Part 45 (1/2)

”Your daughter is coming?” asked David. The note of eagerness and relief in his voice caused the other's eyes to narrow suddenly.

”You've met her, I believe,” he said, studying David's face.

”Once,--at the Springs.”

”She's coming rather unexpectedly to make me an extended visit. I should deem it quite an honor, David, if you would give us the pleasure of your company some evening for dinner--”

”My stay here is to be very brief, Colonel Grand, and my time is entirely taken up,” said David coldly.

”I'm sorry,” said the Colonel, shrugging his shoulders in self-commiseration.

It was on the tip of David's tongue to ask him if he knew of Thomas Braddock's presence in town, but timely reflection convinced him that it would be unwise. The Colonel, in his alarm, might set about to have Braddock hunted down and confined without delay; and there was no telling what crime he would lay at Braddock's door in order to secure long imprisonment.

”I met your wife, also, at the Springs,” said David, coolly subst.i.tuting the thrust.

The Colonel frowned slightly. ”You are doubtless aware that my wife and I are no longer living together,” he said, his lips straightening.

”I have heard something to that effect,” said David easily,--so easily that the other could not mistake the insolence of the remark.

Grand flushed. ”I am happy to say, young man, that my train is pulling in. I must therefore deny myself the pleasure of conversing with you any longer. Good-day, sir.”

He did not bow as he turned away. A moment later he was threading his way through the crowd. David sauntered over to his first place of waiting, a smile on his lips. He was immensely relieved now, and not a little ashamed of a certain unworthy suspicion.

He fixed his eager gaze on the throng of people that came up from the train, pouring into the big waiting-room. First, he saw Roberta Grand as she came rus.h.i.+ng up to her father. He was struck by the swift change that came over the Colonel's face, who stared in amazement over the girl's shoulder, even as he embraced her. David allowed his gaze to return to the oncoming crowd.

Mary Braddock approached, apparently unconscious of the presence of either of her old a.s.sociates. She walked beside a decrepit old gentleman whom David at once surmised to be Albert Portman. A maid and a male attendant followed close behind. Christine was not in sight.

Mrs. Braddock saw Grand when not more than half a dozen paces separated them. She almost stopped in her tracks. David detected the look of surprise and dismay in her face. She and Grand were staring hard at each other, but neither made the slightest pretense of anything more than visual recognition. She averted her gaze after a moment of uncertainty, and, with her head erect, pa.s.sed close by the Colonel and his daughter, both of whom were scrutinizing her with brazen interest.

She did not see David Jenison, although he might have touched her by moving two steps forward. Disconcerted by the rude, insolent stare that was leveled jointly by her old enemy and his daughter, a vivid flush mantled her cheek and brow.

Time had made few changes in her appearance. Her face was softer, gentler if possible; her carriage was as erect and as proud as ever.

She was modestly, un.o.btrusively attired, as David expected she would be.

After she had pa.s.sed, the young man turned his attention again to the crowd, his nerves jumping with eagerness. Christine was sure to be not far behind her mother.

He saw her at last, a laggard at the end of the hurrying procession.

She pa.s.sed close by him. He stood motionless, seeing no one else, thinking of no one but this slim, adorable girl who had no eyes for him. At her side strode a tall, good-looking fellow whose manner toward her could be mistaken for nothing short of simple adoration.

She was smiling brightly, even rapturously up into the eyes of this eager swain. In another instant they were lost in the crowd that rushed to the ferry, but David was never to forget that pa.s.sing glimpse of her--not to the day of his death.

She was all that his fondest dreams, all that his fairest prophecies, had promised--nay, she surpa.s.sed them!

The pure, girlish face--the one of the deep, earnest eyes and tender lips--had been toned and perfected and rechiseled by the magic hand of Time. She was taller by several inches; a lissome creature who moved with the sureness and grace of an almost exalted symmetry.

His dazzled, gleaming eyes followed her into the vortex below. A vast wave of exultation suddenly rushed over him. He had held her in his arms--he had kissed this beautiful, joyous creature--this product of enchantment! Now, more than ever, was he resolved to claim her for his own. It was as good as settled, in his enraptured mind! Nothing could keep her from him now. He had loved her, he had waited for her, and he would have her in spite of everything.

What could it matter to him that she was coveted by all the men who knew her? He rejoiced in the fact that they were at her feet. It was left for him to look down upon them in the end, and smile with all the arrogance of triumphant possession!

Even as he exulted, a dissolving element was flung upon the crystal in which he saw his own glorification. A harsh, discordant voice was speaking at his elbow. He turned. Ernie Cronk was standing beside him.

It required a moment of concentration on the part of the infatuated David to grasp the significance of a certain livid hue in Ernie's face.