Miss Caprice | Page 8

that at the very moment he is thinking of her, and what a soft, electric touch she has, so soothing, so very delightful.
"I did not go; I was watching you."
"An interesting study, surely."
"It was to me. I desired to know whether you secretly feared the results of your wound."
"And I did not dream you were so concerned about me. Considering the matter calmly, I am disposed to believe there is now no danger--that the hot iron radically destroyed the last chance of infection."
"I am very glad to hear you say so."
"You care a little, then?"
How quickly she is on her guard.
"Because I would not see a brave boy needlessly sacrificed."
"You look on me as a boy. I am twenty-three."
"My own age, sir. That gives me the right to feel myself your senior."
"How so?"
"You know a woman is older at twenty-three than a man. Then you do not wear a beard."
"I shall cultivate one from this hour. Why, a year ago I looked like a pard, but was influenced to change."
Again that quick flash of intelligence.
"Ah! Doctor Chicago has left a lady love in the city on the lake."
"What makes you say that?"
"Several remarks you have made; the one just now, and then in reference to the spur that sent you to face that dog. Ah! my friend, it must have been a strong motive to influence you like that."
He overlooks the peculiar patronizing air, such as a young woman sometimes assumes toward a boy her junior.
"Lady Ruth, the person you refer to, the thought of whom sent me to save that child, bears what is to me the holiest name on earth--mother."
She draws a quick breath.
"Forgive me. I was rude."
"Not at all. My words admitted of just such a meaning as you placed upon them."
"You left her in Chicago, of course."
John looks at her steadily.
"Lady Ruth, it may sound strange to you after what I have said, but my memories of my mother are all confined to the far past, to a period when I was a mere child; but they are none the less previous on that account."
She looks puzzled, as well she may.
"Do you mean she is--dead?"
"Heaven forbid, but I have not seen her in all these years. That is one reason I am abroad, Lady Ruth. I have a sacred mission to perform--to find my mother--to seek the solution of a mystery which has embittered my life. Perhaps some time, if we know each other a little better, I may confide a strange and sad story to you."
"Just as you please, doctor," she replies, with deep feeling in her voice, and at this moment the others bustle in.
"You must show yourself on the balcony. The dear people clamor for a sight of you, and I am really afraid they'll tear the house down soon if you don't appear before them," says Aunt Gwen, with unusual vigor.
"Yes, they unquestionably desire to publicly show their appreciation of your services, and I for one feel proud to be an American this day."
"Philander!"
"Excuse me, my dear. John, my boy, allow me to lead you out."
"One minute, please," says Lady Ruth, who has made a comfortable sling of a long white silk kerchief, which she wore around her neck.
This she insists on securing over John's shoulder.
"That arm must be painful. I know it from my long experience as the reliable assistant of my surgeon uncle. You will be glad to have this."
"But--for such a mere scratch--people will laugh at me," he protests, feebly, though it may be noticed that he makes no effort to deliver himself from the silk sling which she is now tying.
"People laugh at you! A mere scratch! Confound it, boy, there isn't a man living who would go through with what you have to-day for a cool, hundred thousand. I know one man a million would not tempt," cries the professor.
"I suppose I must submit," and accompanied by Philander, with the two women bringing up the rear, he passes out upon the balcony, where the colonel of Royal Engineers has remained, to be a curious spectator of the scene.
At sight of the hero of the street drama, those in the square before the hotel shout and cheer. They are mostly natives, but men and women feel very strongly drawn toward this young, smooth-faced American who risked his life to save a child, and that child a Maltese boy.
John bows, and presses his uninjured hand upon his heart, bows again, and retires.
Slowly the crowd disperses.
Lady Ruth completely ignores the colonel, but that veteran is not crushed by any means. He watches the capricious maiden with a quizzical light in his eye, which shows that he has not yet lost confidence in the kindness of fate, or his own charms as a beau.
Lionel Blunt's success in life has come from