Part 47 (1/2)

”She nodded her head, without turning her eyes from the sea. 'Is it important, papa?'

”'I should say so. The cas.h.i.+er of the local trust has compromised an astral body, and has squandered on her all our funds, including a lot of first mortgages on Nirvana. I suppose he's been dabbling in futures and is short in his accounts. I sha'n't be gone long.'

”'Then, good-night, papa,' she said, kissing him; 'try to be back by eleven.' I sat stupidly staring at them.

”'Oh, it's only to Bombay--I sha'n't go to Thibet to-night--good-night, my dear,' said the professor.

”Then a singular thing occurred. The professor had at last succeeded in disentangling his coat-tails, and now, jamming his hat over his ears, and waving his arms with a batlike motion, he climbed upon the seat of his chair and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the word 'Presto!' Then I found my voice.

”'Stop him!' I cried, in terror.

”'Presto! Presto!' shouted the professor, balancing himself on the edge of his chair and waving his arms majestically, as if preparing for a sudden flight across the Scheldt; and, firmly convinced that he not only meditated it, but was perfectly capable of attempting it, I covered my eyes with my hands.

”'Are you ill, Mr. Kensett?' asked the girl, quietly.

”I raised my head indignantly. 'Not at all, Miss Wyeth, only I'll bid you good-evening, for this is the nineteenth century, and I'm a Christian.'

”'So am I,' she said. 'So is my father.'

”'The devil he is,' I thought.

”Her next words made me jump.

”'Please do not be profane, Mr. Kensett.'

”How did she know I was profane? I had not spoken a word! Could it be possible she was able to read my thoughts? This was too much, and I rose.

”'I have the honor to bid you good-evening,' I began, and reluctantly turned to include the professor, expecting to see that gentleman balancing himself on his chair. The professor's chair was empty.

”'Oh,' said the girl, smiling, 'my father has gone.'

”'Gone! Where?'

”'To--to India, I believe.'

”I sank helplessly into my own chair.

”'I do not think he will stay very long--he promised to return by eleven,' she said, timidly.

”I tried to realize the purport of it all. 'Gone to India? Gone! How?

On a broomstick? Good Heavens,' I murmured, 'am I insane?'

”'Perfectly,' she said, 'and I am tired; you may take me back to the hotel.'

”I scarcely heard her; I was feebly attempting to gather up my numbed wits. Slowly I began to comprehend the situation, to review the startling and humiliating events of the day. At noon, in the court of the Hotel St. Antoine, I had been annoyed by a man and a cat. I had retired to my own room and had slept until dinner. In the evening I met two tourists on the sea-wall promenade. I had been beguiled into conversation--yes, into intimacy with these two tourists! I had had the intention of embracing the faith of Pythagoras! Then I had mewed like a cat with all the strength of my lungs. Now the male tourist vanishes--and leaves me in charge of the female tourist, alone and at night in a strange city! And now the female tourist proposes that I take her home!

”With a remnant of self-possession I groped for my eye-gla.s.s, seized it, screwed it firmly into my eye, and looked long and earnestly at the girl. As I looked, my eyes softened, my monacle dropped, and I forgot everything in the beauty and purity of the face before me. My heart began to beat against my stiff, white waistcoat. Had I dared--yes, dared to think of this wondrous little beauty as a female tourist? Her pale, sweet face, turned towards the sea, seemed to cast a spell upon the night. How loud my heart was beating! The yellow moon floated, half dipping in the sea, flooding land and water with enchanted lights. Wind and wave seemed to feel the spell of her eyes, for the breeze died away, the heaving Scheldt tossed noiselessly, and the dark Dutch luggers swung idly on the tide with every sail adroop.