ROSEMARY: A CHRISTMAS STORY

[Illustration: Evelyn and Rosemary climbed hand in hand, while Hughcarried the two huge baskets. 

_Frontispiece. _ --_Rosemary. _]

 ROSEMARY A Christmas Story

 By C. N. And A. M. WILLIAMSON

 [Illustration]

 With Eight Illustrations By WILLIAM HATHERELL

 NEW YORK A. L. BURT COMPANY PUBLISHERS

 _Copyright, 1906, by McClure, Phillips & Co. _

_To Minda_

CONTENTS

[Illustration: Contents]

CHAPTER PAGE

 I. THE WHITE GIRL ON THE TERRACE: THE ROSE GIRL AT THE CASINO 3

 II. THE ROSE GIRL'S LITTLE STORY, AND GREAT EYES 21

 III. WHEN THE CURTAIN WAS DOWN 40

 IV. DOGS AND FATHERS 48

 V. ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER 62

 VI. FAIRY FATHERS MUST VANISH 78

 VII. THE WHITE FIGURE AT THE DOOR 94

VIII. WHEN A MAN GOES SHOPPING 108

 IX. THE LAST WORD OF MADEMOISELLE 128

ILLUSTRATIONS

[Illustration: Illustrations]

 EVELYN AND ROSEMARY CLIMBED HAND IN HAND, WHILE HUGH CARRIED TWO HUGE BASKETS _Frontispiece_

 FACING PAGE

 HE TOOK OFF HALF, AND WAS LEAVING THE REST TO RUN, WHEN A VOICE CLOSE TO HIS SHOULDER, SAID, "OH, DO TAKE IT ALL OFF" 12

 WITH A CRASH OF MACHINERY HE BROUGHT THE BIG BLUE CAR TO A STOP 70

 HE CRUSHED THEM IN HIS, THEN BENT HIS HEAD AND KISSED THEM 102

 THEY CAME NEARER, NEAR ENOUGH FOR MADEMOISELLE TO RECOGNISE THE MAN WITH THEM 124

 THEIR FLUFFY LACES BURNT AND BLACKENED. CHIFFON FICHUS TORN IN RIBBONS STREWED THE CARPET 138

[Illustration: CHAPTER ONE]

THE WHITE GIRL ON THE TERRACE: THE ROSE GIRL AT THE CASINO

[Illustration: T]

There was a young man in Monte Carlo. He had come in a motor car, and hehad come a long way, but he hardly knew why he had come. He hardly knewin these days why he did anything. But then, one must do something. 

It would be Christmas soon, and he thought that he would rather get itover on the Riviera than anywhere else, because the blue and goldweather would not remind him of other Christmases which were gone--pure, white, cold Christmases, musical with joy-bells and sweet with aromaticpine, the scent of trees born to be Christmas trees. 

There had been a time when he had fancied it would be a wonderful thingto see the Riviera. He had thought what it would be like to be a richman, and bring a certain girl here for a moon of honey and roses. 

She was the most beautiful girl in the world, or he believed her so, which is exactly the same thing; and he had imagined the joy of walkingwith her on just such a terrace as this Casino terrace where he waswalking now, alone. She would be in white, with one of those long erminethings that women call stoles; an ermine muff (the big, "granny" kindthat swallows girlish arms up to the dimples in their elbows) and a hatwhich they would have bought together in Paris. 

They would have bought jewels, too, in the same street where they foundthe hat; the Rue de la Paix, which she had told him she longed to see. And she would be wearing some of the jewels with the white dress--just afew, not many, of course. A string of pearls (she loved pearls) aswallow brooch (he had heard her say she admired those swallow brooches, and he never forgot anything she said); with perhaps a sapphire-studdedbuckle on her white suéde belt. Yes, that would be all, except therings, which would lie hidden under her gloves, on the dear little handswhose nails were like enamelled rose leaves. 

When she moved, walking beside him on the terrace, there would be amysterious silky whisper and rustle, something like that you hear in thewoods, in the spring, when the leaves are crisp with their pale greenyouth, and you shut your eyes, listening to the breeze telling them thesecrets of life. 

There would be a fragrance about the white dress and the laces, andermine, and the silk things that you could not see, --a fragrance asmysterious as the rustling, for it would seem to belong to the girl, andnot to have come from any bottle, or bag of sachet powder. A sweet, fresh, indefinable fragrance, like the smell of a tea rose after rain. 

They would have walked together, they two, and he would have been soproud of her, that every time a passer-by cast a glance of admiration ather face, he would feel that he could hardly keep in a laugh of joy, ora shout, "She is mine--she is mine. "

But he had been poor in the old days, when from far away he had thoughtof this terrace, and the moon of honey and roses, and love. It had allbeen a dream, then, as it was now; too sweet ever to come true. 

He thought of the dream, and of the boy who had dreamed it, halfbitterly, half sadly, on this his first day in the place of the dream. 

He was rich--as rich as he had seen himself in the impossible picture, and it would have been almost too easy to buy the white dress, and theermine, and the pearls. But there was no one for whom he would have beenhappy to buy them. The most beautiful girl in the world was not in hisworld now; and none other had had the password to open the door of hisheart since she had gone out, locking it behind her. 

"She would have liked the auto, " he said to himself. And then, a momentlater, "I wonder why I came?"

It was a perfect Riviera day. Everybody in Monte Carlo who was not inthe Casino was sauntering on the terrace in the sun; for it was thathour before luncheon when people like to say, "How do you do?--How niceto meet you here!" to their friends. 

The young man from far away had not, so far as he knew, either enemiesor friends at Monte Carlo. He was not conscious of the slightest desireto say "How do you do?" to any of the pretty people he met, althoughthere is a superstition that every soul longs for kindred souls atChristmas time. 

He had not been actively unhappy before he left the Hotel de Paris andstrolled out on the terrace, to have his first sight of Monte Carlo bydaylight. Always, there was the sore spot in his heart, and often itached almost unbearably at night, or when the world hurt him with itsbeauty, which he must see without Her; but usually he kept the spotwell covered up; and being healthy as well as young, he had cultivatedthat kind of contentment which Thoreau said was only desperateresignation in disguise. He took an interest in books, in politics, andsport and motor cars, and a good many other things; but on the terrace, the blue of the sea; the opal lights on the mountains; the gold glint oforanges among green, glittering leaves; the pearly glimmer of whiteroses thrown up like a spray against the sky, struck at his heart, andmade the ache come back more sharply than it had for a long time. 

If he had been a girl, tears would have blinded his eyes; but being whathe was, he merely muttered in anger against himself, "Hang it all, whata wretched ass I am, " and turning his back on the sea, made his way asfast as he could into the Casino. 

It was close upon twelve o'clock, and the "Rooms" had been open to thepublic for two hours. The "early gamblers" thronging the Atrium to waittill the doors opened, had run in and snatched seats for themselves atthe first tables, or marked places to begin at eleven o'clock, ifcrowded away from the first. Later, less ardent enthusiasts had strolledin; and now, though it was not by any means the "high season" yet, therewere rows of players or lookers on, three deep round each table. 

The young man was from the South--though a South very different fromthis. He had the warm blood of Virginia in his veins, and just so muchof the gambler's spirit as cannot be divided from a certain recklessnessin a man with a temperament. He had seen plenty of life in his owncountry, in the nine years since he was twenty, and he knew all aboutroulette and _trente et quarante_, among other things desirable andundesirable. 

Still, gambling seemed to be made particularly fascinating here, and hewanted to be fascinated, wanted it badly. He was in the mood for theheavy hush of the Rooms, for the closeness, and the rich perfumes, whichmingling together seem like the smell of money piled on the greentables; he was in a mood for the dimmed light like dull gold, goldsifted into dust by passing through many hands. 

He had got his ticket of admission to the Casino, after arrivingyesterday evening; but the Rooms had not pleased him then. He had notplayed, and had merely walked through, looking at the people; but now hewent to a _trente et quarante_ table, and reaching over the shoulders ofthe players--not so many as in the roulette rooms, --he put a fivehundred franc note on _couleur_. It won. He let the money lie, and itwon again. A third time and a fourth he left the notes on, and stillluck was with him. He was in for a good run. 

As it happened, nobody else had been playing higher than _plaques_, thehandsome hundred franc gold pieces coined for the Principality ofMonaco; and people began to watch the new comer, as they always do onewho plays high and is lucky. On the fifth deal he had won the maximum. He took off half, and was leaving the rest to run, when a voice close tohis shoulder said, "Oh, do take it all off. I feel it's going to losenow. To please _me_. "

[Illustration: He took off half, and was leaving the rest to run, when avoice close to his shoulder said, "Oh, do take it all off. " Page 12. 

 --_Rosemary. _]

He glanced aside, and saw an exceedingly pretty, dark face, which lookedvaguely familiar. With a smile, he took up all the notes, and only justin time. Couleur lost; inverse won. 

"Oh, I'm so glad, " said the owner of the pretty face. She spoke Englishwith a slight, but bewitching foreign accent; and her eyes shone at himlike brown jewels under the tilted brim of a hat made all of pink andcrimson roses. She was rather like a rose, too, a rich, colourful, spicyrose, of the kind which unfolds early. He knew that he had seen herbefore, and wondered where. 

After all, it was rather nice to be spoken to by someone other than ahotel manager or a waiter; someone who was good to look at, andfriendly. He lost interest in the game, and gained interest in the girl. 

"Thank you, " said he. "You've brought me luck. "

"I hope you don't think I speak always to strangers, like that, " saidthe girl in the rose hat. "But you see, I recognized you at once. Idon't know if you remember me? No, I'm afraid you don't. "

"Of course I remember you, only I can't think where we--"

"Why, it was in Paris. You saved my mother's little dog from being runover one day. We were both so grateful. Afterwards we saw you once ortwice at tea at the Ritz, and you took off your hat, so you must haveremembered then. Ah me, it's a long time ago!"

"Not so very, " said the young man. "I remember well, now. " (He wishedher mother had not been quite such an appalling person, fat andpainted. ) "It was only last October. I'd just come to Paris. It was myfirst day there, when I picked up the little dog. Now, on my first dayhere, you pay me back for what I did then--as if it needed payingback!--by making me pick up my money. That's quite a coincidence. "

They had moved away from the tables now, and were walking very slowlydown the room. The young man smiled at the girl, as he crushed up thenotes and stuffed them into his pocket. He saw that she was muchprettier than he had thought her in Paris, if he had thought of her atall; and her dress of pale pink cloth was charming with the rose hat. Somehow, he was glad that she was not in white--with an ermine stole. 

"So it is, quite a coincidence, and a pleasant one for me, since I meetagain one who was once so kind, " she said. "Especially it is good tomeet a friend--if I may call you a friend?--when one is very sad. "

"Of course you may call me a friend, " said he, kindly. "I'm sorry tohear you are sad. "

"That is why I told you the other meeting seemed a long time ago, "explained the girl. "I was happy then. Now, I am breaking my heart, andI do not know what to do. Oh, I ought not to talk like this, for afterall, you are a stranger. But you are English, or you are American; andmen of those countries never misunderstand a woman, even if she is introuble. We can feel ourselves safe with them. "

"I'm American, " he answered, "and I'm glad you feel like that. I wish Icould help you in some way. " He spoke kindly, but not with absolutewarmth of sincerity. The girl saw this, and knew that he did not believein her as she wished him to believe, as she intended to make himbelieve. 

