Castle Craneycrow | Page 7

created a profound sensation when she resurrected Quentin's boyhood love affair with the one American girl that all Europe talked about at that moment. Lord Bob was excited, perhaps for the first time since he proposed to Frances Thornow.
"By Jove, old man, this is rare, devilish rare. No wonder you have such a deuced antipathy to the prince. Intuition must have told you that he was to marry one of the ladies of your past."
"Why, Bob, we were children, and there was nothing to it. Truly, I had forgotten that pretty child--that's all she was--and I'll warrant she wouldn't remember my name if some one spoke it in her presence. Every boy and girl has had that sort of an affair."
"She's the most beautiful creature I ever saw," cried Lady Jane, ecstatically. Dickey Savage looked sharply at her vivacious face. "When did you last see her, Mr. Quentin?"
"I can't recall, but I know it was when her hair hung down her back. She left New York before she was fifteen, I'm quite sure. I think I was in love with a young widow fourteen years my senior, at the time, and did not pay much heed to Dorothy's departure. She and her mother have been traveling since then?"
"They traveled for three years before Mrs. Garrison could make up her mind to settle down in Brussels. I believe she said it reminded her of Paris, only it was a little more so," said Lord Bob. "We met them in Paris five years ago, on our wedding trip, and she was undecided until I told her she might take a house near the king's palace in Brussels, such as it is, and off she flew to be as close to the crown as possible. She struck me as a gory old party who couldn't live comfortably unless she were dabbling in blue blood. The girl was charming, though."
"She's in London now," ventured Sir James. "The papers say she came especially to see the boat races, but there is a pretty well established belief that she came because the prince is here. Despite their millions, I understand it is a love match."
"I hope I may have a look at her while I'm here, just to see what time has done for her," said Quentin.
"You may have the chance to ask if she remembers you," said Dickey.
"And if she thinks you've grown older," added Lord Bob.
"Will you tell her you are not married?" demanded Lady Jane.
"I'll do but one thing, judging from the way you describe the goddess. Just stand with open mouth and marvel at her magnificence. Somewhere among my traps I have a picture of her when she was fourteen, taken with me one afternoon at a tin-typer's. If I can find it, I'll show it to her, just to prove that we both lived ten years ago. She's doubtless lived so much since I saw her last that she'll deny an existence so far back as that."
"You won't be so deuced sarcastic when you see her, even if she is to marry a prince. I tell you, Phil, she is something worth looking at forever," said Lord Bob.
"I never saw such eyes, such a complexion, such hair, such a carriage," cried Lady Frances.
"Has she any teeth?" asked Dickey, and was properly frowned upon by Lady Jane.
"You describe her as completely in that sentence, Lady Frances, as a novelist could in eight pages," said Quentin.
"No novelist could describe her," was the answer.
"It's to be hoped no novelist may attempt it," said Quentin. "She is beautiful beyond description, she will be a princess, and she knew me when I didn't know enough to appreciate her. Her eyes were blue in the old days, and her hair was almost black. Colors still obtain? Then we have her description in advance. Now, let's go on with the romance."

V
A SUNDAY ENCOUNTER

It was a sunny Sunday morning and the church parade was popular. Lady Frances and Quentin were walking together when Prince Ugo joined them. He looked hardly over twenty-five, his wavy black hair giving him a picturesque look. He wore no beard, and his dark skin was as clear as a girl's.
"By the way," said Quentin, "Lady Saxondale tells me you are to marry a former acquaintance of mine."
"Miss Garrison is an acquaintance?" cried the prince, lifting his dark eyes. An instant later his gaze roamed away into the horde of passing women, as if searching for the woman whose name brought light to his soul.
"Was an acquaintance, I think I said. I doubt if she remembers me now. She was a child when I knew her. Is she here this morning?" asked Phil, secretly amused by the anxious look in the Italian's eyes.
"She will be with Lady Marnham, Ah, I see them now." The young