A STRANGE ENCOUNTER.
Several days went by, and Geoffrey heard nothing more either of or from
the sophomores who had attempted to haze him.
Neither did he happen to meet any of them on his way to or from his
recitations, and he hoped that the occurrence would gradually be
forgotten and occasion no more trouble.
He did not mention it to any one, and he bore none of the actors any
ill-will, for he well knew that hazing had been an established custom in
many colleges, and that every freshman was liable to be subjected to the
ordeal.
But the affair was destined to be more serious, eventually, than he
imagined an occurrence of that kind could ever become.
Young Mapleson realized, as soon as his passion began to cool somewhat,
that he should be obliged to relinquish all thoughts of retaliation for
a season, for none of his comrades would bear him out in any plan for
revenge; but he vowed in his heart that there should yet come a day of
reckoning between himself and Huntress for the indignity to which he had
been subjected before his companions.
He was furious with them for not having come to his release, and he
raved over the affair all the way back to his room after leaving
Geoffrey’s.
But they made light of it, and tried to pass the whole thing off as a
joke. This only enraged him the more, although he began to see the
wisdom of keeping still about it, since he could get no sympathy from
them.
There is no telling what rash act he might not have committed if he had
been allowed to go and come as usual while this fierce mood lasted. But
he had wrought himself into an excessive perspiration, and then going
out into the chill night air afterward, he had taken a violent cold, and
for three weeks he was confined to his room with a threatened fever.
At the end of that time, although his anger had not abated one whit
toward Geoffrey, and he was no less determined to have his revenge, he
had come to see the wisdom of refraining from all rashness which might
rebound injuriously upon himself, and he resolved to conceal his purpose
in his own breast and watch his opportunity to strike his foe down at
some time in the future, when the blow would be felt with bitter force.
So, upon recovering his usual health, he resumed his studies and his
intercourse with his fellow-students as if nothing had occurred to
ruffle him, and those who had participated in the hazing of Geoffrey
Huntress imagined that the unpleasant affair had blown safely over and
become a thing of the past.
Thus the fall and winter passed.
Meantime Gladys was winning golden opinions for herself at Vassar.
Study was a perfect delight to her, consequently excellence in every
department was but a natural result.
The name of Gladys Huntress became the synonym for all that was learned
and brilliant in her class, and there was not one who did not predict
that the first honor should be conferred upon her at the end of the
course.
No one appeared to be jealous of her, either, on account of it, for she
was a general favorite with both teachers and scholars, always having a
pleasant word and a kind smile for everybody.
During the recess, which occurred between the winter and spring terms of
her second year at Vassar, she was in New York city for a few days with
her chosen friend and roommate, Addie Loring.
There was considerable shopping to be done to prepare for the warm
weather, dress-making to attend to, besides a gay round of social
duties, and the two girls were all the time in a delightful flutter of
business and pleasure.
One morning, after a long siege of shopping, feeling both weary and
hungry, they entered an up-town cafe to obtain a lunch and rest a little
before going home.
At the cashier’s desk near the door, as they stepped inside, there stood
a tall, handsome young man in the act of paying for his dinner.
Gladys caught sight of him in an instant, and she started and flushed a
vivid crimson.
Then a smile of joy illumined her whole face as she sprang forward, and,
laying her hand lightly on the young man’s arm, exclaimed in delighted
tones:
“Why, Geoffrey, where did you drop from? I imagined you a solitary
recluse at Yale, and hard at work over Latin and Greek, ‘to gain time’
as you wrote in your last letter.”
The young man turned quickly as the sweet, lady-like voice fell upon his
ear, his whole body thrilling at that light touch upon his arm, and
found himself face to face with the most beautiful girl he had ever
seen.
A tall, slender, perfect form, clad in a bewitching suit of modest gray,
stood before him. Her small head was proudly poised on a pair of
graceful shoulders, and crowned with a jaunty turban of gray velvet in
which there gleamed a scarlet feather. The face was delicate in outline,
with lovely features and a complexion of pure white and rose. Her eyes
of dark blue were lighted with surprise and gladness, her lips wreathed
with a tender smile of welcome which parted them just enough to reveal
the small, milk-white teeth between.
A look of admiration shot into the young man’s eyes, and then they began
to gleam with amusement.
He raised his hat with all the gallantry of which he was master, and
bowed low, as he replied:
“You have made a slight mistake, lady. I do not answer to the name by
which you have addressed me, although I might be tempted to do so,
perhaps, if I could thereby secure the pleasure of your acquaintance.
Allow me,” he concluded, drawing a card from his pocket-book, and
respectfully presenting it to her.
At the first sound of his voice Gladys was conscious that she had made a
dreadful blunder, and she was instantly covered with confusion.
She knew at once that this man could not be Geoffrey, and yet who was
he? So like him in face and form, with his very eyes and hair, and that
familiar way of throwing up his head when suddenly addressed!
