MILLIONS MAY NOT PURCHASE LOVE.
"Would it be presumptuous if I asked to know her name, Roderic--this
girl of San Juan who risked so much to save your reputation if not your
life? I feel under obligations to her, for your name is very dear to
those who know you--those bound to you by ties of consanguinity."
"She comes of Spanish descent, but her heart is now only wrapped up in
the future of the lovely gem of the Antilles. Her name is Georgia Inez
de Brabant."
Perhaps his manner gave evidence that she was treading on dangerous
ground.
"Thank you. Perhaps some day fortune may bring us together. I shall try
to love her, Roderic, because you call her your _friend_!"
Then she branched off upon the subject of the cruise, to which she
seemed to look forward with almost childish delight.
It is not every one to whom is given the proud fortune to own a modern
steam yacht, and this daughter of Eve could be forgiven a fair amount
of exhilaration under the circumstances.
Perhaps, truth to tell, the prospect of ten days basking in the company
of her athletic cousin had something to do with her light spirits.
Owen's time was not wholly his own, so that he was soon forced to sally
forth upon the streets of the Irish metropolis.
When Cleo was alone she hastened to her luxurious apartments and
searching the inmost recesses of an inlaid traveling writing desk which
had been taken from a capacious trunk, she soon pounced upon a small
photograph.
It was wretchedly done by a tyro in Ponce, but even boorish work could
not entirely conceal the fact that the face was that of a most lovely
dark-eyed houri.
Cleo looked eagerly at it.
"I have had this now two years. Roderic dropped it in the garden, and
I hid it away for a joke and then forgot to speak of it. This is the
picture of a daughter of Porto Rico--is it the same who is now in
Dublin, who last night at the peril of her name warned him of evil? I
have reason to believe such to be the truth, for unless I am greatly
mistaken I saw this same beauty coming out of St. Patrick's cathedral
yesterday morning, when a gust of wind blew her veil aside. In this
land where Irish gray or blue eyes abound I was immediately attracted
by such a beautiful pair of melting dusky orbs.
"Heigho! this is Roderic's fate no doubt. Heaven grant that he may
be happy whate'er betide, for he deserves it. I would give all my
miserable millions for his heart's love, but it can not be. There is a
startling story of the past connected with this girl, I am sure. Why
did they separate--does she love him still? Well, perhaps the future
may tell."
She put the photograph slowly back in the lodging place where it had so
long rested securely. Even great riches had not the power to bring this
young woman unalloyed happiness, for the one treasure she would have
valued above all other earthly possessions seemed denied her by a cruel
fate.
It were hardly fair that all the joys of earth were handed over to the
disposal of one mortal.
While she rolled in wealth beyond Aladdin's dreams and sighed for
true love, many who were blessed in this regard struggled for a daily
pittance and groaned because their heart's devotion could not come
between the object of their worship and cruel Want.
Truly, this is a queer old world, and at times it seems unequally
divided; but occasionally there is a shaking up all around that evens
things up somewhat.
Possessed of a sudden notion Cleo dressed for the street.
When she went out it was with a laughing remark to Miss Becky, whom she
intercepted upon the broad carpeted main stairway, to the effect that a
number of little shopping duties had to be looked after.
However, M'lle Cleo's ideas of the shopping district must have become
a little mixed, for she sauntered in the direction of that quaint mass
of stone and glass with its spire and numerous minarets known as St.
Patrick's Cathedral.
She looked through the iron fence at the flat slabs and few monuments
commemorating illustrious Irish dead, she studied the architecture of
the historic building, and cast many a curious glance at those who
passed in to late mass or came out from the interior.
Her object seemed doomed to disappointment, for the face she sought was
not seen.
Once she eyed a lady closely veiled, who came out in company with a
military looking gentleman sporting a shaggy head of gray hair _à la_
Mark Twain, also a ferocious mustache waxed at the ends and giving the
wearer the fierce appearance of King Humbert.
As the couple passed Cleo she chanced to hear the lady make a casual
remark, and two things struck the listener as singular.
First it was pure Spanish she heard.
Second, her voice was so very melodious it seemed to conjure up visions
of rippling water, warbling birds and all those things of which poets
love to rave.
Cleo remembered--could she ever forget the pain that shot through her
heart at the time--how Roderic had grown suddenly enthusiastic when he
declared the voice of Senorita de Brabant as musical as the notes of a
nightingale--she had doubtless sung for him many times those passionate
serenades and love songs for which dark eyed daughters of old Spain
have ever been famous.
Cleo could imagine how those wonderful black orbs glowed with love's
sacred fire when _he_ sat near, upon a soft divan, or bent over the
gurgling fountain's basin.
She felt sick at heart, but such a nature never reveals the pain that
rankles within.
Though suffering tortures such girls will laugh and seem as merry as
the lightest hearted among their comrades.
After that came the shopping, and yet Cleo was annoyed to find herself
listening to every voice upon the street and in the stores.
Surely there could not be another in all Dublin that so fully filled
the brief but graphic description Roderic had given of a woman's tones
sounding like the soft gurgling of water over the mossy stones in the
primeval forest.
