"Betty!" finished Polly. And then sighing profoundly: "You see, ever since our meeting in the woods the other day with Carl von Reuter he has been coming to see Betty. He brought his father, the old count, to call on Mrs. Ashton and has been sending Betty flowers and they have been riding together and he does not even pretend not to admire her tremendously. He makes Esther and me perfectly miserable, for you see Germans seem so different from Americans, so sentimental and silly, I think. Why, I overheard Lieutenant von Reuter calling Betty Brunhilde, and instead of being bored she actually appeared pleased. Esther and I can't understand it. Of course we realize that it is absurd to believe that people can learn to care for each other in two weeks, yet just the same Betty is behaving strangely. And Esther wonders if it is her duty to speak to Richard Ashton before things go any further. Mrs. Ashton would be no good; she is too pleased over Betty's being admired by a member of the German n.o.bility. She would never be able to see all the mischief that might result from it. But then Esther and d.i.c.k Ashton are not friends as they once were. d.i.c.k has hardly anything to do with Esther nowadays--even leaves on an earlier train the mornings that she has to go into Berlin for her music lessons. And yet when Esther first came to live with Mrs. Ashton, when she was a hundred times less attractive than she is now, why he was kinder to her than any of the rest of us. Oh me, oh my, it is a strange world!" And down went Polly's chin into the palm of her hand in a characteristic manner.

For a moment Margaret Adams did not reply. For perhaps a good deal better than Polly she appreciated the disaster that might result from the present circ.u.mstances. Betty was only nineteen and of course Polly was right in presuming that she could hardly know her own mind. And yet the romance and beauty of her surroundings, the good looks of the young lieutenant with the glamour of his t.i.tle and position, were sufficiently strong influences to affect a much older person.

Yet notwithstanding Betty's beauty and charm, Miss Adams did not have the same uneasiness that Esther and Polly suffered. For she did not believe that Lieutenant von Reuter could marry a girl without a dower, no matter what his personal inclination might be. And Betty had no money and so far as any one knew no chance of receiving any amount except what her brother and sister might some day be able to earn. The danger that the older woman dreaded was that Betty herself might possibly misunderstand the young foreigner's attentions and that she might learn to care for him more than would be wise for her happiness.

Frowning, Miss Adams waited for a moment without speaking. And yet she looked so entirely interested and sympathetic that Polly dropped to the ground at her feet, taking one of her slim hands in hers and pressing it softly to her lips. For it was wonderfully kind of this famous lady to have forgotten herself so completely that she felt as deep a concern over Betty Ashton as though she had known her all her life.

"It was Betty herself who told me that young Count von Reuter had been brought up with the idea that he must marry a wealthy girl. Don't you suppose that she understands that anything else is impossible for him?"

she asked. "The family is deeply in debt and even if the young man had the faintest knowledge of any kind of work it would be regarded as a disgrace for him to engage in it. Besides, he has chosen his career of a soldier, which also requires a fortune back of him. Don't you think we might be able to make Betty see this, even supposing that she does not already appreciate it?" Margaret Adams finally inquired.

"I don't know," Polly answered. "For you see, Margaret, it is like this.

All her life Betty Ashton has never known anything but love and admiration. Why, when we were little children and began having beaux that n.o.body knew about except just ourselves, we always expected the admirers to be Betty's and were surprised when they were not. Oh, I don't mean that she expected it. The Princess used to be spoiled in lots of ways before our Camp Fire club and the change in their family fortunes, but she never has been silly or vain. Then when we grew up together it was pretty much the same thing. I remember how cross I once was in Woodford because a young fellow there, who was not Betty's equal then in any kind of way, in money or family or education, had the presumption to feel a kind of fancy for her. But now I wish that he or John Everett or any one of our old friends would turn up here and show her how much nicer an American fellow is. Any old kind of an American!"

Polly ended almost viciously.

Miss Adams laughed, touching the girl's dark braids of hair and looking closely into her emotional, sensitive face.

"Don't let us worry before it is necessary," she suggested. "But tell me, Polly, and I am not asking you for curiosity, with all these admirers whom you insist your beloved Betty has had, hasn't there ever been any one who has cared for you and whom you may some day care for?"

For the moment the unexpectedness of this question took Polly's breath.

And then to her deep chagrin she felt herself blushing, even while vigorously shaking her head in denial.

And yet at the same time in her intense desire to be perfectly straightforward with her new friend she was wondering if her denial had been entirely truthful. Or was it her duty to confess Billy Webster's stupidity?

"There was some one once," she murmured after her little period of hesitation had pa.s.sed. "But really, Margaret, he did not care for me a bit; he only wanted to manage me. And I--I didn't care for him in the least. I never shall care for anybody," Polly insisted with the absolute conviction of youth.

Then completely forgetting everybody and everything else, Polly O'Neill put both arms about her slender knees and there on the gra.s.s at the feet of the great Miss Adams began slowly swaying herself backwards and forwards as she always had ever since she was a little girl when in the thrall of some dominant idea.

