WHEN THE CURTAIN WAS DOWN 40
IV. He had come in a motor car, and he
had come a long way, but he hardly knew why he had come. But then, one must do something. But there was no one for whom he would have been
happy to buy them. "She would have liked the auto," he said to himself. And then, a moment
later, "I wonder why I came?" It was a perfect Riviera day. to their friends. He was in the mood for the
heavy hush of the Rooms, for the closeness, and the rich perfumes, which
mingling together seem like the smell of money piled on the green
tables; he was in a mood for the dimmed light like dull gold, gold
sifted into dust by passing through many hands. It won. He let the money lie, and it
won again. He was in for a good run. To please _me_." With a smile, he took up all the notes, and only just
in time. "Oh, I'm so glad," said the owner of the pretty face. He lost interest in the game, and gained interest in the girl. "But you see, I recognized you at once. No, I'm afraid you don't." "Of course I remember you, only I can't think where we--"
"Why, it was in Paris. We were both so grateful. "Not so very," said the young man. "I remember well, now." It was my
first day there, when I picked up the little dog. "Of course you may call me a friend," said he, kindly. "I was happy then. Now, I am breaking my heart, and
I do not know what to do. Oh, I ought not to talk like this, for after
all, you are a stranger. The girl saw this, and knew that he did not believe
in her as she wished him to believe, as she intended to make him
believe. "Of course I do." He was speaking the truth now. "What about Ciro's? "So it would be; but my poor mother is very ill in her bed," said the
girl. "You are hungry," echoed the girl. But I know--now." The girl lowered her long lashes, perhaps to hide tears. When she did this, and drooped the corners of her mouth, she was very
engaging, and the young man tingled all over with pity. "Mother and I are all alone in the world," she said. We came, and she did win, at first. "She lost all the money we had with us, and telegraphed home for more. Soon, she had sold out every one of our securities. She lost all, again--literally, our all. "What did you do, then?" he asked, honestly absorbed in the story, for
he was a generous and warm hearted fellow, who found most of his
pleasure, in these latter days, in the help he could give others, to
make them happier than he was himself. "I should think she would have been," interrupted the young man. "No. The money was lost. I had been
trying when you saw me, with our last louis. Now you know why it seemed
so good to see a man I knew, a face I could trust. Now you know why I,
who had had such misfortunes, was glad at least to bring you luck." "If you mean with money, no," she said, with soft decision that was
pretty and sad to hear. "If you mean with advice, yes. You see, they will be turning us out of our
hotel to-morrow. "I will promise, now, for you have saved me by--caring a little. "I wouldn't have blood in my veins, if I didn't. asked the girl. If I could be of use, I would work
so hard for you." "I should love it," said the girl, gently. "Oh, it would be hard work. It would take a lot of your time, and be
worth a lot of money." I should be so angry if
you did that." You were different,
somehow, from other men I had seen. "Poor child," said the young man. But you don't know my name, the name
of your new secretary. The girl laughed. "I must go." "It's down in the Condamine," she hesitated. "All the better for me," he answered, and her smile was an appreciation
of the compliment. They sauntered slowly, for there was no haste. "It is not nice," she went on, with a shrug of her pretty shoulders. "Oh, but it looks very fat," she exclaimed. Don't look angry. The girl shook her head, gently. Ah, don't say no. You would love Papillon, and
we should love you to have him. And then, if you won't, you must take all
this back." As she spoke, she touched the bag on her arm. "Oh, I'll have the dog!" Hugh Egerton said, quickly. Do come. "It is the welcome I want," said Hugh. "Not a friend." Then, till this evening. "Poor lonely child," he
thought. She ought not to be left with a person like
that. She ought to marry. "Well, then, if you are sorry, why don't you let me pass?" "It's from Mother, for Madame. Here
'tis, please, Mademoiselle." "What, then?" "He is. Oh, there are lots of things to
tell. He is a good boy." "How, good? We are
not. He respects me, this dear young man, and it is right that he
should. Well,
I don't ask strangers for loans. Later, he will be what I choose. As the
woman talked on, she secretly counted out the money. "A dun," exclaimed the woman. "No doubt. "Well, we can't pay." "Let me see, how much was it she lent?" "Two hundred francs, I think. They both laughed. "Egerton." "Ah yes. "Right you are, Miss Rosemary," returned the plump girl. "You're such a
quaint little body, you're a regular treat. asked the child, sitting down on a
footstool, which was a favourite seat of hers. "Well, they ain't Hinglish." asked Rosemary, as if she longed to have a
doubt set forever at rest. the child enquired, with increasing
respect. "Well, I was the only one as would come at the price. I _was_ a
duffer, though, at first. asked the little girl, awed. "Not as I knows of, but they may for Christmas. asked Rosemary. "Dead sure. "It isn't that," said the little girl. "I
couldn't have a mother who looked any other way," she said. I only mean she isn't much more'n a kid, 'erself." "Lawkes, no. asked Rosemary. It makes her shoulder ache, but it isn't that she minds. But there was some, after all. No, 'ere it is, on the floor. But, as I was sayin', your ma and
mine might be sisters, in some wyes. Rosemary broke in, deeply interested. "'E went to the dogs," replied Jane, mysteriously. breathed the child, thrilled with a vague horror. she ventured to enquire, at last. "Not 'e. You never do, you know, if once you goes to the dogs. "Angel lost
