Читать книгу The Curse of Pocahontas - Wenona Gilman - Страница 6

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To the surprise of both Mrs. Chalmers and Jessica, Carlita came into the room before the arrival of their expected guests that same evening.

She was gowned in black, but it was black chiffon; the silk lining of the waist cut low, her beautiful throat gleaming like marble under its soft covering. Her hair was parted, and fell in great waves down to her ear, from which it was drawn back to the nape of the neck, a few small curls drooping upon the olive brow. The daintiest of bloom stained her cheeks and lips, and there was an added light in the dusky eyes that made her almost thrilling in her strange beauty.

For the first time Jessica looked upon her with a little start and slight contraction of the brows. She had said quite truly that she had never been jealous of the beauty of any woman, and yet she was conscious of a distinctly unpleasant sensation as her mother's ward stood before her. She had said that Carlita lacked style, and yet in that moment she realized that there was something better than mere style in the young girl's make-up; there was an individuality, a charm, a wonderful grace, as if some exquisite conceit of one of the old masters had suddenly stepped from its frame and stood there in flesh and blood reality.

Jessica bit her lip. For the first time in her recollection she found herself disconcerted. She could find nothing to say. She wanted to invent some excuse to banish Carlita from the drawing-room, but could make none. And before she could recover her accustomed aplomb, the little maid Marie announced Mr. Pierrepont and Mr. Winthrop.

Carlita stepped aside and looked from one to the other of the two men.

She observed the magnificent proportions of the one whom she had met in the afternoon, enhanced by a dress-suit which fitted him singularly well, noted the slow grace of his perfect manner, and then turned to the other one.

He was tall also, and slight almost to emaciation. His eyes were of Saxon blue—honest eyes that were like those of a frank, generous boy who loves life, loves the world, loves happiness, loves danger even, but has never learned to dissemble.

He showed traces, even the presence, of a terrible illness; but there was something that caught and held her interest and her sympathy in the smile that he bent upon Carlita when Mrs. Chalmers had performed the introduction.

"It is so delightful to meet you, Miss de Barryos," he said, genially. "Leith told me that he had forestalled me this afternoon, and also that you were something of a Mexican. I should have known it even if he hadn't said so, and the inclination to call you senorita was almost uncontrollable. I have been in Mexico frequently, and—oh, love it!"

"I don't know it at all," Carlita answered. "My mother was an invalid for years, and we never traveled."

"Ah, you have so much in store," enthusiastically returned the musical voice of the young man. "And there is no place under all God's sun where the grass is so green, where the sunlight is so brilliant, where the flowers are so gorgeous, and where the birds sing as they do in Mexico. The brilliant, thrilling coloring is so magnificent that it seems to fill one's veins to bursting with the very delight of living. How you will love Mexico! You speak Spanish, of course?"

"My father taught me when I was a little child."

"And you have not forgotten?" he questioned, speaking the words to her in Spanish as he smiled at her delightedly.

"I have not forgotten," she answered in the same tongue, the words flowing in liquid beauty as English words never could flow.

"It is such a pleasure to be able to speak the language sometimes," he continued, still in Spanish. "And—will you pardon me if I say you speak it exquisitely? Leith knows almost every other language under the sun except Spanish, and it is really the only one I care a copper for. Will you let me come sometimes and talk to you—some afternoon when there will be no one else? You know I am an invalid now, and am doing nothing but recuperate. I came near going off the other day with jungle fever. It's a nasty thing, and leaves a fellow so infernally weak. It would be a positive charity if you will let me come sometimes."

"I should be glad to have you," she answered, earnestly.

And then some one else was announced whose name she did not quite catch—another man—and then she saw that Leith Pierrepont had taken his friend's place.

She was conscious of a distinct shock that was almost anger. Her cheeks grew hot. She was angry with herself, and lifted her eyes to his face half in defiance, though of what she could not have told.

He was smiling down upon her with that rare smile that somehow she knew already, though she had only seen him a moment that afternoon.

"Even if you do speak Spanish with Winthrop, you won't let him quite monopolize you, will you?" he said to her in that dangerously low, caressing tone he knew so well how to use. "I am afraid I didn't make a good impression upon you this afternoon. I was unfortunate enough to introduce some subject that did not meet with your approval altogether, and—you don't like me. Is that true?"

She flushed again angrily, seeing the smile lurking behind his magnificent eyes.

"I never presume to form opinions of strangers," she answered, haughtily; and then could have bitten her tongue for making so childish a reply.

She saw, however, at once that it had not ruffled him in the least, for he replied, lightly:

"I am so glad you are not impulsive. Young ladies usually are. If you had been, I should despair of ever winning your good-will; but as you assure me it is not so, why, I shall hope to be one of your first friends in your new home. Have you known Mrs. and Miss Chalmers long? Are they related to you?"

"Oh, no! Mrs. Chalmers and my mother were school friends. They have not met since then; but the old warm attachment was always maintained," she replied, thankful to him for showing her a way to change the subject.

He looked over her head curiously, an expression of relief, she almost thought, coming into his eyes.

"Oh," he returned, "I see."

"See what?" she asked.

He looked down quickly and straight into her eyes.

"Nothing," he said, slowly. "I only see as blind men do. Do you play poker?"

"No. I have never seen it played; but I dare say I shall learn quickly enough."

He leaned toward her, resting his elbow upon a convenient mantel-shelf. His eyes were bent upon her, dark with meaning.

"Don't!" he said earnestly. "If you were an impulsive young lady who had formed a swift friendship with me, I should entreat of you, by that friendship, not to do it. It is a game which it would break my heart to see—my sister play."

The words had barely been spoken, when Jessica touched him upon the arm with her fan. There was an expression upon her face which no one had ever seen there before. Her voice was light, and did not match it in the least, as she exclaimed:

"Come! the table is waiting. Carlita, a novice at poker always wins. Shall we lose all our money to you tonight? Will you take a hand?"

The words were meaningless to Carlita, but she hesitated. She wanted to do that which would be in defiance of Pierrepont's wishes. She glanced from Jessica to him; then, moved by an influence which she could not combat, she answered:

"I will not play, thank you, Jessica."

Miss Chalmers bit her lip. With her fingers upon Pierrepont's arm, she led him away, while Winthrop again took his place.

Mrs. Chalmers had seen the entire by-play, and a look of anxiety crossed her brow.

"Great heavens!" she muttered, "Leith Pierrepont has fallen in love with that girl, as sure as fate! Well, God help her when Jessica finds it out beyond a doubt!"