THE LOOKER-ON
Down on the skating-rink below the hotel, a crowd of people were making
merry. The ice was in splendid condition. It sparkled in the sun like a
sheet of frosted glass, and over it the skaters glided with much mirth
and laughter.
Scott stood on the road above and watched them. There were a good many
accomplished performers among them, and there were also several
beginners. But all seemed alike infected with the gaiety of the place.
There was not one face that did not wear a smile.
It was an invigorating scene. From a slope of the white mountain-side
beyond the rink the shouts and laughter of higers came through the
crystal air. A string of luges was shooting down the run, and even as
Scott caught sight of it the foremost came to grief, and a dozen people
rolled ignominiously in the snow. He smiled involuntarily. He seemed to
have stepped into an atmosphere of irresponsible youth. The air was full
of the magic fluid. It stirred his pulses like a draught of champagne.
Then his eyes returned to the rink, and almost immediately singled out
the best skater there. A man in a white sweater, dark, handsome,
magnificently made, supremely sure of himself, darted with the swift
grace of a swallow through the throng. His absolute confidence and
splendid physique made him conspicuous. He executed elaborate figures
with such perfect ease and certainty of movement that many turned to look
at him in astonished admiration.
"Great Scott!" said a cracked voice at Scott's shoulder.
He turned sharply, and met the frank regard of a rosy-faced schoolboy a
little shorter than himself.
"Look at that bloomin' swell!" said the new-comer in tones of deep
disgust. "He seems to have sprouted in the night. I've no use for these
star skaters myself. They're all so beastly sidey."
He addressed Scott as an equal, and as an equal Scott made reply. "P'raps
when you're a star skater yourself, you'll change your mind about 'em."
The boy grinned. "Ah! P'raps! You're a new chum, aren't you?"
"Very new," said Scott.
"Can you skate?" asked the lad. "But of course you can. I suppose you're
another dark horse. It's too bad, you know; just as Dinah and I are
beginning to fancy ourselves at it. We began right at the beginning too."
"Consider yourself lucky!" said Scott rather briefly.
"What do you mean?" The boy's eyes flashed over him intelligently, green
eyes humorously alert.
Scott glanced downwards. "I mean my legs are not a pair, so I can't even
begin."
"Oh, bad luck, sir!" The equality vanished from the boy's voice. He
became suddenly almost deferential, and Scott realized that he was no
longer regarded as a comrade. "Still"--he hesitated--"you can luge, I
suppose?"
"I don't quite see myself," said Scott, looking across once more to the
merry group on the distant run.
"Any idiot can do that," the boy protested, then turned suddenly a deep
red. "Oh, lor, I didn't mean that! Hi, Dinah!" He turned to cover his
embarrassment and sent a deafening yell at the sun-bathed _façade_ of the
hotel. "Are you never coming, you cuckoo? Half the morning's gone
already!"
"Coming, Billy!" at once a clear gay voice made answer, and the merriest
face that Scott had ever seen made a sudden appearance at an open window.
"Darling Billy, do keep your hair on for just two minutes longer! Yvonne
has been trying on my fancy dress, but she's nearly done."
The neck and shoulders below the laughing face were bare and a bare arm
waved in a propitiatory fashion ere it vanished.
"Looks as if the fancy dress is a minus quantity," observed Billy to his
companion with a grin. "I didn't see any of it, did you?"
Scott tried not to laugh. "Your sister?" he asked.
Billy nodded affirmation. "She ain't a bad urchin," he observed, "as
sisters go. We're staying here along with the de Vignes. Ever met 'em?
Lady Grace is a holy terror. Her husband is a horrible stuck-up bore of
an Anglo-Indian,--thinks himself everybody, and tells the most awful
howlers. Rose--that's the daughter--is by way of being very beautiful.
There she goes now; see? That golden-haired girl in red! She's another of
your beastly star skaters. I'll bet she'll have that big bounder cutting
capers with her before the day's out."
"Think so?" said Scott.
Billy nodded again. "I suppose he's a prince at least. My word, doesn't
he fancy himself? Look at that now? Side--sheer side!"
