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Title: The Ranch Girls in Europe

Author: Margaret Vandercook

Illustrator: Pemberton Ginther

Release date: January 12, 2011 [eBook #34929]
                Most recently updated: January 7, 2021

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy and the Online
        Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RANCH GIRLS IN EUROPE ***




Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Emmy and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net







Transcriber's Note: Bold text is denoted by =bold= and italic by
_italic_.

[Illustration: "JACK, DON'T YOU KNOW ME?"]




THE RANCH GIRLS SERIES

The Ranch Girls In Europe

--BY--

MARGARET VANDERCOOK

          ILLUSTRATED BY
          MARY PEMBERTON GINTHER

          THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
          PHILADELPHIA




          Copyright, 1914, by
          THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY




CONTENTS


    CHAPTER                                  PAGE
        I. BIRDS OF PASSAGE                     9
       II. SALVE!                              25
      III. NEW ACQUAINTANCES                   35
       IV. THINGS PRESENT AND THINGS TO COME   44
        V. A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE                54
       VI. RUTH'S ATTITUDE                     63
      VII. GIBRALTAR                           73
     VIII. A MORE IMPORTANT OBLIGATION         82
       IX. REFLECTIONS                         94
        X. ITALIAN VIOLETS                    105
       XI. FONTANONE DELL' ACQUA FELICE       115
      XII. AFTERNOON TEA                      122
     XIII. JACK                               131
      XIV. THE PRINCESS' MYTHOLOGICAL BALL    143
       XV. A SURPRISE                         156
      XVI. LEAVING ROME                       167
     XVII. THE OVERSEER OF THE RAINBOW RANCH  182
    XVIII. RELIEF OR REGRET?                  192
      XIX. RECONCILIATIONS                    200
       XX. AN ENGLISH COUNTRY PLACE           209
      XXI. MIDNIGHT CONFIDENCES               217
     XXII. OLIVE'S ANSWER                     226
    XXIII. THE WEDDING DAY                    234




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS


    "JACK, DON'T YOU KNOW ME?"          _Frontispiece_
                                                 PAGE
    HER TONE WAS THAT OF ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY        19
    "DON'T BE FUNNY, DICK; I'M LOST AGAIN"        119
    RUTH STARTED UP THE AISLE ON LORD KENT'S ARM  236




The Ranch Girls in Europe




CHAPTER I

BIRDS OF PASSAGE


"IT seems incredible, girls, but I simply can't find her."

The young woman who made this remark was standing on the deck of an
out-going ocean steamer. The great boat was ploughing its way through
the Ambrose channel, leaving the long nose of Sandy Hook a thin line of
white on one side. Fading away into the background like dim gray ghosts
were the giant towers of New York City. The speaker was wearing a long,
gray traveling coat with a blue lining, and a felt hat of the same
colors rested close against her ash-brown hair.

Immediately three girls turned to face her. The minute before they had
been leaning against the ship's railing. One of them revealed a
suspicion of tears in her curiously dark eyes; the second had her lips
shut unnecessarily tight to hide her emotion; while the third showed
only rejoicing.

"Dear me, Ruth Drew," this girl now began in mock tragic tones, "you
don't suppose that our infant has fallen overboard already, do you? Or
do you suspect some one of having run away with her? At this present
moment I presume that Frieda Ralston is in our stateroom. But it is
possible that she is engaged in making the acquaintance of some one on
shipboard whom she has decided she is crazy to know. The most probable
supposition, however, is that she is trying to persuade a steward to
give her something to eat. For over an hour ago she informed me that she
was starving to death and wished to open one of her boxes of candy
before leaving the New York pier. She is sure to turn up in a moment or
so. Do please stay here with us and help Jack and Olive mourn. They are
shedding tears over having to say farewell to the 'Stars and Stripes,'
and incidentally to our best-beloved friends. But I can't even show a
polite amount of emotion I am so happy over starting off on our trip at
last."

Here Jean Bruce, one of the four Ranch girls from the Rainbow Lodge,
abruptly ceased talking. She had been noticing for the past few minutes
that a stranger had been listening to her conversation with a kind of
well-bred amusement. And as she happened to be the person whom Jean had
most admired since coming aboard the Martha Washington, it seeming
annoying to be the subject of her smiles. However, Jean should not have
been offended, for her sallies had awakened the first animation in the
young woman's face since the hour of their sailing. Until recently she
had been standing in a listless attitude within a few feet of the Ranch
girls, apparently uninterested in anything in the world. In her slender
arms she carried what looked like an entire tree of American Beauty
roses. And now and then she had pressed her face against them. The
traveler's costume had first attracted Jean's attention--it was so
beautiful and fashionable. The coat was of dull blue silk; the small hat
emphasized the classic outline of the young woman's haughtily poised
head with its crown of pale-gold hair, and at a respectful distance a
maid and a courier waited in attendance upon her.

Jack and Olive, even in the midst of their absorption, had been brought
to admit that the stranger's appearance was fascinating. While to Jean's
more romantic fancy she suggested no less a heroine than the Princess
Flavia in "The Prisoner of Zenda."

In the moment of Jean's silence Jacqueline Ralston drew their chaperon's
arm through hers, giving it a reproachful squeeze.

"If you are going to begin worrying over us, Ruth, in the very first
hour of what Aunt Ellen called 'Our tower,' whatever is to become of you
before we are through? I am sure Frieda is all right. And this time Jean
is telling the truth. Olive and I have been feeling low in our minds
over saying good-by to Jim and Ralph and Miss Winthrop and Peter and
Jessica and a few others. But just the same we are as happy over the
prospect of our trip as Jean Bruce is, every single bit!"

During this moment Ruth had again allowed herself to be silenced, but
now she moved determinedly back from Jacqueline's detaining grasp.

"I don't think you girls understand the situation," Ruth argued a trifle
impatiently. "Of course I have already searched for Frieda in every
probable place on the ship and have had the stewardess helping me. She
simply is not to be found! I don't like Frieda's running off from the
rest of us in this fashion and I don't understand it. Where did you
leave her, Jean, when you came on board the second time after going
ashore for another farewell to Mr. Colter? I was so busy having our
steamer trunks put into our staterooms that I could not join you." And
for an instant, remembering that there were other reasons why she did
not wish to be present at this final parting with Jim Colter, Ruth Drew
hesitated and flushed. Would her New England conscience never allow her
to be satisfied with telling only half the truth?

But Jean, forgetting the presence of her embarrassing audience, shook
her head in protest.

"Frieda didn't come on board with me. I came on alone. Why, Jim and
Ralph had fairly to shove me up the gang-plank before the last 'all
aboard' was sung out! Frieda came on with Jack and Olive several
minutes before. That is, I thought so. Surely you can't mean----"

In this same instant Olive Van Mater's arm slipped around Jacqueline
Ralston's waist. For although almost a year had passed since Jack's
recovery from her long illness and operation, she was not yet entirely
strong. Frequently she had to use a cane in walking. Today, however, she
had insisted that she was able to get along without it. So Olive feared
that this sudden and surprising news of her little sister might prove
too much for her. It was characteristic of the two friends' relations
that Olive's first thought in this crisis was not so much for Frieda as
for Jack.

Nevertheless her friend did not yet require her aid. Although at Jean's
surprising words Jacqueline Ralston had turned pale, she was perhaps not
more so than Ruth and the other two girls. However, she was evidently
doing her best to hold on to her self-control and not to allow the
moment's bewilderment and fright to overwhelm her.

"No, Frieda did not come on the ship with us the second time, Ruth," she
explained, turning quietly toward their chaperon. "But please do not let
us be alarmed. She must have come aboard by herself beforehand. For I
can remember hearing her say her last good-by to Jim while I was still
talking to Peter. Frieda is nearly seventeen; why, it is ridiculous to
suppose that she would be so foolish as to let the steamer sail off
without her! Besides, wasn't Jim right there! And isn't he always
possessed of the idea that we will be late for things and that unknown
catastrophes will overtake us? If necessary he would have put Frieda on
board by main force. So let's go find her."

Very quickly, then, the little party of four turned from their former
places. And Jean's face, which had been the gayest in the group at the
beginning of this conversation, was now the most terrified.

"If Frieda Ralston isn't on board the Martha Washington with us, she
most certainly is not on land with any of our friends," Jean insisted,
"for I know that Frieda left them on the pier before I did. So if she
isn't on this ship something dreadful must have happened to her; some
one must have stolen her away. Oh, what on earth shall we do?"

Jean was following the others in such a complete state of panic that she
hardly knew what she was saying. So at first she scarcely heard the low
voice sounding close to her ears. Only one thought occupied her mind.
Frieda was lost before they had fairly started on their journey. If she
could not be found on the ship, what were they to do? Of course they
could send Marconigrams back to Jim Colter and Ralph Merrit, who had
come all the way from the ranch to New York City to say farewell to
them. But if Frieda should happen not to be with them or with any of
their other friends, must there not be days and days of horrible waiting
and anxiety before they could return home? Each moment the great steamer
was carrying them farther and farther away from the United States and
not all the gold in the Rainbow Mine could persuade her to alter her
course or to stop until they reached Gibraltar.

The voice spoke again. Evidently its owner must have pursued Ruth and
the three girls.

"I am afraid you are in some difficulty. If my maid or courier can be of
any service to you I shall be most happy. Evidently you have not crossed
before."

This final suggestion, even in the midst of her anxiety, made Jean
flush uncomfortably. Immediately she stopped and turned around,
recognizing the young woman who had previously both attracted and
annoyed her. Something in Jean's expression must have betrayed her
irritation, for the stranger smiled again.

"I hope I haven't offended you," she apologized. "I only wished to be
useful. You _are_ in trouble, so you must let me try to serve you."

In their overwhelming anxiety Ruth, Olive and Jack had continued on the
way to their staterooms, leaving Jean to answer for all of them. Now, to
her chagrin, the tears began overflowing her eyes like a frightened
baby's.

And only a few moments before had she not secretly hoped to make a
favorable impression upon this most interesting of their fellow
voyagers?

Jean had believed that she was looking unusually well herself. For her
blue silk dress with its touches of red embroidery, her blue chinchilla
coat with its scarlet lining and her hat with the single red wing in it
had been considered the most effective of the Ranch party's going-away
costumes.

[Illustration: HER TONE WAS THAT OF ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY]

So why should she be making herself so ridiculous before a total
stranger?

Jean did not realize that the emotion of parting with her friends and of
leaving her own country had been greater than she cared to admit even to
herself. Then this sudden overwhelming worry about Frieda had left her
nerves completely unstrung.

Therefore she was extremely grateful when the older woman led her to a
more secluded part of the promenade deck. New York was now out of sight,
and most of the passengers were hurrying off to their rooms. Jean and
her companion were almost entirely alone.

"We--we have lost our little sister," the young girl began incoherently.
"Or at least we have been unable to find her and do not feel altogether
sure that she came aboard with the rest of us. Oh, I realize that this
must sound absurd and impossible to you. It does to all of us. But what
can have become of her?"

With a slight but imperious nod of her head, which, even in her
excitement, Jean did not fail to observe, her new acquaintance summoned
her courier. And although she spoke to him in Italian the girl was able
to understand. The man was told to await their return. Then if
ordered he was to see that the ship was thoroughly searched for a
missing passenger without unnecessary notoriety.

A little later the young woman moved away with Jean. "Your sister is
probably in her own stateroom by this time. However, if she is not and
is on the ship we shall find her in a few moments." Her tone was that of
absolute authority, as though the great vessel were her private yacht.
Jean wondered how any woman not more than twenty-eight could give such
an impression of poise and experience.

Notwithstanding Frieda had not yet been discovered in any one of the
staterooms. She had been expected to occupy a room with Jean. Olive and
Jack were to be together and Ruth to sleep alone. However, in Ruth's
stateroom, which the girls had chosen as being specially attractive,
Jean and her new friend found Jacqueline Ralston waiting alone.

"I have promised to remain here while Miss Drew and Olive have gone to
speak to the proper authorities," Jack explained, with the curious
self-control which she was almost always able to summon under special
strain. "We hope my sister has simply mistaken her stateroom and may
come to us at any moment. But if you will be so kind as to have your man
assist us in our search, why we shall be deeply grateful. You see, we
are rather too frightened to be sensible, besides being inexperienced
travelers. And Frieda is so much the younger!" Here, with a break in her
self-command, Jack dropped unexpectedly into the nearest chair. She had
forgotten even to ask their visitor to be seated, nor did she have the
faintest idea of her name, nor the reason for her interest in their
predicament.

An hour later and the Martha Washington had been thoroughly and quietly
searched for the missing Frieda Ralston. Yet there appeared to be
absolutely no trace of her. Of course her baggage had been brought
aboard the ship with the other girls'. Even her silver toilet bag, Jim's
parting gift, was safely stored in her stateroom. Frieda had been last
seen ashore with nothing in her hands except a small gold link purse.

Finally when the news reached the Ranch party that Frieda was positively
not to be found on the steamer, for the first time in her career Ruth
Drew collapsed.

Not that she was more wretched than the girls over Frieda's
disappearance, but because of her greater sense of responsibility. For
almost a year, ever since their return from boarding school to the
Rainbow Ranch, Ruth had been separated from the Ranch girls and living
quietly in her old home in Vermont. In that time she had never heard
from Jim Colter nor of him, except what the girls had written in their
letters. Their meeting in New York had been entirely formal and without
a word of private conversation. Yet now it was the thought of Jim's
sorrow and indignation, should anything have happened to his baby,
Frieda, that Ruth found the hardest thing she had to bear. For had she
not once acted as Jim Colter's upright judge? What now must be his
judgment of her?

Several hours of this interminable afternoon were spent by Jack and
Olive waiting in the ship's office for answers to their Marconigrams.
But, when the answers finally did arrive, the news was only
discouraging: "Frieda had not been seen by either Jim or Ralph or by any
one of their acquaintances since the sailing of the Martha Washington."

Yet, notwithstanding the many hours of searching and distress, Jean's
new friend had never deserted them. She had not even gone to her own
room to remove her coat and hat. Indeed, her whole time had been spent
in encouraging Ruth, in making suggestions to the three girls, and in
having her maid and man do whatever was necessary toward assisting them.
Still no one of the Ranch party even knew her name.

Twilight had come and the lights were shining brilliantly everywhere
over the big ship. A fog horn had sounded and suddenly Jean felt that
she could bear the suspense no longer. She must break down, yet no one
of the others must see or hear her. Slipping out into a dark passageway,
she hid herself and cried for half an hour. Then making up her mind that
since nothing more could be done toward finding Frieda, she might at
least devote herself to comforting Ruth, she walked quietly back into
Ruth's stateroom. There she found their new friend just in the act of
leaving.

"You will be better by yourselves for a little while," she was saying,
holding Jack's hand in one of her own and Olive's in the other, while
looking sympathetically at Ruth. "My man will see that dinner is served
in your room, and by and by I will come again to say good-night. You
must not lose courage. The American girl never loses courage or ceases
to fight while there is still work to be done."

Having for the moment forgotten herself and her own sorrow, Jean became
more aware of their new acquaintance's unusual sympathy and kindness.

"You have been wonderfully good to us," she began chokingly, "and
perhaps at some time we may be able to show you our great appreciation.
But tonight, tonight--" and Jean could get no further. Then, summoning
more strength of character, she continued, "I wonder if you would mind
telling us your name? You must already know most of our history, as we
have talked so much of ourselves in speaking of Frieda."

For a moment Jean's friend appeared to be hesitating. Perhaps she did
not wish to talk of herself, for she was now looking as weary as Ruth
and the Ranch girls.

