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Prince or Chauffeur? A Story of Newport

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<h3> CHAPTER XXIII </h3> <h3> THE BALL CONTINUES </h3> Groups were strolling in and out among the gardens. Armitage caught the pale flashes of fans and gowns; the cigarette lights of the men glowed among the shrubbery like fireflies. The moon was full, shining through rifted clouds, and the ocean, murmuring at the foot of the cliffs, stretched away to the starry horizon. The lamps of the Brenton's Reef light vessel seemed close enough to touch, and farther out the lights of a deep sea tug with a string of coal barges astern moved slowly down the coast. As Jack threw away his cigarette preparatory to going into the house, Anne Wellington stepped through the door, laughing back at Koltsoff, who was following her. Jack averted his head and as he did so the girl turned to her companion. "Pardon me for one second," she said. "Are n't you going to ask me to dance?" she said in a low voice as she confronted Armitage. He smiled. "Oh, certainly!" "Oh, there is precedent," laughed Anne. "Was n't it Dick Turpin who danced with the Duchess of—of something, once?" "But he was hanged later." "Not for that." She stood for a moment regarding him and decided that no man at the ball was better to look at in any way. "I am a good American to-night," she said slowly. "I—I thought you might be interested to know." "I am interested," said Jack. Then his eyes lighted. "Are you serious about that dance?" She returned his gaze, humorously defiant. "I don't care, if you don't," he added; "I dare you." "They say naval officers are divine dancers," she replied as though to herself. "You may have the next dance if—if you can find me out here—and—and take me away from His Highness." Before he could reply she had smiled and nodded and rejoined Koltsoff, who was waiting, not without impatience, at the foot of the steps. He took her arm and led the way toward a small promontory overlooking the ocean. His demeanor was silent, romantic. But somehow Anne was neither interested nor thrilled. As they stopped at the edge of the cliff, she released her arm which his fingers had tightly pressed. He took a cigarette from his case and then impatiently tossed it away. "I spoke to your father this afternoon," he said, "as to our understanding." "Our understanding!" "About the dowry. He declined to yield to the European custom." "How like father! Of course that changes your attitude toward me." Her voice was cool and unwavering. He raised his hands as though despairing. "It does not." He confronted her so that they almost touched. "Is it possible that you can think of that? I replied to your father that I was going to take you anyway." "You—are going—to—take me anyway! What do you mean, Prince Koltsoff?" "Mean! What do I mean! Why, no less than that dowry or no dowry, you are mine." "But you have n't asked me. I have said nothing to make you believe that." "Eh?" Koltsoff tossed his head dazedly. "You said nothing!" he exclaimed as she remained silent. "You said—Bah! Are mere words only to serve? You lay in my arms not a day since. What words could have been so eloquent? And your eyes—the look in them! Words! Ah, Anne, could I not see? Could I not read?" His hand was on her arm but she pulled sharply back. "Please, Prince Koltsoff! Listen! You—since you have been willing to recall it to me—did take me in your arms." Indignation was rapidly mastering her. "I did not lead you to do it. I did not want you to. I am—not that kind. I was tired, weak in mind and body and, yes,—under your control, somehow. You took advantage of it. I didn't know then—I fancied it might be love, don't you know. I even asked you if it was—" "You asked me. I replied. You did not deny." "No, but I deny now: It was not love." "Not love!" Koltsoff moved close to her. "Then may I ask what it was? Surely you have not questioned my motives?" "No. If I had, you should have known it before this. My own motives, or rather, the lack of them—but we won't talk about it any more." She made as though to step past him but he did not move. "But you must talk about it," he said. "Are our relations thus to be brushed away—by misunderstanding? Anne, have I been utterly misled? What is it, Anne? I command you to speak." "Will you please let me pass?" "No, not until you have answered me." There was crisp savagery in his voice. Anne, now trembling with anger, turned quickly upon him. "Very well, I shall answer you. I don't love you and I can't love you and I won't love you. I resent your actions. You have been making this house headquarters for your diplomatic schemes and when they have gone astray, you have made us all the creatures of your irritable whims. You made me a laughing stock when you backed out of the theatre party, and have done nothing but consider your own convenience irrespective of any plans I