A BORDER RUFFIAN. 

By Thomas A. Janvier

Copyright, 1891, by Harper & Brothers

I. --WEST. 

_The Incident of the Boston Young Lady, the Commercial Traveller, andthe Desperado. _

I. 

Throughout the whole of the habitable globe there nowhere is to be foundmore delightful or more invigorating air than that which every travellerthrough New Mexico, from Albuquerque, past Las Vegas, to the RatonMountains, is free to breathe. 

Miss Grace Winthrop, of Boston, and also Miss Winthrop, her paternalaunt, and also Mr. Hutchinson Port, of Philadelphia, her maternaluncle--all of whom were but forty hours removed from the Alkali Desertwest of the Continental Divide--felt in the very depths of their severalbeings how entirely good this air was; and, as their several naturesmoved them, they betrayed their lively appreciation of its excellence. 

Miss Grace Winthrop, having contrived for herself, with the intelligentassistance of the porter, a most comfortable nest of pillows, sufferedher novel to remain forgotten upon her knees; and, as she leaned herpretty blond head against the wood-work separating her section from thatadjoining it, looked out upon the brown mountains, and accorded to thoselargely-grand objects of nature the rare privilege of being reflectedupon the retina of her very blue eyes. Yet the mountains could notflatter themselves with the conviction that contemplation of them whollyfilled her mind, for occasionally she smiled a most delightful smile. 

Miss Winthrop, retired from the gaze of the world in the cell that thePullman-car people euphemistically style a state-room, ignored all suchcasual excrescences upon the face of nature as mountains, and seriouslyread her morning chapter of Emerson. 

Mr. Hutchinson Port, lulled by the easy, jog-trot motion of the car, and soothed by the air from Paradise that, for his virtues, he was beingpermitted to breathe, lapsed into calm and grateful slumber: and dreamed(nor could a worthy Philadelphian desire a better dream) of a certainmeeting of the Saturday Night Club, in December, 1875, whereat theterrapin was remarkable, even for Philadelphia. 

Miss Winthrop, absorbed in her Emersonian devotions, and Mr. HutchinsonPort, absorbed in slumber, did not perceive that the slow motion of thetrain gradually became slower, and finally entirely ceased; and evenGrace, lost in her pleasant daydream, scarcely observed that theunsightly buildings of a little way-station had thrust themselvesinto the foreground of her landscape--for this foreground she ignored, keeping her blue eyes serenely fixed upon the great brown mountainsbeyond. Nor was she more than dimly conscious of the appearance upon thestation platform of a tall, broad-shouldered young man clad in corduroy, wearing a wide-brimmed felt-hat, and girded about with a belt, stuckfull of cartridges, from which depended a very big revolver. In a vagueway she was conscious of this young man's existence, and of an undefinedfeeling that, as the type of a dangerous and interesting class, hisappearance was opportune in a part of the country which she had been ledto believe was inhabited almost exclusively by cut-throats and outlaws. 

In a minute or two the train went on again, and as it started Grace wasaroused and shocked by the appearance at the forward end of the car ofthe ruffianly character whom she had but half seen from the car window. For a moment she believed that the train-robbery, that she had beenconfidently expecting over since her departure from San Francisco, wasabout to take place. Her heart beat hard, and her breath came quickly. But before these symptoms had time to become alarming the desperado hadpassed harmlessly to the rear end of the car, and after him had come theporter carrying his valise and a Winchester rifle. 

"Goin' to Otero? Yes, sah! All right, sah! Put yo' heah; nice seat onshady side, sah! Thank yo', sah! Have a pillow, sah?" And, hearing thisaddress on the part of the porter, Grace knew that the desperado, for the moment at least, was posing in the character of a law-abidingcitizen, and was availing himself of his rights as such to ride ina Pullman-car. Being thus relieved of cause for immediate alarm, herbreast presently began to swell with a fine indignation at the impudenceof this abandoned person in thus thrusting himself into a placereserved, if not absolutely for aristocratic, certainly, at least, forrespectable society. 

