Part 52 (1/2)

”And I have asked my little girl to come as well to-night to hear the music.”

Fairfax, instead of drinking his coffee, stared at Dearborn, and when Dearborn murmured, ”Nora Scarlet is her name. Isn't it a name for a drama?” Fairfax stared still harder and repeated the girl's name under his breath, flus.h.i.+ng, but Dearborn did not observe it.

”I want you to see her, Tony; she is sweet and good.”

”Bob,” said Fairfax gravely, ”you mean to tell me you have been falling in love and carrying on a romance without telling me a word about it?”

Dearborn smiled. ”To tell the truth, old man,” he replied, ”you have been so absorbed; there was not room for two romances in the studio.

”I met her in the springtime, Gentle Annie,” Dearborn said whimsically, ”and it was raining cats and dogs--but for me it rained just love and Nora. We were both waiting for a 'bus. Neither one of us had an umbrella. Now that you speak of it, Tony, I think we have never mended that lack in our possessions. We climbed to the _imperiale_ together, and the rain beat upon us both. We laughed, and I said to myself, a girl that can laugh like that in a shower should be put aside for a rainy day. We talked and we giggled. The rain stopped. We forgot to get down.

We went to the end of the line and still we forgot to get down. The conductor collected a double fare, and afterward I took her home.”

(Antony thought to himself, ”Just what I did not do.”)

”She is angelic, Tony, delightful, an artist's dream, a writer's inspiration, and a poor man's fairy.”

Fairfax laughed.

”Don't laugh, old man,” said Dearborn simply. ”I have never heard you rave like this about the peerless Mary.”

Fairfax said, ”No. But then you talk better than I do.” He shook Dearborn's hand warmly. ”You know I am most awfully glad, don't you?”

”I know I am,” said Dearborn, lighting a cigarette.

He settled himself with a beautiful content, asking nothing better than to go on rehearsing his love affair.

”We have been engaged a long time, Tony. It is only a question of how little two people can dare to try to get on with, you know, and I have determined to risk it.”

As they went up the steps of the studio together, Fairfax said--

”She is coming to-night, Bob, you say? Does she know anything about me?”

At this Dearborn laughed aloud. ”She knows a great deal about me, Tony.

My dear boy, do you think we have talked much about anything but each other? Do you talk with Mrs. Faversham about me? Nora knows I live here with a chum. She doesn't even know your name.”

As Dearborn threw open the door they could hear Potowski playing softly the old French ballad, ”J'ai perdu ma tourterelle.”

A woman sat by Potowski in a big chair, and the lamp on the piano shone yellow upon her. When the two men entered the studio she rose, and Potowski, still playing, said--

”Let me present, at last, my better half. Mes amis, la Comtesse Potowski.”

Dearborn greeted her enthusiastically, and Tony stood petrified. The comtesse, more mistress of the moment than Tony was, put out one hand and smiled, but she had turned very pale.

It was his Aunt Caroline....

”Mr. Rainsford,” she lifted her brows, ”I think I have seen you before.”

Tony bowed over her hand and Potowski, still smiling and nodding, cried--

”These are great men and geniuses, _ma cherie_. You have here two great artists together. They both have wings on their shoulders. Before they fly away from us and are lost on Olympus, be charming to them. Carolina, _ma cherie_, they shall hear you sing.”