54-40 or Fight | Page 7

thin,
lean, always hungry, perhaps a trifle freckled, a little sandy of hair, blue
I suppose of eye, although I am not sure; good rider and good marcher,
I know; something of an expert with the weapons of my time and
people; fond of a horse and a dog and a rifle--yes, and a glass and a girl,
if truth be told. I was not yet thirty, in spite of my western travels. At

that age the rustle of silk or dimity, the suspicion of adventure, tempts
the worst or the best of us, I fear. Woman!--the very sound of the word
made my blood leap then. I went forward rather blithely, as I now blush
to confess. "If there are maps to be made to-night," said I, "the
Baroness Helena shall do her share in writing on my chief's old
mahogany desk, and not on her own dressing case."
That was an idle boast, though made but to myself. I had not yet met
the woman.
CHAPTER IV
THE BARONESS HELENA
Woman is seldom merciful to the man who is timid. --Edward Bulwer
Lytton.
There was one of our dim street lights at a central corner on old
Pennsylvania Avenue, and under it, after a long walk, I paused for a
glance at the inscription on my sealed document. I had not looked at it
before in the confusion of my somewhat hurried mental processes. In
addition to the name and street number, in Calhoun's writing, I read this
memorandum: "Knock at the third door in the second block beyond M
Street"
I recalled the nearest cross street; but I must confess the direction still
seemed somewhat cryptic. Puzzled, I stood under the lamp, shielding
the face of the note under my cloak to keep off the rain, as I studied it.
The sound of wheels behind me on the muddy pavement called my
attention, and I looked about. A carriage came swinging up to the curb
where I stood. It was driven rapidly, and as it approached the door
swung open. I heard a quick word, and the driver pulled up his horses. I
saw the light shine through the door on a glimpse of white satin. I
looked again. Yes, it was a beckoning hand! The negro driver looked at
me inquiringly.
Ah, well, I suppose diplomacy under the stars runs much the same in

all ages. I have said that I loved Elisabeth, but also said I was not yet
thirty. Moreover, I was a gentleman, and here might be a lady in need
of help. I need not say that in a moment I was at the side of the carriage.
Its occupant made no exclamation of surprise; in fact, she moved back
upon the other side of the seat in the darkness, as though to make room
for me!
I was absorbed in a personal puzzle. Here was I, messenger upon some
important errand, as I might guess. But white satin and a midnight
adventure--at least, a gentleman might bow and ask if he could be of
assistance!
A dark framed face, whose outlines I could only dimly see in the faint
light of the street lamp, leaned toward me. The same small hand
nervously reached out, as though in request.
I now very naturally stepped closer. A pair of wide and very dark eyes
was looking into mine. I could now see her face. There was no smile
upon her lips. I had never seen her before, that was sure--nor did I ever
think to see her like again; I could say that even then, even in the half
light. Just a trifle foreign, the face; somewhat dark, but not too dark; the
lips full, the eyes luminous, the forehead beautifully arched, chin and
cheek beautifully rounded, nose clean-cut and straight, thin but not
pinched. There was nothing niggard about her. She was magnificent--a
magnificent woman. I saw that she had splendid jewels at her throat, in
her ears--a necklace of diamonds, long hoops of diamonds and
emeralds used as ear-rings; a sparkling clasp which caught at her white
throat the wrap which she had thrown about her ball gown--for now I
saw she was in full evening dress. I guessed she had been an attendant
at the great ball, that ball which I had missed with so keen a regret
myself--the ball where I had hoped to dance with Elisabeth. Without
doubt she had lost her way and was asking the first stranger for
instructions to her driver.
My lady, whoever she was, seemed pleased with her rapid temporary
scrutiny. With a faint murmur, whether of invitation or not I scarce
could tell, she drew back again to the farther side of the seat. Before I
knew how or why, I was at her