She looked up at him with sad and eloquent eyes, which softened hisheart in spite of himself. "You can't help me, thank you, " she said, "except by kind words and kind thoughts. I think, though, that it woulddo me good to tell you things, if you really take an interest?"

"Of course I do. " He was speaking the truth now. He was human, and shewas growing prettier, as she grew more pathetic, every moment. 

"And would you advise me a little? I have nobody else to ask. My motherand I know no one at Monte Carlo. Perhaps you would walk with me on theterrace and let me talk?"

"Not on the terrace, " he said, quickly, for he could not bear to meetthe sweet ghost of the past in the white dress and ermine stole, as hegave advice to the flesh and blood reality of the present, in the pinkfrock and roses. "What about Ciro's? Couldn't we find your mothersomewhere, and get her to chaperon us for lunch? I should think it mustbe very jolly now, in the Galerie Charles Trois. "

"So it would be; but my poor mother is very ill in her bed, " said thegirl. 

"Would she--er--do you think, as I'm an American, and we're almost oldfriends, mind letting you have lunch just with me alone? Of course, ifshe would mind, you must say no. But I must confess, I'm hungry as awolf; and it would be somewhere to sit and talk together, quietly, youknow. "

"You are hungry, " echoed the girl. "Ah, I would wager something that youdon't really know what hunger is. But I know--now. "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it is well my mother is ill, and doesn't wish to eat, for therewould be nothing for her, if she did. "

"Good heavens! And you?"

"I have had nothing to eat since yesterday morning, and then only abiscuit with a glass of water. "

"My poor girl, we won't say anything more about chaperons. Come alongwith me to Ciro's this instant, to lunch, and tell me everything. "

He was completely won over now, and looked very handsome, with a slightflush on his brown face, and his dark eyes bright with excitement. 

The girl lowered her long lashes, perhaps to hide tears. 

When she did this, and drooped the corners of her mouth, she was veryengaging, and the young man tingled all over with pity. That poor, pretty creature, starving, in her charming pink dress and hat of roses. How strange life was! It was something to be thankful for that he hadmet her. 

A little while ago, he had walked through the Galerie Charles Trois, thinking how delightful the tables looked at Ciro's, and making up hismind to return there for lunch. But afterwards, on the terrace, he hadbeen so miserable that he would probably have forgotten all about hisplan, if it had not been for the girl. 

Now, he chose a small table in a corner of the balcony, close to theglass screen. A month later, he might have had to engage it longbeforehand; but to-day, though the place was well filled with prettywomen and their attendant men, there was not a crowd, and he couldlisten to his companion's low-voiced confidences without fear of beingoverheard. 

[Illustration: CHAPTER TWO]

THE ROSE GIRL'S LITTLE STORY, AND GREAT EYES

[Illustration: H]

He ordered a lunch which he thought the girl would like, with wine torevive the faculties that he knew must be failing. Then, when she hadeaten a little, daintily in spite of her hunger, he encouraged her totalk. 

"Mother and I are all alone in the world, " she said. "We are Belgian, and live in Brussels, but we have drifted about a good deal, justamusing ourselves. Somehow we never happened to come here until a monthago. Then my mother said one day in Paris, 'Let us go to Monte Carlo. Idreamed last night that I won twenty thousand francs there. ' My motheris rather superstitious. We came, and she did win, at first. She wasdelighted, and believed in her dream, so much that when she began tolose, she went up and up, doubling each time. They call the game shemade, 'playing the martingale!'

"She lost all the money we had with us, and telegraphed home for more. Soon, she had sold out every one of our securities. Then she won, andwent half mad with the joy and excitement, but the joy didn't last long. She lost all, again--literally, our all. We were penniless. There wasnothing left to pay the hotel bill. I went out, and found a _Mont dePieté_, just beyond the limits of the Principality; they aren't allowedinside. I pawned all our jewellery, and as we had a great many valuablethings, I got several thousand francs. I thought the money would lastus until I could find something to do. But, without telling me what shemeant to do, mother took it all to the Casino--and--it followed therest. 

"She was so horrified at what she had done, when it was too late, thatshe wished to kill herself. It was a terrible time for me, but I was sosorry--so sorry for her. "

As the girl said this, she looked full into the young man's eyes, withher great, appealing ones. He thought that she must have a wonderfullysweet nature, to have forgiven that horrible, fat old woman, after beingsubjected to so much undeserved suffering. It was a thousand pities, hesaid to himself, that a really good sort of girl should be forced tolive her life beside a creature of that type, and under such aninfluence. He had not quite believed in the poor child, at first, perhaps, and because he did believe in her now, he felt poignant remorsefor his past injustice. 

"What did you do, then?" he asked, honestly absorbed in the story, forhe was a generous and warm hearted fellow, who found most of hispleasure, in these latter days, in the help he could give others, tomake them happier than he was himself. 

"I comforted her as well as I could, but I didn't know what would becomeof us. Then a lady, who had a room next to mine in the hotel, heard mecrying, and was very kind. "

"I should think she would have been, " interrupted the young man. 

"She told me that, as my mother had lost everything, she had better goto the Direction of the Casino, and get what they call a viatique--moneyto go away with. So she did ask, though it was a great ordeal to makeup her mind to do it; and they gave my mother a thousand francs. Then, you know, she had no right to play in the Rooms again; she was supposedto pay her hotel bill, and leave Monte Carlo. But she gave half themoney to a woman she had met in the Rooms, and asked her to put it onsix numbers she had dreamed about; she was sure that this time she wouldwin. "

"And did she?"

"No. The money was lost. We hadn't enough left to settle our account atthe hotel, or to get away from the place, even if there were anywhere togo--when one has no pennies. So my mother begged me to slip into theRooms, with what was left, and try to get something back. I had beentrying when you saw me, with our last louis. Now you know why it seemedso 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. "

"It's my turn to bring you some, I think, " began the man she couldtrust; but she stopped him by putting up her plump little white hand. 

"If you mean with money, no, " she said, with soft decision that waspretty and sad to hear. "If you mean with advice, yes. If you could onlyget me something to do! You see, they will be turning us out of ourhotel to-morrow. They've let us keep our rooms on, up to now, but fortwo days they've not given us anything to eat. Of course, it can't go onlike this. If it hadn't been for you, I think when I went back to tellmy mother that the last louis of the viatique was gone, we would havekilled ourselves. "

"Great Heaven, you must promise me not to do that, " the young manimplored. 

"I will promise, now, for you have saved me by--caring a little. You docare, really, don't you?"

"I wouldn't have blood in my veins, if I didn't. But--about somethingfor you to do--I must think. "

"Are you staying here for some time?" asked the girl. 

"I haven't made up my mind. "

"I asked because I--I suppose you don't need a secretary, do you? I canwrite such a good English hand; and I know French and Italian as well asI do German, and your own language. If I could be of use, I would workso hard for you. "

"I dare say I shall be needing a secretary after Christmas, indeed, I'msure I shall, " insisted the young man, more and more earnest in hisdesire to do good. "I have dozens of letters to write every day, and allsorts of odds and ends to keep straight. I could bring the things downto your place and you could help me, if you would. But I'm afraid itwould be no end of bother to you. "

"I should love it, " said the girl, gently. 

"Oh, it would be hard work. It would take a lot of your time, and beworth a lot of money. "

"Would it really? But you mustn't overpay me. I should be so angry ifyou did that. "

"There's no danger. I'm a good business man, I assure you. I should paya capable secretary like you--knowing several languages and allthat--say forty dollars a week. That's about two hundred francs. "

"Wouldn't that be too much?"

"Hardly enough. "

"You are so good--so good! But I knew you would be. I wonder if youwould think me a very bold girl if I told you something? It's this; I'venever forgotten you since those days in Paris. You were different, somehow, from other men I had seen. I thought about you. I had apresentiment that we should meet again. My mother dreamed of numbers toplay at roulette. I dreamed of--but oh, I am saying things I ought notto say! Please don't blame me. When you've starved for two days, and notknown what to do--unless to die, and then a man comes who is kind, andsaves you from terrible things, you can't be as wise and well behaved asat other times. "

"Poor child, " said the young man. 

"It does me good to be called that. But you don't know my name, the nameof your new secretary. It is Julie--Julie de Lavalette. My mother isthe Comtesse de Lavalette. And you?"

"Oh, I'm plain Hugh Egerton, " said the young man. 

The girl laughed. "I do not think you are plain Hugh Egerton at all. Butperhaps an American girl would not tell you that? Hugh! What a nicename. I think it is going to be my favourite name. "

She glanced up at him softly, under long lashes, --a thrilling glance;but he missed its radiance, for his own eyes were far away. Hugh hadbeen the favourite name of another girl. 

When she saw that look of his, she rose from her chair. "I'm taking toomuch of your time, " she exclaimed, remorsefully. "I must go. "

His eyes and thoughts came back to the wearer of pink and roses. Perhaps there had been just a little too much softness and sweetness. Ithad been wise of her to change the key, and speak of parting. 

He paid for the lunch, and tipped the waiters so liberally that they allhoped he would come again often. Then he asked if he might walk with herto the hotel where she and her mother were staying. 

"It's down in the Condamine, " she hesitated. "We've moved there lately, since the money began to go, and we've had to think of everything. It'srather a long walk from here. "

"All the better for me, " he answered, and her smile was an appreciationof the compliment. 

They sauntered slowly, for there was no haste. Nobody else wanted HughEgerton's society, and he began to believe that this girl sincerely didwant it. He also believed that he was going to do some real good in theworld, not just in the ordinary, obvious way, by throwing about hismoney, but by being genuinely necessary to someone. 

When they had strolled down the hill, and had followed for a time thestraight road along the sea on that level plain which is the Condamine, the girl turned up a side street. "We live here, " she said, and stoppedbefore a structure of white stucco, rococco decoration, and flimsybalconies. Large gold letters, one or two of which were missing, advertised the house as the Hotel Pension Beau Soleil; and those who ranmight read that it would be charitable to describe its accommodation assecond rate. 

"It is not nice, " she went on, with a shrug of her pretty shoulders. "But--it is good to know all the same that we will not be turned out. Ihave a new heart in my breast, since I left this house a few hoursago--because there is a You in the world. "

As she said this, she held out her hand for goodbye, and when he hadshaken it warmly, the young man was bold enough to slip off her wristthe little pink leather bag which hung there by its chain. 

"Now for that advance on your secretarial work, " he said; and takingfrom his pocket a wad of notes which he had won at the Casino, hestuffed it hastily into the yawning mouth of the bag, while the girl'ssoft eyes gazed at the sea. Then he closed the spring with a snap, andshe let him pass the chain over her hand once more. 

"Oh, but it looks very fat, " she exclaimed. "Are you sure you countedright?"

"There's a little more there, " he said, uncomfortably, "just a little tosave the bother of counting here in the street. Don't look angry. Onlythe salary part's for you, of course, but the rest--couldn't you justhand it over to your mother, and say, 'Winnings at the Casino'? That'strue, you know; it was, every bit. And you needn't say who won it. Besides, if it hadn't been for you, it would have been lost instead ofwon. It would be a kind of Christmas present for your mother from theCasino, which really owes her a lot more. "

The girl shook her head, gently. "I couldn't do that, even for mymother's sake; but I don't misunderstand, now we are such friends. Iknow how kindly you mean, and though neither mother nor I can acceptpresents of money, even from dear friends (after all we are of thenoblesse!) I'm not going to hurt you by giving the money back, if youwill do what I ask of you. "

"What is that?" He felt ready to do anything within reason. 