"You must not think I am not a fellow countrywoman when I tell you my
name," she replied slowly, and with the slightly foreign accent which
the girls had neglected to notice in their distress. "I was once a
western girl myself, oh, many years ago, in a little mining town. So I
was able to recognize you as soon as I saw and heard you talking. Now I
am an Italian, however, or at least my husband is. My name is Beatrice,
the Princess Beatrice Colonna."

Jean actually gasped out loud. Here she had been talking to a real live
Princess without knowing it, when in her most romantic moments she had
only conceived of a literary one.

If they had not been in such great trouble over Frieda, how thrilling
this meeting would have seemed! Yet, except for their sorrow, they might
never have spoken to the Princess. And now here she was standing right
in their midst talking just like any one else!

A moment later and she had vanished with these parting words:

"Promise me not to be too unhappy while I am gone. And perhaps when I
return we may have devised some better scheme for finding your little
Frieda."




CHAPTER II

SALVE!


FOR several moments after the Princess' withdrawal no one moved or spoke
in Ruth Drew's stateroom. Ruth was lying on her berth, almost in a state
of prostration, with Jean kneeling on the floor by her, resting her head
upon the same pillow. On the divan Olive and Jack sat close together,
Olive trying her best to think of some new consolation to offer her
friend. For although the four Ranch girls loved one another with almost
equal affection, after all Jack and Frieda were own sisters.

For the past year the girls and Ruth had been planning this trip to
Europe. When the school year at Miss Winthrop's had closed and Jack had
concluded her trying experience at the New York hospital, the girls,
escorted by Jim Colter, had gone home to the Rainbow Ranch. In the
autumn they then intended to join Ruth again in the east and set sail.
However, when the fall came around, Jack was not so well, affairs at
the mine were in a kind of a tangle and Olive's grandmother desired her
to spend another school term at Primrose Hall. So the European journey
had been postponed until the following spring. Now it was early March
and the Rainbow Ranch party was starting forth upon the Mediterranean
trip. Their plan had been to stop over for a day in Gibraltar and
afterwards to see Italy thoroughly before entering any other country.

However, on this, their first evening at sea, when they had anticipated
so much happiness, there was but one question and one desire in the
hearts of Ruth, Jack, Olive and Jean.

How could they bear the ten unendurable days before their ship reached
Gibraltar and the second ten of their return journey to New York?

For Ruth and the girls had finally concluded that Frieda had never
sailed on the Martha Washington. Of course a few passengers had been
discovered who claimed to have seen a young girl answering Frieda's
description. However, no one would swear to it. And even if Frieda had
fallen overboard, surely some one would have seen or heard her. Her
disappearance had taken place among a crowd of apparently well-dressed
and well-behaved people. It hardly seemed possible that she could have
been kidnapped. Nevertheless the steerage had been quietly investigated
without the slightest clue having been established.

It was the old story that was once more repeating itself. Nothing seems
more improbable than that any one whom we know and love can suddenly
vanish without leaving a trace of his or her whereabouts. Yet when this
actually does take place, no one has a sensible suggestion to make. All
is confusion, uncertainty and at last despair.

However, neither Ruth nor any one of the three Ranch girls were making
any noise, so that they suddenly became aware of a movement down the
short hall leading to Ruth's room. And then followed a knock at the
door.

Ruth turned over, facing the wall. "The steward is bringing our dinner.
Do please do your best to eat something, girls, for we shall need all
our strength," she pleaded.

Jacqueline shook her head. "Not tonight. If you will let me get away to
myself for a few hours I shall be stronger by tomorrow."

For the first time there was something in Jack's voice that brought her
chaperon, cousin and friend to a quick realization of their own
weakness. For, although Jack's right to sorrow was certainly greater
than theirs, until now, had she not been the strongest and most hopeful
of them all? And this when two long years of illness had left her far
from strong. Possibly through suffering she had learned a finer
self-control.

As she moved toward the closed door with her face white as a sheet,
suddenly Jean flung herself in her cousin's path.

"Don't go until you have tried eating something," she begged. "We can't
bear to have you ill again besides our anxiety about Frieda."

Jean flung open the stateroom door, but stumbled back and was actually
caught by Jack.

For there on their threshold stood the Princess, holding by the hand a
young girl with a quantity of light hair tumbled loosely about a flushed
face. Her blue eyes with their long lashes were looking indescribably
sleepy and injured and in her other hand she held a small, gold-linked
purse.

Jean sank down on the floor as Jack released her hold on her. Ruth
started up with a cry; Olive rose quickly to her feet, only to drop back
into her old place again. Therefore it was Jack who reached the figures
at the door first. And there her long-controlled self-restraint gave
way, as she flung her arms about the newcomer's neck.

"Oh, Frieda, Frieda Ralston," she sobbed. "Where have you been and what
has happened to you? Who could have kept you away from us for all these
hours. Hours--why you must have been away years!"

But Frieda had now come into the stateroom, with the Princess following
her. And though she had kissed Jack dutifully and affectionately enough,
she gazed with astonishment and some resentment from one white face to
the other.

"I--I haven't been anywhere," she protested. "At least, I have just been
asleep."

"Asleep!" Jean whispered the single word over several times. "Asleep!"
Yet certainly everything in Frieda's appearance suggested this to be the
truth. Her face was as calm and untroubled as a big wax doll's, her
color and eyes as serene.

"But how, when, where?" Ruth Drew inquired, struggling between the
hysterical desire to burst into laughter and tears at the same moment.

"I made a mistake in our stateroom," Frieda explained with that offended
and yet apologetic air which the other girls knew so well. "You see, I
came on the ship a little after Olive and Jack did and saw them standing
together waving to people. I knew they would never stop until we got
clear out of sight of New York. And I--I was so dreadfully tired! You
remember we had been out to the theater two nights in succession and had
just had the long trip from Wyoming to New York; so I thought I would
lie down for a few minutes' rest. I couldn't find Ruth in our stateroom
or in hers, but I supposed that she had gone up on deck. So I took off
my hat and coat and lay down--and--that's all there is to it."

Olive started the laughter. The nervous tension of the past few hours
had been too great for everybody. Now Frieda's voice, her manner, her
explanation, had turned what had seemed a tragedy but a few minutes
before into a ridiculous farce.

"Would you mind telling me, Frieda," (Olive struggled to be as serious
as Frieda might consider proper), "how you could find a stateroom in
which you could sleep for five or six hours undisturbed, when every
single room, every spot aboard this big ship has been ransacked to find
you?"

But here Jean's Princess, who had not spoken before, laughed gaily.

"Please, this is where I come in. Isn't that the American slang?" she
queried. "I found Goldilocks asleep in my bed just as the little bear
did in the old fairy story. Remember, my stateroom is the only one that
has never been investigated, since I have spent the entire time with
you. It is true that my maid and courier have been into my sitting room,
which adjoins my bedroom, several times. But they have also been too
worried over your loss even to have unpacked my trunks. Imagine what an
odd sensation it was for me to discover two big, blue eyes staring at me
from my very own pillow!"

And the Princess laughed as naturally and cheerfully as an ordinary
American girl.

"I wasn't asleep _then_!" Frieda defended. Catching the expression of
her cousin Jean Bruce's face, she realized that she would never hear the
last of this escapade.

"Then why, baby mine, when you came back from dreamland did you not
struggle into the hall and find out what had become of your family?"
Jean demanded.

"Because I was cross," Frieda whispered. "You see, I thought it hateful
of you to have let me stay such a long time by myself. And I meant never
to get up until you came and found me, even if I starved!"

"And speaking of starving!" Jean exclaimed, clasping her hands together
in a dramatic fashion and gazing at Frieda who now appeared as hungry as
she had been sleepy a few moments before.

But although Ruth and the three Ranch girls had done their best to make
her remain so, Frieda was not a baby. She turned to their new-found
acquaintance. Something in her sister's face showed at least a part of
the strain which her family had been under.

"I am afraid I hardly know how to thank you, Mrs.--Miss--" she
hesitated.

"She isn't a Miss or a Mrs. either; she is a Princess!" Jean whispered,
supposing that no one else could overhear her. However, seeing Frieda
shake her head with indignation over her cousin's continued teasing, the
four women, including the Princess, laughed in chorus.

"I am a Princess, really, Frieda, but my title does not mean anything
serious in Italy. And I hope you may not like me any the less well for
it."

The girls noticed that the Princess had spoken as informally to Frieda
as though she were one of them, but now as she turned toward Ruth again
her manner changed.

"For the second time let me bid you good-night and offer my
congratulations," she said.

And there again was the coldness, the hauteur and the superiority, which
Jean had resented before their misfortune had awakened the young woman's
sympathy.

In the midst of a murmur of thanks from every one else in the room, Jean
quietly opened the door for their visitor. But it was hardly possible
for the Princess successfully to pass two large men bearing enormous
trays of dishes in their outstretched arms.

"Dinner!" Jean murmured soulfully, forgetting her new-found dignity.

And the Princess' tired-looking, big blue eyes were immediately turned
wistfully toward the food.

"I am dreadfully hungry too," she announced, speaking like a girl again.
"I wonder if you would let me have some of your dinner. You see, it is
too late to dress now and I shall be all alone."

Five voices answered and several hands reached forward to draw their
guest down into the most comfortable chair. A little later the table was
laid with a bunch of roses, which Ruth had received anonymously, to
serve as the centerpiece. And seated between Jean and Frieda was a real
live Princess; when in their fondest dreams the Ranch girls had only
hoped to see one drive past some day in a coach and four.




CHAPTER III

NEW ACQUAINTANCES


AMBITION in this world is often gratified in a most unexpected fashion,
and so it happened with Frieda Ralston!

For weeks before leaving the Rainbow Ranch she had discussed with Jim,
with Ralph Merrit, who was still engineer at the mine, and with her
sister Jack, whether or not they believed she would be able to make
agreeable acquaintances aboard ship or during the months of their travel
on the other side. For Frieda was certain that she should soon grow
weary with nothing to entertain her but miles of salt water, hundreds of
art galleries, thousands of pictures and statues. It was all very well
for Jack and Olive to enthuse over these possibilities and for Jean to
pretend to feel the same way. She wanted _people_ for her diversion and
hoped to be able to make a few friends in the course of their ocean
crossing. Though how this was to be accomplished without a single
introduction Frieda did not know. However, on the morning of the second
day of their voyage the youngest Ranch girl made the discovery.

In a state of blissful unconsciousness and without reflecting on the
events of the day before, she started down to breakfast with Jean and
Olive. Jack and Ruth were a little too weary to care about making early
appearances.

The morning was a perfect one, with a smooth sea, and the dining room
was crowded with passengers. One would hardly have expected that the
quiet appearance of three young girls could have attracted any special
attention. For a few moments they waited for the head steward to be
found, and were then led to their seats at the First Officer's table. It
was all very quickly done, yet Jean and Olive were distinctly aware that
a subdued murmur followed them; then that an entirely unnecessarily
large number of heads were turned in their direction. Of course Frieda
noticed this, too, but she merely presumed that their fellow travelers
were curious and had not the good manners that they should have had. The
idea that she or Jean or Olive could be exciting any particular
attention never occurred to her at first, so deeply did the scene hold
her attention.

Then, without warning, something took place which made Frieda flush and
tremble. Except that she was holding a ménu card in her hand at the
moment the tears would have shown in her eyes.

Seated just across the table opposite her was a large, middle-aged
woman, dressed in black and wearing a quantity of handsome jewelry. She
stared hard at Frieda for the first few moments after her arrival. Then,
turning to the young fellow who sat next her, she announced in a loud
enough voice to be heard from one end of the table to the other, "It was
the plump, yellow-haired one, wasn't it, created such a stir? Seems like
it ain't possible she could have been asleep in some one's stateroom.
Much more likely she was in some kind of mischief! I am going to ask her
what she _really_ was doing?" Then she leaned half-way across the cloth
and, except for the young man's agonized protest, most assuredly would
have asked her question of Frieda.

But in an instant Jean grasped the situation. She was quicker than any
of the other girls to understand social matters, and now realized that
something must be said and done at once. Not only must she cover up the
awkwardness of the present moment, but save Frieda from further
discussion later on. They had believed that their search yesterday had
been conducted quietly, and yet questions must have been asked of many
passengers aboard and the whole business of the lost girl thoroughly
gone into. Frieda herself should speak now and right the whole matter.
Of course this would have been the better way, Jean thought. And yet one
glance at Frieda showed this possibility hopeless. Should the strange
woman ask her a single question or say another word concerning her
escapade, it was apparent that the youngest of the Ranch girls would
burst into tears before the many strangers at the breakfast table!

Frieda was not feeling very well. Perhaps because she had slept so long
in the afternoon, or, perhaps, for more sentimental reasons she had lain
awake several hours during the night past worrying over the events of
the afternoon. Not that she dreamed then that she might be talked about
aboard ship, but because she was sorry for the girls' and Ruth's
anxiety. Yet evidently persons had been commenting upon her! Moreover,
had she not just been called plump before everybody at their table?
Frieda was extremely sensitive on this subject and no one of her family
or friends dared mention it. It was because Jack and Olive were both so
absurdly thin and because Jean had a remarkably beautiful figure for a
girl of eighteen that Frieda might seem a little large in comparison.
The real truth was that she had only a soft roundness of outline, which
put attractive dimples, and curves in the places where you might have
expected angularities.

Therefore, in the pause following the older woman's speech, Jean looked
across the table with an air of quiet amusement. Immediately she held
the attention of the persons nearest them and at the same time gave the
embarrassed young man a reassuring smile.

He was not a young man, however. Jean decided from the weight of her
eighteen years of masculine experience that he was a college boy
probably in his Freshman year and certainly far more refined in his
manner and appearance than his ordinary-looking mother.

"If you were kind enough to be interested in our difficulty of
yesterday, I should be glad to explain to you how it had a happy
ending," she began in a friendly voice. "I suppose it was foolish for us
to have been so frightened."

And then in detail Jean went through the history of the entire
occurrence, beginning with their discovery of Frieda's absence, closing
with the moment of her appearance, and neglecting nothing to make her
story a good one. This in spite of Frieda's hot blushes and imploring
although unuttered requests for silence. In the end, however, every
member of the audience laughed, and Frieda determined never to forgive
Jean's unkindness, while Jean and Olive were both silently
congratulating themselves that any mystery surrounding her proceedings
had been so soon and so easily cleared up. They were fully aware that
their story would soon be circulated among a number of their fellow
passengers.

Yet for a long time afterwards Frieda Ralston would always recall this
first breakfast aboard the Martha Washington as one of the most
uncomfortable meals of her whole lifetime. More than anything she hated
being laughed at. And even the young man, whose mother had started the
entire unpleasantness, had the impertinence to forget his own
responsibility and to smile and exclaim "Great Scott" over her ability
to sleep so long and well in the midst of such great excitement. Later
in the meal he attempted smiling at Frieda once or twice, hoping that
she might have come in time to regard the situation more humorously. But
she had returned his glances with a reproachful coldness that apparently
had reduced him to a proper state of silence and humility. One thought,
however, upbore Frieda until she was able to withdraw from the dining
room. At least, she need never again recognize the presence of the two
objectionable persons across the table from her. For not only should she
never speak to them, she would not even incline her head in recognition
of their existence at meal times, although she had heard that this was a
polite custom among even the most exclusive of ocean travelers.

Seated in her steamer chair next her sister Jacqueline half an hour
later, with a veil tied close about her little scarlet velour hat,
Frieda was dumfounded to observe this same objectionable young man
stopping calmly before them.

