"THIS PRINCE KARL--THIS RALPH CHAINEY--IS MY RESCUER AT NEWPORT LAST
SUMMER," WHISPERED THE ROMANTIC GIRL.
This is the way of it, wide world over,
One is beloved, and one is the lover,
One gives and the other receives.
E. W. W.
The first act had indeed begun when Mrs. Carew with her two daughters
entered their box at the theater; but absorbing as was the interest
in the popular play, "Prince Karl," many heads were turned to gaze
admiringly at the trio of fair ones, for the matron, although fifty
years old, looked much younger, and her stately charms were set off to
advantage by black velvet and jet, with ruby ornaments on her neck and
arms. Her silvery-white hair was arranged very becomingly, and Alpine
felt quite proud of her mother's _distingué_ appearance.
Alpine Belmont herself was a milk-white blonde, a trifle below
the medium height, and with a rather too decided inclination to
_embonpoint_. But the plumpness and dimples were rather fascinating,
now in the heyday of youth--she was barely twenty--and with passable
features, pale straw-gold hair, and forget-me-not blue eyes, Alpine
passed as a belle and beauty.
But Kathleen Carew--Kathleen, with her slender, perfect figure just
above medium height, and her vivid face as fresh as a flower, with
her great, starry, passionate, Oriental eyes, veiled by thick curling
lashes black as starless midnight, in such strong contrast to the
rich bronze-gold of the rippling hair that crowned her queenly little
head--Kathleen Carew was truly
"The Rose that all were praising."
"The house is crowded," Mrs. Carew observed in a gratified tone, as
she swept the brilliant horse-shoe with her lorgnette.
"Oh, of course. They say Ralph Chainey is a splendid actor," returned
Alpine, as she threw back her blue-and-white cloak to give the crowd
the benefit of her plump white arms and shoulders.
"Does Ralph Chainey play Prince Karl?" inquired Kathleen, with languid
interest; and, forgetting to listen for the answer, turned her
attention to the stage where the actors were strutting their brief day.
The play went on, and Kathleen, rousing with a start out of her languid
mood, watched it with eager eyes.
Everybody knows the clever, fascinating play "Prince Karl." Mansfield
has made it immortal in his rôle of the courier.
This new actor, whose name had brought out the fashionable world
of cultured Boston, was no whit behind Mansfield in his clever
impersonations. He was young, and had flashed upon the dramatic world
two years before with the brightness of a star. Time was adding fresh
laurels to his name, and Boston, critical as it was, did not hesitate
to add its plaudits, for, be it known, Ralph Washburn Chainey was a
Bostonian "to the manor born."
"Oh, it is splendid! And is he not perfectly magnificent?" exclaimed
Alpine Belmont, turning eagerly to Kathleen, as the curtain fell upon
the first act.
Then she started with surprise, for Kathleen was leaning back in her
chair, breathing heavily, her face very pale, her eyes half veiled by
the drooping lids.
"Kathleen, what is the matter? Are you going to sleep, or are you ill,
or--_what_?" she demanded, in a high whisper.
Kathleen caught Alpine's hand and drew it against her side.
"Oh, Alpine, feel my heart how it beats!" she whispered. "I have had
such a shock! Did you not recognize him, too?"
"I don't know what you are talking about, Kathleen."
"Don't you? Oh, Alpine, I have found _him_ out at last--my hero!"
whispered the romantic girl.
"Kathleen, you're dreaming!"
"I'm not. I knew him in a minute, and he recognized me, too. I saw it
in his glance when his eyes met mine. He started, then I smiled--I
could not help it, I was so glad."
Mrs. Carew had been listening to catch the whispered conversation. A
heavy frown darkened her face. She leaned forward and muttered, harshly:
"Kathleen, you must be crazy!"
The girl shrugged her shoulders contemptuously, and took no other
notice of the speech.
But Alpine's curiosity was awakened, and she whispered, eagerly:
"Where is he, then? Point him out to me."
"I can not. He has gone off. Wait till he returns," answered Kathleen,
sitting up straight in her chair again. The color was coming back into
her face again, her eyes flashed radiantly. Mrs. Carew regarded her
with suppressed displeasure.
Some gentlemen acquaintances came into the box, and the subject of
Kathleen's discovery was dropped. They chatted gayly until the time for
the curtain to rise, then returned to their seats.
The curtain rose upon the second act of the play, and Alpine was so
interested that she leaned eagerly forward, quite forgetting, in
her keen admiration of Prince Karl, her step-sister's interesting
disclosure just now.
But suddenly Kathleen's taper fingers closed in a gentle pinch upon her
plump arm.
"Look--now--don't you recognize him?" she murmured, triumphantly.
"Who? Where? Oh, for goodness' sake, Kathleen, don't bother me now! I
don't want to lose a word of glorious Prince Karl!"
"But, Alpine, it is _he_, Prince Karl--my hero!"
"Good heavens, Kathleen! do you really mean it?"
"Yes, I do, Alpine. This Prince Karl--this Ralph Chainey--is my rescuer
at Newport last summer. Watch him, Alpine, and perhaps you will catch
him looking at us a little consciously, as I did just now."
"I see the likeness _now_!" answered Alpine, in a tone of suppressed
dismay, whose import Kathleen could not understand. She said no more
to her step-sister, but sat through the remainder of the play in a
blissful dream.
The beautiful young heiress was intensely romantic, and for long months
her fancy had been haunted by the image of the handsome young man who
had saved her life. To find him again in the handsome young actor whose
name was on every lip thrilled her with delight. He had recognized
her, too, and the memory of his startled glance, so quickly withdrawn,
thrilled her with keen delight, although he did not permit her to meet
his eyes again.
Kathleen felt a little triumph, too, over Alpine, who had declared that
her hero was doubtless a mere nobody--perhaps a clerk in a country
store, than which position Alpine's contemptuous ideas could not
descend lower.
Alpine was watching him now with such eager interest that Kathleen
smiled and thought:
"I believe Alpine has fallen in love with him, herself. But she need
not; he is mine, mine, mine!"
She was claiming him already in her thoughts, forgetting that she had
never even spoken to the handsome stranger to whom she owed such a debt
of gratitude. It seemed to her that she was as dear to him as he was
to her, and she almost expected to see him waiting to hand her to her
carriage when they left the theater.
But no; the faint, fluttering hope was soon extinguished. Other
admirers were waiting obsequiously, eager for the honor of touching the
small gloved hand of the beautiful belle, but when the curtain dropped
on Prince Karl bowing to the applauding audience, Kathleen saw him no
more that night.
When Mrs. Carew dismissed her maid that night she sent an imperative
summons to her step-daughter to come to her room, and received in
return a polite request to be excused. Kathleen was tired, and meant to
retire immediately.