"Let us sell you our dear little dog, for this extra money you have putinto my bag. He is very, very valuable, for he cost thousands of francs, the sweet pet, so you would really have something not unworthy, inreturn for your goodness. Ah, don't say no. You would love Papillon, andwe should love you to have him. We couldn't have parted with our littledarling to a stranger, though we were starving; but it would make ushappy to think he was yours. And then, if you won't, you must take allthis back. " As she spoke, she touched the bag on her arm. 

"Oh, I'll have the dog!" Hugh Egerton said, quickly. Anything ratherthan the girl should return the money, which she so much needed. "Iremember he was a dear little chap, Pomeranian or something of the sort. I hope he likes motors. "

"He will like whatever you like. If you will come and fetch him thisevening, I will show you all his tricks. Do come. It would be good tosee you again so soon. "

"With pleasure, " said the young man, flushing slightly. "If you thinkyour mother will be well enough to receive me?"

"The news I have to give will almost cure her. If you would dine withus? They will give us a dinner, now"--and she laughed childishly--"whenI have paid the bill. It will be very stupid for you at a place likethis, but you will have a welcome, and it is the best we can do. "

"It is the welcome I want, " said Hugh. "But if you and your mother coulddine with me somewhere--"

"Another time we will. "

There were to be other times, of course!

"And this evening, " she went on, "we can talk of my beginning work, asyour secretary. It shall be directly after Christmas?"

"Whenever you are ready. "

"I suppose you have friends to whom you will go for Christmas?"

"Not a friend. "

"Oh, perhaps we might be together--all three?"

"I'll think of something pleasant for us to do, if you'll let me. "

"How good you are! Then, till this evening. It will seem long tillthen. "

They shook hands once more. She had taken off her glove now, and herpalm left on his a reminiscence of Peau d'Espagne. He did not know whatthe scent was, but it smelled rich and artificial, and he disliked toassociate it with his new friend. "But probably it's her mother's, andshe didn't choose it herself, " he thought. "Well--I have a new interestin life now. I expect this is the best thing that's happened to me for along time. "

As he walked back to his hotel, his head was full of plans for thegirl's transient pleasure and lasting benefit. "Poor lonely child, " hethought. "And what a mother! She ought not to be left with a person likethat. She ought to marry. It would be a good deed to take her away fromsuch an influence. So young, and so ingenuous as she is still, in spiteof the surroundings she must have known, she is capable of becoming anoble woman. Perhaps, if she turns out to be really as sweet and gentleas she seems--"

The sentence broke off unfinished, in his mind, and ended with a greatsigh. 

There could be only second best, and third best things in life for himnow, since love was over, and it would be impossible for him to care foran angel from heaven, who had not the face and the dear ways of the girlhe had lost. But second best things might be better than no good thingsat all, if only one made up one's mind to accept them thankfully. And itwas a shame to waste so much money on himself, when there weresoft-eyed, innocent girls in the world who ought to be sheltered andprotected from harm. 

[Illustration: CHAPTER THREE]

WHEN THE CURTAIN WAS DOWN

[Illustration: T]

The soft-eyed, innocent girl who had inspired the thought went into thehotel, and was rather cross to the youthful concierge, because the_ascenseur_ was not working. There were three flights of stairs to mountbefore she reached her room, and she was so anxious to open her bag tosee what was inside, that she ran up very fast, so fast that she steppedon her dress and ripped out a long line of gathers. Her eyes were notnearly as soft as they had been, while she picked up the hanging foldsof pink cloth, and went on. 

The narrow corridor at the top of the staircase was somewhat dark, and, her eyes accustomed to the brilliant light out of doors, the girlstumbled against a child who was coming towards her. 

"_Petit bête!_" she snapped. "You have all but made me fall. Awkwardlittle thing, why don't you keep out of people's way?"

The child flushed. She would have liked to answer that it wasMademoiselle who had got in her way; but Mother wished her to be alwayspolite. "I am sorry, " she replied instead, not saying a word about thepoor little toes which the pretty pink lady had crushed. 

"Well, then, if you are sorry, why don't you let me pass?" asked thegirl of the soft eyes. 

"If you please, I want to give you a note, " said the child, anxiouslysearching a small pocket. "It's from Mother, for Madame. She told me totake it to your door; so I did, several times, but nobody answered. Here'tis, please, Mademoiselle. "

Mademoiselle snatched it from the hand, which was very tiny, and pink, with dimples where grown up folk have knuckles. She then pushed past thechild, and went on to a door at the end of the passage, which she threwopen, without knocking. 

"_Eh bien_, Julie! You have been gone long enough to break the banktwice over. What luck have you had?" exclaimed the husky voice of awoman who sat in an easy chair beside a wood fire, telling her ownfortune with an old pack of cards, spread upon a sewing board, on hercapacious lap. 

She was in a soiled dressing gown of purple flannel, with several of thebuttons off. In the clear light of a window at the woman's back, herhair, with a groundwork of crimson, was overshot with iridescent lights. On a small table at her side a tray had been left, with the remains of_déjeuner_; a jug stained brown with streaks of coffee; a crumbledcrescent roll; some balls of silver paper which had contained creamchocolates; ends of cigarettes, and a scattered grey film of ashes. Ather feet a toy black Pomeranian lay coiled on the torn bodice of a reddress; and all the room was in disorder, with an indiscriminate litterof hats, gloves, French novels, feather boas, slippers, and fallenblouses or skirts. 

The lady of the roses went to the mirror over the untidy mantel piece, and looked at herself, as she answered. "No luck at roulette or trente. But the best of luck outside. "

"What, then?"

The girl began to hum, as she powdered her nose with a white glove, lying in a powder box. 

"You remember _le beau brun_?"

"The young man in Paris you made so many enquiries about at Ritz's? Ishe here?"

"He is. I've just had lunch with him. Oh, there are lots of things totell. He is a good boy. "

"How, good? You told him we had had losses?"

"I painted a sad picture. He was most sympathetic. "

"To what extent?"

"_Chere maman!_ One would think we were vulgar adventuresses. We arenot. He respects me, this dear young man, and it is right that heshould. I deserve to be respected. You know the fable about the dog whodropped his meat in the water, trying to snap at its reflection? Well, I don't ask strangers for loans. I make my impression. Monsieur HughEgerton is my friend--at present. Later, he will be what I choose. Andmost certainly I shall choose him for a husband. What luck, meeting himagain! It is time I settled down. "

"They said at Ritz's that he was one of the young millionaires, wellknown already in America, " the fat woman reflected aloud. "It is a goodthing that I have brought you up well, Julie, and that you are pretty. "

"Yes, it is a good thing that I am pretty, " repeated the girl. "We havehad many hopes often before, but this seems to be the most promising. Ithink it is very promising indeed, and I don't mean to let it slip. "

She turned her back to the easy chair, and opened the pink bag. As thewoman talked on, she secretly counted out the money. There were morethan ten thousand francs in mille notes and others of smallerdenominations. Quietly she put them away in the top of a travelling box, which she locked. Then she noticed the letter which the child had givenher, still lying on the dressing table, with her gloves. 

"Here's something from _la belle Americaine_, upstairs, " said she. "A_billet doux_. "

"A dun, " exclaimed the woman. 

"No doubt. It can be nothing else. "

"Well, we can't pay. "

"No, we can't pay, " said the girl, looking at the locked box. 

"Let me see, how much was it she lent?"

"Two hundred francs, I think. We told her we'd give it back in a week. That's nearly a month ago. "

"Serve her right for trusting strangers. The saints alone know whenshe'll see her money again. She shouldn't be so soft hearted. Itdoesn't pay in these days. "

"Neither do we--when we can help it. "

They both laughed. 

"But when you are Madame--let me see, what was the name of the youngmonsieur, they told you at the Ritz?"

"Egerton. "

"Ah yes. When you are Madame Egerton--"

"Everything will be very different then. "

And the girl slipped the key of the box into the little pink bag. 

[Illustration: CHAPTER FOUR]

DOGS AND FATHERS

[Illustration: A]

After delivering her letter, the child went slowly on downstairs, to theroom she had been on the way to visit. It was on the second floor, justunder the room of the Comtesse de Lavalette. 

"Come in, " said a Cockney voice shrill with youth, in answer to her tap;and the child obeyed. 

Though this room was of the same size and shape, it was very differentfrom that of the Comtesse. The plain furniture was stiffly arranged, andthere was no litter of clothing or small feminine belongings. By thewindow, which gave a glimpse of the sea, and of Monaco rock with the oldpart of the Palace, a plump young girl sat, with a baby a year or twoold in her arms, and a nurse's cap on her smooth head. 

"You invited me to come down after I'd had my déjeûner, so I came, " saidthe child. 

"Right you are, Miss Rosemary, " returned the plump girl. "You're such aquaint little body, you're a regular treat. I declare I ain't 'alf sureI wouldn't rather talk to you, than read the Princess Novelettes. Besides, I do get that tired of 'earin' nothin' but French, I'm mostsorry I undertook the job; and the Biby don't pick up English much yet. "

"Don't you think he's a bright baby?" asked the child, sitting down on afootstool, which was a favourite seat of hers. 

"For a French biby, 'e 's as bright as you could expect, " replied herhostess, judicially. 

"Are they different?"

"Well, they ain't Hinglish. "

"_I'm_ half American, " said the little girl. 

"You don't talk through your nose. Far as I can see, you've got as gooda haccent as me. "

"I suppose yours _is_ good?" asked Rosemary, as if she longed to have adoubt set forever at rest. 

"Rather! Ain't I been brought out from London on purpose so as this bibycan learn to speak Hinglish, instead of French? It's pretty near thesime thing as bein' nursery governess. Madame wouldn't trust her own wyeof pronouncing the languidge. She must 'ave a Hinglish girl. "

"And she sent for you on purpose?" the child enquired, with increasingrespect. 

"Well, I was the only one as would come at the price. 'Tain't big wages;but I'm seein' loife. Lor', I come down here with Madame and Mounseer afortnight ago, and Monte Carlo ain't got many secrets from me. I _was_ aduffer, though, at first. When I 'eerd all them shots poppin' off everyfew minutes, up by the Casino, I used to think 'twas the suicides ashooting theirselves all over the place, for before I left 'ome, I 'ad awarnin' from my young man that was the kind of goin's on they 'ad here. But now I know it's only the pigeon shooters, tryin' for prizes, and Iwouldn't eat a pigeon pie in this 'otel, not if 'twas ever so!"

"Do they ever have them?" asked the little girl, awed. 

"Not as I knows of, but they may for Christmas. I sye, are you lookin'forward to your Christmas, kiddy?"

"Angel--that's Mother, I mean--says I'm not going to have much of aChristmas this year. I'm trying not to mind. I suppose it's becauseSanta Claus can't get to the Riviera, with his sleigh and reindeer. Howcould he, Miss Jane, when there's no snow, and not even a scrap of ice?"

"Pshaw!" said Miss Jane. "It ain't Santa Claus brings you things, snowor no snow. Only babies believe that. You're old enough to know better. It's your father and mother does it all. "

"Are you sure?" asked Rosemary. 

"Dead sure. Don't be a silly and cry, now, just because there ain't anySanta Claus, nor any fairies. "

"It isn't that, " said the little girl. "It's because I can never haveany more Christmases, if it depends on a father. You know, I haven't afather. "

"I supposed you 'adn't, as 'e ain't 'ere, with yer ma, " replied theyoung person. "She's mighty pretty. "

"I think she's the prettiest mother in the world, " said Rosemary, proudly. 

