I don’t care so much about the past as I do about the present. Let
us go up into that gallery, where you shall point out to me the
celebrities. I suppose you know them all, while I am an entire stranger
to London Society.”
“That is a capital idea,” cried the young man enthusiastically. “Yes, I
think I know most of the people here, at least by name. Ah, here comes
the Royal party; we shall just be in time to have a good look at them.”
The band played the National Anthem, and Lord Donal got two chairs,
which he placed at the edge of the gallery, well hidden from the
promenaders by spreading tropical plants.
“Oh, this _is_ jolly,” cried Jennie, quite forgetting the dignity of a
Princess. “You told me why you came to the ball. Do you know why I am
here?”
“On the remote chance of meeting me whom you pretended to have
forgotten,” replied the young man audaciously.
“Of course,” laughed Jennie; “but aside from that, I came to see the
costumes. You know, we women are libellously said to dress for each
other. Away from the world, in the Tyrol, I have little opportunity
of seeing anything fine in the way of dress, and so I accepted the
invitation of the Duchess.”
“Have you the invitation of the Duchess with you?”
“Yes, I am going to make some notes on the back of it. Would you like to
see it?” She handed him the letter and then leaned back in her chair,
regarding him closely. The puzzled expression on his face deepened as
he glanced over the invitation, and saw that it was exactly what it
purported to be. He gave the letter back to her, saying,--
“So you are here to see the fashions. It is a subject I know little
about; but, judging by effect, I should say that the Princess von
Steinheimer has nothing to learn from anyone present. If I may touch on
a topic so personal, your costume is what they call a creation, is it
not, Princess?”
“It isn’t bad,” said the girl, looking down at her gown and then
glancing up at him with merriment dancing in her eyes. The diplomat had
his elbow resting on the balustrade, his head leaning on his hand, and,
quite oblivious to everything else, was gazing at her with such absorbed
intentness that the girl blushed and cast down her eyes. The intense
admiration in his look was undisguised. “Still,” she rattled on somewhat
breathlessly, “one gets many hints from others, and the creation of
to-day is merely the old clothes of to-morrow. Invention has no vacation
so far as ladies’ apparel is concerned. ‘Take no thought of the morrow,
wherewithal ye shall be clothed,’ may have been a good motto for the
court of Solomon, but it has little relation with that of Victoria.”
“Solomon--if the saying is his--was hedging. He had many wives, you
know.”
“Well, as I was about to say, you must now turn your attention to
the other guests, and tell me who’s who. I have already confessed my
ignorance, and you promised to enlighten me.”
The young man, with visible reluctance, directed his thoughts from the
one to the many, and named this person and that, while Jennie, with
the pencil attached to her card, made cabalistic notes in shorthand,
economizing thus both space and time. When at last she had all the
information that could be desired, she leaned back in her chair with a
little sigh of supreme content. Whatever might now betide, her mission
was fulfilled, if she once got quietly away. The complete details of the
most important society event of the season were at her fingers’ ends.
She closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy the satisfaction which success
leaves in its train, and when she opened them again found Lord Donal in
his old posture, absorbed in the contemplation of her undeniable beauty.
“I see you are determined I shall have no difficulty in remembering you
next time we meet,” she said with a smile, at the same time flushing
slightly under his ardent gaze.
“I was just thinking,” he replied, shifting his position a little, “that
the five years which have dealt so hardly with me, have left you five
years younger.”
“Age has many privileges, Lord Donal,” she said to him, laughing
outright; “but I don’t think you can yet lay claim to any of them.
The pose of the prematurely old is not in the least borne out by your
appearance, however hardly the girl you met in Washington dealt with
you.”
“Ah, Princess, it is very easy for you to treat these serious matters
lightly. He laughs at scars who never felt a wound. Time, being above
all things treacherous, often leaves the face untouched the more
effectually to scar the heart. The hurt concealed is ever the more
dangerous.”
“I fancy it has been concealed so effectually that it is not as deep as
you imagined.”
“Princess, I will confess to you that the wound at Washington was as
nothing to the one received at London.”
“Yes; you told me you had been here for a week.”
“The week has nothing to do with it. I have been here for a night--for
two hours--or three; I have lost count of time since I met you.”