Looked at closely he had a well-shaped head with almost too heavy a
jaw, a bright color, brown eyes and hair that he was vainly trying to
train into a correct pompadour. His shoulders were broad and athletic,
of a kind the younger Miss Ralston had previously been known to admire.

First the young fellow bowed politely to Jack. Then he turned as
directly toward Frieda as though they had already been properly
introduced.

"I am awfully sorry my mother made you so uncomfortable this morning,"
he began bravely, and turned so crimson that Frieda felt her heart
relenting.

"Mother is an awfully good sort, but she hasn't been around much and did
not guess how you would feel. And--oh, well a fellow can't be expected
to apologize for his mother! Only as she asked me to come and talk to
you, I am trying to do my best."

Then, answering a nod of invitation from Jack, who had liked his
straightforward manner, he sat down in the vacant chair next Frieda and
pulling out a box of chocolates from his pocket began to tell her the
story of his life. His name was Richard Grant. He and his mother came
from Crawford, Indiana, where his father had been a candy manufacturer
until his death a few months before. Richard was in his second year at
Princeton when his father had died, so, as his mother felt a trip abroad
might help her, he had dropped behind his class for half a year in order
to do what she wished.

He seemed so straightforward and so good-natured that by and by Frieda
forgot to remain angry. So when he begged her to come and be introduced
to his mother she hardly knew how to refuse.

Nevertheless Frieda found her first conclusion had been right. Mrs.
Grant was as impossible as she had previously thought her. Could she
ever endure the mother's acquaintance for the sake of the son's?

Still, Frieda continued walking the deck with her newest acquaintance
until Ruth was obliged to send Olive and Jean to look for her. And a
number of persons aboard had been watching the youngest of the Ranch
girls with a good deal of pleasure. For Frieda had never looked more
attractive than she did in her scarlet steamer coat and cap, with her
blue eyes as wide open and as deeply interested in everything about her
as a clever baby's and her cheeks, without exaggeration, as deeply pink
as a La France rose.




CHAPTER IV

THINGS PRESENT AND THINGS TO COME


THE ensuing week at sea was one of the most delightful in the Ranch
girls' lives and in many ways illustrative of their future history.

An ocean steamer filled with passengers is in itself a miniature world,
so many different types of people are represented, there is such freedom
of association, such a leveling of artificial barriers that often exist
on land. Frequently a fellow traveler reveals more of his character and
history to some stranger whom he may meet in crossing than ever he has
confided to a life-long friend.

Until the present time the four Ranch girls and their chaperon, Ruth
Drew, had lived singularly sheltered lives. First brought up almost like
boys under the care of their overseer, Jim Colter, three of the girls
had known only the few neighbors scattered within riding distance of
their thousand-acre ranch. While Olive's acquaintance, owing to her
curious childhood, had been even smaller and more primitive. Then had
come the year for Jean, Olive and Frieda at Primrose Hall under Miss
Katherine Winthrop's charge, when their horizon had broadened, admitting
a number of girls and a few young men to be their friends. But this
could hardly be called real contact with the world, since always they
were under Miss Winthrop's wise guidance. While as Jack had spent
exactly the same length of time at a hospital she had had even less
experience with people. The last ten months with three of the girls
again at the Rainbow Ranch had meant a return to the same kind of quiet
every-day existence, varied only by the interests of the working of the
mine. Olive's six months apart from the others had simply been devoted
to further study with Miss Winthrop with week-end visits to her
grandmother at The Towers.

Then, although Ruth Drew was almost ten years older than any one of the
Ranch girls, in many ways she was fully as ignorant of the world. It had
never yet occurred to her that there were persons capable of
misrepresenting themselves, nor of pretending to be what they were not
and using innocent friendships for purposes of their own. Nor had it
occurred to her that the reputation of the four girls for having
suddenly acquired great wealth might place them in danger.

From the time Ruth had been a little girl she had never had the
disposition for making many friends. Always she had been timid and
retiring, devoting herself to her father until after his death. Except
for the year spent at the Ranch and the winter at the hospital in New
York with Jack, Ruth had never known anything outside the narrow circle
of a Vermont village life. Not that a village does not furnish almost
all there is to learn of human nature, but that she had shut herself in
from most of it. The freedom of the wonderful ranch life, the contact
and friendship with Jim Colter, which for a while had looked like
something more than friendship, had widened the little Vermont school
teacher's horizon. Then had come the break with Jim, and the past winter
at home she had shut herself up even more completely. During the many
evenings alone in her small cottage there had been plenty of opportunity
for Ruth Drew to regret her decision against Jim, but whatever passed in
her mind she had kept to herself. Not even to Jacqueline Ralston, who
at one time had been her confidante, had she made any confession.

So perhaps from the standpoint of worldly wisdom the Rainbow Ranch party
was none too well equipped for a long journey or for the meeting with
many different types of people and the making of friendships which might
be of grave importance in after years.

And, notwithstanding the fact that Ruth and the four girls were
singularly devoted to one another, there was no question but that they
were five widely unlike characters, and that their interests must often
lie in as many different directions now that their opportunities were to
be so much broader.

For a disinterested observer (if ever there is such an one) it would
have been difficult at this time in the Ranch girls' lives to have
decided which one was the most attractive--beauty and charm are in
themselves so much a matter of personal taste. But perhaps to older and
more thoughtful persons it was now Jacqueline Ralston who would make the
strongest appeal.

Jack was only a few months older than her friend, Olive Van Mater, less
than a year older than her cousin, Jean Bruce, and yet looked a good
deal more mature and felt so. This was true, not only because after her
father's death she had been in a measure the head of the Rainbow Ranch,
but because her year of illness had given her more time for
introspection than is allowed most girls of her age. Sometimes she
believed that this whole year had been completely lost, and then again
came the knowledge that she could have learned certain lessons in no
other way. Yet now she was determined to waste no further time, but to
get as much as possible out of each passing day and to live fully and
completely.

Jacqueline Ralston did not look entirely like the brilliant, vigorous
Ranch girl who three years before had ridden alone across the prairie to
search for her lost cattle. She had less color in her cheeks, perhaps,
except under the pressure of some unusual excitement, but her hair was a
deeper bronze, her eyes a clearer gray, and her rather full lips a
brighter crimson. There was something about her expression not always
easy to understand. The old wilfulness was still there, the old habit of
knowing her own mind and wishing to have her own way, but with it a
greater power of self-control than most girls of nineteen have--and
something else. What this other trait was neither Jack herself nor her
friends yet knew. This trip abroad might mean more to her than to any
one of the other four girls. In spite of her lameness, which was never
apparent except when she was greatly fatigued, Jack was tall--five feet
seven inches--and held her shoulders with the erectness of other days.
Slender, Jack would always be, but not thin, for sixteen years of
outdoor life had given her too fine a beginning.

In each person's atmosphere or aura, if you prefer to call it so, there
is usually a suggestion of some one distinctive quality, some
characteristic that shows above all others. With Jacqueline Ralston it
was purity. She was straightforward and unafraid, without cowardice and
without suspicion. Having once believed in you, Jack would stand by you
through thick and thin. More than anything in the world she hated a lie.
For some reason she had always been and always would be what for want of
a better word is called "a man's woman," meaning that men would
understand and sympathize with her point of view and she with theirs.

Olive Van Mater was just the opposite of Jack. Although the story of
her strange early life was now fully explained, she would never lose her
shyness and look of gentle mystery. Nor would she ever be able to make
friends among strangers so readily as the three other girls. Many
persons there would always be who would explain her shyness as coldness
and a lack of interest. Still she could reveal herself more easily to
girls and to women than to men. And although her peculiar beauty and
sweetness could not fail to win her admirers because of her sympathy and
self-forgetfulness, all the days of her life her own sex would make the
strongest appeal to her.

In Jean Bruce the two types were mingled. Jean wanted to attract people.
She wanted to make everybody like her and she always had and always
would. It did not matter to her who the people were, whether they were
young or old, girls or boys, she simply had the desire to be liked and
went about accomplishing it on shipboard just as she had at Primrose
Hall and everywhere else. This proved that Jean had the real social
gift, but then her talent had never been disputed by any member of her
family.

With Frieda Ralston, however, the question of type was at this time not
important. She was two years younger not only in years but in a great
many other things, and when it did not interfere with her pleasure she
meant to keep so. There was only one thing at present that Frieda was
interested in and that was having a good time, and certainly she was
accomplishing it. When Dick Grant was not dancing attendance upon her,
and very often when he was, there were a dozen other girls and young men
of about Frieda's age aboard, by whom she was constantly surrounded. It
worried Ruth a great deal, but then, unfortunately, Ruth was the only
member of the Rainbow Ranch party who was seasick. And the three girls
simply did not take the trouble to spend much time looking after Frieda.

Though neither of them wished her to know it, both Olive and Jean tried
to be especially careful of Jack. And this was particularly hard since
Jack resented any suggestion that she was not as strong as they were.
She was under the impression that she could walk without difficulty in
spite of the rolling and pitching of the ship. Nevertheless she did
finally promise Ruth to remain in her steamer chair unless one of the
girls could be with her, and though she did not see any sense in her
promise, meant to keep her word.

On the fourth afternoon out, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, the
weather became unexpectedly heavy. Ruth had long ago given up and gone
to her room. Frieda was playing games in the salon, but Jack, Olive and
Jean were on deck watching the approach of the storm. Jack adored the
water. She had wanted the ocean to look altogether different from her
prairies, to bring a wholly new impression into her life. But until
today the calm, gentle, even roll of the waves at a sufficient distance
had not been so unlike the far-off rippling of the prairie fields. Now,
with the approach of a storm, with the blackness, everything seemed
different.

The three girls had been wrapped in their steamer rugs sitting quietly
in their chairs, Jack supposing that Olive and Jean were as interested
in the storm as she was.

Suddenly Jean sighed. "The face of the waters gets a bit tiresome after
a while, don't you think so?" she asked. "Remember the Princess asked us
to come and have tea with her some afternoon. Suppose we go now. Seems
as though she is a chance that ought not to be neglected. Who knows if
the Princess takes a truly fancy to us she may do something thrilling
for us when we get to Rome. Ask us to a court ball perhaps!" Jean
laughed at the absurdity of her suggestion.

But Jack frowned a little. She was grateful to the stranger for her
interest and former kindness to them; yet she rather resented the air of
mystery and seclusion surrounding her and her haughty attitude toward
the other passengers. A princess might of course be different from other
human beings; Jack felt she had no way of knowing. Nevertheless the
Princess Colonna had confessed that she was an American girl. Why should
a marriage have made so great a change in her point of view? In a vague
fashion Jack was a little resentful of the homage which Ruth and the
three other girls offered their new acquaintance. Now she slowly shook
her head.

"You and Olive go, Jean. Really I would prefer to stay by myself for a
little while and watch the storm."

Five minutes afterwards the two girls had departed, leaving Jack
comfortably wrapped up in her steamer chair, and insisting that they
would return in time to take her down to her stateroom to dress for
dinner.




CHAPTER V

A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE


JACK may have been asleep for a little while. She was not quite sure.
Anyhow, when she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see how the storm
had increased and how entirely the promenade deck had become deserted.
There had been a few persons about when Jean and Olive had departed, but
now she saw no one except a man walking quietly up and down as though
the pitching of the ship in no way affected him. He was wearing an
English mackintosh with the collar turned up past his ears, but neither
his appearance nor his existence at present interested Jack. Her only
thought was for the oncoming storm. As yet there was no rain falling,
only a cold gray Atlantic mist enveloped the sky and the sea. The waves
had curling borders of white foam as they rolled and broke. There was no
relief in the sky. Once the thunder roared as though they were
cannonading on the other side of the world and then a single flash of
lightning split straight across the horizon. Jack had thrown aside her
steamer rug and was sitting upright in her chair, her hands clasping
both sides. The color had gone from her cheeks (the storm was so
wonderful, almost it was taking her breath away), but her head was
thrown back, showing the beautiful line of her throat, and her lips were
parted with the intensity of her admiration. Then the boat dipped and
half the ocean picture became obscured.

It never occurred to Jack that she would be running any risk of falling
by moving from her place. Never had she been able to think of herself as
an invalid, even after her two years' experience. Besides, was she not
well by this time and the railing of the deck but a few feet away?

When the ship had righted itself she stepped forward without any
difficulty, laying her hand lightly on the rail for support.

Then she became wholly absorbed. The plunging and tossing of the great
steamer was fairly regular, so that Jack found no especial trouble in
keeping her footing.

So unconscious was she that she did not glance over her shoulder at the
solitary passenger pacing the deck, although in the course of his march
he must have passed her at least half a dozen times. Nevertheless the
man had not been so unmindful of his fellow traveler. He was possibly
twenty years or more her senior.

Unexpectedly the ship gave an uneven lurch, almost twisting herself
about, and at the same instant an immense amount of spray struck Jack
Ralston full in the face. With a little cry of surprise straightway she
lost her clasp on the rail and would have gone down in a heap if an arm
had not immediately steadied her.

"I beg your pardon; you might have fallen. At the moment I happened to
be passing." The man spoke stiffly.

In Jack's position, after her long suffering from a fall, one might have
expected her to be frightened. However, although she was being kept on
her feet by a perfect stranger with no one else in sight, while a storm
raged around them, she was not even embarrassed.

Catching hold on her old support again, this time more firmly, Jack said
"Thank you" in an even voice. And then, as though she must have sympathy
in her enjoyment from some quarter: "Isn't this storm splendid? It
seems to me that before I have seen nothing but land, land all my life!
I thought I loved it, but somehow all this water gives one quite a
different sensation. I feel as if I weren't a person, but just a pair of
eyes and lungs!" Jack spoke these last words with little gaspings for
breath. So hard was the wind blowing that it had wrapped her heavy coat
close about her; her hat had slipped backward and her heavy yellow-brown
hair whipped across her face.

Her courage and frankness made her companion smile. And, although until
this moment Jack had not paid any special attention to her rescuer, she
now observed that he had a skin so bronzed as to look almost like
leather, that he had a closely clipped blonde moustache and equally
light hair. Also, that his eyes were of the deep blue seen only with
that complexion, and that his bearing was distinctly military.

"But the sea is after all not so unlike a distant view of your American
prairies," he replied. And in answer to Jack's expression of surprise:

"I know your name, Miss Ralston. Among many other things I have tried
running a ranch in the west, although none too successfully."

Whatever the strange man's intentions, certainly his words succeeded in
arousing Jack's attention. For at once, without liking to ask, she was
curious to find out how he had discovered her name. Then she was always
interested in any ranching experience. The people she had been meeting
on board ship were most of them from cities and without any special
outdoor knowledge. Only a few persons actually have kinship with nature,
and they have usually spent their youth in the _real_ country, in big,
open, unpeopled spaces as Jacqueline Ralston had.

This time she smiled more shyly. "I thought you were an Englishman--a
soldier." Jack hesitated. She did not think that a few words of
conversation with a stranger, who had been kind to her, made any
difference, but it would not do to talk on indefinitely.

Instantly, as though divining her thought, the man's hat was lifted, and
he moved a few paces away.

But at this moment the storm broke. No rain had been falling up to this
time, but now the clouds lightened, and from between two of them a heavy
sheet of water descended, apparently straight on to the ship's deck.

Why did Jack not run to shelter? Still she stood clinging with both
hands to the ship's rail, her head thrown back inhaling deep breaths of
the salt spray air. She was enjoying the storm but actually was afraid
to move. Surely now that the storm had fairly broken either Olive or
Jean would come for her. Both girls had made her promise not to return
to her stateroom alone and at the present time it was impossible. The
decks were soaking wet and slippery and she was tired from too long
standing and opposing her strength to the fury of the wind.