"She don't look much like a mother. "

The child opened her eyes very wide at this new point of view. "Icouldn't have a mother who looked any other way, " she said. "What do youthink she does look like?"

"Silly puss! I only mean she isn't much more'n a kid, 'erself. "

"She's twenty five, twenty whole years more than me. Isn't that old?"

"Lawkes, no. I'm goin' on seventeen myself. I 'avent got any father, nomore'n you 'ave, so I can feel fur you. Your ma 'as to do typewritin'. Mine does charrin'. It's much the sime thing. "

"Is it?" asked Rosemary. "Angel doesn't like typewriting so very well. It makes her shoulder ache, but it isn't that she minds. It's not havingenough work to do. "

"Bless your hinnercent 'eart, charrin' mikes you ache all _over_!Betcherlife my ma'd chinge with yours if she could. "

"Would she? But Angel doesn't get on at all well here. I've heard hertelling a lady she lent some money to, and wanted to have it back, afterawhile. You see, when we were left poor, people said that she could makelots of money in Paris, because they pay a good deal there for thethings Angel does; but others seemed to have got all the work forthemselves, before we went over to Paris to live, so some friends shehad told her it would be better to try here where there was no--nocom--com--"

"No compertishun, " suggested the would-be nursery governess. 

"Yes, that's the right word, I think. But there was some, after all. Poor Angel's so sad. She doesn't quite know what we'll do next, for wehaven't much money left. "

"She's got a job of char--I mean, typin' to-day anyhow, " said Jane. 

"Yes, she's gone to a hotel, where a gentleman talks a story out loud, and she puts it down on paper. She's been three times; but it's so sad;the story is a beautiful one, only she doesn't think he'll live tofinish it. He came here to get well, because there's sunshine, andflowers; but his wife cried on Angel's shoulder, in the next room tohis, and said he would never, never get well any more. Angel didn'ttell me, for I don't think she likes me to know sad things; but I heardher saying it all to a lady she works for sometimes, a lady who knowsthe poor man. I don't remember his name, but he's what they call aGenius. "

"It's like that out here on the Riviera, " said Jane, shaking her head sogloomily that the ruffled cap wobbled. "Lots of ill people come, as wellas those who wants fun, and throwin' thur money about. In the midst ofloife we are in death. Drat the Biby, I believe 'e's swallowed 'is tinsoldier! No, 'ere it is, on the floor. But, as I was sayin', your ma andmine might be sisters, in some wyes. Both of 'em lost their 'usbins, young--"

"How did your father get lost?" Rosemary broke in, deeply interested. 

"'E went to the dogs, " replied Jane, mysteriously. 

"Oh!" breathed the child, thrilled with a vague horror. She longedintensely to know what had happened to her friend's parent after joininghis lot with that of the dogs, but was too delicate-minded to continueher questioning, after such a tragic beginning. She wondered if therewere a kind of dreadful dog which made a specialty of eating fathers. "And did he never come back again?" she ventured to enquire, at last. 

"Not 'e. You never do, you know, if once you goes to the dogs. Thereain't no wye back. I was wonderin', since we've been acquainted, kiddy, if your pa didn't go the sime road? It 'appens in all clarses. "

"Oh no, my father was lost at sea, not on the road; and there aren't anydogs there, at least I don't think so, " said Rosemary. 

"If it's only the sea 'as swallered 'im, 'e may be cast up again, anyday, alive an' bloomin', " replied Jane cheerfully. "My ma 'ad a gritefriend, sold winkles; 'er 'usbin was lost at sea for years and years, till just wen she was comfortably settled with 'er second, along 'ecomes, as large as loife. Besides, I've read of such things in thePrincess Novelettes; only there it's most generally lovers, not 'usbins, nor yet fathers. Would you know yours again, if you seen 'im?"

Rosemary shook her head doubtfully, and her falling hair of pale, shimmering gold waved like a wheat-field shaken by a breeze. "Angel losthim when I was only two, " the child explained. "She's never talked muchto me about him; but we used to live in a big house in London--becausemy father was English, you know, though Angel's American--and I had anurse who held me in her lap and told me things. I heard her say to oneof the servants once that my father had been lost on a yacht, and thathe was oh, ever such a handsome man. But--but she said--" Rosemaryfaltered, her grey-blue eyes suddenly large and troubled. 

"What was it she said?" prompted Jane, with so much sympathetic interestthat the little girl could not refuse to answer. Nevertheless, she feltthat it would not be right to finish her sentence. 

"If you please, I'd rather not tell you what Nurse said, " she pleaded. "But anyway, I'd give everything I've got if my father would get foundagain. You see, it isn't only not having proper Christmases any more, that makes me feel sad, it's because Angel has to work so hard for me;and if I had a father, I s'pose he'd do that. "

"If 'e didn't he'd deserve to get What For, " said Jane, decidedly. "Ifyou was a child in a story book, your pa'd come back and be lookin' foryou everywhere, on Christmas Eve; this Christmas Eve as ever was. "

"Oh, would he?" cried Rosemary, a bright colour flaming on her littlesoft cheeks. 

"Yes; and what's more, " went on her hostess, warming to the subject, "you'd know 'im, the hinstant you clapped heyes on his fice, by'eaven-sent hinstinct. "

"What's 'eaven-sent hinstinct?" demanded Rosemary. 

"The feelin' you 'ave in your 'eart for a father, wot's planted there byProvidence, " explained Jane. "Now do you hunderstand? Because if you do, I don't know but you'd better be trottin'. Biby's gorn to sleep, andseems to be sleepin' light. "

"Yes, I think I understand, " Rosemary whispered, jumping up from herfootstool. "Goodbye. And thank you very much for letting me come and seeyou and the baby. "

She tiptoed across the room, her long hair waving and shimmering again, softly opened, and shut the door behind her, and slowly mounted thestairs to her own quarters, on the fourth floor. 

[Illustration: CHAPTER FIVE]

ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER

[Illustration: S]

She had a doll and a picture book there, but she had looked at thepicture book hundreds of times; and though her doll was a faithfulfriend, somehow they had nothing to say to each other now. Rosemaryflitted about like a will o' the wisp, and finally went to the window, where she stood looking wistfully out. 

Supposing that Jane were right, and her father came back out of theocean like the fathers of little girls in story books, this might be avery likely place for him to land, because there was such lots of sea, beautiful, sparkling, blue sea. Of course, he couldn't know that Angeland she were in this town, because it was only about a month since theycame. It must be difficult to hear things in ships; and he might goaway, to look for them somewhere else, without ever finding them here. 

Little thrills of excitement running from Rosemary's fingers to her toesfelt like vibrating wires. What could she do? Jane had said, if he cameat all, he was sure to come on Christmas Eve, according to the habit offathers, and it was Christmas Eve now. By and bye it would be too late, anyhow for a whole year, which was just the same as forever and ever. Oh, she must go out, this very minute!

The child had put on her hat and coat, before she remembered that Angelhad told her she must never stir beyond the hotel garden alone. Butthen, Angel probably did not know this important fact about fathers lostat sea, returning on Christmas Eve, and not at any other time. 

If she waited until Angel came in, it might be after sunset, as it hadbeen yesterday; and then even if they hurried into the street to search, they could not recognize him in the dark. 

"I do think Angel would surely want me to go, if she knew, " thoughtRosemary. 

Her heart was beating fast, under the little dark blue coat. What aglorious surprise for Angel, if she could bring a tall, handsome maninto this room, and say, "Dearest, now you won't have to work any more, or cry in the night when you think I've gone to sleep. Here's father, come back out of the sea. "

"Oh, oh!" she cried, and ran from the room, afraid of wasting anotherinstant. 

The sallow young concierge had often seen the child go out alone todisappear round the path that circled the hotel, and play in the dustysquare of grass which, on the strength of two orange trees and a palm, was called a garden. He thought nothing of it now, when she nodded inher polite little way, and opened the door for herself. Five minuteslater, he was reading of a delicious jewel robbery, which had happenedin a tunnel near Nice, and had forgotten all about Rosemary's existence. 

The little girl had an idea that she ought to go to the place whereships came in, and as she had more than once walked to the port with hermother, she knew the way very well. 

Two white yachts were riding at anchor in the harbour, but no one hadcome on shore who looked handsome enough for a father to be recognisedby 'eaven-sent-hinstinct, the moment you set eyes upon him. Rosemarystood by the quay for a few minutes, uncertain what to do. Two or threedeep-eyed, long-lashed Monegasque men smiled at her kindly, asMonegasque men and Italians smile at all children. She had learned tolisp French with comparative fluency, during the months she and "Angel"had spent in Paris; and now she asked where the people went who had comein on those pretty white ships?

"Those are yachts, " said one of the deep-eyed men; "and the people whocome on them are rowed to shore in little boats. Then they go quickly upthe hill, to the Casino--that big white building there--so that they canput their money on a table, or take somebody else's money off. "

"I have always seen dishes put on tables, " said Rosemary, "never money. If I went there, could I take some off? I should like to have a little, very much. "

"So would we all, " smiled the deep-eyed man, patting her head. "Theywould not let you in, because you are too young. "

"I want to find my father, who has been on the sea, " the childexplained. "Do you think he might be there?"

"He is sure to be there, " said the deep-eyed man; and he and the othermen laughed. "If you sit on a bench where the grass and flowers are, outside the Casino door, and watch, perhaps you will see him come downthe steps. But you are small to be out all alone looking for him. "

"It's very important for me to find my father before it is dark, " saidRosemary. "So I thank you for telling me, and now goodbye. "

Daintily polite as usual, she bowed to them all, and started up thehill. 

As she walked briskly on, she studied with large, starry eyes the faceof every man she met; but there was not a suitable father among them. She was still fatherless when she reached the Place of the Casino, whereshe had often come before, to walk in the gardens or on the terrace atunfashionable hours with her mother, on Sundays, or other dayswhen--unfortunately--there was no work to do. 

She had sat down on a bench between a French "nou-nou, " with a wonderfulhead dress, and a hawk-visaged old lady with a golden wig, and had fixedher eyes upon the Casino door, when the throb, throb of a motor caughther attention. 

Now an automobile was a marvellous dragon for Rosemary, and she couldnever see too many for her pleasure. Above all things, she would haveloved a spin on the back of such a dragon, and she liked choosingfavourites from among the dragon brood. 

A splendid dark blue one was panting and quivering before the door ofthe Hotel de Paris, having just been started by a slim chauffeur in ashort fur coat. As Rosemary gazed, deciding that this was the noblestdragon of them all, a young man ran down the steps of the hotel and gotinto the car. He took his place in the driver's seat, laid his hand onthe steering wheel as if he were caressing a baby's head, the chauffeursprang up beside his master, and they were off. But with a cry, Rosemaryrushed across the road. 

The nou-nou shrieked and hugged her muffled charge; the old ladyscreamed, and all the other old ladies and young ladies, and prettygirls sitting on the benches, or walking about, screamed too. 

The man who drove was pale under his coat of brown tan as with a crashof machinery he brought the big blue car to a stop so close to the childthat its glittering bonnet touched her coat. He did not say a word foran instant, for his lips were pressed so tightly together, that theywere a white line. 

[Illustration: With a crash of machinery he brought the big blue car toa stop. Page 70. 

 --_Rosemary. _]

That beautiful, little golden-haired, smiling thing, so full of life!But it was all right now. She was smiling still, as if she did not guessthe deadly peril she had just escaped. 