What reply the girl might have made to this speech, delivered with all
the fervency of a man in thorough earnest, will never be known, for at
that moment their _tête-à-tête_ was interrupted by a messenger, who
said,--
“His Excellency the Austrian Ambassador begs to be permitted to pay his
regards to the Princess von Steinheimer.”
Lord Donal Stirling never took his eyes from the face of his companion,
and he saw a quick pallor overspread it. He leaned forward and
whispered,--
“I know the Ambassador; if you do not wish to meet him, I will intercept
him.”
Jennie rose slowly to her feet, and, looking at the young man with a
calmness she was far from feeling, said coldly,--
“Why should I not wish to meet the Ambassador of my adopted country?”
“I know of no reason. Quite the contrary, for he must be an old friend
of yours, having been your guest at the Schloss Steinheimer a year ago.”
He stepped back as he said this, and Jennie had difficulty in
suppressing the gasp of dismay with which she received his disquieting
disclosure, but she stood her ground without wincing. She was face to
face with the crisis she had foreseen--the coming of one who knew
the Princess. Next instant the aged diplomat was bending over her
outstretched hand, which in courtly fashion the old man raised to his
lips.
“I am delighted to have the privilege of welcoming you to this gloomy
old city, Princess von Steinheimer, which you illumine with your
presence. Do you stay long in London?”
“The period of illumination is short, your Excellency. I leave for Paris
to-morrow.”
“So soon? Without even visiting the Embassy? I am distressed to hear
of so speedy a desertion, and yet, knowing the charms of the Schloss
Steinheimer, I can hardly wonder at your wish to return there. The
Prince, I suppose, is as devoted as ever to the chase. I must censure
his Highness, next time we meet, for not coming with you to London; then
I am sure you would have stayed longer with us.”
“The Prince is a model husband, your Excellency,” said Jennie, with a
sly glance at Lord Donal, whose expression of uncertainty increased
as this colloquy went on, “and he would have come to London without
a murmur had his wife been selfish enough to tear him away from his
beloved Meran.”
“A model husband!” said the ancient count, with an unctuous chuckle.
“So few of us excel in that respect; but there is this to be
said in our exculpation, few have been matrimonially so fortunate
as the Prince von Steinheimer. I have never ceased to long for a
repetition of the charming visit I paid to your delightful home.”
“If your Excellency but knew how welcome you are, your visits would not
have such long intervals between.”
“It is most kind of you, Princess, to cheer an old man’s heart by such
gracious words. It is our misfortune that affairs of State chain us to
our pillar, and, indeed, diplomacy seems to become more difficult as the
years go on, because we have to contend with the genius of rising young
men like Lord Donal Stirling here, who are more than a match for old
dogs that find it impossible to learn new tricks.”
“Indeed, your Excellency,” said his lordship, speaking for the first
time since the Ambassador began, “the very reverse of that is the case.
We sit humbly at your feet, ambitious to emulate, but without hope of
excelling.”
The old man chuckled again, and, turning to the girl, began to make his
adieux.
“Then my former rooms are waiting for me at the Castle?” he concluded.
“Yes, your Excellency, with the addition of two red rocking-chairs
imported from America, which you will find most comfortable
resting-places when you are free from the cares of State.”
“Ah! The rocking-chairs! I remember now that you were expecting them
when I was there. So they have arrived, safely, I hope; but I think you
had ordered an incredible number, to be certain of having at least one
or two serviceable.”
“No; only a dozen, and they all came through without damage.”
“You young people, you young people!” murmured the Ambassador, bending
again over the hand presented to him, “what unheard-of things you do.”
And so the old man shuffled away, leaving many compliments behind him,
evidently not having the slightest suspicion that he had met anyone but
the person he supposed himself addressing, for his eyesight was not of
the best, and an Ambassador meets many fair and distinguished women.
The girl sat down with calm dignity, while Lord Donal dropped into his
chair, an expression of complete mystification on his clear-cut, honest
face. Jennie slowly fanned herself, for the heat made itself felt at
that elevated situation, and for a few moments nothing was said by
either. The young man was the first to break silence.
“Should I be so fortunate as to get an invitation to the Schloss
Steinheimer, may I hope that a red rocking-chair will be allotted to me?
