"It would not be worth while. I am booked for Paris to-morrow night.
Ned--come with me!"
"I can"t, Flemming; I have agreed to go to Chamouni with the Denhams."
"Don"t!"
"That is like advising a famishing man not to eat his last morsel of food. I have a presentiment it will all end there. I never had a presentiment before."
"I had a presentiment once," said Flemming impressively. "I had a presentiment that a certain number--it was number twenty-seven--would draw the prize in a certain lottery. I went to the office, and number twenty-seven was one of the two numbers unsold! I bought it as quick as lightning, I dreamed of number twenty-seven three successive nights, and the next day it drew a blank."
"That has the ring of the old Flemming!" cried Lynde, with an unforced laugh. "I am glad that I have not succeeded in turning all your joyous gold into lead. I"m not always such dull company as I have been to-night, with my moods and my presentiments. I owe them partly, perhaps, to not seeing Miss Denham to-day, the aunt having a headache."
"You were not in a rollicking humor when I picked you up."
"I had been cruising about town all the morning alone, making a.s.saults on the Musee Fol, the Botanic Garden, and the Jewish Synagogue. In the afternoon I had wrecked myself on Rousseau"s Island, where I sat on a bench staring at Pradier"s poor statue of Jean Jacques until I fancied that the ugly bronze cannibal was making mouths at me. When the aunt has a headache, _I_ suffer. Flemming, you must see Miss Denham, if only for a moment."
"Of course I should like to see her, Ned."
"You do not leave until evening," Lynde said, reflecting. "I think I can manage a little dinner for to-morrow. Now let us take a breath of fresh air. I know the queerest old nook, in the Rue de Chantpoulet, where the Bavarian beer is excellent and all the company smoke the most enormous porcelain pipes. Haven"t I hit one of your weaknesses?"
"You have hit a brace!"
VII
THE DENHAMS
When Edward Lynde returned to the hotel that night, after parting with Flemming at the head of a crooked, gable-hung street leading to the Schweizerhof, the young man regretted that he had said anything on the subject of the Denhams, or rather, that he had spoken of the painful likeness which had haunted him so persistently. The friends had spent the gayest of evenings together at a small green-topped table in one corner of the smoky cafe. Over their beer and cheese they had chatted of old days at boarding-school and college, and this contact with the large, healthy nature of Flemming, which threw off depression as sunshine dissipates mist, had sent Lynde"s vapors flying. Nothing was changed in the circ.u.mstances that had distressed him, yet some way a load had removed itself from his bosom. He was sorry he had mentioned that dark business at all. As he threaded the deserted streets--it was long after midnight--he planned a dinner to be given in his rooms the next day, and formulated a note of invitation to the ladies, which he would write when he got back to the hotel, and have in readiness for early delivery in the morning.
Lynde was in one of those lightsome moods which, in that varying month, had not unfrequently followed a day of doubt and restless despondency.
As he turned into the Quai des Bergues he actually hummed a bar or two of opera. He had not done that before in six weeks. They had been weeks of inconceivable torment and pleasure to Lynde.
He had left home while still afflicted by David Lynde"s death. Since the uncle"s ill-advised marriage the intercourse between them, as the reader knows, had all but ceased; they had met only once, and then as if to bid each other farewell; but the ties had been very close, after all. In the weeks immediately following his guardian"s death, the young man, occupied with settling the estate, of which he was one of the executors, scarcely realized his loss; but when he returned to Rivermouth a heavy sense of loneliness came over him. The crowded, happy firesides to which he was free seemed to reproach him for his lack of kinship; he stood alone in the world; there was no more reason why he should stay in one place than in another. His connection with the bank, unnecessary now from a money point of view, grew irksome; the quietude of the town oppressed him; he determined to cut adrift from all and go abroad. An educated American with no deeper sorrow than Lynde"s cannot travel through Europe, for the first time at least, with indifference. Three months in Germany and France began in Lynde a cure which was completed by a winter in Southern Italy. He had regained his former elasticity of spirits and was taking life with a relish, when he went to Geneva; there he fell in with the Denhams in the manner he described to Flemming. An habitual shyness, and perhaps a doubt of Flemming"s sympathetic capacity, had prevented Lynde from giving his friend more than an outline of the situation. In his statement Lynde had omitted several matters which may properly be set down here.