"Don't you know, little one, " he asked gently, "that it's very dangerousto run in front of automobiles?"

"Oh, but I wanted so much to stop you, " said Rosemary. 

"Why, do you know me?" And the young man smiled such a pleasant smile, with a gleam of white teeth, that the child was more than ever sure shehad done right. 

"Yes, I know you by 'eavensenthinstinct. " She got out the long word witha gasp or two; but it was a great success. She had not mixed up a singlesyllable. 

The young man burst out laughing. "Where's your nurse?" he asked. 

"In London, " said Rosemary. "She isn't my nurse any more. "

"Well, your mother--"

"She isn't--"

"What? Are you going to tell me she isn't your mother any more? Are youout '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. "She's quite well. But shedoesn't know I came out to look for you. "

"Oh, doesn't she?" echoed the young man in the car. "Then don't youthink the best thing you can do is to let me take you back to her?"

"She won't be home yet, not till it's dark, I expect, " said the child. 

"Oh, that's a long time yet. Well, since you know me, wouldn't you liketo climb in, and have a little run?"

"May I, truly and really?" The little face grew pink with joy. 

"Truly and really--if you're not afraid. "

"What should I be afraid of?" Rosemary asked. 

"I was talking nonsense. Get down, Paul, and put her into the tonneau. You'd better sit by her, perhaps. "

The chauffeur proceeded to obey, but when the child found herself beingtucked into a back seat of the car, she gave a little protesting cry. "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. I won't take you too fast. "

He turned the car, and passing the Casino drove up the hill, taking thedirection of Mentone, when he had reached the top. He had not been overthis road before, as he had arrived by way of Nice yesterday; but he hadstudied road maps, and knew both how and where he wished to go. 

"Now, " said he, driving carefully, "how do you like it?"

"Oh, it's wonderful!" answered Rosemary, with a rapt smile on her rosyface. 

"Have you ever motored before?"

She shook her head. "Never. "

"Brave Baby. "

"I don't usually care to be called a baby, " she remarked. "But I don'tmind from you. "

"I'm especially favoured, it seems, " said the young man. "Tell me howyou happen to know me? I can't think, I must confess, unless it was onshipboard--"

"There! I knew perfectly well it was you!" broke in Rosemary with a lookof rapture. "You _were_ on a ship, and you were lost at sea. But you'refound again now, because it's Christmas Eve. "

"I wasn't lost at sea, though, or I shouldn't be here with you, " saidHugh Egerton. He glanced rather wistfully in a puzzled way at thelovely little face framed with blowing golden hair. There was somethingin the child's eyes which stabbed his heart; yet there was sweetness inthe pain. "I'm afraid we're playing at cross purposes, aren't we?" hewent on. "Was it on a ship that you saw me?"

"Oh, I didn't see you on the ship, " said Rosemary. "I only knew you wentaway on one. I haven't seen you for ever and ever so long, not since Iwas a tiny baby. "

"By Jove! And you've remembered me all this time?"

"Not exactly remembered. It was the feeling I had in my heart, just asJane said I would, the minute I saw you, that told me it was you. Thatwas why I ran to keep you from going on in your motor car, because ifyou had, I might have lost you again, forever and ever. "

"So you might, " said puzzled Hugh Egerton, pleased as well as puzzled. "And that would never have done for either of us. "

"It would have been dreadful, " replied Rosemary, "to have to wait foranother Christmas Eve. "

"Christmas Eve seems a day for adventures, " said Hugh. "One finds newfriends;--and dear little girls; and--goodness knows what I shall findnext. "

"We must find Angel next, " Rosemary assured him. "She'll be so glad tosee you. "

"Do you really think so? By the way, who is Angel?"

"Mother. Didn't you know _that_?"

"I expect I'd forgotten, " Hugh answered. She looked so reproachful, thatnot for the world would he have denied all knowledge of Angel. The childevidently took him for someone she had known; perhaps she had seen aphotograph of some long lost friend of her family, who resembled him, and she had sprung to a conclusion, as children do. But she was anexquisitely pretty and engaging little thing, a grand little pal, andworth cultivating. Hugh liked children, especially girls, though he hadalways been rather shy with them, not knowing exactly how they likedbest to be entertained, and finding it difficult to think of things tosay, in keeping up a conversation. But there was no such difficulty withthis child. It was really interesting to draw the little creature out, and see what she would say next. As for finding Angel, however, when thetime came to do that, he thought he would prefer to bid Angel's daughtergoodbye at the door. He had no fancy for scraping up an acquaintancewith strangers through their children. 

[Illustration: CHAPTER SIX]

FAIRY FATHERS MUST VANISH

[Illustration: R]

Rosemary sat in silence for a few moments, taking in the full meaning ofher companion's answer to her last question. He had forgotten that Angelwas Angel! Though she was warmly wrapped in a soft rug of silvery fur, achill crept into her heart. Could it be that Nurse's words about fatherhad been true, after all; and if they were, was she doing harm, ratherthan good, in bringing him home?

Presently Hugh waked out of his own thoughts, and noticed the littlegirl's silence. 

"You're not afraid?" he asked, blissfully unconscious of offence. "I'mnot driving too fast to please you?"

"Oh no, " said Rosemary. 

"You're not cold?"

"No, thank you. "

"Nor tired?"

"No, not tired. "

"But something is the matter?"

"I'm worrying, " confessed the child. 

"What about, little one?"

"I'm not sure if I ought to have spoken to you, or have come with you, after all. "

To save his life, Hugh could not have helped laughing, though it wasevidently a matter of serious importance. "What, do you think we oughtto have a chaperon?" he asked. "Paul's in the tonneau, you know; andhe's a most discreet chap. "

"I don't know what a chaperon is, " said Rosemary. "But will you promisenot to be angry if I ask you something, and will you promise to answer, honour bright?"

"Yes, to both your questions. "

"Were you really unkind to Angel, before you were lost?"

This was a hard nut to crack, if his past were not to be ruthlesslysevered from Angel's by a word. He thought for a moment, and then said, "Honour bright, I can't remember anything unkind I ever did to her. "

"Oh, I'm so glad. I was afraid, when you said you'd forgotten--but maybeher name wasn't Angel, then?"

"That was it, I'm sure, " replied Hugh, soothingly. "Maybe you named herAngel, yourself?"

"I don't know, " said Rosemary. "She seems to have been it, always, eversince I can remember. And she does look just like one, you know, she'sso beautiful. "

"I expect you remember a lot more about angels than I do, because itisn't so long since you came from where they live. But here we are inthe woods at Cap Martin. Have you ever been here before?"

"Angel and I had a picnic here once, all by ourselves; and there werelots of sheep under the olive trees, and a funny old shepherd who mademusic to them. Oh, I do love picnics, don't you? Angel said, if she wererich, she'd take me on the loveliest kind of a picnic for Christmas;but, you see, it would cost too much money to do it, for we've hardlygot any, especially since the Comtesse doesn't pay us back. "

"What kind of picnic would it have been?" asked Hugh, driving along thebeautiful shore road, where the wind-blown pines lean forward liketransformed wood nymphs, caught in a spell just as they spread out theirarms to spring into the sea. 

"Angel has told me lots of history-stories about the strangerock-villages in the mountains. There's one called Éze, on top of a hillshaped almost like a horn; she showed me a picture of it. Children liveup in the rock villages, and never come down to the towns. They've nevereven seen any toys, like other children play with, Angel says. All thestrangers who come here give presents to the poor in Monte Carlo andMentone, and big places like that; but they never think of the ones upin the mountains. Angel said how nice it would be, if we were rich, tobuy toys, --baskets and baskets full, --and give them away to thechildren of Éze. Perhaps you are rich; are you?"

"Richer than I thought, a few years ago, that I ever should be. I usedto be poor, until I dug, and found some gold lying about in the ground. "

"How splendid! I suppose the fairies showed you where to look. Jane saysthere are no fairies, but I do hope she's mistaken. I wish you wouldsend up some presents to the little children at Éze. "

"I will, lots, if you'll take them. "

"Perhaps we could all go together. "

"I'm afraid your mother wouldn't care for that. "

"Yes, she would. Because, if you were never unkind to her, like Nursesaid you were, she'll be most awfully glad to see you again. I shouldn'twonder if she'd cry for joy, to have you with us always, and take careof us. Oh, do let's go back now, and I'll take you to her. She _will_ besurprised!"

"I should think she would, " said Hugh. "But look here; you said shewouldn't get back till dark. We've come to Mentone now. See how prettythe shops are for Christmas. Can't you stop and have some nice hotchocolate and cakes with me, and afterwards choose a doll for yourself, as a Christmas present from your old friend?"

As he put this temptation before her, he slowed down the car in front ofa shop with big glass windows full of sparkling cakes, and ribbon-tiedbaskets of crystallized fruits. Through the windows Rosemary could see agreat many well-dressed people sitting at little marble tables, and itwould have been delightful to go in. But she shook her head. The sunwas setting over the sea. The sky was flooded with pink and gold, whileall the air was rosy with a wonderful glow which painted the mountains, even the dappled-grey plane trees, and the fronts of the gaily decoratedshops. 

The donkey women were leading their patient little animals away from thestand on the sea promenade, up to Sorbio for the night; and their darkfaces under the queer, mushroom hats were ruddy and beautiful in therose-light. 

"As soon as the sun goes down, it gets dark here, " said Rosemary, regretfully. "Thank you very much, but I'd rather go home now. You see, I do _so_ want you to be there already, waiting to surprise Angel whenshe comes in. "

"No time even to buy a doll?"

"I'd rather go home, thank you. Besides, though I should like to have anew doll, perhaps darling Evie would be sad if I played with another. "

Hugh was obediently turning the car's bonnet towards Monte Carlo, andfor the fraction of a second he was foolish enough almost to losecontrol of it, on account of a start he gave. "Evie!" he echoed. 

It was years since he had spoken that name. 

"She's my doll, " explained Rosemary. 

"Oh!" said Hugh. 

"But I don't think she'd mind or be sad if you gave me a doll's house, "went on the child, "if you _should_ have time to get it for me by andbye; that is, if you really want to give me something for Christmas, youknow. "

"Of course I do. But tell me, why did you name your doll Evie?"

He put the question in a low voice, as if he were half ashamed of askingit; and as at that instant a tram boomed by, Rosemary heard only thefirst words. 

"I 'sposed you would, " she replied. "Fathers do like to give theirlittle girls Christmas presents, Jane says; maybe that's why they'reobliged to come back always on Christmas Eve, if they've been lost. Doyou know, even if there aren't any fairies, it's just like a fairy storyhaving my father come back, and take me to Angel in a motor car onChristmas eve. "

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Hugh Egerton. "Did you say--father?"

"Yes, " replied Rosemary. "You're almost like a fairy father, I said. "

So, he was her father--her long lost father! Poor little lamb, he beganto guess at the story now. There was a scamp of a father who had "notbeen very kind" to Angel, and had been lost, or had thoughtfully losthimself. For some extraordinary reason the child imagined that he--well, if it were not pathetic, it would be funny. But somehow he did not feelmuch inclined to laugh. Poor little thing! His heart yearned over her;but the situation was becoming strained. Unless he could think of somegood way out of it, he might have a scene when he was obliged to rob thechild of her father, on reaching the door of her house. 