The skater under discussion had just executed a most intricate figure not
far from them. Having accomplished it with that unerring and somewhat
blatant confidence that so revolted Billy's schoolboy soul, he
straightened his tall figure, and darted in a straight line for the end
of the rink above which they stood. His hands were in his pockets. His
bearing was superb. He described a complete circle below them before he
brought himself to a stand. Then he lifted his dark arrogant face. He
wore a short clipped moustache which by no means hid the strength of a
well-modelled though slightly sneering mouth. His eyes were somewhat
deeply set, and shone extraordinarily blue under straight black brows
that met. The man's whole expression was one of dominant self-assertion.
He bore himself like a king.
"Well, Stumpy," he said, "where's Isabel?"
Scott's companion jumped, and beat a swift retreat. Scott smiled a little
as he made reply.
"I have been up to see her. She will be out presently. Biddy had to give
her a sleeping-draught last night."
"Damn!" said the other in a fierce undertone. "Did she call you first?"
"No."
"Then why the devil didn't she? I shall sack that woman. Isabel hasn't a
chance to get well with a mischievous old hag like that always with her."
"I think Isabel would probably die without her," Stumpy responded in his
quiet voice which presented a vivid contrast to his brother's stormy
utterance. "And Biddy would probably die too--if she consented to go,
which I doubt."
"Oh, damn Biddy! The sooner she dies the better. She's nothing but a
perpetual nuisance. What is Isabel like this morning?"
Scott hesitated, and his brother frowned.
"That's enough. What else could any one expect? Look here, Scott! This
thing has got to end. I shall take that sleeping-stuff away."
"If you can get hold of it," put in Scott drily.
"You must get hold of it. You have ample opportunity. It's all very well
to preach patience, but she has been taking slow poison for seven years.
I am certain of it. It's ridiculous! It's monstrous! It's got to end." He
spoke with impatient finality, his blue eyes challenging remonstrance.
Scott made none. Only after a moment he said, "If you take away one prop,
old chap, you must provide another. A broken thing can't stand alone. But
need we discuss it now? As I told you, she is coming out presently, and
this glorious air is bound to make a difference to her. It tastes like
wine."
It was at this point that the golden-haired girl in red suddenly glided
up and sat down on the bank a few yards away to adjust a skate.
Sir Eustace turned his head, and a sparkle came into his eyes. He watched
her for a moment, then left his brother without further words.
"Can I do that for you?" he asked.
She lifted a flushed face. "Oh, how kind of you! But I have just managed
it. How lovely the ice is this morning!"
She rose with the words, balancing herself with a grace as finished as
his own, and threw him a dazzling smile of gratitude. Scott, from his
post of observation on the bank, decided that she certainly was
beautiful. Her face was almost faultless. And yet it seemed to him that
there was infinitely more of witchery in the face that had laughed from
the window a few minutes before. Almost unconsciously he was waiting to
see the owner of that face emerge.
He watched the inevitable exchange of commonplaces between his brother
and the beautiful Miss de Vigne whose graciousness plainly indicated her
willingness for a nearer acquaintance, and presently he saw them move
away side by side.
"What did I tell you?" said Billy's voice at his shoulder. "But you might
have said that chap belonged to you. How was I to know?"
"Oh, quite so," said Scott. "Pray don't apologize! He doesn't belong to
me either. It is I who belong to him."
Billy's green eyes twinkled appreciatively. "You're his brother, aren't
you?"
Scott looked at him. "Now how on earth did you know that?"
He looked back with his frank, engaging grin. "Oh, there's the same hang
about you. I can't tell you what it is. Dinah would know directly. You'd
better ask her."
"I don't happen to have the pleasure of your sister's acquaintance,"
observed Scott, with his quiet smile.
"Oh, I'll soon introduce you if that's what you want," said Billy. "Come
along! There she is now, just crossing the road. By the way, I don't
think you told me your name."
"My name is Studley--Scott Studley, Stumpy to my friends," said Scott, in
his whimsical, rather weary fashion.
Billy laughed. "You're a sport," he said. "When I know you a bit better,
I shall remember that. Hi, Dinah! What a deuce of a time you've been.