II. 

The slight stir incident to the entrance of this offensive strangeraroused Mr. Hutchinson Port from his agreeable slumber. He yawnedslightly, cast a disparaging glance upon the mountains, and then, drawing an especially good cigar from his case, betook himself to thesmoking-room. Grace did not realize his intentions until they had becomeaccomplished deeds. 

Mr. Hutchinson Port--although a member (on the retired list) of theFirst City Troop, and therefore, presumably, inflamed with the martialspirit characteristic of that ancient and honorable organization--wasnot, perhaps, just the man that a person knowing in such matters wouldhave selected to pit against a New Mexico desperado in a hand-to-handconflict. But Grace felt her heart sink a little as she saw the roundand rather pursy form of her natural protector walk away into the depthsof a mirror at the forward end of the car, and so vanish. And inthis same mirror she beheld, seated only two sections behind her, thescowling ruffian!

The situation, as Grace regarded it, was an alarming one; and it wasthe more trying to her nerves because it did not, reasonably, admit ofaction. She was aware that the very presence of a ruffian in a Pullmancar was in the nature of a promise, on his part, that for the time beingit was not his intention either to murder or to rob--unless, indeed, he were one of a robber band, and was awaiting the appearance of hisconfederates. For her either to call her uncle, or break in upon theEmersonian seclusion of her aunt, she felt would not be well received, under the circumstances, by either of these her relatives. As to theporter, that sable functionary had vanished; there was no electric bell, and the car, one of a Pullman train, had no conductor. 

For protection, therefore, should need for protection arise, Graceperceived that she must depend upon the one other passenger. (They hadlingered so long amid the delights of a Santa Barbara spring thatthey were journeying in that pleasant time of year when spring traveleastward has ended, and summer travel has not yet begun. ) This oneother passenger was a little man of dapper build and dapper dress, whose curiously-shaped articles of luggage betokened his connection withcommercial affairs. Grace was forced to own, as she now for the firsttime regarded him attentively, that he did not seem to be wrought of thestern stuff out of which, as a rule, champions are made. 

As she thus looked upon him, she was startled to find that he waslooking very fixedly upon her; and she was further startled, as theireyes met, by the appearance upon his face of a friendly smile. She wouldhave been vastly surprised had she been aware that this little personlabored under the belief that he had already effected a favorablelodgement in her good graces; and she would have been both surprisedand horrified could she have known that each of her own strictlyconfidential smiles during her day-dream had been accepted by thecommercial traveller as intended for himself; and had been met, as theysuccessively appeared, by his own smiles in answer. Yet this was theactual state of the case; and the little man's soul was uplifted by thethought that here was a fresh proof, and a very pleasant one, of howirresistible were his personal appearance and his personal charm ofmanner when arrayed in battery against any one of the gentler sex. 

Viewed from the stand-point of his experience, this inquiring lookand its attendant eye-encounter indicated that the moment for morepronounced action now had arrived. With the assured air of one whopossibly may be repulsed, but who certainly cannot be defeated, he arosefrom his seat, crossed to Miss Grace Winthrop's section, and, with apleasant remark to the effect that in travelling it always was nice tobe sociable, edged himself into the seat beside her. 

For a moment, the insolent audacity of this move was so overwhelmingthat Grace was quite incapable of coherent expression. The lovely pinkof her cheeks became a deep crimson that spread to the very tips of herears; her blue eyes flashed, and her hands clinched instinctively. 

"Looked like a perfect little blue-eyed devil, " the drummer subsequentlydeclared, in narrating a highly-embellished version of his adventure, "but she didn't mean it, you know--at least, only for a minute or two. Isoon combed her down nicely. " What he actually said, was:

"Been travellin' far, miss?"

"What do you mean by this? Go away!" Grace managed to say; but she couldnot speak very clearly, for she was choking. 