"That's it, " said he, calling all his tact to the rescue. "I am a fairyfather. Just as you thought, it's a mistake of Jane's about there beingno fairies; only the trouble is, fairies aren't so powerful as they usedto be in the old days. Now, I should love to be able to stay with youfor a long, long time, but because I'm only a poor fairy father, Ican't. We've been very happy together, and I'm tremendously glad youfound me. I shall think of you and of this day, often. But the cruelpart is, that when I bring you to your door, I'm afraid I shall haveto--vanish. "

"Oh, how dreadful!" cried Rosemary, her voice quivering. "Must I loseyou again?"

"Perhaps I can write to you, " Hugh tried to console her, feelinghorribly guilty and helpless. 

"That won't be the same. I do love you so much. _Please_ don't vanish. "

"I shall send you things. A doll's house for Evie. By the way, youdidn't tell me why you named her that. "

"After Angel, of course, " returned the child absent-mindedly. "But whenyou've vanished, I--"

"Is your mother's name Evie?"

"Evelyn. But that's too long for a doll. "

"Evelyn--what? You--you haven't told me your name yet. "

"Rosemary Evelyn Clifford. "

"Great Heavens!"

"How strange your voice sounds, " said Rosemary. "Are you ill?"

"No--no! I--feel a little odd, that's all. "

"Oh, it isn't the vanishing coming on already? We're a long way from ourhotel yet. "

Hugh drove mechanically, though sky and sea and mountains seemed to beseething together, as if in the convulsions of an earthquake. 

Her child! And her husband--what of him? The little one said he waslost; that he had not been kind. Hugh gritted his teeth together, andheard only the singing of his blood in his ears. Was the man dead, orhad he but disappeared? In any case, _she_ was here, alone in MonteCarlo, with her child; poor, unhappy, working by day, crying by night. He must see her, at once--at once. 

Yet--what if it were not she, after all? If the name were a coincidence?There might be other Evelyn Cliffords in the world. It must be that thiswas another. His Evelyn had married a rich and titled Englishman. Shewas Lady Clifford. The things that had happened to Rosemary's Angelcould not have happened to her. Still, he must know, and know quickly. 

"Where do you live, little Rosemary?" he asked, grimly schooling hisvoice, when he felt that he could trust himself to speak. 

"The Hotel Pensior Beau Soleil, Rue Girasole, in the Condamine, MonteCarlo, " answered the child, as if she were repeating a lesson she hadbeen taught to rattle off by heart. 

Lost as he was to most external things, Hugh roused himself to somesurprise at the name of the hotel. 

"Why, that is where Mademoiselle de Lavalette and her mother live!" heexclaimed. 

"They're the ladies Angel lent the money to, because she was so sorryfor them, " said Rosemary. "I've heard them talking about it with her, and saying they can't pay it back. They're angry with her for asking, but she had to, you see. When they go past us in the dining-room theyturn their backs. "

Hugh's attention was arrested now. 

"Do they dine?" he asked. "Every night?"

"Oh yes, always. Mademoiselle has lovely dresses. She is pretty, but theComtesse is such an ugly old lady; like Red Riding Hood's grandmother, Ithink. I'm afraid of her. Jane says _her_ Madame and Monsieur don'tbelieve she's really a Comtesse. I had to knock at her door with aletter from Angel to-day, for Angel doesn't know I'm afraid. I couldn'thelp being glad Madame wouldn't let me in, for it seemed as if she mighteat me up. I knocked and knocked, and when I was going away, I sawMademoiselle coming in, in a pink dress with a rosy hat. "

"I think she'll pay your mother back to-morrow, " said Hugh, rememberingthe fatness of the pink bag. 

"She didn't say she would. She was so cross with me that she called me a_petit bête_, and snatched the letter out of my hand. "

At this, Hugh's face grew suddenly hot and red, and he mutteredsomething under his breath. But it was not a word which Rosemary wouldhave understood, even if she had heard. 

[Illustration: CHAPTER SEVEN]

THE WHITE FIGURE AT THE DOOR

[Illustration: R]

Rosemary had tears in her eyes and voice, when the fairy father stoppedhis car at the door of the hotel. He had driven so very quickly sincehe'd broken it to her that they must part!

"Now, have you to vanish this very minute?" she asked, choking back asob, as he lifted her to the ground. 

Vanish? He had forgotten all about vanishing. To vanish now was the lastthing he wished to do. 

"Something tells me that I shan't have to, --quite yet, anyhow, " he saidhastily. "I--want to see your mother. Has she a sitting-room where Icould call upon her, or wait till she comes in?"

"We haven't one of our own, " said Rosemary. "But there's a nice old ladywho lives next door to us, on the top floor, and is very good to Angeland me. She writes stories, and things for the papers, and Angel typesthem, sometimes. When she's away she lets us use the sitting-room whereshe writes; and she's away now. Angel and I are going to be there thisevening till it's my bed-time; and you can come up with me if you will. Oh, I'm so thankful you don't need to vanish for a little while. "

His heart pounding as it had not pounded for six years and more--(notsince the days when he had gone up other stairs, in another land, tosee an Evelyn)--Hugh followed the flitting figure of the child. 

The stairs and corridors were not lighted yet. One economises withelectric light and many other little things at a hotel pension, wherethe prices are "from five francs a day, _vin compris_. "

Rosemary opened a door on the fourth floor, and for a moment thetwilight on the other side was shot for Hugh with red and purple spots. But the colours faded when the childish voice said, "Angel isn't here. If you'll come in, I'll go and see if she's in our room. "

"Don't tell her--don't say--anything about a fairy father, " hestammered. 

"Oh no, that's to be the surprise, " Rosemary reassured him, as shepattered away. 

It was deep twilight in the room, and rather cold, for the eucalyptusand olive logs in the fireplace still awaited the match. Hugh could seethe blurred outlines of a few pieces of cheap furniture; a sofa, threeor four chairs, a table, and a clumsy writing desk. But the window wasstill a square of pale bluish light, cut out of the violet dusk, and asthe young man's eyes accustomed themselves to the dimness, the room didnot seem dark. 

He was not left alone for long. In two or three minutes Rosemaryappeared once more, without her hat and coat, to say that "Angel" hadnot yet come back. "But she'll soon be here now, " went on the child. "Do you mind waiting in the twilight, fairy father? The electric lightdoesn't come on till after five, and I've just heard the clockdownstairs strike five. "

"I shall like it, " answered Hugh, glad that his face should be hidden bythe dusk, in these moments of waiting. 

"Angel tells me stories in the twilight, " said Rosemary, as he sat downon the sofa by the cold fireplace, and she let him lift her light littlebody to his knee. "Would you tell me one, about when you were lost?"

"I'll try, " Hugh said. "Let me think, what story shall I tell?"

"I won't speak while you're remembering, " Rosemary promised, leaning herhead confidingly against his shoulder. "I always keep quiet, while Angelputs on her thinking cap. "

Hugh laughed, and was silent. But his head was too hot to wear athinking cap, and no story would come at his half-hearted call. 

Rosemary waited in patience for him to begin. "One, two, three, " shecounted under her breath; for she had learned to count up to fifty, andit was good practice when one wished to make the time pass. She hadjust come to forty-nine, and was wondering if she might remind the fairyfather of his duty, when the door opened. 

It was Angel, of course; but Angel did not come in. She stopped on thethreshold, talking to somebody, or rather somebody was talking to her. Rosemary could not see the person, but she recognised the voice. It wasthat of Mademoiselle de Lavalette. 

"You are not to write my mother letters, and trouble us about thatmoney, madame, " said the voice, as shrill now as it could be sweet. "Once for all, I will not have it. I have followed you to tell you this. You will be paid soon; that is enough. I am engaged to be married to arich man, an American. He will be glad to pay all our debts by and by;but meantime, madame, you are to let us alone. "

"I have done nothing, except to write and say that I needed themoney, --which you promised to return weeks ago, or I couldn't possiblyhave spared it, " protested a voice which Hugh had heard in dreams threenights out of every six, in as many years. 

"Well, if you write any more letters, we shall burn them unread, so itis no use to trouble us; and we will pay when we choose. "

With the last words, the other voice died into distance. Mademoisellehad said what she came to say, and was retreating with dignity down thecorridor. 

Now the figure of a slender woman was silhouetted in the doorway. Hughheard a sigh, and saw a hand that glimmered white in the dusk againstthe dark paper on the wall, as it groped for the button of the electriclight. Then, suddenly the room was filled with a white radiance, andshe stood in the midst of it, young and beautiful, the woman he hadloved for seven years. 

Putting Rosemary away he sprang up, and her eyes, dazzled at first bythe sudden flood of light, opened wide in startled recognition. "Hugh--Hugh Egerton!" she stammered, whispering as one whispers in adream. 

She was pale as a lily, but the whiteness of her face was like light, shining from within; and there was a light in her great eyes, too, suchas had never shone for Hugh on sea or land. Once, a long time ago, hehad hoped that she cared, or would come to care. But she had chosenanother man, and Hugh had gone away; that had been the end. Yetnow--what stars her eyes were! One might almost think that she had notforgotten; that sometimes she had wished for him, that she was glad tosee him now. 

"Lady Clifford, " he stammered. "I--will you forgive my being here--myfrightening you like this?"

The brightness died out of her face. "Lady Clifford!" she echoed. "Don'tcall me that, unless--I'm to call you Mr. Egerton? And besides, I'm onlyMadame Clifford here. It is better; the other would seem likeostentation in a woman who works. "

"Evelyn, " he said. "Thank you for letting it be Evelyn. " Then, his voicebreaking a little, "Oh, say you're a tiny bit glad to see me, just atiny bit glad. "

She did not answer in words; but her eyes spoke, as she held out bothhands. 

[Illustration: He crushed them in his, then bent his head and kissedthem. Page 102. 

 --_Rosemary. _]

He crushed them in his, then bent his head and kissed them; first thegirlish right hand, then the left. But she saw his face contract ashe caught the gleam of her wedding ring. As he looked up, their eyes metagain, and each knew what was in the other's mind. 

"Angel, dearest, " said Rosemary, "do tell the fairy father you're gladto see him. "

Evelyn started. "Why do you call him that?"

"Because he said he was a fairy, and would have to vanish soon. Butyou'll beg him not to, won't you?"

"I--I should be sorry to lose him again. We haven't many friends, inthese days. " The bright head was bowed over the child's, as Rosemaryclung to her mother's dress. 

"You never lost me, " said Hugh Egerton. "It was I who lost you. Evie, you don't know what black years these have been. I loved you so. "

"But that--was--long ago. "

"It was always. "

"Hugh! I thought you must have learned to hate me. "

"Hate you, because I couldn't make you care for me as--I hoped youwould, and because you cared for someone else? No, I--"

"But--I did care for you. It was for my father's sake that--that--ah, Ican't talk of it, Hugh. You know, we were so poor after father lost hismoney, I tried with all my heart to forget, and to do my best for--myhusband. Perhaps it was my punishment that he--oh, Hugh, I was somiserable. And then--then he went away. He was tired of me. He was on ayacht, and there was a great storm. But you must have read in thepapers--"

"Never. I never knew till this day. "

"It was more than three years ago. "

Hugh was very pale. Three years ago--three long years in which he hadworked, and tried not to think of her! And if he had known--"You see, I've had a queer life, knocking about in strange places, " he said, trying to speak calmly. "Often I didn't see any newspapers for weekstogether. I thought of you always as rich and happy, living in England, the wife of Sir Edward Clifford--"

"Rich and happy, " she repeated, bitterly. "How little one knows ofanother's life. After his death, there was nothing--there had been somewild speculations; and the estates went with the title, of course, tohis cousin. But, yes, --in a way you were right. I was rich and happybecause I had Rosemary. "

"And Rosemary had you, Angel, " cried the child, who had been listening, puzzled and bewildered, not knowing that they had forgotten herpresence until this moment. "Rosemary had you. And now we've all goteach other--till the fairy father vanishes. "

"But I shan't have to vanish after all, " said Hugh. 