She did not look at Miss Adams; she did not even look at the hills or trees, nor feel the summer darkness that was beginning to close about them like a soft cloak. For Polly was having one of her moments when the things inside her mind were so much more visible and important to her than any outside scene. Never since leaving New York had she mentioned to Miss Adams her own desire to go upon the stage. It had not seemed fair to take advantage of her friend's kindness by annoying her with her own ambition. For it might look as though she expected or hoped for aid and advice from Miss Adams' friendship. But tonight Polly had forgotten her past resolutions and reserves.

"I shall not care for anyone, Margaret, because you know in another year I intend either going upon the stage in some little part, or if mother will give me the money, I shall go to a dramatic school. For I am going to make the stage my career whether I succeed or fail." There was a catch in the girl's breath and although it was too dark to see her face, the older woman could imagine the glow in her cheeks and the light in her curious blue eyes. She looked like an elf or a sprite, something born of the woods or the sky and hardly an ordinary flesh-and-blood girl, as she sat in her curious position, dreamily rocking herself back and forth in the evening dusk and silence.

"I suppose there are some women great enough to have a career and to marry besides," she added so solemnly that Miss Adams did not dare smile, "but I don't believe I am one of them. And I want a career. Yet it is odd, isn't it? I don't think I have any special talent and Esther Crippen is so talented we think she is almost a genius. I wish you could hear her sing, but she is too afraid of you yet. Nevertheless Esther does not want to be famous one bit and Betty and I don't even dare mention the word 'career' before her. I am sure she would much rather marry some day and have babies and sing to her husband and to them, or perhaps in a church where no one would think much about her. For she does love her music for itself."

"But why then does she go on working so intensely, if she does not intend making a profession of her singing? The poor child is actually wearing herself out," Miss Adams avowed.

"Why, don't you know?" Polly faced her companion and though it was now almost entirely dark, they could yet catch the outlines of each other's faces. "Esther Crippen does not care for money for herself, but she cares for it beyond anything for Betty. You see, she and Betty were separated during all their childhood and now that they have found each other again Esther fairly worships her sister. She is going to earn all the money she can with her voice so as to be able to lavish on Betty the things that she used to have when the Ashtons were rich. Of course Betty does not know that this is the chief reason that is urging Esther to sacrifice everything in the world for her work. For naturally Betty thinks that Esther has so wonderful a talent that she ought to wish to cultivate it for its own sake. And so does their father, Herr Crippen. I believe he has the feeling that he has failed with his own music, but that if Esther succeeds in some way it will redeem his failure. In a way it does seem rather hard upon Esther if she should ever happen to fall in love."

But before Miss Adams could answer her maid had announced an unexpected visitor.

CHAPTER XIII

Richard Ashton

Esther Crippen ran out of the front door of their little house with her coat still on her arm, so great was her hurry.

"Dr. Ashton," she called several times. And at last the young man striding on ahead turned and glanced back in surprise. Esther was carrying her usual music roll, a book and a box of lunch which she always bore into town on her lesson days.

Richard Ashton took these from her.

"I beg your pardon, Esther. I did not know that you were going in on the early train or of course I should have waited. What is taking you in so soon? Have you a special appointment?"

And Esther could only blush and stammer nervously. For intimately as she had known d.i.c.k Ashton, living in the same house with him for several years in a curious position as though she were a member of his family yet without any real bond of relationship between them, she could not now quietly tell him that she was taking this train into town because she wished to accompany him. At one time in their acquaintance this would have been a simple and natural enough confession, but recently d.i.c.k Ashton had been so unlike his former self. Or at least if he had not changed personally, his manner toward her was different. And in these weeks in the country when Esther had been pondering over the change it had seemed to her that she could almost remember the day and hour when the transformation began.

Now as Esther made no reply to his question Richard Ashton looked at her more steadily. He was a physician and the girl's pallor and weariness were more conspicuous to him than to other people, although he was not alone in noticing it.

"There isn't any point in your going into the city at daybreak for these singing lessons of yours," the young man protested in a friendly tone.

"I should think that your wretched old Professor would have brains enough to know that you won't do him or yourself half as much credit if he wears you out completely before the date of his concert. When does it take place?"

"In October," Esther returned, apparently with little interest. However, d.i.c.k was walking her toward the station with such rapidity that she had little breath for any other exertion. And yet they had plenty of time, there was no reason for such hurry. The young man himself did not seem to be aware of their haste.

"Look here, Esther," he began a little later, "I am glad of this chance for our having a talk together. There is something that I have had on my mind to say for some time without having had the courage or the opportunity."

Just for the moment Esther's pallor left her, a slight flush coming into her cheeks and her lips parting.

"You see, I think it will be better for you to break the news to mother and Betty than for me to speak of it first," he continued. "But I--I have got to go back to the United States this autumn for good. I have spent all the time studying over here that I have the right to spend and if ever I am to make a success of my profession I have to get down to hard work building up a practice. I suppose they will both take it kind of hard, my deserting them in this way, but they must have antic.i.p.ated it."

