To afford Alice the effect of the main approach to The Towers itself,
Dolly ordered a roundabout drive which gave her guest an idea of the
beauties of the villa grounds.
They passed glades of unusual size, bordered by natural forests. They
drove among pleasing successions of hills, followed up valleys with
occasional brooks, and emerged at length on wide, open stretches of a
plateau commanding the lake.
A further drive along the bluffs that rose high above the water showed
the bolder features of an American landscape unspoiled by overtreatment.
The car finally brought them to the lower end of a long, formal avenue
of elms that made a setting for the ample house of gray stone, placed on
an elevation that commanded the whole of Second Lake and the southern
country for many miles.
Its advantage of position was obvious and the castellated effect, from
which its name derived, implied a strength of uncompromising pride
commonly associated with the Kimberlys themselves.
At Dolly's suggestion they walked around through the south garden which
lay toward the lake. At the garden entrance stood a sun-dial and Alice
paused to read the inscription:
Per ogni ora che passa, im ricordo.
Per ogni ora che batte, una felicita.
Per ogni ora che viene, una speranza.
"It is a duplicate of a dial that Robert fancied in the garden of the
Kimberly villa on Lago Maggiore," Dolly explained. "Come this way, I
want you to see the lake and the terrace."
From the terrace they looked back again at the house. Well-placed
windows and ample verandas afforded views in every direction of the
surrounding country. Retracing their way to the main entrance, they
ascended a broad flight of stone steps and entered the house itself.
Following Dolly into the hall, Alice saw a chamber almost severe in
spaciousness and still somewhat untamed in its oak ruggedness. But
glimpses into the apartments opening off it were delightfully
satisfying.
They peeped into the dining-room as they passed. It was an old-day room,
heavily beamed in gloomy oak, with a massive round table and high
chairs. The room filled the whole southern exposure of its wing and at
one end Alice saw a fireplace above which hung a great Dutch mirror
framed in heavy seventeenth-century style. Dolly pointed to it: "It is
our sole heirloom, and Robert won't change it from the fireplace. The
Kimberly mirror, we call it--from Holland with our first Kimberly. The
oak in this room is good."
Taken as a whole, however, Dolly frankly considered The Towers too
evidently suggestive of the old-fashioned. This she satisfactorily
accounted for by the fact that the house lacked the magic of a woman's
presence.
Alice, walking with her, slowly and critically, found nowhere any
discordant notes. The carpets offered the delicate restraints of
Eastern fancy, and the wall pictures, seen in passing, invited more
leisurely inspection.
There was here something in marble, something there Oriental, but
nowhere were effects confused, and they had been subdued until
consciousness of their art was not aroused.
Alice, sensitive to indefinable impressions, had never seen anything
comparable to what she now saw, and an interior so restful should have
put her at ease.
Yet the first pleasing breath in this atmosphere brought with it
something, she could not have told what, of uneasiness, and it was of
this that she was vaguely conscious, as Dolly questioned the servant
that met them.
"Is Mr. De Castro here yet?" she asked.
"Yes, Mrs. De Castro. He is with Mr. Kimberly. I think they are in the
garden."
"Tell them we are here. We will go up and speak to Uncle John."
They were at the foot of the stairs: "Sha'n't I wait for you?" suggested
Alice.
"By no means. Come with me. He is really the head of the family, you
know," Dolly added in an undertone, "and mustn't be slighted."
Alice, amused at the importance placed upon the situation, smiled at
Dolly's earnestness. As she ascended the stairs with her hostess, a
little wave of self-consciousness swept over her.
On the second floor was a long gallery opening at the farther end upon a
western belvedere, lighted just then by the sun. The effect of the
room, confusing at first in its arrangement, was, in fact, that of a
wide and irregular reception hall for the apartments opening on the
second floor. At the moment the two women reached the archway, a man
walked in at the farther end from the terrace.
"There is Robert, now!" Dolly exclaimed. He was opening the door of a
room near at hand when he saw his sister with Alice, and came forward to
meet them. As he did so, a door mid-way down the hall opened and a man
clad in a black habit crossed between Kimberly and Alice.