"I wonder under what conditions we will meet, for something tells me
this is bound to occur. And shall I too be drawn to her because he has
given his heart? Will she love him--love my old play fellow Roderic
as--as I could do, have done these many years? Perhaps, but I doubt
it, doubt whether these hot blooded girls of the tropic isles can love
so truly that they will sacrifice even their own happiness in order
that _his_ life may be filled with sunshine. Still, God forgive me for
judging her harshly. I have other things--his love may be all in all
to her. Come what will I shall do what is right and loyal and true as
becomes a daughter of Virginia. But oh! it is hard to give him up, my
hope, my boy lover, my Roderic. Now I am done!"
Having thus grimly dismissed the matter from her mind for the present
the young lady proceeded to carry out her designs.
Numerous things were on her list to be added to the abundant stores
aboard the yacht, and it would probably puzzle the honest steward, she
imagined, to know what to do with the last arrivals.
"If I remained in Dublin three days more I am sure we would be swamped
in the bay made celebrated by song and story, or else be compelled to
charter a companion boat to share our cargo--there are so many things I
see that could be made useful among the wretched people just escaping
from Spanish rule, and these Irish storekeepers one and all, must have
had an intimate acquaintance with the Blarney stone, they have such
engaging ways and a burning desire to accumulate Uncle Sam's coin. This
is an era of good feeling--of hands across the sea--Brother John and
Brother Jonathan, and they all want to be in it as deep as possible.
However, I think I am actually done. It would be impossible to accept
all they offer."
So the purchasing agency went reluctantly out of commission.
Even the owner of millions must draw the line somewhere.
Roderic was not to be seen at luncheon, although Cleo purposely
lingered over the meal, hoping he would turn up.
Jerome was there, handsome as ever, and apparently much sought after by
a designing lady mother from Chicago who possessed two plain girls of a
marriageable age.
No doubt they believed him a marquis, or at the very least connected
with some noble family anxious to make a "connection" with pork.
These things happen frequently, and there really seems no remedy--the
market is there and the goods offered for sale. Occasionally a genuine
love match occurs which redounds to the credit of Old England and Young
America; but for the most part they are cut and dried affairs entered
into for position on one side and gold on the other. Such unions are
beneath contempt.
Jerome bowed and smiled in his usual affable manner, and Cleo answered
him just as though she had not been informed of his dark schemes.
This matter of fact young woman had traveled far and wide--she had
rubbed up against all manner of people, and long since ceased to be
excessively surprised at anything.
Wellington was simply carrying out the business for which nature had
endowed him.
There were many people gifted with more money than brains--the reverse
was true in his case, and he amused himself by endeavoring to bring
about a more evenly balanced condition of affairs, to his pecuniary
advantage, of course.
Cleo could even find something to admire about his bold piratical way
of living by his wits--at least he had more of the man about him than
most of the petted darlings of society on both sides of the Atlantic
who fawned upon her in a sickly sentimental way from precisely the same
sinister motives that influenced Wellington's bold attacks.
Let these parvenu mammas with daughters to sell pay the penalty for
their sin.
As the day wore on and she saw nothing of Roderic she began to feel a
little worried.
Could harm have befallen him?
She knew the unscrupulous character of those elements which he usually
pitted his powers against.
Perhaps Wellington, that suave deluder, not one whit discouraged by his
first failure, had promptly opened his secondary batteries.
Still, it seemed almost ridiculous to believe harm could have befallen
a sensible man like Roderic in the open streets of Dublin while the sun
was shining.
Had it been Algiers, Constantinople, Pekin or some city of mysterious
India, the case would have appeared far more serious, for uncanny
things are liable to occur in such Oriental marts at any hour of the
day or night.
As evening drew on apace she found herself watching the doorway beyond
which lay the calm square known as St. Stephens' Green.
Her captain had come ashore for a comparison of ideas, and was still
with her, since Cleo desired him to meet her cousin.
They would see much of each other during the voyage, and she
particularly desired to bring about the meeting of two congenial souls.
Dinner passed.
Still no Roderic.
She confided her fears in part to the captain.
The worthy seadog was able to wrestle with any perplexing problem that
might assail them afloat, but when it came to mastering the wiles apt
to beset a man's path ashore he confessed his ignorance.
Nothing could be done--they must wait till a sign of some kind was
given.
That was the exasperating part, for Cleo was naturally a girl of
decided action.
An hour crept by since dinner--two of them, and it was now drawing near
ten o'clock.
No one entered the door but that Cleo's eyes were instantly upon them,
and disappointment had as yet been the only result.
She endeavored to be her own lively self but it required a great effort.
Roderic might be in danger, but somehow she was possessed of the
idea that it was more from a pair of midnight eyes than a murderous
stiletto, for Cleo could not forget the face she had seen, the lovely
original of her photograph, who was even now in Dublin.
Was her power of enchantment over Roderic still unbroken--could she
draw him to her even after an absence of two years--had the bar that
separated them been cast aside?
How these questions flashed before her eyes and seemed burned upon her
brain like coals of fire. She suffered intensely, but the bluff old sea
dog never knew it--indeed he believed her to be unusually brilliant,
her wit was so keen and her suggestions as to their coming voyage so
remarkably clever.
She dreaded the thought of having to retire in this state of
uncertainty.
The hour drew on--it neared eleven, and the ladies had wholly
disappeared.
Then Cleo suddenly gave a sigh of relief, for her eager eyes had
discovered his well known figure entering the front door of the hotel.
She noted instantly that he looked disturbed, and that his usually
natty appearance was lacking--and practical Cleo knew Roderic had been
through an adventure. Half rising as she beckoned to him, she awaited
his coming with breathless impatience.