That first day at the table d"hote and the next day, when he was able more deliberately to study the young woman, Edward Lynde had made no question to himself as to her being the same person he had seen in so different and so pathetic surroundings. It was unmistakably the same.
He had even had a vague apprehension she might recognize him, and had been greatly relieved to observe that there was no glimmer of recognition in the well-bred, careless glance which swept him once or twice. No, he had pa.s.sed out of her memory--with the other shapes and shadows! How strange they should meet again, thousands of miles from New England; how strange that he alone, of all the crowded city, should know there had been a dark episode in this girl"s history! What words she had spoken to him and forgotten, she who now sat there robed in the beauty of her reason!
It was a natural interest, and a deep interest, certainly, that impelled Lynde to seek the acquaintance of the two ladies. On the third day a chance service rendered the elder--she had left a glove or a handkerchief beside her plate at table, and Lynde had followed her with it from the dining-room--placed him upon speaking terms. They were his country-women, he was a gentleman, and the surface ice was easily broken. Three days afterwards Lynde found himself oddly doubting his first conviction. This was not that girl! The likeness was undeniable: the same purple-black hair, the same long eyelashes, a very distinctive feature. In voice and carriage, too, Miss Denham curiously recalled the other; and that mark on Miss Denham"s cheek--a birth-mark--was singular enough. But there the a.n.a.logies ended. Miss Denham was a young woman who obviously had seen much of the world; she possessed accomplishments which could have been acquired only by uninterrupted application; she spoke French, German, and Italian with unusual purity. That intellect, as strong and clear as crystal, could never have suffered even a temporary blur. He was beginning to be amazed at the blunder he had committed, when suddenly, one evening, a peculiar note in her voice, accompanied by a certain lifting of the eyelashes--a movement he had noticed for the first time, but which was familiar to him--threw Lynde into great perplexity. It WAS that other girl! How useless for him to try to blind himself to the truth! Besides, why should he wish to, and why should the fact of the ident.i.ty trouble him to such a degree? The next day he was staggered by Miss Denham alluding incidentally to the circ.u.mstance that she and her aunt had pa.s.sed a part of the spring of 1872 in Florida. That was the date of Lynde"s adventure, the spring of 1872. Here was almost positive proof that Miss Denham could not have been in New England at the time. Lynde did not know what to think. Of course he was mistaken; he must be mistaken--and yet! There were moments when he could not look at Miss Denham without half expecting to see the man Blaisdell flitting somewhere in the background. Then there were days when it was impossible for Lynde to picture her as anything different from what she now was. But whatever conclusion he came to, a doubt directly insinuated itself.
While he was drifting from one uncertainty to another, a fortnight elapsed in which his intimacy with the Denhams had daily increased.
They were in Geneva for an indefinite time, awaiting directions from Mr. Denham. The few sights in the city had been exhausted; the places of interest in the environs could not be visited by ladies without escort; so it fell out that Lynde accompanied the Denhams on several short excursions--to Pet.i.t and Grand Sacconnex, to the Villa Tronchin, to Pregny and Mornex. These were days which Lynde marked with a red letter. At the end of the month, however, he was in the same state of distressing indecision relative to Miss Denham. On one point he required no light--he was deeply interested in her, so deeply, indeed, that it had become a question affecting all his future, whether or not she was the person he had encountered on his horseback journey three years before. If she was--
But Edward Lynde had put the question out of his thought that night as he walked home from the cafe. His two bars of opera music lasted him to the hotel steps. Though it was late--a great bell somewhere, striking two, sent its rich reverberation across the lake while he was unlocking his chamber door--Lynde seated himself at a table and wrote his note to the Denhams.
Flemming had promised to come and take coffee with him early the next morning, that is to say at nine o"clock. Before Flemming arrived, Lynde"s invitation had been despatched and accepted. He was re-reading Miss Denham"s few lines of acceptance when he heard his friend, at the other end of the hall, approaching with great strides.
"The thousandth part of a minute late!" cried Flemming, throwing open the door. "There"s no excuse for me. When a man lives in a city where they manufacture a hundred thousand watches a year--that"s one watch and a quarter every five minutes day and night--it"s a moral duty to be punctual. Ned, you look like a prize pink this morning."