"That is Francis, who takes care of Uncle John," said Dolly. Francis,
walked toward the balcony without seeing the visitors, but his ear
caught the tones of Dolly's voice and she waved a hand at him as he
turned his head. He paused to bow and continued his way through a
balcony door.
As Kimberly came forward his face was so nearly without a smile that
Alice for a moment was chilled.
"I brought Mrs. MacBirney in to see Uncle John a moment, Robert. How
are you?" Dolly asked.
"Thank you, very well. And it is a pleasure to see Mrs. MacBirney,
Dolly."
He looked into Alice's eyes as he spoke. She thanked him, simply.
Dolly made a remark but Alice did not catch it. In some confusion of
thought she was absurdly conscious that Kimberly was looking at her and
that his eyes were gray, that he wore a suit of gray and that she now,
exchanging compliments with him, was clad in lavender. The three talked
together for some moments. Yet something formal remained in Kimberly's
manner and Alice was already the least bit on the defensive.
She was, at any rate, glad to feel that her motoring rig would bear
inspection, for it seemed as if his eyes, without offensively appearing
to do so, took in the slightest detail of her appearance. His words were
of a piece with his manner. They were agreeable, but either what he
said lacked enthusiasm or preoccupation clouded his efforts to be
cordial.
"They told us," said Dolly, at length, "you were in the garden."
"Arthur is down there somewhere," returned Kimberly. "We will go this
way for Uncle John," he added. "Francis is giving him an airing."
They walked out to the belvedere. Facing the sunset, Alice saw in an
invalid chair an old man with a wrinkled white face. Dolly, hastening
forward, greeted him in elevated tones. Kimberly turned to Alice with a
suggestion of humor as they waited a little way from Dolly's hand. "My
sister, curiously enough," said he, "always forgets that Uncle John is
_not_ deaf. And he doesn't like it a bit."
"Many people instinctively speak louder to invalids," said Alice. Uncle
John's eyes turned slowly toward Alice as he heard her voice. Dolly,
evidently, was referring to her, and beckoned her to come nearer. Alice
saw the old man looking at her with the slow care of the paralytic--of
one who has learned to distrust his physical faculties. Alice disliked
his eyes. He tried to rise, but Dolly frowned on his attempt: it looked
like a failure, anyway, and he greeted Alice from his chair.
"You are getting altogether too spry, Uncle John," cried Dolly.
His eyes turned slowly from Alice's face to Dolly's and he looked at his
talkative niece quizzically: "Am I?" Then, with the mildly suspicious
smile on his face, his eyes returned to Alice. Kimberly watched his
uncle.
"They say you want to ride horseback," continued Dolly, jocularly. He
looked at her again: "Do they?" Then he looked back at Alice.
Kimberly, his hands half-way in the pockets of his sack-coat, turned in
protest: "I think you two go through this every time you come over,
Dolly." Dolly waved her hand with a laugh. Uncle John this time did not
even take the trouble to look around. He continued to smile at Alice
even while he returned to Robert his non-committal: "Do we?"
Alice felt desirous of edging away from Uncle John's kind of Kimberly
eyes. "You ought to get better here very fast, Mr. Kimberly," she said
to him briskly. "This lovely prospect!" she exclaimed, looking about
her. "And in every direction."
"It is pretty toward the lake," Robert volunteered, knowing that Uncle
John would merely look at Alice without response.
He led the way as he spoke toward the mirrored sheet of water and, as
Alice came to his side, pointed out the features of the landscape.
Dolly sat a moment with Uncle John and joined Kimberly and Alice as they
walked on.
They encountered the attendant, Brother Francis, who had retreated as
far as he could from the visitors. Dolly, greeting him warmly, turned
to Alice. "Mrs. MacBirney, this is Brother Francis who takes care--and
such excellent care!--of Uncle John."
Brother Francis's features were spare. His slender nose emphasized the
strength of his face. But if his expression at the moment was sober, and
his dark eyes looked as if his thoughts might be away, they were kindly.