"Come, don't get mad, miss! I know you're not mad, really, anyway. Whena woman's as handsome as you are, she can't be bad-natured. Come fromCalifornia, I suppose? Nice country over there, ain't it?"

What with surprise and rage and fright, Grace was very nearly franticFor the moment she was powerless--her uncle in the smoking-room, heraunt locked up with her Emersonian meditations, the porter in the lobby;the only available person upon whom she could call for aid a horribledrunken murderer and robber, steeped in all the darkest crimes of thefrontier! She felt herself growing faint, but she struggled to her feet. The drummer laid his hand on her arm: "Don't go away, my dear! Just stayand have a little talk. You see--"

But the sentence was not finished. Grace felt her head buzzing, andthen, from somewhere--a long way off, it seemed--she heard a voicesaying: "I beg your pardon; this thing seems to be annoying you. Permitme to remove it. "

Her head cleared a little, for there was a promise of help--not only inthe words but in the tone. And then she saw the desperado calmly settlea big hand into the collar of the little man's coat, lift him out of theseat and well up into the air, and so carry him at arm's-length--kickingand struggling, and looking for all the world like a jumping-jack--outthrough the passage-way at the forward end of the car. 

As they disappeared, she precipitately sought refuge in thestate-room--where Miss Winthrop was aroused from her seriouscontemplation of All-pervading Thought by a sudden and most energeticdemand upon her protection and her salts-bottle. And, before she couldbe made in the least degree to comprehend why Grace should requireeither the one or the other, Grace had still further complicated andmystified the matter by fainting dead away. 

III. 

In the course of two or three hours--aided by Miss Winthrop's saltsand Mr. Hutchinson Port's travelling-flask of peculiar old Otard, whichtogether contributed calmness and strength, and being refreshed by alittle slumber--Grace was able to explain in an intelligible manner theadventure that had befallen her. 

"And no matter what dreadful crimes that horrible man may havecommitted, " she said, in conclusion. "I shall be most grateful to him tomy dying day. And I want you, Uncle Hutchinson, no matter how unpleasantit may be to you to do so, to thank him from me for what he did. And, oh! it was so funny to see that detestable little impudent man kickingabout that way in the air!" Which remembrance, at the same moment, ofboth the terrifying and the ludicrous side of her recent experience, notunnaturally sent Grace off into hysterics. 

Mr. Hutchinson Port was quite ready to carry the message of thanks tothe desperado, and to add to it some very hearty thanks of his own. Buthis good intentions could not be realized; the desperado no longer wason the train. 

"Yes, sah; I knows the gen'l'm yo' means, sah, " responded the porter, in answer to inquiries. "Pow'fl big gen'l'm yo' means, as got on thismo'nin' to Vegas. Thet's th' one, sah! He'd some kind er trib-bilationwith th' little gen'l'm'--th' drummer gen'lm' as got on las' night toLamy--an' he brought him out, holdin' him like he was a kitten, to thelobby, an' jus' set him down an' boxed his ears till he hollered! Yes, sah, thet's th' one. He got off to Otero. An' th' little man he got offto Trinidad, an' said he was agoin' up by the Denver to Pueblo. Yes, sah; they's both got off, sah! Thank yo', sah! Get yo' a pillow, sah?"

IV. 

And so it came to pass that Miss Grace Winthrop returned to Bostoncherishing towards desperadoes in general, and towards the desperadoesof New Mexico in particular, sentiments as generous as they wereunusual. 

Miss Winthrop the elder, whose soul was accustomed to a purer ether thanthat in which desperadoes ordinarily are found, presently forgot thevicarious excitements of her journey eastward in the calm joys of theSummer School of Philosophy. 

And Mr. Hutchinson Port longed to be able to forget the whole State ofCalifornia: when he realized, as he did with a most bitter keenness, that the superficial charms of that greatly overrated region haddetained him upon the Western coast until the terrapin season wasabsolutely at an end!