Yet the sailors were rushing about, lashing the tarpaulins to the
balustrade, and in a few seconds she would be obliged to move.

Jack set her teeth. It was absurd to be afraid of falling just because
of a former weakness. She turned, took a few steps forward and then the
ship gave another sudden lurch.

It was Jean Bruce, however, who made the outcry. She and Olive were
running down the deck without hats or coats and regardless of the storm
for their own sakes. They were not yet near enough to save Jack from
slipping. However, there was no need for them.

When Captain Madden turned and left Jack he walked only a few steps away
and then as the rain descended swung himself about to enter the door of
the saloon about midway the promenade deck. Naturally he expected the
girl with whom he had just been talking to have run on before him, she
was even less well prepared for the downpour. But to his surprise he saw
that Jack had remained fixed at her place.

This was carrying a love of nature a little too far. Not only would the
young woman get a thorough soaking, she would be in positive danger in a
few moments should a wave break over the deck. It was odd that no ship's
officer had yet suggested that she go inside.

Captain Madden did not wish to offend Jack by officiousness. He had
still no idea of her lameness, although he had been watching her more
carefully than any one dreamed for the past few days. However, he did
not wish to see her hurt and so put an end to his scarcely thought-out
plan.

The second time that the stranger held her up on her feet Jack could
only stammer and blush. It seemed rather absurd to have been rescued by
the same person twice in ten minutes and yet she did not even now wish
to confess her difficulty in walking alone.

Jean and Olive saved the situation.

"Thank you ever so much," Olive began, arriving first and a little out
of breath.

"We never can be sufficiently grateful to you!" Jean exclaimed. "And oh,
Jack, I suppose you can't imagine what had become of us? We sent the
stewardess for you half an hour ago. Ruth is dreadfully worried."

But Jean was not in the habit of forgetting her manners and so stopped
speaking of their private concerns. She and Frieda had both seen and
spoken of the man who was now with her cousin. He had his place at a
table across from theirs and, possibly because of his soldierly
appearance, had seemed unlike the other men aboard.

"My cousin isn't very well, or at least she hasn't been," Jean
announced, remembering Jack's sensitiveness. And then as Jack and Olive
moved quickly away she added with a gracious condescension that made the
older man smile: "Our chaperon, Miss Drew, will express her appreciation
to you in the morning." And fled out of the rain as though she had been
eight instead of eighteen.

Notwithstanding, Captain Madden did not immediately leave the deck after
the girls' withdrawal.

"Things have turned out rather better than I could have arranged them,"
he remarked thoughtfully, pulling at his moustache. "She is an
uncommonly attractive girl. Lots of spirit, but I've an idea she has yet
to learn a great deal about men and women. It's worth trying anyhow.
It's jolly odd my having run across them in this fashion and recalling
what I was once told."




CHAPTER VI

RUTH'S ATTITUDE


BY the next morning the storm had abated, and for the rest of that day
and evening Captain Madden devoted the greater part of his time to
making the acquaintance of the Ranch girls' chaperon. More than this he
accomplished, for he inspired in Ruth Drew a genuine admiration and
liking. And while she and the older man talked together Jack usually sat
quietly by listening to everything that was said.

In all their lives Ruth and Jack had never known anyone like this
Captain Madden. Here was a man who had traveled all over the world, who
had fought in the Boer war and more recently in Mexico and had hunted
big game in Africa. Indeed he had done most of the things and seen most
of the people that had before appeared to them like events and figures
to be known only through books. And yet he was modest, never once
picturing himself as a hero or even a particularly important person,
although there were times when both Ruth and Jack felt that he was being
hardly fair to himself. And on those occasions, if the man observed any
change in the young girl's face, there was no sign on his part. Captain
Madden was not particularly good-looking, but had unusually charming
manners and the soldierly carriage that can not fail to win admiration.
Then, as he was forty years old and had attracted considerable notice on
board, it was something for the Rainbow Ranch party to be singled out
for his attention.

Frankly, however, Frieda Ralston thought her sister's rescuer dreadfully
elderly and a bore. Olive and Jean, although agreeing to her first
conclusion, could not accept the second. Nevertheless neither of the two
girls from the beginning of their association liked Captain Madden
particularly well. They both wondered why Ruth and Jack should find him
so agreeable. Then after the passing of another twenty-four hours, there
was not so much a question of Ruth's liking, as of Jack's enjoying
talking to a stranger for hours and hours.

Actually before the Martha Washington had sighted Gibraltar Jean had
already complained to their chaperon of Jack's intimacy with a
stranger, besides almost quarreling with her cousin.

It was true that Peter Drummond and Jack had been and were specially
devoted friends and Peter was as old as their new ship acquaintance. But
then Peter had always seemed different somehow, and his fancy for Jack
had been largely explained by her likeness to Jessica Hunt. For while
Jessica was still teaching at Primrose Hall and no word had been spoken
of an engagement between her and Mr. Drummond, the Ranch girls were
still convinced that something would develop between them later on.

To Jean's grumblings that Jack was making herself conspicuous by seeming
to prefer Captain Madden to any other one of their new friends on the
ship Ruth explained that it was but natural. For while Jean and Olive
and Frieda could walk endless miles with anybody who happened to please
their fancy at the moment, Jack could only take short walks now and then
and with some one who understood her difficulty. And while they danced
every afternoon and evening in the saloon, or pitched quoits for hours
on deck, Jack's only chance for amusement lay in conversation. It was
only because Captain Madden knew more and talked better than their other
new friends that Jack seemed to prefer his society. Since his discovery
of her old accident he had shown her every consideration.

Of course if Captain Madden had had no introduction to the Ranch girls
and their chaperon, save that of his having assisted Jack at a difficult
moment, Ruth Drew would never have permitted their acquaintance to have
taken so intimate a tone in a few days. However, half an hour after his
first meeting with her, the mystery of his having appeared to guess
Jacqueline Ralston's name in his first conversation with her had been
explained.

In this world it is perfectly useless to marvel over the coming together
of persons in the most unlikely places, who happen to know exactly the
same people that we do, and yet we will always go on exclaiming and
being tremendously surprised by this fact.

Not only was Captain Madden intimately acquainted with the Ranch girls'
old friend, Frank Kent, but actually was a cousin of his. Although, as
he confessed, he belonged to the Irish and therefore the poor branch of
the Kent family. It was not until Frank had returned to England, after
spending the winter at the Norton place next the Rainbow Ranch, that
Captain Madden had made up his mind to come to America and try his own
fortune in the west.

And there could be no question of the truth of his history, since he
chanced to have a photograph of the Kent house in Surrey which Frank had
often in times past shown to Jack. Besides he knew the names and
characters of every member of Frank's immediate family. Moreover, he had
remembered Frank's description of the Rainbow Ranch, Jack's and Frieda's
names and Jean Bruce's and a little something of their discovery of
Olive. He had even heard of Jack's and Frank's finding of the first gold
in Rainbow Creek. And on seeing a group of these same names printed
together on the ship's sailing list, Frank's story had come back to him
and he had then guessed that Jack was the oldest of the girls and must
be Miss Ralston.

As a matter of course it then followed that this kinship with Frank Kent
proved a bond between Captain Madden and the ranch party, but more
especially with Jacqueline Ralston, who had been Frank's most intimate
friend.

For nearly two years there had been no meeting between Frank and the
girls, not since his sailing for home, when Jack was taken to the New
York hospital.

Nevertheless their former intimacy had largely continued, Frank often
writing to Ruth and the four girls. Perhaps Jack had heard oftener than
the others because of her illness; shortly before their sailing Frank
had written to ask if he might join the Rainbow Ranch party in Italy.
But to Jack's letter begging him to wait until their coming to England
in May there had been no time as yet for a reply.

It was Olive's argument in the beginning that Jack's pleasure in Captain
Madden's society was due to her past fondness for Frank. But from the
first Jean's point of view was otherwise.

It may have been caused by the old temperamental differences between
Jean and her cousin. Fond as they would always be of one another, never
had they been able to agree on liking the same people or things. So to
Jean's suggestion that she could see nothing in Captain Madden to make
Jack like to talk to him so much, Jack had replied that she could see
nothing in Jean's American-Italian princess to make Jean wish to follow
after her like an admiring shadow. At least Captain Madden had had
exciting experiences that must always interest a girl of Jacqueline
Ralston's disposition. She did not mind his age, for how could he have
known all that he did had he been younger? Jack, it must be remembered,
had been brought up on a ranch, had ridden horseback, hunted, fished and
done most things that usually appeal to a boy more than a girl. She
could not help admiring physical bravery beyond anything else. If the
time of her illness had taught her something of the value of spiritual
courage, there was still a great deal that she had yet to learn. Captain
Madden had fought with Lord Roberts in South Africa, and had lately been
with the Mexicans under Madero. What more reasonable than that the
stories he was able to tell should be deeply entertaining to Jack, who,
after two years of being shut up indoors, was more than ever in love
with the thought of an active life?

And Jean's Princess would of course appeal to her, since her ideal of
life and romance had always been of so different a kind.

To her it seemed wonderful almost past belief that a princess should
have taken a fancy to four inconspicuous American girls. Jean did not
say or even think that this liking was more for her than for the others,
but this was plain enough to them. Every day the Princess invited Jean
alone to her stateroom for a little talk, and sometimes would walk about
for hours on the deck with her. Unlike Captain Madden in frankness, she
had told Jean little of herself. Nevertheless in some unexplained
fashion the young girl had guessed that in spite of wealth, beauty and
position, her Princess Beatrice was not particularly happy. Perhaps her
husband was the trouble! Only once or twice had she mentioned the
Prince's name, and that in such a casual fashion that it was impossible
to get any real notion of him. Jean was not without the hope of having
her curiosity gratified later on, however, since in an idle moment (and
perhaps without really meaning it) the Princess had asked Jean to come
and bring her cousins and friends to see her when they reached Rome.
Nobody except Olive, who was always sympathetic with one's wishes and
dreams, believed that this invitation meant anything serious.
Nevertheless Jean cherished the hope of being a guest in a real palace
some day.

Although the Princess Colonna seemed to have nothing to do with anybody
aboard the Martha Washington, by an odd coincidence she appeared to have
previously met Captain Madden. Probably their acquaintance was a slight
one, for they only bowed in passing and had never been seen talking to
each other. Indeed, Jean's new friend was in a measure responsible for
her prejudice against Jack's. She had hinted several times in a veiled
fashion that the girls must remember not to become too intimate with
strangers in traveling abroad. There was no direct reference to Captain
Madden. So when Jean mentioned her own impression of the Princess'
meaning to her cousin, Jack naturally suggested that the Princess was
equally a stranger and so equally to be avoided.

However, it must not be supposed that this question of new friendships
had become a really serious one during the early part of their ocean
voyage. For after nine days, when the Martha Washington was to make her
first stop at Gibraltar, the girls were equally delighted at the
prospect of being shown over the great English fort by a British army
officer. Also Captain Madden agreed to have any other friends that Ruth
or the Ranch girls desired to join their party. And at Ruth's invitation
the Princess Colonna consented to be one of them.




CHAPTER VII

GIBRALTAR


EARLY on the morning of their steamship's first landing during the
voyage, Jack came up on deck. She had asked Olive to come with her, but
she was at the moment engaged in writing to Miss Winthrop at Primrose
Hall, who had become more like her mother than a friend. She promised to
join her room-mate in a few moments.

It was an ideal morning, and Jack hoped to have a long look at the sea
before the other passengers were about to distract her with
conversation. In a short while their steamer was due to pass Cape
Trafalgar, where Lord Nelson won his famous victory over the French and
Spanish in 1805, and from then on every traveler aboard, except the ill
ones, would be crowding about the ship's railing for the best views.

Jack felt wonderfully well. Only a few days more than a week at sea, and
how much she had already improved! Not since the winter at the ranch
when she was sixteen had she felt so vigorous and had such joy in
living. Surely before their trip was over she would be her old self
again. And if this part of their journey had been so unusually
interesting, what would their trip through Italy mean, with Switzerland
and England to follow in May?

          "How much of my young heart, O Spain,
             Went out to thee in days of yore,
           What dreams romantic filled my brain
           And summoned back to life again
           The paladins of Charlemagne,
             The Cid Campeador."

Jack laughed, recognizing the speaker's voice at once.

"I am the wrong person to be quoting poetry to, Captain Madden," she
replied, scarcely turning her head. "I told you the other day that Jean
and Olive are the literary members of our family. I hardly ever used to
read a book, except now and then my school ones, until my accident. Then
I took to reading from necessity. I am not in the least clever or
romantic, and reading has so often seemed to me like finding out things
second-hand. I am afraid I really want to _do_ the exciting things
myself."

Jack was hardly looking or thinking of her audience as she talked. One
of the nicest things about their new acquaintance was that one was able
to say almost anything to him and he would understand. She was feeling
curiously gay this morning, as though something of unusual importance
was about to happen to her. Of course it was the thought of their first
leaving the steamer after nine days of ocean travel. Nevertheless, Jack
had dressed with unusual care, not intending to make another toilet
before going ashore. Instead of her usual brown steamer coat she was
wearing a long, heavy white woolen one, with a soft white hat trimmed in
a single feather curling close around the crown. And under the brim her
hair was pure bronze in the sunlight and all the old color of the ranch
days had this morning come back into her cheeks.

"I am only quoting guide-book poetry," Captain Madden explained, after a
moment's admiring glance at his young companion.

Suddenly Jack ceased gazing over the water to look at him. "Captain
Madden," she asked with the directness which some persons liked and
others disliked in her, "you told us once that you were a British army
officer, didn't you? Then would you mind explaining why when you are to
show us over the English fort at Gibraltar today, you are not wearing an
English officer's uniform?"

If for the fraction of a second there was a slight hesitation before
Captain Madden's reply Jack failed to notice it.

"I am very glad you asked me that question, Miss Ralston," he answered,
coming to the edge of the ship's railing and leaning one arm upon it as
he talked. "I am afraid I have been sailing under false colors with you
and the other members of your little party. I simply meant you to
understand that I was at one time a member of the British army. Several
years ago I resigned my commission. Else, my dear young lady, how do you
suppose I could have attempted to run a ranch in your west and been
permitted to fight with the Mexicans on the losing side? I am a soldier
of fortune or misfortune, whichever way you may choose to put it."

The older man spoke half in jest, but Jacqueline Ralston stared at him
in a more critical fashion than she ever had before. Could she have been
making a hero in her mind of a man who was no hero at all?

"But I can't understand how a man who has once been in the army could
stop being," she remarked slowly.

Her companion shook his head. "No, of course you rich Americans can't
understand," he replied. "The fact of the matter was that I did not have
money enough to keep up my position. Though I can hardly expect a young
American girl with a gold mine at her disposal to realize what a lack of
money means."

Jack moved her shoulders impatiently, letting her clear gray eyes rest
for the moment upon her companion's profile. He looked a soldier every
inch of him and a brave man. Yet what could his confession mean?

"I haven't been a rich American girl always, Captain Madden," she
returned. "And I don't know why you think I am one now. But a lack of
money would never have made me give up my profession if I cared for it."

It was perfectly self-evident that Jack was feeling a sense of
disappointment in her companion. Although they had only known one
another for a week, and Captain Madden was so much older, intimacies
develop more rapidly aboard ship than anywhere else in the world,
except perhaps on a desert island. Jack suddenly realized that she had
been giving more thought to her companion's history than there was any
reason for doing.

