I was by no means as certain as he that Statia would make any such back-down. I have noticed that women are more apt than men to stick to a position they have once taken, even after they find that the mistake is on their side.

But, I really hoped some avenue would be opened for a reconciliation without my having to go on bended knees to either of them, which I saw no reason for doing.

I had told Tom all it would be safe to tell. He was so immaculate in all his thoughts of women that there was no saying how my plan, if fully presented, would strike his mind. I certainly did not mean to risk it.

It was a day that had begun disagreeably and I was looking forward to at least a pleasant afternoon, when a note from Miss May came, to dash that prospect to the ground. Here it is:

My Dear Mr. C.:--I fear you have undertaken a larger contract than you antic.i.p.ated when you began. To be plain, the amount you left in my hands will hardly suffice to provide all the necessaries for a lady travelling as your relation and equal. If you are satisfied I will consent, though I am sure I would not have done so at first, to go as your ward, merely,--as a young woman whom you have promised some friend to see on her journey to a point where she is to be a governess or whatever you like to say.

In that case you will not be disgraced if I do not dress very well.

I cannot endure the thought of being suspected; and a lady such as you wish me to appear would have three or four gowns suitable for appearing at table, with at least a little jewelry--of which, alas!

I have practically nothing.

I write you this with a heavy heart, for I fear you will begin to consider me a nuisance, but I hope you will understand. I went out this morning and priced several gowns, but finding that the money you left me would be exhausted before the really necessary things were obtained, I returned to my room without breaking one of the banknotes.

Please reply by messenger, stating what you think it best to do. If I am going to cost you more than you wish to expend, tell me so frankly and I will release you from every obligation. I resigned my other position last night, but am certain my old employer will gladly take me back if I have to ask it. Ugh! that is the most disagreeable thought in connection with this entire matter!

Understand, I am ready to go with you--I want to go--and I leave the position I am supposed to occupy to your own judgment. If I am to pa.s.s as a governess, in whom you have no special interest, you may return me half of the money enclosed and I shall find it amply sufficient. If I am to be your "cousin," I fear it will have to be doubled.

Please do not decide in a way you will regret. I am obliged to leave the city on an early train, to remain over New Years with friends, but shall expect you Tuesday at any hour after ten. That is, if you wish to see me again.

Yours Faithfully,

M.M.

P.S. The trunks and bag are splendid. Of course, I shall hold them subject to your orders if you decide to drop our arrangement.

I looked at the six fifty dollar bills lying on the table, where they had fallen from the envelope. The messenger boy looked at them also, as if he half wished he had run away with the package instead of delivering it. His presence disturbed me and I told him to walk around the block, returning in a quarter of an hour. This he hesitated to do and I shoved a two dollar bill into his fist, as a guarantee of my good faith.

What a criss-cross of ideas piled upon my brain when I was alone! At one instant I said to myself that Miss May was a schemer, who had determined to "play me for a sucker,"--to use a common, though not over delicate expression. She had been indiscreet in returning my cash; I would put it in my pocket and forget her. On the other hand, the thought of going south alone was enough to madden me. I did not care two straws that the cost of the trip would be doubled, if it possessed the charming features I had allowed myself to paint.

The woman's going into the country for two whole days when the question was unsettled was also most exasperating. If I could proceed immediately to her room and talk with her face to face it would be easier to decide.

The fifteen minutes pa.s.sed, the boy returned, and I was still in a quandary. Finally, when the young imp presented himself in a business-like att.i.tude, I seized a pen and wrote as follows:

_Destroy the note I sent a moment ago and subst.i.tute this one._

Dear Miss May:--["Dear" does not mean anything at the beginning of a letter]--I am very sorry to learn that you feel it necessary to be absent over Monday, as I have many things to say to you. Perhaps, as you can do nothing in the meantime, it is best to let the matter rest till Tuesday morning, when I will call, promptly at ten, and we will decide everything.

Yours,

D.C.

The boy took this note, when it was sealed and addressed, and disappeared like magic. He had hardly gone when I wished I had sent a letter of different purport. There was an awful possibility that Miss May would take the chance I had undoubtedly offered, to give up the whole idea of going. She had certainly not seemed as enthusiastic as I could wish. I ran to a window, threw it open, and would have whistled to the boy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

It was like a matter of life and death to me then. Ringing in a call I took my pen again and indited the following:

Dear Marjorie:--for so you said I might call you:--I return the money that you sent back to me. Keep it till I meet you Tuesday morning at ten, when I will come prepared with a sum which will certainly meet every demand you can put upon it. You are wiser than I about feminine apparel and could not please me better than by the forethought you display. It is with great regret that I learn you are to be absent over Sunday and Monday, when I had hoped to pa.s.s some pleasant hours with you, but I cheerfully yield to your arrangement. Within a few days there will be no other friends to distract your attention from one who will prove himself the truest of them all.

Sincerely Yours,

D.C.

No. -- Thirty-fourth Street.

I procured a large envelope and took it into the bedroom, where I could re-insert the bank bills without danger of arousing the cupidity of young Mercury. With a lead pencil I added to the note a request that the recipient would send just a line by bearer to show that my message had arrived safely, and saw the boy depart, feeling that I had at last done the sensible thing.