II. --EAST. 

_The Incident of the Mysterious Stranger, and the PhiladelphiaDinner-party. _

I. 

Mrs. Rittenhouse Smith had achieved righteousness. That is to say, beinga Philadelphian, she was celebrated for giving successful dinners. Theperson who achieves celebrity of this sort in Philadelphia is not unlikethe seraph who attains to eminence in the heavenly choir. 

It was conceded that Mr. Rittenhouse Smith (he was one of _the_ Smiths, of course--not the others. His mother was a Biddle) was an importantfactor in his wife's success; for, as became a well-brought-upPhiladelphian, he attended personally to the marketing. But had theseSmith dinners been commendable only because the food was good, theywould not have been at all remarkable. In Philadelphia, so far as theeating is concerned, a bad dinner seems to be an impossibility. 

In truth, Mrs. Smith's dinners were famous because they never weremarred by even the slightest suggestion of a _contretemps_; because theyglided along smoothly, and at precisely the proper rate of speed, fromoysters to coffee; and, because--and to accomplish this in Philadelphiawas to accomplish something very little short of a miracle--they neverwere stupid. 

Therefore it was that Mrs. Rittenhouse Smith stood among the elect, witha comfortable sense of security in her election; and she smelled with asatisfied nose the smell of the social incense burned before hershrine; and she heard with well-pleased ears the social hosannas whichconstantly were sung in her praise. 

II. 

Occupying a position at once so ornate and so enviable, the feelings ofMrs. Rittenhouse Smith may be imagined upon finding herself confronted. With the tragical probability that one of her most importantdinner-parties would be a failure. 

In preparing for this dinner-party she had thought deeply in the stillwatches of the night, and she had pondered upon it in the silenceof noonday. For Mrs. Smith, above all others, knew that only by suchsoulful vigilance can a perfect dinner be secured. It was her desirethat it should be especially bright intellectually, for it was to begiven to Miss Winthrop, of Boston, and was to include Miss Winthrop'sniece, Miss Grace Winthrop, also of Boston. These ladies, as she knew, belonged to clubs which, while modestly named after the days of theweek, were devoted wholly to the diffusion of the most exalted mentalculture. Moreover, they both were on terms of intimacy with Mr. HenryJames. On the other hand, it was her desire that the dinner shouldbe perfect materially, because among her guests was to be Miss GraceWinthrop's uncle, Mr. Hutchinson Port. It was sorely against Mrs. Smith's will that Mr. Hutchinson Port was included in her list, forhe had the reputation of being the most objectionable diner-out inPhiladelphia. His conversation at table invariably consisted solelyof disparaging remarks, delivered in an undertone to his immediateneighbors, upon the character and quality of the food. However, in thepresent case, as Miss Grace Winthrop's uncle, he was inevitable. 

And, such was Mrs. Smith's genius, she believed that she had masteredthe situation. Her list--excepting, of course, Mr. Hutchinson Port, andhe could not reasonably be objected to by his own relatives--was allthat she could desire. The nine other guests, she was satisfied, weresuch as could be exhibited creditably even to ladies belonging to Bostonclubs and personally acquainted with Mr. Henry James. As to the dinneritself, Mr. Rittenhouse Smith, who never spoke inconsiderately inmatters of this grave nature, had agreed with her that--barring, ofcourse, some Providentially interposed calamity such as scorching theducks or getting too much salt in the terrapin--even Mr. Hutchinson Portwould be unable to find a flaw in it. 

And now, at the last moment, at twelve o'clock of the day on which thedinner was to take place, came a note from the man upon whom she hadmost strongly counted to make the affair a success--the brightest manon her list, and the one who was to take out Miss Grace Winthrop--sayingthat he was laid up with a frightful cold and face-ache! He tried tomake a joke of it, poor fellow, by adding a sketch--he sketched quitenicely--of his swelled cheek swathed in a handkerchief. But Mrs. Rittenhouse Smith was in no humor for joking; she was furious!