She looked back over her shoulder. Numbers of persons with field glasses
in their hands were coming on to the deck.

"Miss Drew and the girls will soon be joining us," she suggested,
meaning for Captain Madden to understand that she no longer wished to
discuss his personal affairs. "I must go and search for them if they
don't come at once. I think I can already see the point of Cape
Trafalgar. In a short time we must be entering the Straits of
Gibraltar."

The next second Jack started to move away, but a glance from the man at
her side held her. It was curious that she, who had never yielded to any
one in her life except of her own will, should feel his influence.

"You are only a young girl and I am possibly twice your age," Captain
Madden began, "yet our acquaintance aboard ship has been so pleasant
that I do not wish to have you misunderstand me. There were other
reasons for my leaving the British army, but you may believe this to be
the chief one: I am not a good soldier in times of peace. When the Boer
war was over, I wanted to be where there was still fighting to be done.
My country was weary of war and so I joined the Russians in their war
with Japan."

Jack shyly extended her hand. "That is all right, Captain Madden," she
replied. "I know Ruth and Olive think it dreadful for me to be
interested in fighting. Of course I hope there may never be any more
great wars, but--" and here Jack laughed at herself, "to save my life I
can't help being interested in battles and heroes who fight on against
losing odds. I had a grandfather who was a general in the Confederate
army."

And Jack, resting her chin on her hand with her elbow on the balustrade,
gazed out to sea, apparently satisfied. Indeed, she was so vitally
interested in the view before her that she hardly heard Captain Madden
add:

"If your friend, Frank Kent, should ever offer you any other reason for
my resignation--" But at this instant Ruth Drew and Olive appeared
between them, and Ruth slipped her arm through Jack's. At once Captain
Madden stepped aside, surrendering his place to Olive.

It was odd, but as Ruth approached Jack and her companion, for just a
passing moment an uncomfortable impression entered her mind. Jack and
Captain Madden did seem to be talking together like intimate friends.
Perhaps Jean had been justified in her grumbling. Nevertheless, Captain
Madden was twice Jack's age, and why should they not be friends? It was
as absurd to feel uneasy over them as over Frieda and her chocolate-drop
boy.

And hearing Frieda's laugh behind her, the next second, Ruth turned
around with a smothered sigh of relief. Here came Frieda in her crimson
coat and hat with Dick Grant at her side holding the inevitable box of
candy in his hand. Following them were Jean and her Princess.

They were just in time, because the Martha Washington was at this moment
entering the Straits of Gibraltar. To the right there loomed, like a
gray mirage in the background, the Mountain of the Apes in Africa. And
there, directly ahead, was the historic Rock of Gibraltar.

"Isn't it thrilling to have reached a foreign country at last!" Jack
exclaimed, turning again to her first companion. But on her other side
Frieda pulled at her coat sleeve impatiently.

"If you are going into raptures over everything you see while we are
abroad, I don't know what is to become of you, Jacqueline Ralston!" she
argued. "Of course the Rock of Gibraltar is fairly large, but I have
seen almost as big stones in Wyoming. Have a piece of candy."

And when everybody in the little company laughed, Frieda would have been
offended if she had not already grown accustomed to starting just such
foolish attacks of laughter. What had she said that was in the least
amusing, when she had just made a plain statement of fact? For how could
she possibly have guessed how her point of view typified that of many
American travelers?




CHAPTER VIII

A MORE IMPORTANT OBLIGATION


IT was in the late afternoon of the same day and over toward the west
appeared the flaming colors of an African sunset.

Since mid-day hundreds of the Martha Washington's passengers had been
landed at Gibraltar. They had been shown through the famous English
stronghold, where guns and ammunition are so strangely stored for
defense and had seen the town at the northwest foot of the rock
protected by formidable batteries. Then, weary in mind and body, they
had been again transferred to the special tender and put aboard their
steamer.

Standing at the edge of the water and leaning on Olive's arm waiting her
turn to be taken back, Jack wondered if among all their fellow
passengers there was one half so fatigued as she? She had not mentioned
it, but this was hardly worth while, for Jack's face, except for her
lips and the shadows under her eyes, was perfectly colorless, yet that
morning she had thought herself as strong as anyone else. However, Jack
need not have felt discouraged, for every member of the Rainbow Ranch
party looked almost equally used up. The truth is that, through Captain
Madden's guidance, they had seen more of the great fort than the other
ship's passengers. Then by accident they had lost their return places in
the tender, and so been obliged to wait until a later trip.

The celebrated Rock of Gibraltar runs north and south three miles and is
about three-quarters of a mile in width. The entire rock is undermined
with subterranean galleries containing cannon in great number. Some of
the lower galleries that are not in use may be visited by travelers, but
both Frieda and Jean assured Captain Madden that if there were any
possible passages which they had not journeyed through, it was indeed
hard to believe.

Each member of the expedition was cross. For there is nothing more
trying to the nerves and disposition than too strenuous sight-seeing.

Ruth was worried at having permitted Jack to undertake a trip that was
so plainly too much for her strength. Jean was annoyed because the
Princess Colonna, who had been one of their party all day, had scarcely
spoken to any of her friends. Even Captain Madden she had acknowledged
only by the coldest greeting, while absolutely ignoring every one else.
And although Dick Grant and his mother had been included in the Ranch
girls' immediate party, solely on Frieda's account, she and the young
man had been on the verge of quarreling at least half a dozen times.
However, it was not altogether the young people's fault, because Mrs.
Grant had been trying. Every once in a while Frieda had felt obliged to
decide that in the future she must have nothing more to do with the son.
If there was a possible stupid question to be asked, always Mrs. Grant
had asked it; if there was a place where the rules forbade her entrance,
that was the particular place which she had insisted upon seeing.
Indeed, if Frieda had been able to foretell how Mrs. Grant was to end
the long day with them, she would have wished that their original
uncomfortable acquaintance could have closed on the morning it begun.

Suddenly from the signal station on top the Rock of Gibraltar the little
company in waiting on shore heard the loud report of the six o'clock
gun. Six o'clock and yet here they were on land! The ship's officer had
announced that the Martha Washington must steam away again promptly at
six! Nevertheless there seemed no real danger of the Rainbow Ranch
party's being left behind. For half a mile out at sea their ship still
waited at anchor, while approaching within a few yards of the Spanish
shore was the small boat known as the tender.

Watching it come toward them Jack swayed and might have fallen except
that Olive kept a tight hold on her.

"Please help me up the gang-plank when we go on board, Olive dear?" Jack
whispered, "I don't want any one to guess how wobbly I feel."

And Olive nodded reassuringly.

A little later and the tender had reached the big ship. Now, however,
the transference of the passengers was not to be so easily made. The
waves were no longer blue and quiet as they had been all day. From
somewhere a high wind had blown up off the land and each time the
smaller boat attempted anchoring alongside the big one, a breaker drove
it backward or forward. There was grave danger of the tender's being
shattered against the great ship.

Nevertheless no one aboard either of the two boats seemed seriously
frightened, excepting Mrs. Grant. Frieda was so scornful in watching the
stout, elderly woman clutching at her son, asking dozens of hysterical
questions that she quite forgot to be nervous herself. Indeed, she
almost failed to appreciate the scene, so unique to her experience.

Ruth and the other three Ranch girls were not so oblivious. For the time
being they were standing close together, having in the excitement
forgotten all past weariness. The Spanish and English sailors, manning
their small boat, were splendidly capable. Through a megaphone orders
were called out to them from the big steamer, and instantly the men made
ready to obey. But whatever the discipline and intelligence, the will of
the sea was not to be soon conquered.

Had there been more time the smaller boat could have been finally
brought alongside the larger one and her few remaining passengers safely
put on board, but the night was coming down, and both the officers and
travelers were growing impatient. A few moments afterward and the tender
was brought to anchor within a safe distance of the Martha Washington.
Then a life boat was lowered. When this came alongside the tender a
ladder was dropped overboard and the Ranch party and their friends
ordered to embark. The method appeared a simple enough one. One had only
to climb down the ladder and be lifted into the small boat.
Nevertheless, five persons looked anxiously at Jacqueline Ralston, and
Jack purposely refused to return any gaze. Not for worlds would she have
Ruth or the girls guess that she felt any nervousness at having to do so
easy a thing, with several persons at hand to help her.

During this period of waiting, Captain Madden had been standing not far
away, talking in low tones to the Princess. Now he moved quietly
forward. His face was flushed as though his conversation had not been
agreeable. However, his manner toward Jack was extremely kind.

"If the climbing down the ladder will be too much for you, Miss Ralston,
won't you allow me--"

Jack shook her head. Already Jean was descending the side of the boat,
the Princess following soon after. And although the small tender plunged
with the movement of the waves and the rowboat rocked unceasingly, half
a dozen hands held the ladder firm.

There was no danger. Jack joined Frieda in frowning impatiently at Mrs.
Grant, who was nervously protesting to her son that she could never make
the necessary effort. Then her gray eyes lighted with amusement. With a
slight inclination of the head she suggested that Captain Madden play
knight errant to the only female in distress.

Olive and Frieda went down one after the other. Ruth, however, would not
leave the tender until she saw Jack safely through the climb overboard.
And in the meantime the rowboat had made a journey to the steamer, put
its occupants aboard and returned once more to the smaller ship.

But by this time the gorgeous sunset colors had faded and the twilight
was fast closing down. And although Mrs. Grant, having at last mustered
sufficient courage, insisted on being allowed to enter the rowboat
first, Ruth Drew would not hear of it. She had waited, watching the
other girls in order to see how difficult the climb might be for Jack.
Now it was wiser to have no further delay.

If Jack had felt any nervousness previously it had now entirely passed.
How absurd to be frightened by anything so simple! With a gesture to the
man in the boat below she flung her heavy white coat down to him. Then
she swung herself over the side of the boat and commenced descending the
ladder with all the ease of her athletic days. The distance was not
great. Although the boats were rocking and plunging the experience was
exhilarating.

It happened during the few moments required for Jack's descent that
Captain Madden and Dick Grant chanced to be standing on either side of
Mrs. Grant. Therefore, what afterwards occurred could hardly have been
prevented.

Of course Mrs. Grant was under the impression that Jack had reached the
end of the ship's ladder. Some call from below or some mental
hallucination must have given her the idea. For without a word she
suddenly darted forward and before any one could speak or move seized
hold of the top rung of the overhanging rope ladder. It was only for an
instant. Immediately the sailor standing alongside, grasped her firmly
by the arm, but the single movement had been sufficiently disastrous.

Jack had nearly reached the end of her climb. So near was she to
stepping into the rowboat that one of the men below had his arms
outstretched to receive her. So possibly she had relaxed the firmness of
her hold. For when the surprising jerk came from the top of the ladder
the girl wavered half a second and then appeared to let go altogether.
She fell not backwards but over to one side. And only her own family
understood why she had happened to collapse in this fashion.

Instantly, however, before an other sound could be heard, there came the
queer rushing noise of the water closing over her. And then followed a
cry that seemed to come from a hundred throats at once. Above them all
Ruth believed she heard Frieda on the deck of the big steamer.

Ruth did not utter a sound. Really there seemed not to be time. Almost
instantaneously did Captain Madden's coat drop at her feet. Then
followed his dive overboard. There were plenty of people nearby to have
pulled Jack out of the water. Perhaps his action was unnecessary.
However, Captain Madden had at once recognized Jack's grave danger. They
were only half a mile from shore, where he suspected the undertow was
dangerously strong. It was now almost dark so that her body might be
drawn under one or the other of the two large boats. And his suspicion
must have been true, because Jack did not come up near the spot where
she had gone down. There were half a dozen sailors ready to offer aid
had it been necessary. But the moment after Captain Madden's dive, he
rose again holding the girl easily with one hand and swimming. When they
reached the side of the life-boat the sailors pulled them in, wet of
course, but otherwise unhurt.

"I am exceedingly sorry and ashamed and grateful," Jack murmured in
Captain Madden's ear later when, safely wrapped in his coat, she was
being rowed back to the Martha Washington. "In the words of Mr. Peggoty,
if it hadn't been for you I might have been 'drowndead.'"

Captain Madden shook his head. More than anything else he admired
Jacqueline Ralston's courage. Indeed, he was beginning to think that the
task which he had set for himself might not be so disagreeable to
perform.

"Oh no, there were dozens of other men equally ready to do just what I
did, only I managed to have the honor first," he returned lightly. And
of course by his ignoring his own action, Jack was the more impressed by
it.

For she looked at the older man gravely. "I can understand that you
don't want to be thanked for what you have done. I know that from my own
experience once. But just the same I shall always be grateful to you.
And if ever there is a time when I can in any way show my gratitude--"

To do Captain Madden justice he felt uncomfortable over Jack's excessive
gratitude, for whatever his other faults of character, he was a
physically brave man.

Although insisting that she was perfectly well and that her wetting had
not done her the least harm, Jack was straightway put to bed and dosed
with warm drinks. So that Olive, in order to talk with the other girls
and yet allow Jack to sleep, was obliged to slip into Ruth's stateroom
soon after dinner.

There she found Ruth and Jean engaged in argument.

"Of course I am grateful to Captain Madden," Jean was saying in an
irritated tone of voice, "but just the same, I don't see why he could
not have waited for one of the sailors whose business it was to rescue
Jack. We all of us know what a queer disposition Jack has and how if she
once likes a person she sticks to him through thick and thin. And
I--well, candidly, I don't want her to like this Captain Madden any too
much. I don't trust him and I would write to old Jim tonight if I knew a
single thing to say against him or any reason for saying it."

"But you are simply prejudiced, Jean dear. Anyhow we will be landing in
Naples in a few days and after that see no more of our ship friends,"
Ruth argued. "So if I were you I would say and think nothing more about
this. Really, such a casual acquaintance is not of so great importance."

And Ruth frowned, because Frieda was staring at her cousin with her big
blue eyes wide open with the effort to guess what possible reason Jean
could have for showing so much unnecessary feeling. For her own part,
her anger was directed entirely against Mrs. Grant and her son. And she
firmly made up her mind not to speak to either one of them again, no
matter how humble their apologies.




CHAPTER IX

REFLECTIONS


RUTH had her way. When the Martha Washington finally arrived in Naples,
good-byes were said to all their ship's acquaintances and the Rainbow
Ranch party had their first ten days in Italy to themselves. There was a
little time of rest and then visits to the Island of Capri, to the ruins
of Pompeii, to Mount Vesuvius. And before very long Ruth and the four
girls found themselves yielding more than they had dreamed to the
wonderful spell of southern Italy. Not that any one object or place made
so great an impression beyond another, but because Italy seemed so
different from their own land. It was as though they had one day been
transported by an airship for a journey through the planet Jupiter or
Mars.

The soft Italian voices with their tuneful cadences, the laziness and
air of having all eternity for the performance of a task, the big,
brown-eyed beauty of the women and children--it was all irresistible.
Actually the girls felt their own characters changing. Where was their
old energetic desire to take long walks, to rise up early and certainly
never to waste a moment in a nap in the afternoon? Why in Naples one
felt always drowsy, less inclined to talk, and wished only to drive and
dream and feast one's eyes and ears and nose, all the senses at once.
For here was beauty, music and such fragrance, surely the three graces
of nature! And the roses, they were everywhere in bloom, climbing over
every ruined wall and broken gateway, covering whole hillsides, until at
last Jack was obliged to admit that they were as abundant and even more
beautiful than her own wild prairie roses.

But Naples was only to be the Ranch girls' first introduction to Italy,
their first taste of her delights. Rome was really the central object of
their pilgrimage, where the greater part of their time was to be spent.