“Everet Mapleson, Richmond, Virginia,” she read upon the card that he
had given her, and instantly the startled thought shot through her mind:
“Can it be possible that he and Geoffrey are related?”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Mapleson,” she said, recovering herself
somewhat, while she searched his face for something by which she could
distinguish him from Geoffrey. “I perceive that I have made a mistake,
but you so strangely resemble my—Mr. Geoffrey Huntress that I mistook
you for him.”
She had been about to say “my brother,” but suddenly checked herself,
for, since Geoffrey had shown so much of his heart to her and she had
begun to analyze her own feelings toward him, she had been very shy
about calling him brother.
“Ah! Mr. Geoffrey Huntress,” repeated Everet Mapleson, with a quick
flash from his eyes, while his keen mind at once made a shrewd guess,
and argued therefrom that this beautiful girl must be either the sister
or the cousin of his enemy. “I have met that gentleman, for I also am a
student at Yale,” he continued, “and—pardon my boldness—I presume I now
have the pleasure of meeting his sister, Miss Huntress.”
“No, I am not his sister, Mr. Mapleson,” Gladys replied, her color
coming and going in soft, little sunrise flushes, “but we are members of
the same family, and I am Miss Huntress.”
“Ah, yes—excuse me—you are cousins, I presume. Huntress once told me
that he was reared by an uncle. I am sorry, upon my word,” he went on,
with an appealing look, “if our singular resemblance has caused you any
annoyance to-day; pray think no more of it since it was a very natural
mistake. We are often addressed by each other’s name—indeed, we are
known at Yale as ‘the mysterious double.’”
All the time the young man was speaking he was closely observing the
young girl.
He had noticed her fluctuating color when she spoke of Geoffrey; he
remarked the tender inflection of her voice as she uttered his name, and
how eager she had been to correct his mistake in supposing them to be
brother and sister.
“They are cousins—perhaps not first cousins, either, and the girl loves
him,” he said to himself. “Of course he returns her affection—no fellow
in his senses could help it. I wonder how it would work if I should try
my own luck in this direction. I have never paid off that old grudge
against him, and this would be a fine way to settle it.”
But Gladys, all unconscious of this secret plotting against her own and
Geoffrey’s happiness, looked up with a merry smile at his words to her,
and remarked:
“The resemblance is surely very striking, although your voices are
unlike. I knew the moment you spoke that I had made a mistake, and my
apparent rudeness must have been quite startling to you,” she concluded,
coloring again as she remembered how eagerly she had approached him and
laid her hand upon his arm.
“No, indeed; you are very hard upon yourself, Miss Huntress. Believe me
I shall consider the incident a most fortunate circumstance if I may be
allowed to consider it as a formal introduction to you, and thus secure
the pleasure of your acquaintance.”
He was so gentlemanly and affable, so refined in his language and
manner, that Gladys thought him very agreeable, and, since he claimed to
know Geoffrey, she thought there could be no possible harm in receiving
him as an acquaintance.
Still she was not quite sure that it would be proper, and this made her
a little guarded in her reply.
“I am always glad to meet any of Geoffrey’s friends,” she said, with one
of her charming smiles; but if she could have known how he cringed under
her words, and what venomous hatred was rankling in his heart against
him who was her ideal of all manly excellence, she would have fled from
him in dismay.
But nothing of this nor of the miserable plot which was rapidly taking
form in his mind appeared on the surface, while before he could frame a
suitable reply Gladys turned quickly and drew Addie Loring to her side,
saying:
“Allow me to introduce my friend—Miss Loring, Mr. Mapleson.”
He lifted his hat in acknowledgment of the presentation while he was
still inwardly chafing over that last guarded speech of hers.
“She wouldn’t look at me if she knew the truth,” he thought, “and that
clever cousin will be letting it all out when he learns that we have
met. Never mind. I’ll make hay while the sun shines, and do my best to
ingratiate myself with her before he finds it out; she’s dusedly pretty
and it would suit me finely if I could cut him out.”
He detained the young ladies for a few moments longer—for he had the
power of making himself very agreeable when he chose—then Addie Loring
pulled forth a little gem of a watch and remarked, with a look of
surprise:
“Gladys, dear, we promised mamma to be at home by four, and it is nearly
three now, while we have flowers yet to get for Mrs. Brevort’s
reception.”
Everet Mapleson’s heart gave a great bound at these last words, for the
friends at whose house he was visiting also had cards for Mrs. Brevort’s
reception, and he mentally resolved that he would grace that lady’s
elegant drawing-room with his presence that evening, although he and Al
Vanderwater had previously planned for something entirely different.
He took pretty Miss Loring’s hint, however, begged pardon for having
detained them so long, then made his adieus and passed out of the cafe,
while the young girls moved forward to an empty table, where they
chatted over the strange encounter as they ate their cream and cake.