When a woman misses fire in this way, it usually is possible to fill herplace with a convenient young sister, or even with an elderly aunt. Butwhen a man is wanted, and, especially, as in the case in point, a cleverman, the matter very readily may become desperate. Mrs. RittenhouseSmith certainly was dismayed, yet was she not utterly cast down. She hadfaith in her own quick wits, which had rescued her in times past fromother social calamities, though never from one darker than this, ofhaving, at a single fatal blow, her best man cut off from one of hermost important dinner-parties, and the dinner-party itself reduced tothirteen; an ominous and dismal number that surely would be discovered, and that would cast over her feast a superstitious gloom. 

In this trying emergency Mrs. Smith acted with characteristic decisionand wisdom. She perceived that to send invitations simultaneously toall the possible men of her acquaintance might involve her in stillmore awkward complications, while to send invitations successively mightresult in a fatal loss of time. Obviously, the only practicable coursewas a series of prompt, personal appeals from one to another, untilassurance was received that the vacant place certainly would be filled. Therefore she despatched a note to Mr. Rittenhouse Smith, at hisdown-town office, acquainting him with the impending catastrophe andbidding him drop all other concerns until he had averted it by securinga satisfactory man. 

III. 

Now, under ordinary circumstances, Mr. Rittenhouse Smith would haveobeyed his wife's orders cheerfully and promptly; but on thisparticular day there was a flurry in the stock-market (Mr. Smith was astock-broker), and every minute that he was away from his office exposedhim to serious business danger. At what he considered to be the safestmoments, he made no less than five sallies after as many different men;and three of these had engagements for the evening, and two of them wereout of town. What with the condition of the stock-market and the gloomyoutlook for the dinner-party, Mr. Smith, albeit he was ordinarily acalm, sedate man, was almost distraught. 

Three o'clock brought a prospect of relief, but after a day of suchactive dealing his books could not be settled hurriedly. In point offact, when at last he was able to leave his Third Street office theState House clock was striking five; and the dinner, in accordancewith Philadelphia custom, was to be at seven! He knew that his wife haddischarged into his hands the matter of procuring the needed man; and heknew that this line of action on her part had been both right and wise;but he groaned in spirit, as he thought how dreadful a responsibilitywas his!

Mr. Smith was a methodical man, and in the calmness partly bred of hisnaturally orderly habits, and partly bred of his despair, he seatedhimself at his desk, in company with a comforting cigar, to think of anypossible men whom he might beat up at their homes as he went westward. While he thus meditated--and while blackness settled down upon his soul, for of none could he think available for his purpose--he looked idlyat the list of hotel arrivals in the morning paper that chanced to liebeside him; and suddenly he arose with a great shout of joy, for in thislist he beheld the name, "Van R. Livingstone. "

Here, indeed, was good-fortune at last! Van Rensselaer Livingstone wasin college with him, in his own class, at Harvard. They had been capitalfriends while their college life lasted; and although Livingstone hadspent the last ten or twelve years in Europe, they had not wholly losttrack of each other. Clever, handsome, well-born, and well-bred, he waseverything that the present occasion required. He seemed to have beensent from heaven direct. In twenty minutes Mr. Smith was asking for himat his hotel. 

"Mr. Livingstone? Mr. Livingstone is out. "

"Did he leave any word as to when he would come in?"

"Yes, sir. He said that a gentleman might call, and to say that hecertainly would be back at six, and would not go out again to-night. "

Mr. Smith looked at his watch--it was 5:30. Had there been anyuncertainty as to Livingstone's return, he would have waited. But itwas clear that he was coming back to dine at his hotel, and to spend theevening there. A note, therefore, could be trusted to do the business, and by writing, instead of waiting, Mr. Smith would save half an hour;moreover, if he waited, he would not have time to make the mayonnaise. 