And Rome Ruth had decided must be taken seriously.

In Naples she had let things drift, had even felt as inactive and
pleasure-loving as her younger companions. But then she had been tired
from her sea voyage. Many persons had said that it required a week or
ten days for recovery if one had been seasick. Also this may have
explained why so frequently of late she had caught herself thinking of
Jim Colter. Why should the nights in Naples recall moonlit evenings on
the ranch which they had spent together years before?

Almost the only suggestion that Jim had made to her before their sailing
was that the girls should acquire enough culture on their European trip
to compensate him for the loss of their society. And Ruth had
conscientiously determined to do her best. All the winter past she had
devoted to the study of Roman history. Indeed, it had helped her pass
many a lonely evening, when otherwise the picture of the Rainbow Lodge
living room, with the girls seated about the fire and the big figure of
their guardian stalking in and out half a dozen times within the hour,
had a fashion of appearing before her eyes.

Ruth had begun her acquaintance with the Ranch girls as their teacher.
So that now, although they were nearly grown, it was hard for her to
give up all her old principles and practices. In their different ways
the four girls were charming, and yet there was much Ruth felt that
they should know. However, the past year had made more changes in their
characters than she could ever have supposed. She had been surprised to
find how much they now cared for people and society, and had been
disappointed as well; for Ruth had not realized that the Ranch girls
were yet old enough for these interests, in spite of the fact that Jack
was nearly twenty and Olive and Jean not so far away. Jack in particular
had been a revelation to Ruth, who had been making special plans for her
intellectual development. For she was the oldest of the four girls and
yet had never had the advantage of Primrose Hall and Miss Winthrop.
After their trip abroad then, there would be time enough for society,
their chaperon decided, actually believing that the natural experiences
of life can be persuaded to wait for set times and set places.

So all the way along the road from Naples to Rome, Ruth was making her
own plans for the four girls, little guessing what was occupying their
minds. Nevertheless their thoughts were as eternal to youth as any
symbol of eternity in the most wonderful of all cities.

          "'Tis the center
           To which all gravitates. One finds no rest
           Elsewhere than here. There may be other cities
           That please us for a while, but Rome alone
           Completely satisfies."

Or at least this was Ruth Drew's idea, as she sat watching the landscape
fly past her window, with these lines keeping time to the turning of the
car wheels.

Notwithstanding that, Jean Bruce sat exactly opposite, with her eyes
closed showing the length of her dark lashes against the clear pallor of
her cheeks, Jean was not devoting all her energies to reflecting upon
the historic curiosities of ancient Rome. She wanted to see everything
of importance, of course, but she was also wondering if the Princess
Colonna would keep the promise made in their farewells on the steamship.
Would she call on them in Rome and afterwards invite them to meet her
friends? The invitation might possibly be to an afternoon tea; yet even
then there was a chance of meeting some member of the Italian nobility
or other prominent person. And Jean did not think herself a snob because
she wanted to meet big people as well as to see big things. Always they
had led such a quiet life at the ranch, and boarding school had offered
but few opportunities for making outside friends. Indeed, her only other
chances for mingling with the world had been their summer trip through
the Yellowstone and her week's visit to Margaret Belknap during the
Christmas holidays at Primrose Hall. So Jean's social aspirations were
possibly not unreasonable.

And, curiously enough, Olive Van Mater, for at least a portion of their
pilgrimage to Rome, was considering certain friends whom she might
possibly meet there, instead of the marvels of the city itself. For she
was expecting that her cousins, Mrs. Harmon, Donald and Elizabeth, might
make their appearance. And although Olive was fond of all three of them,
she could not look forward to their meeting with pleasure. The truth is
that Olive's grandmother, as we must know from the past volume in this
series, was a self-willed, unwise old woman. No sooner had she seen
Olive and Donald together half a dozen times and noticed the young
fellow's liking for her granddaughter, than she had made up her mind the
way she intended to escape her own difficulty. Why puzzle to decide
whether she should leave her large fortune to the Harmons, as she had so
long promised, or give it to the newly found granddaughter?

"Let the two young persons marry and share the money between them.
Elizabeth could be comforted with a reasonable legacy." This decision
Madame Van Mater had confided to Miss Winthrop almost as soon as the
idea had come into her head. And then, in spite of Miss Winthrop's
openly expressed disapproval, after Olive's return from the ranch for
her second winter at Primrose Hall, her grandmother had made known her
wishes to her.

"So that you may not get any other love nonsense into your head," Madame
Van Mater explained to Olive, as though there could be no possibility of
her desire being disobeyed. And this in spite of the fact that Olive had
insisted that Donald could never care for her or she for him, and that
nothing would induce her to follow her grandmother's wishes. Indeed,
except for Miss Winthrop, Olive might have been made extremely unhappy.
But her friend had explained that Madame Van Mater was growing childish
with age and would probably change her mind in regard to the willing of
her wealth many times before her death. Also she assured her that
Madame Van Mater had never mentioned her purpose to Donald Harmon, and
if Miss Winthrop could influence her, never should. Nevertheless Olive's
peace of mind and pleasure in her cousin's society had been successfully
destroyed by her grandmother's suggestion. Actually the girl lived in a
kind of shy dread of Don's ever finding it out or attempting to follow
Madame Van Mater's wishes. She had always protested that the greater
share of the family fortunes should be left to the Harmons. She herself
would be content with very little and wanted no special favors, since
her grandmother had never brought herself to care for her.
Notwithstanding this, the old lady had seen that her granddaughter had
an even larger sum than the three Ranch girls for her traveling expenses
in Europe. And had said that she was to buy whatever she liked and to
send for more money whenever it was necessary.

Yet Ruth and the girls were traveling in a far more expensive fashion
and spending more money than they ever had before. For, in spite of the
discovery of the Rainbow mine, they had continued to live simply.
Nevertheless, in starting off on their European trip, Jim had advised
them to have a good time and not to worry, as he guessed the gold mine
could do the rest.

So that Jack in the course of her journey from Naples rather wondered if
Captain Madden had not received a wrong impression of the amount of
their wealth. Or possibly Frank Kent had told him. In any case it was
annoying for Frank to have mentioned their financial affairs to so
complete a stranger as Captain Madden had then been. Jack was glad she
had written asking Frank not to join them in Italy. Two years might have
made a great change in his character, so that they could not be friends
as they had once been. Besides, had she not guessed, without actually
having been told, that Captain Madden and Frank, in spite of being
cousins, were not particularly good friends? And as Captain Madden had
mentioned that there was a bare chance of his spending the spring in
Rome it might be awkward meeting them together. Of course Jack had not
spoken of the chance of running across Captain Madden in Rome to any of
her family. In the first place, Captain Madden had been by no means sure
of his presence there, and in the second, Jack had the impression that
Jean, Olive and Frieda did not like him. This was absurd, of course,
with a man so much older! As he had traveled and spent other seasons in
Rome, surely he would be an agreeable guide and help them to see the
right things in the right way?

Only Frieda, besides Ruth, was not looking forward with either pleasure
or dread to any persons whom she might happen to run across in Rome.
Certainly Dick Grant and his mother were to be there (Dick had told her
every detail of their plans in the course of their early acquaintance),
but whether they were in Rome or not was of no interest to Frieda. For
the younger Miss Ralston had been true to her decision and not once in
the two-day-and-a-half sail from Gibraltar to Naples had she
acknowledged the existence of either Mrs. Grant or her son. And this in
spite of their humble apologies to Jack, and her sister's ready
acceptance of them.

However, this much justice must be accorded the Ranch girls that when,
at sunset, they at last entered "the eternal city" all personal thoughts
and considerations were swept from their minds. High in the distance
they could see the tower of St. Peter's; in the midst of the town ran
the muddy stream of the Tiber; and over all Rome's beauty and antiquity
hovered the golden atmosphere for which the city is also justly famous.




CHAPTER X

ITALIAN VIOLETS


"DO make up your minds and let us go somewhere," Frieda pleaded. "I
don't see that it is so important where we go first."

She was wearing a new lavender cloth frock trimmed in silk and a hat of
the same shade, with a big bunch of violets resting against her yellow
hair. From her hand dangled her adored gold-link pocketbook. So there
was no question of Frieda's preparedness for beginning their first day's
sight-seeing in Rome. Ruth and the other three girls showed no such
signs of being ready for immediate departure.

They were together in their big sitting room, which overlooked a
beautiful enclosed court, characteristic of Italian hotels and homes.
And at least half an hour of their morning the girls had devoted to
gazing out of their windows. In the center of the courtyard a fountain
played continually--not a fountain of an ordinary kind, but the figure
of a beautiful boy, with his arms high in the air, holding two great
shells into which the water poured and then splashed down to the ground
below. Around the enclosure were copies of famous statues and miniature
orange and lemon trees.

Jack in a comfortable silk dressing gown was placidly gazing at this
scene when Frieda's speech arrested her attention.

"Why be in such a hurry, Frieda mia?" she inquired. "You know we have
firmly decided not to begin our labors too early. Besides, this morning
we are tired and don't you see that Ruth, Jean and Olive are deeply
engaged in laying out our plan of campaign? It has got to be arranged
where we are to go, what we are to do on our arrival, what things we are
to thrill over and what to pass by." And Jack laughed, letting her eyes
rest for a moment on Ruth's face. Their chaperon's expression was so
serious. Did Jack guess that her education was about to be solemnly
taken in hand? Well, she felt very young this morning and very much in
need of learning a great many things. Rome gave one such an overpowering
sense of ignorance!

But Frieda was much displeased. "You told me you would be ready at
half-past ten, Jacqueline Ralston, and let me go and dress. Now it is
after eleven. And if nobody will come with me I shall just go out and
walk up and down by myself."

From the pages of her Baedeker Ruth looked up quickly. It was not often
that she was positive with the girls, but she had insisted that during
their stay in Italy no one of them go anywhere alone.

Frieda blushed penitently. "I didn't mean it, Ruth, of course. Still, I
think it's hateful for none of you even to start to get ready."

"Oh, do be quiet, Frieda, and sit down and wait, or, if not, go to your
own room," Jack remarked impatiently. "I think you are forgetting our
compact very soon. One more objection and you will kindly place your
fine in Ruth's charge."

Without replying, Frieda marched haughtily out of the sitting room and
into her own and Jean's bed room.

It was true that the night before leaving Naples the Rainbow Ranch party
had made a kind of "Traveler's Agreement Society," setting down a number
of rules for their mutual benefit and promising to follow them.

The suggestion had come from Olive who was always the peacemaker in all
differences of opinion. For although the travelers had been only a few
weeks upon their journey, already they had learned that there is nothing
that is a surer test of one's amiability than constant sight-seeing,
which entails a continuous moving from place to place of people who are
expected to do the same things at the same time regardless of their
personal tastes and inclination.

From the top of her suit-case Frieda drew forth a sheet of paper.
Possibly Jack had been right, for the rules of their compact read:

First: In all questions pertaining to travel, such as the selection of
places to be visited, choice of hotels, etc., the rule of the majority
shall prevail.

Second: In all questions in which there is a moral issue at stake, a
matter of right or wrong to be decided, the chaperon's judgment is to be
followed.

Third: If any member of the party becomes weary during the course of the
journey, all are to rest. (This rule was made for Jack's protection and
was Olive's proposal, knowing that her friend would never voluntarily
give up, if she thought her fatigue might interfere with their
pleasure.)

Fourth (and this was of Jack's recommendation): Each one shall try to be
as agreeable as possible to the others' friends, since it is not to be
expected that they could like the same people equally well.

Fifth: If any one of the five travelers shall make three cross speeches
in the course of one day, the said traveler is to pay into the keeping
of Ruth Drew a fine to the amount of fifty cents, United States money.
For the fourth cross speech, one dollar, and so on, with the amount
doubling. And at the end of the European trip, this sum, whatever the
amount, is to be employed for the purchase of a gift for the girl
against whose name there is the smallest number of bad counts.

And Frieda had rather expected that this prize would fall to her.
Indeed, she had quite made up her mind to attain it. For certainly she
was far more amiable than Jack or Jean, and Ruth was apt to grow nervous
if things went wrong. For instance, take this question of her going out
on the street alone. Ruth might have known that she had had no real
intention of being disobedient. Indeed, Olive was the only member of
their party whom Frieda believed she had reason to regard as her rival
in amiability. And of course one opponent was necessary to make the
contest interesting. Really, Frieda desired this prize more than most
anything she could think of--not just for the prize itself, although
there was no telling what its value might be, but because it could be
retained forever like a conqueror's flag to be waved over her family.

For ten minutes more, therefore, Frieda sat down in an upright chair,
waiting patiently. Notwithstanding this, Jean did not even come in for
her coat and hat, or with any suggestion that they ever intended leaving
the hotel.

It was abominably stupid to continue loitering forever, so finally the
young girl concluded to go down into the hotel lobby and watch the
people moving in and out, until her family at last made up their minds
to start. She would not go back into the sitting room again to argue the
question with them, but leave a little note near Jean's hat explaining
where she might be found.

In the corridor leading to the open front door Frieda discovered an
inconspicuous place and was entirely happy observing the hotel guests
and the small vista of the Roman street which she could see like a
picture through the opening.

An Italian priest passed by, wearing a solemn, long black robe tied
about his waist with a huge cord and a round, stiff black hat with a
broad brim and a flat crown. Frieda stared at him curiously. Then a
young fellow, evidently an artist from his costume, appeared, and, after
hesitating a moment, entered the hotel corridor. A few moments
afterwards he was joined by an older woman with two daughters in whom
Frieda at once became deeply interested. They were English girls--she
guessed this by a kind of instinct, they were so tall and fair and
slender, with drooping shoulders and pink and white complexions. The
little party left the hotel together and then there was a short interval
in which nothing happened to interest Frieda particularly, except the
foreign look of the people moving past in the street.

Weary of waiting, she was glancing at a queer carved clock on the wall
opposite her, when unexpectedly a fragrance enveloped her. Without
understanding why, the young girl felt a sudden wave of homesick
yearning for the Rainbow Ranch. Why should she think of home so
suddenly? For a few seconds Frieda was unconscious of any special
reason, and then, turning, she beheld standing in the doorway a small
Italian boy, beautiful as one of Raphael's cherubs, with a great basket
of Italian violets hanging on his arm.

Frieda smiled. No wonder she had recalled her home and the violet beds
planted next the Lodge in the days when she had expected to add to the
family fortunes by selling flowers. This was before there was ever a
thought of a gold mine hidden in Rainbow Creek.

What fun to buy a lot of violets for Ruth and the girls and have great
bunches of them to present, if ever they did decide to come down stairs!

A western girl, Frieda Ralston had always been accustomed to doing
things for herself. So now it never occurred to her to call a "facchino"
to accomplish her errand, although this Italian word for porter was one
of the few words that Frieda had already acquired from her phrase book.

Besides, was the boy not standing right there by the door? Quickly she
moved toward him. But at the same moment another customer must have
called from the street or else some servant in the hotel frightened the
child, for he slipped away and in an instant was half down the block.
And Frieda followed close behind, entirely oblivious of anything except
her present purpose. The boy ran lightly along and danced around a
corner like a sunbeam. There, where he made the turn, a fountain stood
in the center of the square that Frieda noticed particularly so there
might be no danger of her getting lost. Fortunately another customer
stopped the lad when, quite out of breath, Frieda finally managed to
catch up with him.