"I have had such a sleep! Besides, I"ve just gone through the excitement of laying out the menu for our dinner. Good heavens, I forgot the flowers! We"ll go and get them after breakfast. There"s your coffee. Cream, old man? I am in a tremor over this dinner, you know. It is a maiden effort. By the way, Flemming, I wish you"d forget what I said about Miss Denham, last evening. I was all wrong."
"I told you so; what has happened?"
"Nothing. Only I have reconsidered the matter, and I see I was wrong to let it upset me."
"I saw that from the first."
"Some persons," said Lynde gayly, "always see everything from the first. You belong to the I-told-you-so family, only you belong to the cheerful branch."
"Thank the Lord for that! A wide-spreading, hopeful disposition is your only true umbrella in this vale of tears."
"I shall have to borrow yours, then, if it rains heavily, for I"ve none of my own."
"Take it, my boy; my name"s on the handle!"
On finishing their coffee the young men lighted cigars and sallied forth for a stroll along the bank of the river, which they followed to the confluence of the Rhone with the Arve, stopping on the way to leave an order at a florist"s. Returning to the hotel some time after mid-day, they found the flowers awaiting them in Lynde"s parlor, where a servant was already laying the cloth. There were bouquets for the ladies" plates, an imposing centre-piece in the shape of a pyramid, and a profusion of loose flowers.
"What shall we do with these?" asked Lynde, pointing to the latter.
"Set "em around somewhere," said Flemming, with cheerful vagueness.
Lynde disposed the flowers around the room to the best of his judgment; he hung some among the gla.s.s pendants of the chandelier, gave a nosegay to each of the two gilt statuettes in the corners, and piled the remainder about the base of a monumental clock on the mantelpiece.
"That"s rather a pretty idea, isn"t it?--wreathing Time in flowers,"
remarked Flemming, with honest envy of his friend"s profounder depth of poetic sentiment.
"I thought it rather neat," said Lynde, who had not thought of it at all.
In the course of that dinner if two or three unexplained demure smiles flitted over Miss Denham"s face, they might, perhaps, have been indirectly traced to these floral decorations, though they pleased her more than if a woman"s hand had been visible in them.
"Flemming," said Lynde, with a severe aesthetic air, "I don"t think that arrangement in the fireplace is quite up to the rest of the room."
"Nor I either," said Flemming, who had been silently admiring it for the last ten minutes.
The fireplace in question was stuffed with a quant.i.ty of long, delicately spiral shavings, sprinkled with silver spangles or flakes of isingla.s.s, and covered by a piece of pale blue illusion. This device--peculiarly Genevese--was supposed to represent a waterfall.
"Take a match and touch it off," suggested Flemming.
"If we had some more flowers, now"--"Exactly. I am going to the hotel to get myself up like a head-waiter, and I"ll bring some when I come back."
In an hour afterwards Flemming reappeared, followed by a youth bearing an immense basket. Lynde removed the Alpine waterfall to an adjoining chamber, and built up a huge fire of flame-colored flowers in the grate. The two friends were standing in the middle of the room, gravely contemplating the effect, when a servant opened the door and announced Mrs. and Miss Denham. A rustle of drapery at the threshold was followed by the entrance of the two ladies in ceremonious dinner toilets.
Lynde had never seen Miss Denham in any but a dark travelling-dress, or in such un.o.btrusive costume as a modest girl may wear at a hotel table.
He stood motionless an instant, seeing her in a trailing robe of some fleecy, maize-colored material, with a cl.u.s.ter of moss-roses at her corsage and a cross of diamonds at her throat. She was without other ornament. The shade of her dress made her hair and eyes and complexion wonderful. Lynde was proud to have her look like that for Flemming, though he was himself affected by a queer impression that this queenly young person was not the simple, lovely girl he had known all along. He was embarra.s.sed by her unexpected elegance, but he covered his embarra.s.sment and his pleasure by presenting his friend to the ladies, and ordering the servant to serve the dinner immediately.
Lynde"s constraint was only momentary, and the others had experienced none. Flemming, indeed, had a fleeting surprise at finding in the aunt a woman of thirty-five or thirty-eight, in the Indian summer of her beauty. Lynde had given him the idea of an elderly person with spectacles. As to Miss Denham, she had not fallen short of the mental picture Flemming had drawn of her--which ought to have surprised him.