Probably it is only in Philadelphia that it ever occurs nowadays to themaster of a feast to dress the salad; which, doubtless, is the reasonwhy a better salad is served at certain dinner-tables in Philadelphiathan at any other dinner-tables in the whole world. 

The thought of the mayonnaise settled the matter. Mr. Smith hastilywrote an account of the trying situation, and concluded his note with asolemn demand upon "dear old Van" to fill the vacant place, "in the holyname of the class of '68, and for love of your old classmate, R. Smith. "

IV. 

Presently the person thus adjured returned to his hotel, and witha somewhat puzzled expression read the adjuration. "R. Smith, " hemurmured, reflectively. "I think I do remember a Dicky Smith, fromPhiladelphia, at Columbia. But he wasn't in my class, and my classwasn't '68, but '76, and I don't remember ever saying a dozen wordsto him. He's got a good deal of cheek, whoever he is--and he, andhis dinner, and his missing man may all go to the devil together! Hisinvitation is absurd!" And with this ultimatum Mr. Livingstone laid theletter and envelope neatly together, preparatory to tearing them intofragments. 

But before this purpose was accomplished, another view of the situationcame into his mind. "I don't see why I shouldn't go, " he thought. "I'vebeen muddling all day with this wretched wool man--which is a bore, evenif I have made a pretty good bargain with him for next season's clip;and Ned hasn't come to time, which is another bore, for now I'll have toeat my dinner alone. And this Dicky Smith writes like a gentleman, evenif he is cheeky; and he certainly seems to be in a peck of troublesabout his missing man, and his thirteen at table, and the rest of it. Why, it's a regular adventure! And to think of having an adventure inPhiladelphia, of all places in the world! By Jove, I'll go!"

V. 

"How very, very good of you, Mr. Livingstone, to come to our rescue!" Itwas Mrs. Rittenhouse Smith who spoke, and she spoke in a guarded tone;for Livingstone was among the last to arrive, and she had no desire topublish among her guests the catastrophe that so nearly had overtakenher. 

"And I know, " she continued: "that you will understand how sorry I amthat this first visit of Mr. Smith's old friend to our house should beunder such peculiar circumstances. But you will have your reward, foryou are to take out the very prettiest and the very brightest girlhere. Come and be rewarded!" And Mrs. Smith slipped her hand upon herbenefactor's arm, and piloted him across the room. 

"Miss Winthrop, permit me to present Mr. Livingstone. Miss Winthrop ishalf Boston and half European, Mr. Livingstone; and as you, after theseten years abroad, must be wholly European, you can cheer each other asfellow foreigners in the midst of Philadelphia barbarism"--with whichpleasant speech the hostess turned quickly to receive the last arrival(a man, of course; only a man would dare to be even near to late atone of Mrs. Rittenhouse Smith's dinners), and then, standing beside thedoorway, with Mr. Hutchinson Port, marshalled her company in to dinner. It was a comfort to her to know that for once in his fault-findinglife Mr. Port would be compelled, since he was to be seated beside hishostess, to eat his food without abusing it. 

Just at this time two things struck Mrs. Smith as odd. One was that asshe presented her handsome guest to Miss Grace Winthrop she certainlyhad felt him start, while his arm had trembled curiously beneath herhand. The other was that as Mr. Rittenhouse Smith left the drawing-room, passing close beside her with Miss Winthrop upon his arm, he made a faceat her. The first of these phenomena struck her as curious. The secondstruck her as ominous. Had it been possible she would have investigatedthe cause of Mr. Smith's facial demonstration. But it was not possible. She only could breathe a silent prayer that all would go well--and thewhile sniff anxiously to discover if perchance there were a smell ofscorching duck. 

Mrs. Smith would have been still more mystified could she have beencognizant at this juncture of her husband's and of Miss Grace Winthrop'sand of Mr. Livingstone's thoughts. 