His eyes, too, fell almost at the instant Dolly spoke and he only bowed
his greeting to Alice. But with Francis a bow was everything. Whether
he welcomed, tolerated, or disapproved, his bow clearly and sufficiently
signified.
His greeting of Alice expressed deference and sincerity. But there was
even more in it--something of the sensible attitude of a gentleman who,
in meeting a lady in passing, and being himself an attendant, desires to
be so considered and seeks with his greeting to dismiss himself from the
situation. To this end, however, Francis's efforts were unsuccessful.
"He is the most modest man in the world," murmured Dolly, in concluding
a eulogium, delivered to Alice almost in the poor Brother's face.
"Then why not spare his feelings?" suggested Kimberly.
"Because I don't believe in hiding a light under a bushel," returned
Dolly, vigorously. "There is so little modesty left nowadays----"
"That you want to be rid of what there is," suggested Kimberly.
"That when I find it I think it a duty to recognize it," Dolly
persisted.
Brother Francis maintained his composure as well as he could. Indeed,
self-consciousness seemed quite lacking in him. "Surely," he smiled,
bowing again, "Madame De Castro has a good heart. That," he added to
Alice, italicizing his words with an expressive forefinger, "is the real
secret. But I see danger even if one _should_ possess a gift so
precious as modesty," he continued, raising his finger this time in mild
admonition; "when you--how do you say in English--'trot out' the modesty
and set it up to look at"--Francis's large eyes grew luminous in
pantomime--"the first thing you know, pff! Where is it? You search."
Brother Francis beat the skirt of his black gown with his hands, and
shook it as if to dislodge the missing virtue. Then holding his empty
palms upward and outward, and adding the dismay of his shoulders to the
fancied situation, he asked: "Where is it? It is gone!"
"Which means we shouldn't tempt Brother Francis's modesty," interposed
Alice.
Francis looked at Alice inquiringly. "You are a Catholic?" he said,
"your husband not."
Alice laughed: "How did you know?"
Francis waved his hand toward his informant: "Mr. Kimberly."
The answer surprised Alice. She looked at Kimberly.
There was an instant of embarrassment. "Francis feels our pagan
atmosphere so keenly," Kimberly said slowly, "that I gave him the news
about you as a bracer--just to let him know we had a friend at court
even if we were shut out ourselves."
"He told me," continued Francis, with humor, "that a Catholic lady was
coming this afternoon, and to put on my new habit."
"Which, of course, you did not do," interposed Kimberly, regaining the
situation.
Brother Francis looked deprecatingly at his shiny serge.
Dolly and Alice laughed. "Mr. Kimberly didn't understand that you kept
on your old one out of humility," said Alice. "But how did you know
anything about my religion?" she asked, turning to Kimberly.
Francis took this chance to slip away to his charge.
"Arthur De Castro is the culprit," answered Kimberly. "He told me some
time ago."
"You have a good memory."
"For some things. Won't you pour tea for Mrs. MacBirney, Dolly? Let us
go downstairs, anyway."
He walked with Alice into the house, talking as they went.
Dolly bent over Uncle John's chair. "Isn't she nice?" she whispered,
nodding toward Alice as Alice disappeared with Kimberly. "You know
Madame De Castro went to school in Paris with her mother, who was a De
Gallon, and her father--Alice's grandfather--was the last man in
Louisville to wear a queue."
Uncle John seemed not greatly moved at this information, but did look
reminiscent. "What was her father's name?"
"Alice's father was named Marshall. He and her mother both are dead.
She has no near relatives."
"I remember Marshall--he was a refiner."
"Precisely; he met with reverses a few years ago."
Uncle John looked after Alice with his feeble, questioning grin. "Fine
looking," he muttered, still looking after her much as the toothless
giant looked after Christian as he passed his cave. "Fine looking."
Dolly was annoyed: "Oh, you're always thinking about fine looks! She is
nice."
Uncle John smiled undismayed. "Is she?"