"Dear old d.i.c.k!" and she dropped the letter into a drawer and went out into the sunshine, mounted her horse and turned toward the hills.
She had spent the intermediate seasons of the year at Storm Springs ever since she could remember, and had climbed the surrounding hills and dipped into the valleys with a boy"s zest and freedom. The Virginia mountains were linked in her mind to the dreams of her youth, to her earliest hopes and aspirations, and to the books she had read, and she galloped happily out of the valley to the tune of an old ballad. She rode as a woman should, astride her horse and not madly clinging to it in the preposterous ancient fashion. She had known horses from early years, in which she had tumbled from her pony"s back in the stable-yard, and she knew how to train a horse to a gait and how to master a beast"s fear; and even some of the tricks of the troopers in the Fort Myer drill she had surrept.i.tiously practised in the meadow back of the Claiborne stable.
It was on Tuesday that John Armitage had appeared before her in the pergola. It was now Thursday afternoon, and Chauvenet had been to see her twice since, and she had met him the night before at a dance at one of the cottages.
Judge Claiborne was distinguished for his acute and sinewy mind; but he had, too, a strong feeling for art in all its expressions, and it was his gift of imagination,--the ability to forecast the enemy"s strategy and then strike his weakest point,--that had made him a great lawyer and diplomat. Shirley had played chess with her father until she had learned to see around corners as he did, and she liked a problem, a test of wit, a contest of powers. She knew how to wait and ponder in silence, and therein lay the joy of the saddle, when she could ride alone with no groom to bother her, and watch enchantments unfold on the hilltops.
Once free of the settlement she rode far and fast, until she was quite beyond the usual routes of the Springs excursionists; then in mountain byways she enjoyed the luxury of leisure and dismounted now and then to delight in the green of the laurel and question the rhododendrons.
Jules Chauvenet had scoured the hills all day and explored many mountain paths and inquired cautiously of the natives. The telegraph operator at the Storm Springs inn was a woman, and the despatch and receipt by Jules Chauvenet of long messages, many of them in cipher, piqued her curiosity. No member of the Washington diplomatic circle who came to the Springs,--not even the shrewd and secretive Russian Amba.s.sador,--received longer or more cryptic cables. With the social diversions of the Springs and the necessity for making a show of having some legitimate business in America, Jules Chauvenet was pretty well occupied; and now the presence of John Armitage in Virginia added to his burdens.
He was tired and perplexed, and it was with unaffected pleasure that he rode out of an obscure hill-path into a bit of open wood overhanging a curious defile and came upon Shirley Claiborne.
The soil was soft and his horse carried him quite near before she heard him. A broad sheet of water flashed down the farther side of the narrow pa.s.s, sending up a pretty spurt of spray wherever it struck the jutting rock. As Shirley turned toward him he urged his horse over the springy turf.
"A pity to disturb the picture, Miss Claiborne! A thousand pardons! But I really wished to see whether the figure could come out of the canvas. Now that I have dared to make the test, pray do not send me away."
Her horse turned restlessly and brought her face to face with Chauvenet.
"Steady, f.a.n.n.y! Don"t come near her, please--" this last to Chauvenet, who had leaped down and put out his hand to her horse"s bridle. She had the true horsewoman"s pride in caring for herself and her eyes flashed angrily for a moment at Chauvenet"s proffered aid. A man might open a door for her or pick up her handkerchief, but to touch her horse was an altogether different business. The pretty, graceful mare was calm in a moment and arched her neck contentedly under the stroke of Shirley"s hand.
"Beautiful! The picture is even more perfect, Mademoiselle!"
"f.a.n.n.y is best in action, and splendid when she runs away. She hasn"t run away to-day, but I think she is likely to before I get home."
She was thinking of the long ride which she had no intention of taking in Chauvenet"s company. He stood uncovered beside her, holding his horse.
"But the danger, Mademoiselle! You should not hazard your life with a runaway horse on these roads. It is not fair to your friends."
"You are a conservative, Monsieur. I should be ashamed to have a runaway in a city park, but what does one come to the country for?"
"What, indeed, but for excitement? You are not of those tame young women across the sea who come out into the world from a convent, frightened at all they see and whisper "Yes, Sister," "No, Sister," to everything they hear."
"Yes; we Americans are deficient in shyness and humility. I have often heard it remarked, Monsieur Chauvenet."