The first of these was thinking: "It isn't Van Rensselaer Livingstone, any more than I am; though he certainly looks like him. And I'm surethat he knows that he don't know me. And I think that we've managed toget into a blank idiotic mess!"

And the second of these was thinking: "If he's been in Europe for thepast ten years, there's not one chance in fifty that I ever have laideyes on him. But I know I have!"

And the third of these was thinking: "There isn't man in the room wholooks enough like Dicky Smith to be his tenth cousin. But if ever thegoodness of heaven was shown in the affairs of men it is shown here tome to-night!"

VI. 

Even as the sun triumphs over the darkness of night and the gloom of thetempest, so did Mrs. Rittenhouse Smith's dinner-party emerge radiantlyfrom the sombre perils which had beset it. It was a brilliant, unqualified success. 

Miss Winthrop was good enough to say, when the evening was ended--sayingit in that assured, unconscious way that gives to the utterances ofBoston people so peculiar a charm--"Really, Mrs. Smith, you have givenme not only a delightful dinner, but a delightful surprise; I would nothave believed, had I not seen it myself, that outside of Boston so manyclever people could be brought together!"

And Mr. Hutchinson Port, upsetting all his traditions, had kept up arunning fire of laudatory comment upon the dinner that had filledMrs. Smith's soul with joy. She had expected him, being cut off by herpresence from engaging in his accustomed grumbling, to maintain a moodysilence. She had not expected praise: and she valued his praise the morebecause she knew that he spoke out of the fulness of his wisdom; andbecause in a matter of such vital moment as eating she knew that shecould trust him to be sincere. His only approach to invidious commentwas in regard to the terrapin. 

With the grave solemnity that marks the serving of this delicacy inPhiladelphia; in the midst of a holy calm befitting a sacred rite, thesilver vessels were carried around the board, and in hushed rapture (alittle puzzling to the Bostonians) the precious mixture was ladled outupon the fourteen plates; and Mr. Hutchinson Port, as the result ofmany years of soulful practice, was able to secure to himself at onedexterous scoop more eggs than fell to the lot of any other two men. 

It was while rapturously eating these eggs that he spake: "My dear Mrs. Smith, will you forgive me if I venture to suggest, even to you--forwhat I have seen this night has convinced me that you are one of thevery few people who know what a dinner ought to be--that the Madeiraused in dressing terrapin cannot possibly be _too_ old?"

VII. 

Proceeding in accordance with the cue that Mrs. Smith had given her, Miss Grace Winthrop engaged Mr. Livingstone in conversation uponEuropean topics; and was somewhat astonished to find, in view of hispast ten years in Europe, that they evidently had very little interestfor him. And all the while that she talked with him she was haunted bythe conviction that she had seen him somewhere; and all the while shewas aware of something in his manner, she could not tell what, thatseemed to imply that she ought to know who he was. 

What Miss Grace Winthrop did feel entirely certain about, however, wasthat this was one of the cleverest and one of the manliest men she hadever come across. His well-shaped hands were big and brown, and his facewas brown, and the set of his head and the range of his broad shouldersgave him an alert look and a certain air of command. There was thatabout him which suggested a vigorous life in the open air. There wasnothing to suggest ten years in Europe, unless it were the charm of hismanner, and his neat way of saying bright things. 

As for Livingstone, he was as one who at the same time is both entrancedand inspired. He knew that he never had been happier in his life; heknew that he never had said so many clever things in so short a time. Therefore it was that these young people always thereafter were mostharmoniously agreed that this was the very happiest dinner that they hadeaten in all their lives. 