may have formed for your entertainment. You were so disagreeable last night at dinner that I wept for very shame after it. And—and—now you have your answer." For a moment Koltsoff stood erect, as though frozen by her words. Then he bent his head forward menacingly. Anne laughed. "We are not in Monaco—or Russia, Prince Koltsoff, but in the United States." "The United States!" sneered Koltsoff. The next instant he was on his knees, his lips on the lace of her skirt. "Please, Prince Koltsoff! Don't, please." She glanced aside and saw the expansive white chest of Armitage bearing up the slight incline. "And now you must excuse me," she said, "my partner for the next dance claims me." She snatched away her skirt and walked rapidly to meet Jack, while Koltsoff gathered himself to his feet and cursed volubly in three languages. Anne was silent as they walked to the house, but cheerfully so. While Jack could not exactly catch her expression in the moonlight, he had a feeling she was glad to be with him. "Do you want to back out?" he asked. "It is n't too late, you know. Have you thought of the scandal?" "Do you wish me to back out?" she smiled. "Have you thought you may lose your position?" "I don't care—for you can consider that I have given notice to take effect to-morrow." "But that does not mean—" she began, then checked herself. He waited for her to continue, but she was silent. As they ascended the steps the orchestra was beginning the waltz, with its dreamy rhythm, which everybody had been humming for a month or two. She led the way through a door at the lower end of the room, where were the palms and shrubbery which concealed the musicians, gathered her gown in her right hand, and stood smilingly expectant. Her cheeks were deeply flushed, her eyes sparkled, her perfectly cut lips slightly parted. For an instant his eyes rested upon her face and they glowed with open admiration. Then his arm had encircled her firm, lithe waist and they whirled leisurely out upon the crowded floor. She felt his strength, but it was the strength that exalts a woman, a strength that a woman could glory in and not feel embarrassed or self-conscious; a sense of being protected, not overwhelmed, filled her. And through the rhythm of the dance and the complete sympathy which it brought, one for the other, she caught perfectly his poise—the mental suggested through the physical—strong, determined, and so utterly masculine in a big, clean way. The poetry of the waltz was well defined. The reputation of the Navy was losing nothing at his hands, or rather feet, as they glided in and out among the various couples, gracefully and easily. Both were exalted; it could not have been otherwise. Her supple body yielded instinctively to the guidance of his arm, seemed, indeed, almost a part of it—bodies and minds one in the interpretation of the science of rhythmic motion. Neither spoke until the floor had been circled. Then she turned her head and looked into his face. "To-morrow?" "Don't," said Jack, half laughing. "I don't want to think of to-morrow." "Neither do I," she grimaced, "but I can't help it. I am going to lose my driver." He smiled grimly, but did not reply. "And so," she said unconsciously allowing herself to relax in his arm, "what am I going to do?" Her glance was humorously pathetic. "It has been so much fun. But it could n't last, as Trilby said." "Some day, soon, when I have put on my uniform, may I come here and help you decide?" "Decide what, pray?" "You asked me what you were going to do." She stopped dancing and looked at him with sober face. "Well, you 'd better believe you may come here, then. You are not going to escape quite so easily. As to advice—cannot you give me that now?" "I could," replied Jack. "But I won't—not now." "Oh, do!" Her voice was teasing. "You can't imagine what straits I shall be in. Not that I would promise to pronounce it wise—" They were dancing again. "Well, then, I certainly shall hold my peace." "Why, you 're positively bearish!" "Am I?" "But then, you know, I might consider your words—well, worth following." "I 'll wait until I can find courage to take the risk." "Is it so awfully important as all that?" "You may judge when I tell you." The dance had ended and as he released her she reached out and tapped him on the arm. "You do dance divinely. And now you had better play detective. Mother has seen us." That was quite true. Armitage, of course, had not been recognized as Miss Wellington's chauffeur by the people in the room, but Mrs. Wellington had early detected them. She said nothing until the dance ended. Then she looked at her husband. "Ronald," she said, "is Anne too old to be spanked, do you think?" "Why, rather, I should say. Why?" laughed Wellington. "Oh, no matter. Only I fancy I would relinquish my hopes for eternity if I could!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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