"No! No! You misunderstand! Those deficiencies, as you term them, are delightful; they are what give the charm to the American woman. I hope you would not believe me capable of speaking in disparagement, Mademoiselle,--you must know--"
The water tumbled down the rock into the vale; the soft air was sweet with the scent of pines. An eagle cruised high against the blue overhead.
Shirley"s hand tightened on the rein, and f.a.n.n.y lifted her head expectantly.
Chauvenet went on rapidly in French:
"You must know why I am here--why I have crossed the sea to seek you in your own home. I have loved you, Mademoiselle, from the moment I first saw you in Florence. Here, with only the mountains, the sky, the wood, I must speak. You must hear--you must believe, that I love you! I offer you my life, my poor attainments--"
"Monsieur, you do me a great honor, but I can not listen. What you ask is impossible, quite impossible. But, Monsieur--"
Her eyes had fallen upon a thicket behind him where something had stirred. She thought at first that it was an animal of some sort; but she saw now quite distinctly a man"s shabby felt hat that rose slowly until the bearded face of its wearer was disclosed.
"Monsieur!" cried Shirley in a low tone; "look behind you and be careful what you say or do. Leave the man to me."
Chauvenet turned and faced a scowling mountaineer who held a rifle and drew it to his shoulder as Chauvenet threw out his arms, dropped them to his thighs and laughed carelessly.
"What is it, my dear fellow--my watch--my purse--my horse?" he said in English.
"He wants none of those things," said Shirley, urging her horse a few steps toward the man. "The mountain people are not robbers. What can we do for you?" she asked pleasantly.
"You cain"t do nothin" for me," drawled the man. "Go on away, Miss. I want to see this little fella". I got a little business with him."
"He is a foreigner--he knows little of our language. You will do best to let me stay," said Shirley.
She had not the remotest idea of what the man wanted, but she had known the mountain folk from childhood and well understood that familiarity with their ways and tact were necessary in dealing with them.
"Miss, I have seen you befo", and I reckon we ain"t got no cause for trouble with you; but this little fella" ain"t no business up hy"eh. Them hotel people has their own places to ride and drive, and it"s all right for you, Miss; but what"s yo" frien" ridin" the hills for at night? He"s lookin" for some un", and I reckon as how that some un" air me!"
He spoke drawlingly with a lazy good humor in his tones, and Shirley"s wits took advantage of his deliberation to consider the situation from several points of view. Chauvenet stood looking from Shirley to the man and back again. He was by no means a coward, and he did not in the least relish the thought of owing his safety to a woman. But the confidence with which Shirley addressed the man, and her apparent familiarity with the peculiarities of the mountaineers impressed him. He spoke to her rapidly in French.
"a.s.sure the man that I never heard of him before in my life--that the idea of seeking him never occurred to me."
The rifle--a repeater of the newest type--went to the man"s shoulder in a flash and the blue barrel pointed at Chauvenet"s head.
"None o" that! I reckon the American language air good enough for these "ere negotiations."
Chauvenet shrugged his shoulders; but he gazed into the muzzle of the rifle unflinchingly.
"The gentleman was merely explaining that you are mistaken; that he does not know you and never heard of you before, and that he has not been looking for you in the mountains or anywhere else."
As Shirley spoke these words very slowly and distinctly she questioned for the first time Chauvenet"s position. Perhaps, after all, the mountaineer had a real cause of grievance. It seemed wholly unlikely, but while she listened to the man"s reply she weighed the matter judicially.
They were in an unfrequented part of the mountains, which cottagers and hotel guests rarely explored. The mountaineer was saying:
"Mountain folks air slow, and we don"t know much, but a stranger don"t ride through these hills more than once for the scenery; the second time he"s got to tell why; and the third time--well, Miss, you kin tell the little fella" that there ain"t no third time."
Chauvenet flushed and he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed hotly:
"I have never been here before in my life."
The man dropped the rifle into his arm without taking his eyes from Chauvenet. He said succinctly, but still with his drawl:
"You air a liar, seh!"
Chauvenet took a step forward, looked again into the rifle barrel, and stopped short. f.a.n.n.y, bored by the prolonged interview, bent her neck and nibbled at a weed.
"This gentleman has been in America only a few weeks; you are certainly mistaken, friend," said Shirley boldly. Then the color flashed into her face, as an explanation of the mountaineer"s interest in a stranger riding the hills occurred to her.
"My friend," she said, "I am Miss Claiborne. You may know my father"s house down in the valley. We have been coming here as far back as I can remember."
The mountaineer listened to her gravely, and at her last words he unconsciously nodded his head. Shirley, seeing that he was interested, seized her advantage.