Part 86

"I--er--really don't know about that," I answered, beginning to be disturbed in soul.

"You know only how it is with yourself?" Freule Menela murmured, with a girlish laugh that betrayed suppressed excitement. "Well, Mr. Starr, I think it would be foolish to pretend to misunderstand. I have heard much about you--perhaps you have heard a little of me?--yet you have taken me by storm. The thing I love best is art. You are a great artist--and you are a man of the world. You have all the fire of genius--and geniuses have a right to do things which other men may not do. I believe you have made me more interested in you, in these last two hours we have spent together, than I have been in any one else in as many years. And because of you, and what you have said--so delicately yet so unmistakably--I am going now to take your advice about Robert."

Before I could stop her, even if I had had the courage and presence of mind, she walked quickly away from me, and joined Phyllis and van Buren, who were sauntering a few yards ahead.

My brain whirled, and threatened to give way in the horror of the situation. I could have shouted aloud with the shrill intensity of a drowning man, "Alb, save me!" But Alb was far in front, strolling with the van Buren twins, while the one van Buren in whom he is really interested walked behind him with my temporary aunt. And in any case, he could have done nothing. Before my stunned wits had time to rebound, Phyllis the sweet and gentle had turned and flown to me, as if for refuge, like a homing dove threatened by a hawk.

"Brother dear," she whispered, "may I walk with you, please? Freule Menela says there is something she has been wanting all day to talk over with Mr. van Buren; so I thought I had better leave them alone, and drop behind with you--if you don't mind having me?"

"Mind!" I echoed in my turmoil of spirit. "It's a happy relief."

"I thought you seemed quite fascinated by Freule Menela," exclaimed the poor innocent one, "I asked Mr. van Buren if he were not jealous."

"How unkind of you!"

"I didn't mean to be unkind--at least, I hope I didn't," said Phyllis. "Only, do you know, dear brother--since I am to confide my real feelings to you--I'm never quite sure of myself where that girl is concerned. I can't stand her. I'm so sorry for poor Mr. van Buren. What do you suppose he answered when I asked him that question about being jealous of you--that rather naughty question? He said, 'Would to Heaven she were his, not mine!'"

Had I been on St. Lawrence's gridiron, I could not have helped chortling.

"I'm not at all sure she isn't," I muttered, under my breath; but Phyllis caught the words.

"What do you mean?" she gasped. "Oh, it can't be you mean anything, do you?"

"Well, anyhow, I mean that it's very likely she won't long be his," I explained, fired with anxiety to please the girl at any cost.

"It sounds too glorious to be true. It can't be true! But if it could! It's no use saying I wouldn't be glad--for poor Mr. van Buren's sake; he's so much too nice for her--mercenary, conceited, selfish little creature."

"Right, on every count," said I.

"I don't quite understand you," said Phyllis. "But I can't help feeling that, if anything splendid does happen, it will be all through you--somehow. You promised me, didn't you?--well, I don't know exactly what you promised; but it made me feel happy and sure everything would come out well, that night when you said you'd like to have me for a sister."

"Did I say that?" I asked in surprise.

"Didn't you? I thought----"

"Go on thinking so, then," I sighed; "and anything else that will make you happy--little sister."

"Thank you. Now I know, by the mysterious way you're looking at me, that you have done something. I believe you made him--I mean Mr. van Buren--come to see us again sooner than he intended to."

"Perhaps. And perhaps I made him bring Freule Menela with him."

"Did you? I wish--but no. I mustn't think of that."

"Wait a few hours and then think what you like," said I. Yet I spoke gloomily. I could see where the Viking was to come in. But I could not so clearly see how I was to get out.

We walked a very long way before any one seemed to wonder where we were going, and why we should be going there; but at last we came to a tea-garden, or a beer-garden, or both; and the L.C.P. said that we must stop and give Tibe a bowl of milk.

Not a member of the party who did not appear singularly absent-minded, on stopping and grouping with the others again, not excepting Tibe himself; but his absent-mindedness was caused only by the antics of a water-rat, which he would have liked to see added to his milk. When it occurred to him to drink the milk, unenriched by such an addition, we were all eating pink and white ices, and Dutch cakes that must have been delicious to those who had no Freule Menela sticking in their throats.

Phyllis walked beside me all the way back to the hotel, and was dearer than ever now that, through my own quixotic act, I saw her rapidly becoming unattainable. But, as the ladies said good-night to us at the foot of the stairs, Freule van der Windt contrived to whisper, as she slipped her hand into mine--"For better for worse, I've taken your advice, Mr. Starr. I am absolutely free."

"How did you manage it?" I heard myself asking.

"Robert insisted on living in Rotterdam. He wouldn't even consent to winter at The Hague, though it's so near; so his blood is on his own head."