She didn't know the Italian words which should be employed in purchasing
violets, but fortunately the sign language was the original one with all
the peoples of the world. Very soon the basket of violets transferred
from the child's arm was swinging on the young girl's. When, with a
smile and a "buon giorno" (good morning) at the American Signorita's
prettiness and amazing wealth, the lad vanished as abruptly as he had
arrived.

Frieda glowed with pleasure. The violets were so exquisite, the sky so
blue, and the air so sparkling. Surely by the time of her return to the
hotel her family would be ready to begin their adventures. And there,
just ahead, was the fountain that she had observed so as not to make
any mistake about getting back safely.

Walking on in the direction of the fountain for a moment Frieda stood
admiring its beauty. But not for long of course, because Ruth and the
girls must never discover her absence. Turning away from the fountain,
straightway her puzzle began, for there were now half a dozen streets
leading from this central square and the wanderer had no idea which one
contained their hotel. Certainly Rome was very queer and unlike any
other city she had ever seen before. Many of the streets seemed to twist
and curve, winding in and out among the others. Nothing seemed to go
straight ahead in any given direction. However, Frieda, having concluded
that one of them looked a little more familiar than the others, tried it
first. There was nothing within a block, however, that resembled the
Hotel l'Italia and she was convinced of only having followed the boy for
a single street. She had best return to the fountain and start forth
again. But by the time one has followed this method of procedure three
or four times without success the effect is apt to be disheartening.




CHAPTER XI

FONTANONE DELL' ACQUA FELICE


SEVERAL tears watered the violets. Frieda Ralston was seated on one of a
flight of stone steps bordering the antique fountain, with an immense
stone lion on either side of her and in high eminence behind her the
figures of the prophets. But Frieda was not in the slightest degree
interested at this moment in Roman art. For one hour, recorded on the
face of the small watch in her pocket, she had been engaged in wandering
up and down likely looking streets in search of their hotel, only to
return to her starting place again. And this when she had only gone a
block and a half away in the first place.

Neither had the wayfarer trusted entirely to her own judgment. In spite
of Ruth's repeated warnings against talking to strangers, she had once
accosted a man in a queer uniform, thinking him a policeman. He wore a
dark blue coat, blue-gray trousers, a white cap and belt, so how could a
newcomer have known him to be a member of the Roman garrison? However,
when once the soldier had discovered Frieda's desire, his directions
were so explicit, so accompanied by much waving of his hand and
statements of "destra" (right) and "sinistra" (left), that Frieda
believed her way clear at last. Nevertheless, though doing exactly what
she believed she had been told, the result was the same. Frieda had
again to return to her fountain, a now painfully familiar spot. In the
course of this wandering, however, she had passed an ancient church with
a high flight of steps, where she paused to gaze for a few moments in
awe and wonder. A number of pilgrims were climbing the wooden steps on
their knees and children were running about among them offering rosaries
and small wooden images for sale. Frieda had purchased a St. Joseph and
then regretted her investment, for at least half the crowd of children
followed her back to her resting place. They were still whining about
her begging for pennies, when some time ago she had given them all the
change she had. Yet they would _not_ leave her alone. Happening to
glance down at her arm Frieda now made the painful discovery that her
beloved gold-link purse had disappeared. Still the poor child had her
violets!

They were no great comfort, however, for, sighing, she glanced through
an opening among her persecutors to see if aid might be found anywhere.
There not far away did she not behold the familiar figures of Richard
Grant and his mother, the acquaintances who had been so scorned toward
the close of their sea voyage.

With a little extra energy the lost girl might have called to them. For
they were loitering and studying the pages of their guide-book,
evidently on their way to visit the famous church which had previously
attracted her attention. Once Frieda believed that she saw them glance
in the direction of her fountain. But their purpose must have changed,
for the next instant they moved off toward the church.

Nevertheless, in spite of her need, the wanderer did not stir or call
out. For how could she ask assistance of people to whom she had been so
rude and overbearing but a short time before? And she was so near their
hotel, surely Ruth would send some one to look for her or come herself
in a few minutes. No, she must wait a while longer and perhaps, when
rested, if no one had found her, try to discover her own way again.
Often Jim Colter had told the Ranch girls to search for things first
with their heads before beginning to explore with their hands and feet.
Yet it was pretty difficult to think clearly, and when weary and
discouraged to remember how one has managed to get lost. This habit of
getting separated from her family was a trying one, and certainly this
time Ruth and the girls would be angry as well as frightened.

[Illustration: "DON'T BE FUNNY, DICK; I'M LOST AGAIN"]

Not long after Frieda was wishing sincerely that she had put her pride
in her pocket and begged Dick's and Mrs. Grant's help in spite of all
that had passed. She was frightened as well as tired. The children had
run away on finding that the Signorita's purse had gone. But a few yards
from her seat an Italian had been curling his black mustache for quite
an extraordinary length of time, staring all the while at the little
blonde girl on the fountain steps.

"If you don't mind speaking to me this once, Miss Frieda, would you
explain just why you are ornamenting the steps of this particular
fountain alone for so long a time?" a friendly voice inquired.

Frieda jumped to her feet. There were the amused brown eyes, the square
jaw and the athletic shoulders of Mr. Richard Grant. However, he was
at the present moment engaged in holding his red Baedeker open and in
slowly reading aloud: "This fountain is known, I believe, as 'Fontanone
dell' Acqua Felice,' which, if I recall my Latin correctly, means 'water
of happiness.'"

"Don't be funny, Dick, please," begged Frieda, forgetting titles and
squeezing two left-over tears out of her eyes; "I'm lost again!"

"I rather supposed so," the young man replied, "so I left mother to moon
among the Saints in the church nearby, while I came back to look after
you. You see, we thought we recognized you sitting here and yet could
hardly believe our eyes. Tell me what has happened and where you wish to
go?"

A moment later, after a second careful consultation of his guide book,
Frieda was escorted through the streets of Rome by a youth, who was
unconcernedly carrying her large basket of violets in one hand and
feeding her chocolates from a box which he held in the other. He did not
seem to bear the least malice, and Frieda herself was extremely
cheerful, considering her talent for getting into scrapes.

She even promised gratefully to accept the gift of a red Baedeker of her
own and not to depend on their chaperon's possession of one.

Arriving at the Hotel l'Italia Frieda begged that Dick Grant come in
with her and let her family know of his presence in Rome and of his
kindness to her. In reality she wished for a stranger to be present so
that she might in a measure escape the disapproval awaiting her.

And this time Frieda was correct in her judgment, for Ruth and the girls
were more irritated with her than alarmed. And even after her
explanation as to just how the accident happened Ruth seemed
unreasonable. Actually, right in Richard Grant's presence, she scolded
Frieda more than she had before in years. However, the young man did
have the good sense to turn his back and be engaged in earnest
conversation with Jack during the worst of Ruth's tirade, for which the
younger Miss Ralston was truly grateful. She was also grateful to her
sister Jack for inquiring after Mrs. Grant just as though nothing
unpleasant had occurred between them. For Jack asked either that Mrs.
Grant come to see them or that they be permitted to call on her.

When Dick had finally departed to join his mother (who must have been
weary of waiting, except that her good nature was as certain as her bad
taste), Frieda found as usual that it was Jean's teasing which was
harder to bear than any scolding. For just as they were at last about to
leave their hotel and right in the presence of the English lady and her
two daughters who were returning, Jean pulled a long pale blue ribbon
from her pocket (one of Frieda's own ribbons) and tied it in a kind of
lasso about the younger girl's wrist.

"Better keep a string attached to our one ewe lamb, don't you think,
Ruth dear?" she inquired innocently. And the strangers stared with a
kind of cold surprise, when Ruth was obliged to produce the pair of
scissors she always carried in her hand bag to cut the knot, so close
had the ribbon been drawn.

For the rest of the day Frieda kept close to her sister and Olive,
feeling too deeply wounded with the other members of their party to care
to have much to say to them.




CHAPTER XII

AFTERNOON TEA


"ON Pincian Hill my father feeds his flocks," remarked Frieda pensively
one afternoon several days later.

And while Ruth, Jack and Jean tried their best to keep from laughing
aloud, Olive had to explain.

"It was not Pincian hills but Grampian, Frieda dear, and the speech
refers to Greece and not Italy."

But Frieda was too blissfully happy and deliciously entertained to care
either about her mistakes or the cause of the others' laughter.

For at last the Ranch girls were having afternoon tea in the beautiful
gardens of the Pincio. Near them a military band was playing, and in
their vicinity apparently most of the best people in Rome, besides the
summer travelers, had gathered. There were hundreds of carriages moving
to and fro and stopping now and then while friends exchanged greetings.
A short half hour ago little King Victor Emmanuel, whose stature is the
only small part of him, and his beautiful big Queen had driven by,
giving the four girls and their chaperon one of the most delightful
thrills of their whole trip. For no matter how good Democrats we
Americans are at heart, the first sight of royalty cannot fail to be
interesting. It is only after the royal persons have been viewed often
enough and long enough that they appear like ordinary persons.

Then, beneath the hill of the Pincio, lay the most wonderful of all the
panoramas of Rome. There was St. Peter's again (and already the Ranch
party had spent one entire day in this largest and perhaps most
beautiful church in the world). There the castle of St. Angelo, the roof
of the Pantheon, and innumerable other churches and towers, which Ruth
even after an almost painful study of her map of Rome was not able to
name. But more fascinating than the buildings, at least to Jacqueline
Ralston's outdoor loving vision, were the far-off hills with their
groupings of cypress, palms and pines.

The Rainbow Ranch party had found seats at a table not far from the
small café in the center of the gardens. And although delectable sweets
were being served to them, together with very poor tea, not even Frieda
had been able to display her usual appetite.

Unexpectedly a hand was placed on Jean Bruce's shoulder, and turning in
surprise she saw standing by her side no other person than the Princess
Colonna! If Jean had thought her American-Italian Princess beautiful on
shipboard, the sight of her now in her Parisian toilet almost took away
her breath. Waiting a few feet away were her companions, two young
Italians of about twenty and twenty-five years of age, besides an
elderly man, who was nearer sixty years old than half a century.

"I thought my little Miss Bruce was to let me know when she and her
friends reached Rome," the Princess began, shaking hands with Ruth and
the other three girls, while continuing to smile upon Jean. "Is it that
you do not wish more of my society?"

Jean, having regained her self-possession, shook her head. "That is such
a ridiculous question I shan't pretend to answer it," she returned. "It
is only that we have been such a few days in Rome and thought perhaps
you--"

The Princess made a slight motion of her hand toward the three men back
of her so that they approached. "_I_ have not a short memory, but
_you_," she replied. "But permit me to introduce to you my husband, the
Prince Colonna, and his two nephews."

Fortunately at this instant no one in the group chanced to be gazing
toward Frieda. For although the older girls had sufficient self-control
to conceal any expressions of surprise, this was not true of her. At
this moment her blue eyes opened wider than usual.

The Prince Colonna with his snow-white hair and stately manner, bowing
courteously over Ruth Drew's hand, was assuredly twice his wife's age.

Jean, Olive and Jack were feeling sufficiently embarrassed by the
meeting with the two Italian nephews. In less than a moment, however,
Jean gave a slight but characteristic shrug of her shoulders and then a
sigh of relief. For both Signor Leon, the younger, and his brother
Giovanni Colonna spoke excellent English.

"We were so afraid we should not be able to talk to you," Jean confessed
so frankly that immediately any awkwardness in the situation passed
away. "You see, we Americans are dreadfully stupid about foreign
languages. We never realize how important they are until we come abroad,
and that is apt to occur after our school days have passed.
Nevertheless, we dearly love to hear ourselves talk."

This was a long speech for the commencement of a conversation with
strangers, but Jean was soon glad to have had the first opportunity.
For, drawing a chair close beside hers, Signor Giovanni Colonna never
gave her much of a chance afterwards. It seemed, by the young man's own
confession, that he had always wanted to know American girls. His only
acquaintance so far had been with his aunt, and of course she had
increased his desire. But the Princess had lately told him and his
brother of meeting on the steamer four delightful western girls whom
they might possibly see later on in Rome. From the first Giovanni seemed
to prefer Jean's society, leaving Leon to the other three girls to
entertain. The entire conversation between the young man and Jean could
hardly have lasted ten minutes.

Before saying farewell, however, the Princess had made an engagement to
call on Ruth at her hotel on the following afternoon with the promise
that she should bring the four girls to her villa later in the week.

Unfortunately Jack laughed when the two young men were safely out of
hearing, though still in sight. They were both below medium height, with
clear, dark skins and curling black hair, and to Jack's American ideas
were almost too well dressed and formal of manner, although Giovanni was
really handsome except for a scar across his left cheek.

"They are rather funny, don't you think?" she inquired idly and without
any special meaning. "I don't believe I could ever learn to like
foreigners as much as I do American men. They are not so big for one
thing, are they, Ruth?" And Ruth, before whose eyes Jim Colter's big
figure straightway loomed, shook her head.

Jean flushed slightly. She had liked the two young men fairly well.
Moreover, they were her Princess' nephews. Anyhow, her cousin's speech
had irritated her, although Jack had already forgotten what she had said
and was once more gazing in fascination at the scene about her.

"Your dislike of foreigners does not include Englishmen, does it, cousin
of mine?" Jean queried with a too great pretense of innocence.

Jack's clear gray eyes faced Jean's dark ones in such surprise that
Jean's were the ones to droop.

"If you mean Frank Kent or Captain Madden, why of course I like both of
them, don't you?" she returned. And then, "Whatever in the world, Jean,
has made you so cross about Captain Madden? I wonder what idea you have
in your head! If you knew anything against him on shipboard why didn't
you tell me?"

Jean discovered that Ruth was frowning upon her more severely than
usual. Besides, what answer had she to make to her cousin? Really, she
had no actual reason for disliking their new acquaintance and the
impression that had once or twice come into her mind on shipboard may
have been absurd. Ruth had thought it ridiculous and had not agreed with
her. Now certainly the stupidest possible thing she _could_ do would be
to permit Jack to guess her suspicion.

"Oh, of course I like them too, I was only bad tempered," Jean replied,
giving Jack's gloved hand a penitent squeeze and thinking how unusually
beautiful she was looking this afternoon. Somehow no one appeared so
well in white as Jack did. She was so fine and pure, so different in
many ways from other girls. It would never dawn on her to dream of evil
in man or woman. Jean found herself blushing.

"I like Frank Kent better than most anybody, Jack dear. He is one of our
oldest and truest friends, I feel sure. Sometimes I wish we were going
to see him before arriving in England," she murmured.

Half an hour later, driving slowly down the long hill away from the
wonderful Pincian gardens into the city of Rome, Ruth and the four girls
were equally surprised at seeing a stiff, military figure on horseback
lift his hat to them.

"It is Captain Madden, I do believe! I didn't know he was to be in
Rome!" Frieda exclaimed, and no one made answer.

Later that evening, however, when a great box of her favorite red roses
containing the English army officer's card mysteriously arrived for Jack
at their hotel Jean did not know whether to be glad or sorry for having
held her tongue. Of course Jack was pleased, just as any other girl
would have been with the attention. But for the life of her Jean could
not have explained why she felt so convinced that in some fashion or
other this Captain Madden was to be the evil genius of their European
trip. However, Ruth Drew was her cousin Jack's chaperon and she did not
appear concerned. That night, after having thought the subject over for
an hour when the other girls and Ruth were probably asleep, Jean finally
came to this conclusion: undoubtedly she must be more foolish than
anybody else. So no matter what she herself believed, if Ruth and Olive
remained unsuspicious of Captain Madden's attentions the wrong thinking
must be her own.