him when I was only two," the child explained. "Oh, would he?" cried Rosemary, a bright colour flaming on her little
soft cheeks. Biby's gorn to sleep, and
seems to be sleepin' light." Here's father,
come back out of the sea." "Oh, oh!" If I went there, could I take some off? I should like to have a little,
very much." "They
would not let you in, because you are too young." "So I thank you for telling me, and now goodbye." But with a cry, Rosemary
rushed across the road. "Oh, but I wanted so much to stop you," said Rosemary. "Why, do you know me?" "Yes, I know you by 'eavensenthinstinct." he asked. "In London," said Rosemary. Are you
out 'on your own,' little lady?" "I don't know what that is; and my mother's my mother just as usual,
thank you," said Rosemary, with dignity. "Oh, doesn't she?" "Oh, that's a long time yet. "May I, truly and really?" Rosemary asked. "I was talking nonsense. Get down, Paul, and put her into the tonneau. You'd better sit by her, perhaps." "Oh, can't I sit in front with you?" "Of course you can, if you like. Paul, wrap her up well in the rug. Now,
little one, we're going to start. answered Rosemary, with a rapt smile on her rosy
face. She shook her head. "Brave Baby." "I don't usually care to be called a baby," she remarked. "You _were_ on a ship, and you were lost at sea. "I wasn't lost at sea, though, or I shouldn't be here with you," said
Hugh Egerton. he
went on. "Oh, I didn't see you on the ship," said Rosemary. It was the feeling I had in my heart, just as
Jane said I would, the minute I saw you, that told me it was you. "So you might," said puzzled Hugh Egerton, pleased as well as puzzled. "We must find Angel next," Rosemary assured him. By the way, who is Angel?" "Mother. But there was no such difficulty with
this child. he asked, blissfully unconscious of offence. "Oh no," said Rosemary. "No, thank you." "No, not tired." "I'm worrying," confessed the child. "What about, little one?" he asked. "Paul's in the tonneau, you know; and
he's a most discreet chap." "I don't know what a chaperon is," said Rosemary. "Yes, to both your questions." "Oh, I'm so glad. "Maybe you named her
Angel, yourself?" "I don't know," said Rosemary. "She seems to have been it, always, ever
since I can remember. And she does look just like one, you know, she's
so beautiful." Oh, I do love picnics, don't you? asked Hugh, driving along the
beautiful shore road, where the wind-blown pines lean forward like
transformed wood nymphs, caught in a spell just as they spread out their
arms to spring into the sea. I used
to be poor, until I dug, and found some gold lying about in the ground." "I will, lots, if you'll take them." "Yes, she would. Oh, do let's go back now, and I'll take you to her. "I should think she would," said Hugh. But she shook her head. "I'd rather go home, thank you. he echoed. "She's my doll," explained Rosemary. said Hugh. "Of course I do. But tell me, why did you name your doll Evie?" "I 'sposed you would," she replied. "Yes," replied Rosemary. "You're almost like a fairy father, I said." So, he was her father--her long lost father! "That's it," said he, calling all his tact to the rescue. I shall think of you and of this day, often. "Oh, how dreadful!" cried Rosemary, her voice quivering. I do love you so much. By the way, you
didn't tell me why you named her that." "Evelyn. "Rosemary Evelyn Clifford." "How strange your voice sounds," said Rosemary. I--feel a little odd, that's all." He must see her, at once--at once. She
was Lady Clifford. Still, he must know, and know quickly. "Where do you live, little Rosemary?" he asked, grimly schooling his
voice, when he felt that he could trust himself to speak. he
exclaimed. They're angry with her for asking,
but she had to, you see. he asked. "Oh yes, always. she asked, choking back a
sob, as he lifted her to the ground. "We haven't one of our own," said Rosemary. If you'll come in, I'll go and see if she's in our room." "But she'll soon be here now," went on the child. "Would you tell me one, about when you were lost?" "I'll try," Hugh said. Hugh laughed, and was silent. It was Angel, of course; but Angel did not come in. She stopped on the
threshold, talking to somebody, or rather somebody was talking to her. Rosemary could not see the person, but she recognised the voice. "Once for all, I will not have it. I am engaged to be married to a
rich man, an American. With the last words, the other voice died into distance. she stammered, whispering as one whispers in a
dream. she echoed. And besides, I'm only
Madame Clifford here. "Evelyn," he said. We haven't many friends, in
these days." "You never lost me," said Hugh Egerton. "It was I who lost you. I loved you so." "It was always." No, I--"
"But--I did care for you. He was tired of me. He was on a
yacht, and there was a great storm. But, yes,--in a way you were right. "Rosemary had you. Do say yes." Evelyn Clifford had loved him, even when she had let him go. He was lonely and rich. She was lonely
and poor. But Christmas was to be a
holiday. They were going on that picnic to Éze, all three. The more he could spend to-day, the more was Hugh
Egerton pleased. Her sister would serve him, therefore he would be well
served. You just see
what you want, and then you buy it." he
anathematized himself. It was now nine thirty. They were quite right. "Wicked, extravagant Boy," exclaimed Evelyn. It took some time, and they were nearly late for
Church, but not quite. piped a tiny voice, and forty other
voices caught up the adoring cry. Dolls
for the girls, dolls by the dozen, dolls by the legion; and sweets for
all. Don't
forget, next Christmas Day." The others did not speak, but the same thought was in their hearts. asked Hugh. "There's Jane," suggested Rosemary. "Oh, Angel, is it some dreadful dream?" It was the only thing to do. Thank heaven,
_she_ has vanished."