I have not sat in one since I was in the States.”
“Yes, one for you; two for the Ambassador,” said Jennie, with a laugh.
“I should like further to flatter myself that your double generosity to
the Ambassador arises solely from the dignity of his office, and is not
in any way personal.”
“I am very fond of ambassadors; they are courteous gentlemen who seem to
have less distrust than is exhibited by some not so exalted.”
“Distrust! You surely cannot mean that I have distrusted you, Princess?”
“Oh, I was speaking generally,” replied Jennie airily. “You seem to seek
a personal application in what I say.”
“I admit, Princess, that several times this evening I have been
completely at sea.”
“And what is worse, Lord Donal, you have shown it, which is the one
unforgivable fault in diplomacy.”
“You are quite right. If I had you to teach me, I would be an ambassador
within the next five years, or at least a minister.”
The girl looked at him over the top of her fan, covert merriment lurking
in her eyes.
“When you visit Schloss Steinheimer you might ask the Prince if he
objects to my giving you lessons.”
Here there was another interruption, and the announcement was made that
the United States Ambassador desired to renew his acquaintance with
the Princess von Steinheimer. Lord Donal made use of an impatient
exclamation more emphatic than he intended to give utterance to, but on
looking at his companion in alarm, he saw in her glance a quick flash of
gratitude as unmistakable as if she had spoken her thanks. It was quite
evident that the girl had no desire to meet his Excellency, which is not
to be wondered at, as she had already encountered him three times in her
capacity of journalist. He not only knew the Princess von Steinheimer,
but he knew Jennie Baxter as well.
She leaned back in her chair and said wearily,--
“I seem to be having rather an abundance of diplomatic society this
evening. Are you acquainted with the American Ambassador also, Lord
Donal?”
“Yes,” cried the young man, eagerly springing to his feet. “He was a
prominent politician in Washington while I was there. He is an excellent
man, and I shall have no difficulty in making your excuses to him if you
don’t wish to meet him.”
“Thank you so much. You have now an opportunity of retrieving your
diplomatic reputation, if you can postpone the interview without
offending him.”
Lord Donal departed with alacrity, and the moment he was gone all
appearance of languor vanished from Miss Jennie Baxter.
“Now is my chance,” she whispered to herself. “I must be in my carriage
before he returns.”
Eager as she was to be gone, she knew that she should betray no haste.
Expecting to find a stair at the other end of the gallery, she sought
for it, but there was none. Filled with apprehension that she would meet
Lord Donal coming up, she had difficulty in timing her footsteps to the
slow measure that was necessary. She reached the bottom of the stair in
safety and unimpeded, but once on the main floor a new problem presented
itself. Nothing would attract more attention than a young and beautiful
lady walking the long distance between the gallery end of the room and
the entrance stairway entirely alone and unattended. She stood there
hesitating, wondering whether she could venture on finding a quiet
side-exit, which she was sure must exist in this large house, when, to
her dismay, she found Lord Donal again at her side, rather breathless,
as if he had been hurrying in search of her. His brows were knit and
there was an anxious expression on his face.
“I must have a word with you alone,” he whispered. “Let me conduct you
to this alcove under the gallery.”
“No; I am tired. I am going home.”
“I quite understand that, but you must come with me for a moment.”
“Must?” she said, with a suggestion of defiance in her tone.
“Yes,” he answered gravely. “I wish to be of assistance to you. I think
you will need it.”
For a moment she met his unflinching gaze steadily, then her glance
fell, and she said in a low voice, “Very well.”
When they reached the alcove, she inquired rather quaveringly--for she
saw something had happened which had finally settled all the young man’s
doubts--“Is it the American Ambassador?”
“No; there was little trouble there. He expects to meet you later in the
evening. But a telegraphic message has come from Meran, signed by the
Princess von Steinheimer, which expresses a hope that the ball will be a
success, and reiterates the regret of her Highness that she could not be
present. Luckily this communication has not been shown to the Duchess.
I told the Duke, who read it to me, knowing I had been with you all the
evening, that it was likely a practical joke on the part of the Prince;
but the Duke, who is rather a serious person, does not take kindly
to that theory, and if he knew the Prince he would dismiss it as
absurd--which it is. I have asked him not to show the telegram to
anyone, so there is a little time for considering what had best be
done.”
