Following the visit to the archbishop, McCrea, who had been on nettles
to get hold of Kimberly for a trip of inspection, whisked him away for
two days among the seaboard refineries.
Instead, however, of the two days planned by McCrea, the inspection kept
Kimberly, much to his annoyance, for three days. The date set for
Grace's fete found him still inspecting, but growing hourly more
unmanageable, and before breakfast was over on the third morning McCrea
began to feel the violence of Kimberly's protests.
By the most ingenious activity on the part of the alert McCrea and his
powerful railroad friends the day's programme for the party was hastened
to completion and the indignant magnate was returned by train to Second
Lake in time for dinner.
He drove home by way of Cedar Point, and Alice, who had been constantly
in touch with him on the telephone, felt the elation of his presence
when she saw him alight from his car and walk across the terrace to
where she and Fritzie, dressed for the evening, were feeding the
goldfish.
Kimberly took her hands as she ran forward to meet him. "I thought you
were never coming!" she exclaimed.
"For a while I thought so myself."
"And you saw the archbishop?" she murmured eagerly. "He could do
nothing?"
He regarded her with affection. "I had set my heart on bringing back
good news."
"I knew there was no chance," said Alice as if to anticipate a failure.
"But it was like you to try. You are always doing unpleasant things for
me."
He saw the disappointment under her cheerfulness. "And though I did
fail--you love me just the same?"
She looked into his searching eyes simply. "Always."
"And we marry two weeks from to-night?"
"Two weeks from to-night," she answered, smiling still, but with a
tremor in her steady voice. Then she clasped her hands.
"What is it?" he asked.
Standing in the sunset before him--and he always remembered her as she
stood then--Kimberly saw in her eyes the fires of the devotion he had
lighted. "I hope," she whispered, "I can make you happy."
"You would make a stone happy," he murmured, breathing the fragrance of
her being as she looked up at him.
It was evening when he saw her again and he stood with Dolly and Imogene
who were receiving.
The night was warm and the guests sought the lawns, the garden, and the
groves. When a horn blown across the terrace announced dancing, slight
and graceful women, whose draperies revealed mere delicate outlines of
breathing creatures, came like fairies out of the night. The ballroom,
in candle-light, was cool, and only the ceiling frescoes, artfully
heightened by lights diffused under ropes of roses, were brighter than
the rest of the room.
As the last guests arrived from town--Cready Hamilton and his wife with
Doctor Hamilton and the Brysons--Kimberly walked into the ballroom. He
caught Alice's eye and made his way toward her.
She smiled as he asked for a dance. "Do you realize," said he as she
rose, "that this is your first--and your last--dance at The Towers as a
guest? Next time you will be hostess--won't you?"
A sound of breaking glass crashing above the music of the violins took
Alice's answer from her lips. Every one started. Women looked
questioningly at the men. Alice shrank to Kimberly's side. "Merciful
Heaven!" she whispered, "what was that?"
He answered lightly. "Something has smashed. Whatever it is, it is of
no consequence."
The music continuing without interruption reassured the timid. There
was no sequence to the alarming sound, the flow of conversation
reasserted itself and in a moment the incident was forgotten.
But Kimberly perceived by Alice's pallor that she was upset. "Come out
into the air," he said, "for a moment."
"But don't you want to see what it was?"
"Some one else will do that; come."
She clung to his arm as they passed through an open door. "You don't
seem just well, dearie," he said, taking her hand within his own. "Let
us sit down."
He gave her a chair. She sank into it, supporting her head on her other
hand. "I haven't been quite well for a day or two, Robert. I feel very
strange."
Kimberly with his handkerchief wiped the dampness from her forehead.
Her distress increased and he realized that she was ill. "Alice, let me
take you upstairs a moment. Perhaps you need a restorative."
The expression on her face alarmed him. They rose just as Dolly
hastened past. "Oh, you are here!" she cried, seeing Kimberly. "Why,
what is the matter with Alice?"
Alice herself answered. "A faintness, dear," she said with an effort.
"I think that awful crash startled me. What was it?"
Dolly leaned forward with a suppressed whisper. "Don't mention it!
Robert, the Dutch mirror in the dining-room has fallen. It smashed a
whole tableful of glass. The servants are frightened to death."
"No one was hurt?" said Kimberly.
"Fortunately no one. I must find Imogene."
She hurried on. Alice asked Kimberly to take her back to the ballroom.
He urged her to go upstairs and lie down for a moment.
The music for the dance was still coming from within and against
Kimberly's protest Alice insisted on going back. He gave way and led
her out upon the floor. For a few measures, with a determined effort,
she followed him. Then she glided mechanically on, supported only by
Kimberly and leaning with increasing weakness upon his arm.
When he spoke to her, her answers were vague, her words almost
incoherent. "Take me away, Robert," she whispered, "I am faint."
He led her quietly from the floor and assisted her up a flight of stairs
to his mother's apartment. There he helped her to lie down on a couch.
Annie was hurriedly summoned. A second maid was sent in haste for
Doctor Hamilton and Dolly.
Alice could no longer answer Kimberly's questions as he knelt. She lay
still with her eyes closed. Her respiration was hardly perceptible and
her hands had grown cold. It was only when Kimberly anxiously kissed
her that a faint smile overspread her tired face. In another moment she
was unconscious.