Part 42 (1/2)
Wentworth, with a sort of gasp, as she recalled Mr. Lancaster's gray hair and elderly appearance.
”Rather young. He was only a few years older than I was; a young--what's his name?--Hercules, that brought me down a mountain in his arms the second time I ever saw him.”
”Alice Lancaster!”
”I had broken my leg--almost I had got a bad fall from a horse and could not walk, and he happened to come along.”
”Of course. How romantic! Was he a doctor? Did you do it on purpose?”
Mrs. Lancaster smiled.
”No; a young schoolmaster up in the mountains. He was not handsome--not then. But he was fine-looking, eyes that looked straight at you and straight through you; the whitest teeth you ever saw; and shoulders! He could carry a sack of salt!” At the recollection a faint smile flickered about her lips.
”Why didn't you marry him?”
”He had not a cent in the world. He was a poor young school-teacher, but of a very distinguished family. However, mamma took fright, and whisked me away as if he had been a pestilence.”
”Oh, naturally!”
”And he was too much in love with me. But for that I think I should not have given him up. I was dreadfully cut up for a little while. And he--”
She did not finish the sentence.
On this Mrs. Wentworth made no observation, though the expression about her mouth changed.
”He made a reputation afterwards. I knew he would. He was bound to succeed. I believed in him even then. He had ideals. Why don't men have ideals now?”
”Some of them do,” a.s.serted Mrs. Wentworth.
”Yes; Norman has. I mean unmarried men. I heard he made a fortune, or was making one--or something.”
”Oh!”
”He knew more than any one I ever saw--and made you want to know. All I ever read he set me to. And he is awfully good-looking. I had no idea he would be so good-looking. But I tell you this: no woman that ever saw him ever forgot him.”
”Is he married?”
”I don't think so--no. If he had been I should have heard it. He really believed in me.”
Mrs. Wentworth glanced at her with interest.
”Where is he staying?”
”I do not know. I saw him through a shop-window.”
”What! Did you not speak to him?”
”I did not get a chance. When I came out of the shop he was gone.”
”That was sad. It would have been quite romantic, would it not? But, perhaps, after all, he did not make his fortune?” Mrs. Wentworth looked complacent.
”He did if he set his mind to it,” declared Mrs. Lancaster.
”How about Ferdy Wickersham?” The least little light of malevolence crept into Mrs. Wentworth's eyes.