The Avalanche | Page 8

may have read her thoughts.
"You know," he said, with an attempt at lightness, although the coast
wind tan, which was his only claim to coloring, had paled a little, "that
girl reminds me so much of you that I have made up my mind to marry
her. I don't care who she is. If you don't help me to meet her
conventionally I'll manage somehow, but I should hate to practice any
subterfuges on the woman I intend to make my wife."
For a moment he had the sensation of being pinned to the wall by that
narrow concentrated gaze. Then Mrs. Thornton swung on her heel. "I'll
do it," she said.
She walked across the room with the supple grace her slender figure
had never lost and sat down beside the older woman. In a moment the

astonished dowagers who had "suffered from her fiendish temper all
evening," saw her talking with spontaneous graciousness to both the
strangers. Madame Delano was at first more distant and reserved than
Mrs. Thornton had ever been, manifestly betraying all the suspicion
and unsocial instincts of her class; but she thawed, and the two women
chatted, while once more the girl's eyes wandered to the dancers.
When Mrs. Thornton had tormented Ruyler for quite fifteen minutes
she beckoned to him imperiously. A moment later he was whirling the
girl down the ball room and thrilling at her contact.
V
The wooing had been as headlong as his falling in love. Hélène Delano
had a deep sweet voice, which completed the conquest during the hour
they spent in the grounds under the shelter of a great palm, until hunted
down by a horrified parent.
Hélène talked frankly of her life. Her mother had been visiting relatives
in a small New England town--Holbrook Centre, she believed it was
called, but hard American names did not cling to her memory--she
loved the soft Latin and Indian names in California--and there she had
met and married her father, James Delano. They were on their way to
Japan when business detained him in San Francisco much longer than
he had expected and she was born. She believed that he had owned a
ranch that he wanted to sell. He died on the voyage across the Pacific
and her mother had returned to live among her own people in
Rouen--very plain bourgeois, but of a respectability, Oh, là! là!
"But it was a tiresome life for a young girl with American blood in her,
monsieur." Her mother's income from her husband's estate was not
large, but they lived in a wing of the old house and were very
comfortable. From her window there was a lovely view of the Seine
winding off to Paris. "Oh, monsieur, how I used to long to go to Paris!
America was too far. I never even dreamed of it. But Paris! And only
two little glimpses of it--the last when we spent a fortnight there before
sailing, to get me some nice frocks...."

She had studied hard--but hard! She knew four languages, she told
Ruyler proudly. "I had no dot then, you see. It was possible I might
have to teach one day. A governess in England, Oh, là! là!"
But six months ago a good old uncle had died and left them some
money. She would have a little dot now, and they could travel. Maman
said she would not have a large enough dot to make a fine marriage in
France, but that the English and American men were more romantic.
They went first to the Orient, as there were many Englishmen of good
family to be met there. "But maman is difficult to please," she added
with her enchanting artlessness, "as difficult as I myself, monsieur. I
wish to fall in love like the American girls. Maman says it is not
necessary, but I am half American, so, why not? There was an English
gentleman with a nice title in Hong Kong and maman was quite pleased
with him until she discovered that he gambled or did something equally
horrid and she bought our tickets for San Francisco right away."
Yes, she was enjoying her travels, but she was a little lonesome; in
Rouen at least she had her cousins. For the first time in her life she was
talking to a young man alone; even on the steamer she was not
permitted to speak to any of the nice young men who looked as if they
would like her if only maman would relent.
"In our ugly old rooms in Rouen maman cherished me like some rare
little flower in an old earthen pot," she added quaintly. "Now the pot
has tinsel and tissue paper round it, but until to-night I have felt as if I
might just as well