Читать книгу The Man and His Kingdom - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 8

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Notwithstanding Lucia's silence and apparent abstraction, her mother found several encouraging symptoms in her demeanour towards Dene during tea-time and the half-hour which followed. She seldom addressed him, or answered any of his remarks save in monosyllables, but more than once the Señora had found her watching and listening to him with a newly awakened interest in her manner. Dene's behaviour, too, was in a sense satisfactory. He showed no signs of moving for some time after the tea equipage had been removed, and he asked twice after Eugène Rimarez, who had not put in an appearance all day. When at last he rose, the President felt that he could without any suspicion of over-cordiality invite him to remain to dinner.

"You are not going on to Beau Desir to-night, Señor Dene?" he inquired.

Dene shook his head.

"I shall not get away before to-morrow at the earliest," he answered. "I have brought a great deal of machinery over with me which I want to see unloaded. They will not be able to commence it till to-morrow morning."

"Then will you do us the honour," the President asked, "of dining with us?"

Dene could scarcely have explained to himself why at that moment he should have glanced towards Lucia, but he did so, and, much to his surprise, she met his eyes frankly and with a surprisingly winning smile.

"Do come, Señor Dene, if you can," she said.

Both the President and his wife were amazed at a forwardness on the part of their daughter for which her bringing up was certainly not responsible. But, as the recipient of such marked and unusual favour was Gregory Dene, she escaped that expression of disapproval which would certainly in any other case have been forthcoming. Dene did not hesitate for a moment to accept the invitation.

The President walked with him into the hall. Dene paused upon the topmost of the broad flight of steps.

"Shall I have the pleasure of seeing your son this evening, President?" he asked.

The President bowed.

"Without doubt, Señor Dene. He should have been here to meet you this afternoon. I do not understand his absence."

Dene was thoughtful for a moment. They did not know then how Eugène Rimarez had spent his morning, or of the arrival of. Ternissa Denison. He ventured upon one more question.

"By the bye," he said, "I had a fellow-passenger from Buenos Ayres here—a Miss Denison. Is she by any chance a friend of yours?"

The President shook his head.

"She must be a stranger here," he said "The name is English surely."

Dene assented.

"Yes. She came from Liverpool."

The President was mildly surprised.

"Did she say whom she was coming to visit here?" he asked.

"She was curiously reserved as to her plans," Dene said. "She would tell me nothing. I asked you about her because she was met at the docks by your son."

"By Eugène?" the President exclaimed.

"By your son, Eugène," Dene repeated.

The President was thoughtful for a moment. His face grew graver.

"My son has many acquaintances," he said quietly, "whom we know nothing of. I fear that this is one of them. We shall see you at seven o'clock, Señor Dene."

Dene bowed, and made his way out on to the Plaza with a heavy heart. He threaded his way amongst the little knots of saunterers—no one in San Martina seemed ever to have anything particular to do—and made his way to the hotel Several people stopped him on the way, for already the tall young Englishman, who had brought so many of his countrymen out to San Martina, was a well-known figure in the cosmopolitan little city. There was Almarez, who owned a string of pack mules and wanted to transport the Señor's stores through the mountain to Beau Desir, and his brother, who dealt in horses and was a likely buyer for the Northern governments. But Dene lingered only a moment or two on the way. He was not in the humour to make bargains or to talk business. He was not leaving, he said, for a day at least. To-morrow morning he would speak of these things with them. So he passed on and entered the hotel, and there in the little square hall he came face to face with Eugène Rimarez, the very man he was most anxious to meet.

It was evident that the pleasure was not mutual. Rimarez returned his greeting coldly, and although he had been engaged in nothing more momentous than a languid examination of some bills upon the walls, showed every inclination to avoid an encounter. But Dene would not be denied.

"I have been spending the afternoon at the Presidency," he remarked, offering his cigarette case.

Rimarez helped himself mechanically, and nodded.

"And Beau Desir?" he asked, with a momentary show of interest

"Is mine," Dene answered, drawing the charter from his pocket. "I have become, I believe, the largest landed proprietor in your country. Come into the bar, and we will drink a bottle of wine in honour of the occasion."

It was an offer which Rimarez was not accustomed to refuse. He did so with obvious regret.

"It must be a pleasure reserved for another day," he said. "I am waiting—for a friend."

Dene glanced at him keenly.

Rimarez was flushed and ill-at-ease. As usual. Dene supposed, he had been drinking more than was good for him.

"I am going back to dine with your people," he said. "Shall I see you?"

"Most likely," Rimarez answered vaguely. "I am due up at the barracks shortly. In fact—I must go now."

Dene nodded and turned away. He had scarcely taken half a dozen steps, however, when he stopped short. He was face to face with Ternissa Denison. She was dressed in a plain white linen suit for walking, and she wore a thick veil. Nevertheless, he could see her start, and the deep colour flush into her cheeks, as her eyes met his.

He raised his broad-brimmed hat gravely, and stood on one side. He was not at first inclined to say anything to her at all. He was both bewildered and anxious. Then something in her face, some mute expression of appeal in the grey eyes which fell so swiftly before his, rekindled his hopes. It was impossible that there was not some explanation of her position. She had half stopped, and he spoke to her more kindly than he had meant to.

"You have found your friends, I trust. Miss Denison?"

"Did I tell you that I had any friends here?" she asked.

He hesitated.

"Perhaps," he said, "I took that for granted."

He saw a sudden whitening in her face, and turning round found Rimarez watching them closely. Her gesture—it was instinctive, and certainly one of aversion—inspired him with a sudden determination. He was not content any longer to fence with her. He spoke out.

"You are in trouble," he said. "I cannot believe that it is impossible for me to help you. You have met with some disappointment, or perhaps you have been misled. Come! I am a fellow-countryman. Let me be your friend."

She drew a sharp little breath, and she answered hurriedly—

"You mean to be kind, I am sure, Mr. Dene—but—you are making a mistake. I do not require—any one's help. I have not been misled or disappointed. You must let me go now, please. Captain Rimarez is waiting for me."

But Dene did not at once stand aside.

"Let me finish what I was going to say," he begged. "You told me on the steamer that you were poor, that you wished for work. I have a position to offer you. I want a schoolmistress for my children at Beau Desir. Come there with me to-morrow and try it."

"You are very kind," she said. "At present I am not able even to consider your offer. I have something very important to do. Goodbye."

She passed him so swiftly that even if he had wished it he could have said nothing. Rimarez, whose face was sullen and dark, raised his hat to her, and they left the hotel together. Dene went slowly up to his room.