It came to an end much too soon for either of them. The ladies left theroom, and cigars were invoked to fill their place. This was themoment that Livingstone had looked forward to as affording the firstpracticable opportunity for taking his host apart and explaining thathis, Livingstone's, presence at that particular feast certainly must beowing to some mistake. And this was the moment that Mr. Smith, also, hadlooked forward to as available for clearing up the mystery--of whichhis wife still was blissfully ignorant--as to who their stranger guestreally was. But the moment now being come, Livingstone weakly butdeliberately evaded it by engaging in an animated conversation with Mr. Hutchinson Port in regard to the precise number of minutes and secondsthat a duck ought to remain before the fire; and Mr. Smith--havingpartaken of his own excellent wines and meats until his whole being wasaglow with a benevolent friendliness--contented himself with thinkingthat, no matter who his guest was, he certainly was a capital fellow;and that to cross-question him as to his name, at least until theevening was at an end, would be a gross outrage upon the laws ofhospitality. 

Livingstone, however, had the grace to feel a good deal ashamed ofhimself as they returned to the drawing-room. In all that had gonebefore, he had been a victim of circumstances. He had an uncomfortableconviction that his position now was not wholly unlike that of animpostor. But as he pushed aside the portiere he beheld a pair of blueeyes which, he flattered himself, betrayed an expression of pleasedexpectancy--and his compunctions vanished. 

There was only a little time left to them, for the evening was almostat an end. Their talk came back to travel. Did she like travelling inAmerica? he asked. Yes, she liked it very much indeed, "only "--as asudden memory of a past experience flashed into her mind--"one doessometimes meet such dreadfully horrid people!"

They were sitting, as they talked, in a narrow space between a table andthe wall, made narrower by the presence of an unused chair. Just as thismemory was aroused, some one tried to push by them, and Livingstone, rising, lifted the obstructing chair away. To find a clear space inwhich to put it down, he lifted it across the table; and for a moment hestood erect, holding the chair out before him at arm's-length. 

When he seated himself and turned again to speak to Grace, he wasstartled to find that her face and shoulders, and even her arms--herarms and shoulders were delectable--were crimson; and in her eyes hefound at last the look of recognition that he had hoped for earlier inthe evening, but that now he had ceased to expect. Recognition of thisemphatic sort he certainly had not expected at all. 

"You--you see, " she said, "I al--always have thought that you werea robber and a murderer, and shocking things like that. And I didn'treally see you that day, except as you walked away, holding up thathorrid little man, kicking--just as you held up the chair. Can you ever, ever forgive me for thinking such wicked things about you, and for beingso ungrateful as not to know you at the very first?"

And Livingstone, then and later, succeeded in convincing her that hecould. 

VIII. 

By an emphatic whisper Miss Grace Winthrop succeeded in impressingupon her aunt the necessity--at no matter what sacrifice of thesocial conventions--of being the last to go. In the matter of keepingLivingstone, she experienced no difficulty at all. And when theunnecessary eight had departed, she presented to her aunt and uncle herdeliverer, and--in a delightfully hesitating way--told to Mr. And Mrs. Smith the story of her deliverance. 

It was when this matter had been explained that Livingstone, who feltthat his position now was absolutely secure, brought up the delicatequestion of his own identity. 

"You can understand, I am sure, Mrs. Smith, " he said, "how very gratefulI am to you for this evening; but, indeed, I don't think that I am theperson you meant to ask. And it has occurred to me, from something thatyou said about my having been in Europe for a good while, that Mr. Smithmight have meant his invitation for Van Rensselaer Livingstone. He's mycousin, you know; and he has spent the last ten years in Europe, andis there yet, I fancy. But I am Van Ruyter Livingstone, and if I canbe said to have a home anywhere--except the old home in New York, ofcourse--it is on my sheep range in New Mexico. 

"But you won't be cruel enough, Mrs. Smith, after letting me intoParadise--even if I did get in by mistake--to turn me out again; willyou?"

And Mrs. Rittenhouse Smith, who was a clever woman, as well as aremarkably clear-sighted one, replied that even if she wanted to turnMr. Van Ruyter Livingstone out of Paradise she believed that it was nowtoo late.