Miss Caprice | Page 3

than the average amount of boldness, though I don't know that I was ever called a coward."
His manner is modest, but the young girl with English ideas chooses to look upon his words with suspicion.
"Doctor Chicago must not take water. I have surely understood him to be a regular fire-eater--that all Chicago has rung with his escapades," says the colonel of Royal Engineers, sneeringly.
"Nonsense! But, Lady Ruth, you spoke of my proving something--what can I do for you?"
"Look!"
She extends a shapely arm. Her finger points to a white flower growing out upon the face of the precipice beside them.
"Do you see that flower?" she asks.
"I do," he replies, calmly.
"I would like to possess it."
The young man looks down. A fall means instant death, and it would be impossible for even an experienced Alpine traveler to pass along the face of the rock in safety.
"I see no means of reaching the flower, or I assure you I would gladly secure it for you."
"Ah! but a bold man would climb out there."
"Pardon--he would be a fool--his life would pay the penalty for a pretty girl's whim. Unfortunately, perhaps, my life is too precious to some one other than myself, to admit of the sacrifice. I am willing to do much for Lady Ruth, but I decline to be made a fool of."
"Well spoken," begins the professor.
"Philander!" exclaims his spouse, and the little man draws in his head very much after the style of a tortoise.
"Coward!"
The English girl is sorry as soon as the low word leaves her lips. No one hears it but the young doctor, for the attention of all the others is at that time directed elsewhere.
This time the object of her scorn does not flush, but turns very white, as he looks her steadily in the eyes.
"I am sorry you have such a poor opinion of me, Lady Ruth. I make no apologies, save the one that my life is too valuable--to others, to myself--to throw it away at the mere caprice of a girl."
"There is a gentleman who finds a way to accomplish what he wants. Take a lesson from him, Doctor Chicago," she says.
Colonel Lionel has noticed a long pole near by, in the end of which is a cleft. This he has secured, and, by crawling as far as is safe along the face of the rock, he is enabled to just reach the flower.
After a number of ineffectual lunges he succeeds in clutching the coveted article in the cleft of the pole, and draws it toward him.
A moment later he presents the flower to Lady Ruth, with a smile and a bow.
"No English lady ever expressed a wish that a British officer did not feel bound in honor to grant," he says.
The girl thanks him, and then says:
"After all, the flower was prettier at a distance than when in my hands."
Colonel Lionel hardly knows whether he has made such a huge advance over his rival after all.
The afternoon sun is waning.
"We must go down," declares Aunt Gwen.
"One more look around and I am ready," says Lady Ruth.
Already she is sorry for her cruel words. Like the best of women, she can wound at one moment and be contrite the next. She finds an opportunity a minute later, when the colonel lingers to get the shawl she--perhaps purposely--left behind, to say in a low tone:
"I was cruel--forgive me--forget that foolish word," and while what she utters gives him a pleasurable feeling, and brings the color into his set face, he only smiles, as he answers:
"Willingly, Lady Ruth. I did not believe you could mean it."
Then, as the colonel bustles up, the subject is tabooed, and the party of tourists proceed down the steep street leading to the Hotel Imperial.

CHAPTER II.
A DEADLY ENCOUNTER.
The scene, so peaceful, so picturesque, is rudely broken in upon by a clamor so strange and awful that the blood is chilled in the listeners' veins. Cries are heard down the steep street; cries that indicate alarm, even terror; cries that proceed from children, women, ay, and strong men, too.
Our party comes to a halt midway between the brow of the hill and the base. On either side tall houses, the declivity ending only at the water. It is a bustling street at all hours, with loungers, business men, women going to and returning from market, and children playing as children do the world over, in the dirt.
"What can it mean?" says Lady Ruth, as she looks breathlessly down the street.
No one in their party can explain the cause of the excitement. They see people running madly this way and that, as if panic-stricken.
"By Jove! it must be a fire!" suggests the colonel, twirling his whiskers.
"Nonsense! we should see the smoke," declares sensible Aunt Gwen.
"You are right; it is something more than a fire.