In reply Esther's voice was less interested and sympathetic than d.i.c.k Ashton was accustomed to hearing it.

"Why, I don't believe they will mind half so much as you think; at any rate your mother will not," she returned. "I have heard Mrs. Ashton say half a dozen times lately that she wished we were all to go home when Polly and Miss Adams sail in November. And as far as Betty is concerned I shall be glad to have you take her back with you."

"Take Betty home with me!" d.i.c.k Ashton's exclamation was in itself a denial of any such intention. "Why, Esther, I hadn't the faintest thought of either mother or the Princess coming along with me. You don't mean that Professor Hecksher has suggested that _you_ take a rest and that you are going to see your father?"

With a frown and a sudden nervous movement of her hands Esther shook her head. But they were now within sight of their little station, where several other pa.s.sengers were waiting and no other word of intimate conversation was possible between them until they were on the train. And Esther made no protest when d.i.c.k, in spite of their poverty, discarding his regular ticket, bought seats for them both in an empty first-cla.s.s coach. There they could be alone and without interruption. And there was no denying that their conversation, which had just been broken off so abruptly, must be continued as soon as possible. They were both too full of things too long left unsaid.

"Of course you know, Dr. Ashton, that there is not the remotest chance of my going back home for a long time," Esther went on when once again they were settled, just as though no interruption to their talk had ever taken place. "For you see after I make my _debut_ at this concert I have to go on studying. I have even to make a reputation here in Europe if I can before I return to the United States. Professor Hecksher says that it is absolutely necessary, and he is willing to help me get engagements to earn some money, so I shall not continue to be so dreadful an expense."

"Sounds rather glorious, doesn't it, Esther, fame and fortune all ready and waiting to drop at your feet? What a wonderful thing it is to be born into this world with a great talent and how it must make you look down on us poor mortals who have to grind and grind for just a bare existence. I'll be proud some day to say that I have had the honor of knowing you. You won't forget we were acquaintances, will you, Esther?"

the young man concluded, it was hard to tell whether in bitterness or joking.

And his companion turned her face away, pretending to glance out of the car window at the uninteresting stretch of country and the rapidly disappearing telegraph poles.

"I shall never forget that I was a girl being raised in an orphan asylum and that your mother took me to her home and did what she could to give me my first start in learning to sing, if that is what you mean, Dr.

Ashton," Esther continued. "Neither can I forget what you have always done for Betty, though I feel of course that Betty will more than repay all the people who love her. But if you mean that you only wish us to be acquaintances in the future, why--" But in spite of her strong effort at self-control Esther's lips were trembling and the tears gathering in her eyes.

Nevertheless she made no effort at withdrawal when d.i.c.k Ashton for an instant placed his hands over her own tightly clasped ones.

"You are not playing fair, Esther," he urged, "for you know in your heart that I meant no such thing."

Then both the girl and the man were silent with the vision of their possible futures before them. If only d.i.c.k Ashton could have asked Esther to give up the career ahead of her, to renounce her music, to come back home with him to the United States to be his wife. But what had he to offer in exchange for these great sacrifices? He was a penniless young doctor without more than a hundred dollars in the world once he had paid his pa.s.sage home and set up some kind of office.

Moreover, suppose he should win patients and success sooner than other men? Did he not owe his first earnings to his mother and to his sister, Betty, whose courage and resourcefulness had helped him prepare for his career? Besides, what did Esther not also feel that she owed to this same sister? Plainly she had let him know her views on that afternoon some time ago when he had tried dissuading her from making her _debut_ if the thought of a professional life made her unhappy. Esther had then said that she felt that she must work until she was able to take care of herself and Betty and even to a.s.sist her father and new stepmother. For Herr Crippen was growing older and had nothing except what he earned by his music pupils. No, Esther's way was straight before her and one owed it to a great talent like hers to make the best of it. She had never manifested for Richard Ashton more than a warm friendliness which was natural enough to their position. Neither had he ever given Esther any reason to believe that the old kindness and sympathy which he had once felt for her had deepened into emotions much stronger. Yet, to him Esther's plain face, with its pallor and serious sweetness, with its big mouth and splendidly modeled lips was more beautiful than all his sister Betty's vivid prettiness.

"Betty!" The thought of her brought him back to the every-day world again. He laughed good-humoredly.

"Esther, Betty has everlastingly been saying that you had a perfectly determined pa.s.sion for sacrificing yourself. Please get it out of your head at once that I have the faintest idea of taking Mistress Betty home with me. For if ever you needed her in all your life it seems to me you will need her in the next few years. And as long as half your effort is being made for her sake don't you think that she might at least be allowed to stand shoulder to shoulder with you? The Princess is rather a nice person, you know, Esther, in spite of us, and I don't believe that all the pleading in the world that I could do would persuade her to desert you."