This is Mr. Studley, and he saw you at the window without anything on."
"I'm sure he didn't! Billy, how dare you?" Dinah's brown face burned an
indignant red; she looked at Scott with instant hostility.
"Oh, please!" he protested mildly. "That's not quite fair on me."
"Serves you right," declared Billy with malicious delight. "You played me
a shabby trick, you know."
Dinah's brow cleared. She smiled upon Scott. "Isn't he a horrid little
pig? How do you do? Isn't it a ripping day? It makes you want to climb,
doesn't it? I wish I'd got an alpenstock."
"Can't you get one anywhere?" asked Scott. "I thought they were always to
be had."
"Yes, but they cost money," sighed Dinah. "And I haven't got any. It
doesn't really matter though. There are lots of other things to do. Are
you keen on luging? I am."
Her bright eyes smiled into his with the utmost friendliness, and he knew
that she would not commit Billy's mistake and ask him if he skated.
Her smile was infectious. The charm of it lingered after it had passed.
Her eyes were green like Billy's, only softer. They had a great deal of
sweetness in them, and a spice--just a spice of devilry as well. The rest
of the face would have been quite unremarkable, but the laughter-loving
mouth and pointed chin wholly redeemed it from the commonplace. She was a
little brown thing like a woodland creature, and her dainty air and quick
ways put Scott irresistibly in mind of a pert robin.
In reply to her question he told her that he had arrived only the night
before. "And I am quite a tyro," he added. "I have been watching the
luging on that slope, and thanking all the stars that control my destiny
that I wasn't there."
She laughed, showing a row of small white teeth. "Oh, you'd love it once
you started. It's a heavenly sport if the run isn't bumpy. Isn't this a
glorious atmosphere? It makes one feel so happy."
She came and stood by his side to watch the skaters. Billy was seated on
the bank, impatiently changing his boots.
"I'm not going to wait for you any longer, Dinah," he said. "I'm fed up."
"Don't then!" she retorted. "I never asked you to."
"What a lie!" said Billy, with all a brother's gallantry.
She threw him a sister's look of scorn and deigned no rejoinder. But in a
moment the incident was forgotten. "Oh, look there!" she suddenly
exclaimed. "Isn't that just like Rose de Vigne? She's always sure to
appropriate the most handsome man within sight. I've been watching that
man from my window. He is a perfect Apollo, and skates divinely. And now
she's got him!"
Deep disgust was audible in her voice. Billy looked up with a sideways
grin. "You don't suppose he'd look at a sparrow like you, do you?" he
said. "He prefers a swan, you bet."
"Be quiet, Billy!" commanded Dinah, making an ineffectual dig at him with
her foot. "I don't want him to look at me. I hate men. But it is too bad
the way Rose always chooses the best. It's just the same with everything.
And I long--oh, I do long sometimes--to cut her out!"
"I should myself," said Scott unexpectedly. "But why don't you. I'm sure
you could."
She threw him a whimsical smile. "I!" she said. "Why that's about as
likely as--" she stopped short in some confusion.
He laughed a little. "You mean I might as soon hope to cut out Apollo?
But the cases are not parallel, I assure you. Besides, Apollo happens to
be my brother, which makes a difference."
"Oh, is he your brother? What a good thing you told me!" laughed Dinah.
"I might have said something rude about him in a minute."
"Like me!" said Billy, stumbling to his feet. "I made a most horrific
blunder, didn't I, Mr. Studley? I called him a bounder!"
Dinah looked at him witheringly. "You would!" she said. "Well, I hope you
apologized."
Billy stuck out his tongue at her. "I didn't then!" he returned, and
skated elegantly away on one leg.
"Billy," remarked Dinah dispassionately, "is not really such a horrid
little beast as he seems."
Scott smiled his courteous smile. "I had already gathered that," he said.
Her green eyes darted him a swift look, as if to ascertain if he were in
earnest. Then: "That was very nice of you," she said. "I wonder how you
knew."
He still smiled, but without much mirth. "A looker-on sees a good many
things, you know," he said.
Dinah's eyes flashed understanding. She said no more.