Whether this proved to be the case I will leave the reader to judge when he has finished this volume.

CHAPTER IX.

A PRIVATE DINING ROOM.

Sat.u.r.day evening was dull enough, being only brightened by a pencilled note from Miss May, reading simply, "Money received. Will see you Tuesday." I went over to the Lyceum Theatre to a play called "The Tree of Knowledge," which I now believe one of the brightest things produced on the American stage in years, though I was too full of other thoughts to appreciate it at the time.

It was an attempt to shift the burden of blame that has rested in all fiction on the shoulders of the man, to that of the woman, and was so far rather welcome to me. We are a bad lot, as a rule, I am afraid, but some allowance should be made for a case like the one in the play, where a well intentioned young fellow is used as a football by a girl who does not care if his life is ruined, so long as she accomplishes her designs.

I remember being somewhat surprised at the apparent approval of the fine audience, but that may have been due in a measure to the delightful acting of the various parts. I had not been to the Lyceum for a long time and did not remember to have seen the "wronged young man" before, but he made a most favorable impression on me as more natural and less stagey than the average. The "villain,"--the masculine one--was an excellent actor, also. As for the "wicked" woman, I thought, if Marjorie failed me, I would give her an invitation to spend the rest of the winter in the Caribbean.

Sunday was weariness itself. I poured over the newspapers, took a walk, managed to get a short nap, for I was tired, ate my lunch, and then, to fill up the time, wrote a letter to Miss Brazier, in defense of myself from the severe attack that unknown young woman had made. It was a silly proceeding, but I liked to write about Marjorie, even to one wholly unknown, and this is what I said, as near as I can remember it:

Dear Alice (Ben Bolt):--I feel justified in calling you "Alice," now it is settled that you are not to be my companion for long and (to you, doubtless) weary weeks, a liberty I should never have dreamed of taking had you decided to go. I do not know in what way I have offended you, which I judge by your letter to be the case, but as the children say, "If I've done anything I'm sorry for, I'm glad of it." (Of course I don't mean exactly that.) The reason I write this is to ask you to dine with me (in a highly respectable public dining room--no cabinet particulaire, mind!) some evening before the 12th, when I am to sail.

If you will do this, I will fill your sh.e.l.l-like ears with such an account of your Rival that you will acquit her of intending any of the horrors you intimate. She is neither, I believe, a sinful creature nor a dunce--just a sweet, strong-minded, trusting seeker after change and rest.

And I don't like your insinuations, either, about my own moral character. If you knew me, I should not blame you so much, but as you don't--it's simply reprehensible. I have no intention of "soiling my soul," or that of any other person, but if that awful event happens (I wonder how I would look with a soiled soul!) you will be to blame. If you really thought I was in danger, why did you not do the patriotic thing and offer to go in her place? That would have disposed of the s--s--possibility.

Now, if you have not already thrown this down in a rage--I judge you to be a woman of the most fiendish temper!--let me be sensible for just one moment. I am recovering slowly from a long illness and am as harmless as a dove. I have, honestly, some work for a typewriter to do, and my physician has advised me to take one. The young lady who has agreed to go is not the sort you seem to imagine. She has consented only after the most distressing stipulations in regard to my conduct--all of which were entirely unnecessary, by the way. I am to file a bond to return her to New York by May 1st in absolutely perfect condition.

Come and dine with me, Alice dear, and have your doubts removed. I won't bite you, nor offer the slightest familiarity, upon my word!

Name your hotel and, provided it is of undoubted respectability, I will meet you there at any hour you choose, after 6 P.M., or I will send a carriage for you. I only wish I could bring 'Marjorie'--isn't it a perfectly sweet name! One sight of her soulful eyes would say more than all my protestations. Unhappily she is out of town, and I am afraid she wouldn't like to be exhibited, if she were here.

You'd best come.

Yours Fraternally,

D. CAMWELL.

The Lambs, Dec. 31, 1897.

It didn't seem too funny, when I read it over, as I thought it would, but I sent it to East Sixteenth Street by a messenger that I summoned, telling him to bring an answer, if there was any, and to return for his pay, if there was none. He came back in half an hour, saying that a boy at the house took the letter up stairs, presumably to Miss B., and returned in a few minutes stating that she would reply by mail. As this exhausted all the fun I could expect out of that matter for the day, I went over to the Club and lounged away the afternoon.

It was nine o'clock and I had only been at home for a few minutes when a note came from Statia Barton. It was written in a very cool strain, but its contents were unexpectedly agreeable, for all that. Statia said she was afraid she had been a little too severe, and that, as it distressed Tom very much to have a general falling out, she had made it up with him. She had nothing to take back in what she had said relating to a certain matter, (what woman ever took back anything?) but was willing to admit that it was, really, my personal affair and that she had no right to control my conduct. She believed it best, on the whole, that we should see each other as little as possible before I went away, but she did not wish, on reflection, to make trouble between her brother and his friend. If Tom wanted me to come to spend an evening with him, she hoped I would do it, and she promised to keep out of my way.

It was a queer mixture, take it altogether, but I was very glad to receive it. The calming effect on my general condition was such that when I went to bed, I slept for nearly seven hours without interruption, something I had not done for the previous fortnight.