“There is nothing for me to do but to take my leave as quickly and
as quietly as possible,” said the girl, with a nervous little laugh
bordering closely on the hysterical. “I was about to make my way out by
some private exit if I could find one.”
“That would be impossible, and the attempt might lead to unexpected
complications. I suggest that you take my arm, and that you bid farewell
to her Grace, pleading fatigue as the reason for your early departure.
Then I will see you to your carriage, and when I return I shall
endeavour to get that unlucky telegram from the Duke by telling him
I should like to find out whether it is a hoax or not. He will have
forgotten about it most likely in the morning. Therefore, all you have
to do is to keep up your courage for a few moments longer until you are
safe in your carriage.”
“You are very kind,” she murmured, with downcast eyes.
“You are very clever, my Princess, but the odds against you were
tremendous. Some time you must tell me why you risked it.”
She made no reply, but took his arm, and together they sauntered through
the rooms until they found the Duchess, when Jennie took her leave of
the hostess with a demure dignity that left nothing to be desired. All
went well until they reached the head of the stair, when the Duke, an
ominous frown on his brow, hurried after them and said,--
“My lord, excuse me.”
Lord Donal turned with an ill-concealed expression of impatience, but he
was helpless, for he feared his host might not have the good sense to
avoid a scene even in his own hall. Had it been the Duchess, all would
have been well, for she was a lady of infinite tact, but the Duke, as he
had said, was a stupid man, who needed the constant eye of his wife upon
him to restrain him from blundering. The young man whispered, “Keep
right on until you are in your carriage. I shall ask my man here to call
it for you, but please don’t drive away until I come.”
A sign brought a serving man up the stairs.
“Call the carriage of the Princess von Steinheimer,” said his master;
then, as the lady descended the stair, Lord Donal turned, with no very
thankful feeling in his heart, to hear what his host had to say.
“Lord Donal, the American Ambassador says that woman is not the Princess
von Steinheimer, but is someone of no importance whom he has met several
times in London. He cannot remember her name. Now, who is she, and how
did you come to meet her?”
“My Lord Duke, it never occurred to me to question the identity of
guests I met under your hospitable roof. I knew the Princess five years
ago in Washington, before she was married. I have not seen her in the
interval, but until you showed me the telegraphic message there was no
question in my mind regarding her.”
“But the American Ambassador is positive.”
“Then he has more confidence in his eyesight than I have. If such a
question, like international difficulties, is to be settled by the
Embassies, let us refer it to Austria, who held a long conversation with
the lady in my presence. Your Excellency,” he continued to the Austrian
Ambassador, who was hovering near, waiting to speak to his host, “The
Duke of Chiselhurst has some doubt that the lady who has just departed
is the Princess von Steinheimer. You spoke with her, and can therefore
decide with authority, for his Grace seems disinclined to accept my
testimony.”
“Not the Princess? Nonsense. I know her very well indeed, and a most
charming lady she is. I hope to be her guest again before many months
are past.”
“There, my Lord Duke, you see everything is as it should be. If you will
give me that stupid telegram, I will make some quiet inquiries about it.
Meanwhile, the less said the better. I will see the American Ambassador
and convince him of his error. And now I must make what excuses I can to
the Princess for my desertion of her.”
Placing the telegram in his pocket, he hurried down the stair and out to
the street. There had been some delay about the coming of the carriage,
and he saw the lady he sought, at that moment entering it.
“Home at once as fast as you can,” he heard her say to the coachman. She
had evidently no intention of waiting for him. He sprang forward, thrust
his arm through the carriage window, and grasped her hand.
“Princess,” he cried, “you will not leave me like this. I must see you
to-morrow.”
“No, no,” she gasped, shrinking into the corner of the carriage.
“You cannot be so cruel. Tell me at least where a letter will reach you.
I shall not release your hand until you promise.”
With a quick movement the girl turned back the gauntlet of her long
glove; the next instant the carriage was rattling down the street, while
a chagrined young man stood alone on the kerb with a long, slender white
glove in his hand.
“By Jove!” he said at last, as he folded it carefully and placed it
in the pocket of his coat. “It is the glove this time, instead of the
slipper!”