 * * * * *

After that, it seemed they had been together but for a moment, when awild wail went moaning through the house; the first gong for the_pensionnaires'_ dinner. 

So loud it was that it hushed their voices for a long minute. And whencool silence came again, Hugh begged that the two would have theirChristmas Eve dinner with him, at his hotel. "There's so much to planfor to-morrow, and all the days, " he pleaded. "And just for onceRosemary shall have a late dinner like the grown-ups. Do say yes. "

So Evelyn said yes. And it was not until they were all three seated inthe restaurant of the Hotel de Paris, that he remembered he had beenengaged to dine at the Beau Soleil with Mademoiselle and the Comtesse, her mother. 

But he did not even blush because he had forgotten. 

[Illustration: CHAPTER EIGHT]

WHEN A MAN GOES SHOPPING

[Illustration: W]

Many of Hugh Egerton's best moments during the last six years had beenspent in dreams. In those dreams the past had lived again; for he hadseen the future as once he had hoped it might be for him. 

But all through this night of Christmas Eve he lay awake; and no dreamshad ever been as half as sweet as the thoughts that came to him then. Itwould have been a hideous waste of time to sleep, when he could liethere and live over again each moment of his evening, beginning at thebeginning, when She had come into the room, and going on to the endwhen he had brought her and Rosemary to the door of the Hotel PensionBeau Soleil, to say "goodbye until to-morrow. " When he came to the end, he went back to the beginning again with renewed zest, trying to call upsome word, some look of hers which he might have neglected to countamong his treasured jewels. 

Then, when he was sure that he had each pearl and ruby and diamond dulypolished and strung on the fine gold chain of loving memory, he wouldlet his mind run ahead of time, to the next day. 

What a Christmas it was going to be! There never had been one like itbefore, in the history of the world; but--the best of it was--there wasreason to hope that there would be many others to come just asexquisite, if not more perfect. 

Evelyn Clifford had loved him, even when she had let him go. She lovedhim now; and she had promised to make up for the long grey years of thepast by marrying him almost at once. 

There was nothing to wait for. He was lonely and rich. She was lonelyand poor. Both were young, and starving for happiness. In a week theywould be married, for she had promised to begin the New Year as hiswife. Meanwhile, there would be a great deal to do (so she said, thoughhe could not see why) in getting ready. But Christmas was to be aholiday. They were going on that picnic to Éze, all three. That wasalready planned; but Hugh had mentally made an addition to the plan, ofwhich he had said not a word. 

He was as excited over the thought of this plan as Rosemary would havebeen had she known. And lest there should be a hitch, or he should nothave time to accomplish all, he was out of bed by half past six--thatmysterious hour of dawn when across the glimmering sea Corsica can beseen, floating like a heaped basket of violets in waves of transparentgold. 

Last night he had anxiously enquired of the concierge whether the MonteCarlo shops would be open on Christmas morning, and had been informedthat they would. Otherwise, Hugh Egerton would have been capable ofbattering down the doors, helping himself to the things he wanted, andleaving enough money to pay for damages as well as purchases. 

After all, he was ready long before the shutters of those attractiveplate glass windows were taken away; but he was not sorry for that. Hehad the joy of walking down to the Condamine and gazing up at otherwindows far more attractive, and saying to the closed green blinds, "Merry Christmas, merry Christmas, my darling--mine for always, now!"

Then he darted back to rolls and coffee; beamed on the waiters, gavethem fat five franc pieces merely for beaming in return; and arrived inthe Galerie Charles Trois just as the shop windows were opening radiantChristmas eyes. 

The first visit he paid was to the florist's; and to save time inchoosing he simply said, "I'll take all those things you have in thewindow, please. "

There were about two hundred francs worth of roses, the same of whitelilacs, and enough lilies of the valley, nestling in baby leaves ofyellow green, to clean out any save a well-filled pocket book; but thatwas all the better. The more he could spend to-day, the more was HughEgerton pleased. He gave "Madame Clifford's" address, and wrotesomething in English on his visiting card. The flowers were to go atonce; at once, mind; not in fifteen minutes, but now, this very now. 

"How much in love is that handsome young Monsieur!" thought theMademoiselle of the shop, with a little sigh for some of the wonders ofthe world which she had missed, and must always miss. Her heels wereappallingly high, and her waist was incredibly small; but she had aheart; and there was no heart which would not have softened to Hugh, andwished him the best of good luck, this day. 

The next window which attracted the young man's eye, was one whichdisplayed just such a dress as he had vaguely pictured yesterday, for adear companion on the terrace. It was white, of course; and he was notsure, but he thought it was made of cloth. Anyway there was a lot ofembroidery on it, full of little holes, which somehow contrived to beextraordinarily fetching. It had a mantle which hung in soft folds, marvellously intricate, yet simple in effect; and he could have fallenupon the neck of the stout, powdered lady in black silk who assured himthat the costume could be worn without alteration by any "_dame de jolietaille_. "

He bought it instantly, and then seized upon precisely such a "longwhite thing" of ermine as he had seen in his mind's eye. A "granny" muffwent with it. (Really the people of the shop must have had propheticsouls!) And there was a white hat, with a gold buckle and a long whiteostrich feather which looked as if it had been born to shade the face ofEvelyn Clifford. 

When these "confections" had been secured, Madame of the black satin andpowdered nose assured Monsieur that his Christmas purchases would beincomplete without a certain blouse which, to an untutored eye, appearedto be a combination of sea-foam and rose-leaves. There was a belt, too, crusted with seed pearls; and a hanging bag to match. Oh, certainlyMonsieur would take these, and anything else which Madame couldconscientiously recommend. She could, and did, recommend several otherthings; and no doubt it was a mere coincidence that they happened to beamong the most expensive in the shop. She also won Hugh's gratitude bybeing able to produce a coat and a frock in which a little girl of five, already beautiful, would be more akin to fairyhood than ordinarychildhood, and might become the "exception that would prove the rule" toan unbelieving Jane. 

The cloak was pale blue; and another shop had to be searched for a hatto be worn with it, but Madame was most kind in directing Monsieur whereto find one. Her sister would serve him, therefore he would be wellserved. 

On the way, he passed a jeweller's; and exactly the right string ofpearls, and the right "swallow brooch" stared him in the face, in thewindow. It was odd, how all the prettiest things in the world, ofwhatever description, looked as if they ought to belong to Evelyn andRosemary Clifford. There was a gold bag, too; but that was a detail, forreally the principal thing he had called for was a ring with a singlediamond in it--and perhaps--well, yes--that little sapphire band to keepit on a slender finger. 

The rings, in their delicate cases, he put into his pocket when he hadpaid; but the other purchases were to go in that very same now which hadbeen impressed upon the florist; the sort of now to which Rivierashopkeepers are accustomed only when they deal with Americans. 

Then Madame's sister was found, and a blue hat; and there was just timeleft for a frantic rush to a toyshop, round a corner and up a hill. Perhaps Doll Evie might be jealous of one rival, but there's safety innumbers; and Hugh thought that a dozen assorted sizes, from life-sizedown, would keep a doll's house from echoing with loneliness. As for thepresents for the Éze children, Rosemary was to choose them herself byand by; but all these special things were to be served up, so to speak, at the Hotel Pension Beau Soleil with early breakfast. 

When he had finished, --which means, when he had bought everything hecould think of--Hugh looked at his watch. It was half an hour to theminute since he had left his hotel. 

"I don't see why it should take women a long time to shop, " said he tohimself. "It seems to me the simplest thing in the world. You just seewhat you want, and then you buy it. "

It was not until all the boxes and parcels must have arrived in theCondamine, that an agonizing thought struck Hugh. What if Evie should beoffended with him for buying her things to wear? What if she shouldimagine him capable of thinking that the things she already had were notgood enough when she was coming out with him?

He suddenly felt a hundred years old. "Ass--worm--menagerie!" heanathematized himself. 

It was now nine thirty. At ten forty-five he was to call at the HotelPension Beau Soleil, to take Evelyn and Rosemary to the English church. How could he bear the suspense till then, --how endure it not to knowwhether he had ruined the Christmas which was to have been so perfect?

He dashed into his own hotel, wrote five notes one after the other, tearing up each one before it was finished. It was no good explaining. If she didn't understand nothing would make her. But _would_ sheunderstand? He knew now why some women said that all men were fools. They were quite right. 

If he had dared, he would have gone to her at once, to be put out ofhis misery, one way or the other. But he did not dare; so he waited, until he had persuaded himself that not only his watch, but the hotelclock and the Casino clock must be slow. 

Then he started, and suffered five suffocating minutes in the publicsitting-room of the Beau Soleil. It was a hideous room, with abominableflowers sprawling over the wall paper and carpet, and all the windowswere shut, but he did not notice these things; nor did he recognise theheavy scent that hung in the air as that which Mademoiselle de Lavaletteaffected. The lady of the roses had ceased to exist for him; but, if hehad thought of her at all, he would have been glad that he had openedher pink leather bag when it was thin, and shut it up when it was veryfat. 

At the end of the five minutes, the door opened, and gave to his eyes avision; Evelyn and Rosemary in their new dresses and new hats. 

It was all he could do to keep from crying "Thank Heaven, " and to say amere "Merry Christmas" instead. 

"Wicked, extravagant Boy, " exclaimed Evelyn. "Do you know, we are mostunsuitably dressed? But we _had_ to put the things on, hadn't we? It waswrong of you to buy them, but--don't look so terrified--it was sweet, too; and I know just the feeling that prompted you to do it. What adream-Christmas this is going to be. "

And then she and Rosemary thanked him separately, for each individualthing he had given. It took some time, and they were nearly late forChurch, but not quite. 

If Mademoiselle de Lavalette had been looking out of her window at acertain moment she would have been exceedingly surprised, not only bythe transformation of Madame Clifford and _la petite bête_ from churchmice into visions, but still more by the sight of their companion. 

But hot rage and cold disappointment had given her a bad night. 

She had expected a guest for dinner. She had put on her prettiest frock, and had forbidden her mother the Comtesse to paint. She had orderedchampagne, an extra entrée, and a bunch of flowers for the table. Yetthe guest had neither come nor sent an excuse. She had stopped in thehouse all the evening, thinking that he might have been detained by anaccident to his automobile; but the hours had dragged on emptily. Nothing happened except a bad headache, and a quarrel with her mother, who was ungratefully inclined to be sarcastic at her expense. 

Half the night Mademoiselle had lain awake, wondering why the bird hadnot come hopping into the trap; and through the other half she hadwondered anxiously if the bird would come to-morrow, with excuses whichshe might graciously accept. At last she had fallen asleep and dreamedecstatic dreams about diamond necklaces and thousand franc notes. Whenthe procession of three left the Beau Soliel on its way to the EnglishChurch, strings of diamonds were still being drawn throughMademoiselle's head, charming though wreathed with patent curling pins. 

It was half past eleven when she was waked by the Comtesse ringing for_petits pains_ and chocolate. A toilette was hastily made, without toomuch time being wasted on water; and Mademoiselle, --all in black andwhite this morning, like a _jeune fille_ in second mourning, --hurriedout to walk on the terrace at the fashionable hour. If she did not findthe truant there, she said to herself, she would go into the Casino; forhe was sure to be in one place or the other at this time of day, eventhough it was Christmas. 

She walked a little, but not much; for her high-heeled shoes were tight, and made her feel even more annoyed with the world and everyone init--except herself--than she had been before she started. Presently shesat down on one of the green benches, and arranged a "peace on earth, goodwill to men" expression which pinched her lips almost as painfullyas her shoes pinched her toes. She wore it unremittingly, nevertheless, even though many of the women who passed her, walking on the terrace, were prettier and younger and better dressed than she, and--moregrievous still--were accompanied by agreeable looking men, while she satalone scarcely glanced at by the promenaders. 

She had just begun to think that she had better try the Casino, whendown the steps from the upper terrace came three figures. There wassomething familiar about them all, but to see them together made themmore than strange. Besides, the two she knew best were strange inanother way. Their habit was to be shabby, though neat; now, there wasno one on the terrace as beautifully dressed as this tall young womanand the slim little girl. No, it couldn't be Madame Clifford and her_petit choux_; and yet--and yet--as they came nearer, near enough forMademoiselle to recognise the man with them, she felt a horrid sensationas if something which she called her heart were dropping out of herbosom from sheer heaviness, leaving a vacuum. 

[Illustration: They came nearer, near enough for Mademoiselle torecognize the man with them. Page 124. 

 --_Rosemary. _]

Hardly knowing what she did, she sprang up from her bench while theywere still far off, and began walking towards them. There was a queer, singing noise in her head, and a feeling as if the skin were too tightlystretched across her forehead. Still, she smiled, and winked her longlashes to keep her eyes moist and soft. 

The sun was on Evelyn Clifford's hair, burnishing it to a halo of goldunder the white hat. She looked radiantly beautiful, and as happy as ifher soul were singing a Christmas Carol. On the face of Hugh Egerton wasa look which no woman could mistake, least of all such a woman as Juliede Lavalette; and it was not for her, never would be for her. 

Now she knew why her expected guest had not come last night, orremembered to send an excuse. Sick with jealousy and spite, she bowed asshe passed, trying to look eighteen, and tenderly reproachful. 

Her bow was returned, indifferently by Evelyn, but by Hugh with eyes ofsteel, and a mouth of bronze. If he had cut her, he would have shownless contempt than in that stiff raising of the hat. 

Julie turned and walked straight down to the Condamine, forgetting thather shoes were tight. 

[Illustration: CHAPTER NINE]

THE LAST WORD OF MADEMOISELLE

[Illustration: R]

Rosemary chose the toys for the children of the rock village, and thenthe "picnic" began. 

The car whizzed them up the zigzag road to La Turbie, while the noonsunshine still gilded Caesar's Trophy. They lunched in the Moorishrestaurant, and then sped on along the Upper Corniche, with a white seaof snow mountains billowing away to the right, and a sea of sapphirespreading to the horizon, on their left. 

Out from orange groves and olives they saw the hill of Éze rising like ahorn; while on its almost pointed apex, the old town hung like somecarved fetish, to keep away the witches. 

The car swooped down, and up again; but half way up the rocky horn thewide white road turned into a stone paved mule path, old as the Romans. Evelyn and Rosemary climbed hand in hand, singing a Christmas carol, while Hugh carried the two huge baskets filled with toys, and sweets inlittle packets. 

Some small sentinel perched on high (perhaps hidden among the ruins ofthat fortress-castle where once the temple of Isis stood) must havespied the odd procession; for as the tall white girl and the little blueone, with the brown young man, reached the last step of the steep mulepath, a tidal wave of children swept down upon them, out from themystery of dark tunnelled streets. 

Such eyes were never seen as those that gleamed at the new comers, greatwith surprise and wonder; eyes of brown velvet with diamonds shiningthrough; eyes like black wells, with mirrored stars in their unfathomeddepths; eyes of wild deer; eyes of fierce Saracens; eyes of baby saints, all set in small bronze faces clear-cut as the profiles on ancient Romancoins. 

"Bella Madonna, bella Madonna!" piped a tiny voice, and forty othervoices caught up the adoring cry. 

The brown children of the old rock village had poured down from theirhigh eyrie to bombard the strangers from the world below; to stare, tobeg, to laugh, to lisp out strange epithets in their crude _patois_; butat sight of the wonderful white lady and her gold-haired child theycrowded back upon each other, hushed after their first cry into awedadmiration for visitants from another world. 

Few tourists climbed to their dark fastness, and of those who came nonehad ever shone with such blinding radiance of white and gold. 

It was certain that the lovely lady was none other than the Madonnaherself, and the child she had brought was some baby angel. The manalone was mortal. He had perhaps been bidden to show la bella Madonnathe way to Éze. 

Rosemary, shy but happy, began giving out the toys, diving with bothhands at once into the baskets which the fairy father held. Trumpets, bags of marbles, tops and furry animals for the boys, according to theirage; (oh, Rosemary was a good judge, and never hesitated once!) Dollsfor the girls, dolls by the dozen, dolls by the legion; and sweets forall. 

As the amazed children received their gifts, they fell respectfullyback, as if they had received an order to give place to theircompanions, and others came forward, open mouthed, large eyed, ready tofall upon their knees if but one of their number should set an example. 

Still there were toys left, toys in abundance; the wondrous benefactorspassed slowly on, always going up, up into the huddled villagestreets--tunnelled in rock or arched with stone, where eager, astonishedfaces peered from the mystery of shadowed doorways, and the hum of joyand admiration swelled to a sound like the murmur of the sea. 

Of grown folk there were not many. A few mothers with brown babies intheir arms; a few mumbling crones, and bent old men with faces likestrange masks; but the flow of children never ceased. 

As the children of Hamlin followed the Pied Piper to the sea, so theblack browed children of Éze followed the Christmas visitors fromcrooked street to crooked street, up to the castle ruins and back again. They did not shout as they took their gifts; but still the murmur ranfrom mouth to mouth: "Bella Madonna, bella Madonna. "

At the end of an enchanted hour, when there was not a child in Éze whohad not both hands full, the benefactors turned to go, with emptybaskets. Massed on the plateau above the mule-path, the whole populationof the village stood to watch them down the steep descent. As they went, the church bells of Éze boomed out, calling all pious souls, young andold, to vespers; and as if the loosened tongues of the bells loosenedalso the tongues of the children, at last there arose a cry. 

"Come again, Bella Madonna and little angel, come again. We shall prayto see you next Christmas Day, Bella Madonna and little angel. Don'tforget, next Christmas Day. "

 * * * * *

"I'm perfectly happy, dearest, " said Rosemary, when once more they satin the car, spinning back from the shaded eyrie to the fair world wherethe sunshine lay. 

The others did not speak, but the same thought was in their hearts. 

When you are positively bursting with happiness the best outlet for thesurplus quantity is to benefit somebody else; and there is no time likeChristmas for a successful experiment. 

"What else can we do for somebody?" asked Hugh. 

"There's Jane, " suggested Rosemary. "I told her this morning how I wentout and found a father, and she said Pooh, he was all in my eye; andbesides she'd never heard of fathers growing on blackberry bushes. Butif we bought her a present, and you gave it to her yourself, she'd haveto believe in you. "

"I shan't feel I have a sure hold on existence until she does, " saidHugh. "Let's buy her something without the loss of a moment. "

So they bought Jane a ring, which Rosemary chose herself after maturedeliberation, and with due regard to the recipient's somewhat pronouncedtaste in colours. 

"She admires red and green together more than anything, " said the child, "and I want her to have what she really likes, because if it hadn't beenfor her I shouldn't have known Christmas Eve was the time to search forfathers. Just supposing somebody else had gone out and snapped him upinstead of me!"

As a matter of fact somebody else had gone out, and had come very nearindeed to snapping him up; but there are things which do not bearthinking of. It was Hugh's firm conviction that Destiny and not Jane, had flung Rosemary in front of his motor; but Destiny could not berewarded and Jane could. 

Rosemary would be satisfied with nothing less than a formalpresentation; and that the ceremony might be gone through without delay, the car was directed towards the Condamine. As they neared the street ofthe Hotel Pension Beau Soleil, a cab came jingling round the corner. 

It was occupied by two ladies who sat half buried in travelling bags, rugs, baskets, and shawl straps, such as women who are not of the AngloSaxon races love. A tiny motorphobe in the shape of a black Pomeranianyapped viciously at the automobile as the vehicles passed each other;and though the ladies--one stout, the other slim--were thickly veiled, Rosemary cried out, "Oh, it's the Comtesse and Mademoiselle. They mustbe going away. "

Hugh said nothing, but his silence was eloquent to Evelyn, who knew nowthe whole story of the girl with the soft eyes. Both were pleased thatthis was the last of her; but neither quite knew Mademoiselle deLavalette. She had been busy with other matters besides her packing, while la bella Madonna and her suite were collecting adorers on theheights of Éze. 

Evelyn and Rosemary disappeared to take off their hats before the grandpresentation ceremony should begin, and Hugh had begun to occupy thetime of their absence by lighting the fire with pine cones, when a cryfrom the beloved voice called him to the room adjoining. 

The door was open, and the woman and the child stood dumbfounded andoverwhelmed in a scene of incredible desolation. 

The air was acrid with the smell of burning. Blouses, pink and green, and cream, and blue, were stirred into a seething mass in the fireplace, as in a witch's cauldron, their fluffy laces burnt and blackened. Chiffon fichus torn in ribbons strewed the carpet. An ivory fan had beentrampled into fragments on the hearth-rug, and a snow-storm of feathersfrom a white boa had drifted over the furniture. On the wash-stand aspangled white tulle hat lay drowning in a basin half full of water. 

[Illustration: Their fluffy laces burnt and blackened. Chiffon fichustorn in ribbons strewed the carpet. Page 138. 

 --_Rosemary. _]

It was a sight to turn the brain of Madame in the magasin of smart"confections, " nor would the presiding genius of the toy shop have gonescathless, for Rosemary's possessions had not been spared by thecyclone. 

Dolls had lost their wigs, their arms, their legs; and beautiful blueeyes had been poked into far recesses of porcelain heads, with ruthlessscissors. Little dresses of silk and satin had been flung to feed theflames which devoured ill-starred blouses; picture books had made finekindlings; and that proud and stately mansion which might have affordedshelter to many dolls had collapsed as if shattered by a cyclone. 

"Oh, Angel, is it some dreadful dream?" wailed Rosemary; and Evelynfound no answer. But Hugh had pounced upon a card pinned on the windowcurtain; and as he held it out, in eloquent silence, she read aloud overhis shoulder; "Compliments of Mademoiselle de Lavalette. "

At the end of the first shocked instant, they both laughed wildly, desperately. It was the only thing to do. 

"After all, " gasped Evelyn, "she has paid me back--what she owedme, --and Rosemary. "

"She's given me the pleasure of making Christmas come all over again, to-morrow, that's all, " said Hugh. "Women are strange. Thank heaven, _she_ has vanished. "

"But nothing matters--at least not much, " said Rosemary, smiling throughher tears, "since you're not going to vanish, fairy father. "

THE END

 * * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Punctuation normalized. 

Page 117, Eze changed to Éze to match rest of text (Éze children). 

Page 122, bêt changed to bête (la petite bête).