CHAPTER XIII

JACK


TEN days later if Ruth and Jean had again talked this same matter over
together, it is possible that their points of view might not have been
so far apart. But this was difficult, since Jean was then spending
several days with the Princess Colonna at her villa several miles from
the city of Rome.

From the hour of meeting with Captain Madden near the gardens of the
Pincio, apparently his time had been entirely at the disposal of the
Rainbow Ranch party. And Ruth having completely banished her momentary
fear that his kindness meant more than a passing fancy for Jack, was at
first glad enough to accept his attentions. If she thus revealed a lack
of wisdom, there would be time enough for regret later on.

It was extremely agreeable to have some one to act as their guide
through Rome. For in spite of her winter of study Ruth found herself
becoming dreadfully confused. Rome was so overpowering that actually
there were hundreds of things one wished to do all at once. Then the
girls developed such different interests! She and Olive desired to make
a real study of the many churches in Rome, while Jack curiously enough,
as she had known nothing of art before, was enthusiastic over the old
sculpture. Jean and Frieda had no great fancy for the antique, but were
open in their preference for visiting the shops and for driving about to
the wonderful gardens and villas about Rome. So every now and then Ruth,
departing from her original rule of keeping their entire party together,
had allowed Captain Madden to have charge of several of the girls, while
she went elsewhere with the others.

And more often than any other way it turned out that Frieda was in the
habit of accompanying Captain Madden and her sister. For Frieda's
attitude toward their elderly friend had lately changed. From her former
dislike she had now become his warm advocate. And if Ruth Drew had been
suspicious or even properly worldly-minded this fact in itself should
have begun to open her eyes, so assiduously had Captain Madden been
cultivating Frieda's liking. When a box of flowers arrived for Jack, or
sometimes for Ruth, a box of sweets came with them for the youngest of
the Ranch girls. In their morning riding parties Captain Madden
announced his preference for keeping by Frieda's side and leaving Jack
to ride a little in advance as she seemed to prefer.

Once, however, Frieda had innocently repeated a conversation held
between herself and her escort, which made Jack angry and Ruth
uncomfortable. For it appeared that she had told Captain Madden the
entire history of their Rainbow mine, even to the amount of gold taken
out of it the previous year. And this, when Jack had particularly asked
her younger sister never to discuss their affairs with strangers, and
especially their recent wealth. Older now and realizing the good taste
of this, Frieda, in explaining the subject to their chaperon, was
puzzled to remember how she had been drawn into the conversation. Of
course no questions had been asked by Captain Madden, he was too much of
a gentleman, but somehow in telling him of their past life on the ranch
and of their acquaintance with his cousin, Frank Kent, naturally she had
spoken of their mine. To Ruth this explanation did not appear
unreasonable. Besides it did not seem of importance then whether or not
Captain Madden might be too much concerned in their private affairs.

Afterwards an evening came while Jean was away at the Princess' villa
when the Ranch girls' chaperon had her first awakening. The incident was
a slight one in itself, yet aroused great uneasiness.

Almost every pilgrim who makes his way to Rome has the desire to see its
ancient ruins by moonlight. And this had been Olive's wish ever since
their arrival in the eternal city. Her suggestion was that some night
they drive around the broken walls of the Coliseum and afterwards wander
about inside the Forum Romanum. Surely in the moonlight it would be
easier to forget the modern world! Perhaps one might even conjure up a
mental picture of the great days of pagan Rome, when these same decaying
arches, columns and temples were monuments and buildings of wonderful
beauty. For it was past them that the Roman generals used once to lead
their victorious cohorts bringing home captive the barbarian armies of
the western world.

One evening, rather laughing over her friend's enthusiasm, Jacqueline
Ralston had repeated Olive's ambition to Captain Madden. And straightway
he had suggested that the moonlight excursion actually take place, and
that he be permitted to act as escort. The moon was now almost in the
full and certainly Rome was as well worth seeing under its glamor as
under day-time skies.

Therefore, twenty-four hours afterward, at about nine o'clock, a party
of seven persons set out from the Ranch girls' hotel. Ruth was riding in
one carriage with Captain Madden and Jack, while Mrs. Grant, Frieda,
Olive and Dick were together in the other.

No one talked much. Even Frieda and Mrs. Grant, though not specially
susceptible to beauty, were somehow silenced. The road to the Coliseum
led away from the crowded centers of Rome into a kind of eerie
stillness. Although the radiance of the moon seemed partially to have
obscured the stars, the night was brilliantly clear. Twice both
carriages drove about the outside walls of the Coliseum. And through its
broken spaces the riders could catch strange glimpses of the big
amphitheater, the crumbling tiers of seats, and now and then the outline
of a small stone chamber overgrown with moss and lichen, where the
early Christian martyrs, were once imprisoned before being fed to the
lions.

In the course of the drive Ruth and Captain Madden spoke to one another
occasionally, commenting on the unusual beauty of the night and the
weird and fantastic shadows cast by the moon. But Ruth noticed that Jack
hardly made a remark and that she was pale. This made no special
impression, for Jack was probably tired. She was wearing her long white
cloth coat and a small white hat and for some reason or other looked
almost younger than Frieda.

But by and by Jack asked that their carriage stop at the entrance to the
Forum. There a guide could be found with a lantern, should the moonlight
prove insufficient to light their way about the ruins.

Captain Madden first assisted Ruth to descend from the carriage and then
something in his manner as he turned to help Jack, gave Ruth a sudden
feeling of discomfort. What could he have to say to her which her
chaperon should not hear? And yet Captain Madden did whisper to Jack in
a low voice as though there were some secret understanding between
them.

A moment later, when the second carriage had driven up and its occupants
were alighting, for just a moment Ruth Drew had a brief chance to speak
to Olive alone.

"Don't leave Jack by herself tonight if you can help it, and on no
account let her be with Captain Madden without the rest of us." Then,
scarcely waiting for Olive's reply, Ruth moved off slipping her own arm
firmly through Jack's.

Certainly the next hour afforded no opportunity for interchange of
confidences between Jacqueline Ralston and her new friend. But the girl
seemed glad enough to have Ruth and Olive close beside her. Now and then
she even asked aid of one or the other of them. For stumbling about in
semi-darkness among crumbling earth and stone seemed to be making her
nervous.

Then came a moment when both Olive and Ruth lost sight of Jack
completely. It was the simplest possible accident. They were in a place
of shadows, lit only by the moon, which made the spaces behind the
ruined buildings of almost impenetrable blackness. And although their
guide and Dick Grant carried lanterns, it was difficult to catch their
reflections unless one were near.

Olive, believing Ruth to be with her friend, had drawn closer to the
guide to listen to some bit of information that he was struggling to
impart to Mrs. Grant. While Ruth, thinking that Olive was discharging
her task, and finding Dick Grant and Frieda engaging in one of their
frequent quarrels, had interposed herself between them.

It was at this time that Jack, wearier than she cared to confess, sat
down on one of the steps beyond the Arch of Titus, descending toward the
Coliseum. For the moment a cloud had passed half over the moon, making
the ancient ruin before her appear more gigantic and mysterious. The
next instant a figure seated itself beside her and Captain Madden's
voice spoke:

"You think you don't care for poetry, Miss Jack, but surely tonight is
made for poetry, or poetry is made for tonight. Do you know these lines
of Byron's in Childe Harold?"

Captain Madden moved nearer the girl so that he might see into her face.
Then he pointed toward the magical scene close by.

          "A ruin--yet what a ruin! from its mass
           Walls, palaces, half-cities, have been rear'd;
           Yet oft the enormous skeleton ye pass,
           And marvel where the spoil could have appear'd,
           Hath it indeed been plunder'd, or but clear'd?
           Alas! developed, opens the decay,
           When the colossal fabric's form is near'd:
           It will not bear the brightness of the day,
           Which streams too much on all years, men, have reft away.

          "But when the rising moon begins to climb
           Its topmost arch and gently pauses there;
           When the stars twinkle through the loops of time,
           And the low night breeze waves along the air
           The garland forest, which the gray walls wear,
           Like laurels on the bald first Cæsar's head;
           When the light shines serene, but doth not glare,
           Then in the magic circle rise the dead;
           Heroes have trod this spot--'tis on their dust ye tread.

          "'While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand;
           When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;
           And when Rome falls,--the world.'"

Jack made no answer for a moment. Then she said quietly, "It is a
beautiful description; thank you for repeating it to me." She did not
feel in the mood for talking tonight. The world was too beautiful and
too strange. Here was she, Jacqueline Ralston, a girl raised on a ranch
in far-off Wyoming, in the ancient city of Rome. And Captain Madden,
the friend near her, why should a man so much older and wiser and with
so great a knowledge of the world that even Rome itself did not seem
unfamiliar to him, feel an interest in her? She was neither beautiful
nor clever like Olive and Jean. Yet Jack, though not twenty, was woman
enough to realize that Captain Madden liked her best.

The next instant she started to get up when, placing his hand on her
arm, her companion held her back.

"I don't want to speak to you too soon," he whispered. "I don't wish to
hurry or frighten you. But you must know why I have so longed to be with
you alone for a few minutes tonight."

"Please," Jack faltered.

And then, suddenly appearing from out of nowhere, Ruth Drew actually
seemed to swoop down upon the man and girl. Almost immediately she took
tight hold on Jack.

"Let us go to our carriage at once, if you please, Captain Madden," she
demanded brusquely. "We have stayed out in the night air far too long as
it is. It is time we were safe in bed."

Then, although Jack kept obediently close to her chaperon until they
were back in their hotel, that night when the three girls had fallen
asleep, Ruth was so restless that, putting on her dressing gown, she
walked up and down her room for a quarter of an hour. It simply could
not be possible that this Captain Madden was falling in love with their
Jack or that she could entertain the slightest interest in him! Why Jack
was still a child and the man twice her age! Besides, what in the world
did they know of him except what he himself had told them? The man might
be a fortune hunter, he might be most anything! Ruth wiped her eyes in
consternation at the thought of what Jim Colter would say and do if she
allowed his splendid, brave Jack to become entangled in an unfortunate
romance. Then she asked herself: Was there no one in Rome who could tell
them of Captain Madden's history? Recalling Jean's statement that the
Princess Colonna and Captain Madden were acquaintances before their
meeting on board the Martha Washington, Ruth relieved her anxiety by
writing a long letter to Jean. In it she confessed her own uneasiness
and asked that Jean inquire of the Princess what knowledge she had of
Captain Madden's past. But she also insisted that Jean keep her reason
for wishing to know a secret and that beyond everything else she should
never betray their suspicions to Jack.




CHAPTER XIV

THE PRINCESS' MYTHOLOGICAL BALL


FOR some little time before and after the event, the Mythological Ball
given at her villa by the Princess Colonna was the most talked-of
entertainment in Roman society.

The Princess was young, an American and immensely rich. Having married
into one of the noblest families in Italy, in spite of their poverty, it
was but natural that she had soon become a conspicuous social leader in
Rome. Her parties were always regarded with deep interest, but this
latest ball was to outstrip all the others in novelty and beauty. For
her guests were invited to appear as characters from ancient Greek or
Roman mythology. Surely the idea was sufficiently original and daring to
excite wide curiosity.

And to the Ranch girls, naturally, the Princess' ball was _the_
important social occasion of their lives. For days Jean had written of
nothing but the preparations going on at the villa and to inquire what
parts they wished to impersonate and what costumes to wear. Several
times she had driven into the hotel for long consultations with Ruth and
the other girls, for Jean had been asked to remain at the villa until
after the costume ball. As a matter of course the four girls were a good
deal overwhelmed at the decisions before them. For in the first place
Ruth positively declined to be present at the entertainment unless she
were permitted to appear in a regulation evening dress. For Ruth would
always be a Puritan at heart and the thought of arraying herself as a
Pagan goddess, or even as an humbler heroine, actually made the cold
shivers run up and down her back. To Ruth the Princess' idea seemed
fantastic and absurd. Nevertheless, she did not wish to spoil the Ranch
girls' pleasure, and was in reality more deeply anxious than any one of
them that they should make as beautiful an impression as possible. The
girls were lovely enough, she felt sure; their only problem was to
select suitable characters and to see that their toilettes were
exquisite and appropriate.

Of course the Princess Colonna agreed to Ruth's desire about herself,
assuring her that there would be others of her guests who would dress
as she did. However, she made a great point of the Ranch girls' coming
in costume. For she had been talking of her four American girls to her
friends in Rome and was counting on their making a sensation. She and
Jean together had decided on their heroines and also what they were both
to wear. Jean had then kept her character a secret from the other three
girls and from Ruth, wishing to be a complete surprise to them as well
as to everybody else.

The drive from the hotel to the Princess' villa would require almost an
hour. Notwithstanding, when Captain Madden asked that he might accompany
the Rainbow Ranch party, Ruth thanked him and declined. There were only
Jack, Frieda and Olive, she herself making the fourth, so with Jean
away, one carriage would hold them all comfortably. She did not care to
separate their little party. They would see Captain Madden later at the
ball.

No one could have guessed whether or not Jacqueline Ralston had noticed
it, but it was perfectly true that her chaperon had never allowed her a
minute alone with her new friend since the night of their moonlight
excursion. Captain Madden was well aware of it, though he had not yet
made any protest or given any sign. He had been studying Jack pretty
closely in the few weeks of their acquaintance and felt fairly sure that
if she could once be persuaded to make a decision, no amount of
opposition afterwards would have the power to change her. It was not for
nothing that her chin had that slightly square outline and that she held
her head with an unconscious and therefore a beautiful pride. Jack had a
look of purity and faithfulness that sometimes made older persons watch
her with a kind of wistful anxiety. Would life ever make her lose her
faith in her ideals and in the few persons to whom she would give her
undivided love?

The entrance to the Prince Colonna's estate was through a long avenue of
magnolia trees so that the night air was heavy with their fragrance. As
there were several hundred guests driving into the grounds at nearly the
same time, the Ranch girls' carriage was compelled to move slowly. And
for this they and Ruth were devoutly thankful. Because they were one
instant thrilled beyond measure at the prospect of the brilliant scene
before them, and the next terrified at the thought of the parts they
were expected to play.

"I don't see how Jean Bruce has ever managed to spend an entire week in
such grandeur as this and with strangers. I should have died of
embarrassment!" Olive exclaimed, in a rather shaky voice, slipping her
hand inside Jack's and giving it a gentle squeeze. She wished to assure
herself of the reality of the fairy world about her and also to receive
strength for the coming ordeal from the sense of Jack's presence. For
never, for an instant, had these two friends swerved in their devotion
to each other, the one always finding in the other just the qualities
she herself lacked.

Jack laughed. "Jean, you must remember, is never afraid of any one and
is the only truly society person among us. Then, if you please won't
mention it, I've an idea that the Italian nephew is entertaining Miss
Bruce mightily. Remember she confided that he was teaching her Italian
and she instructing him in English, poor Ralph! I am afraid Jean will
never be content at the Rainbow Ranch any more after this experience of
foreign life."

With her pale blonde hair carefully concealed from the night air in
clouds of pale blue chiffon, Frieda, from the opposite seat, now leaned
over toward her sister.

"Jack," she demanded seriously, as only Freida could, "why do you say,
'poor Ralph!' Do you think Ralph Merrit has ever been in love with Jean?
They were always friends at the ranch, I know, but Ralph is poor and
isn't good-looking and doesn't care for society. I am sure he would
never suit Jean one bit."

But before she had finished speaking, Jack's gloved fingers were laid
lightly on her small sister's lips. "For goodness sake, baby mine, do
hush," she implored. "Of course I was only joking about Jean and Ralph.
I can see how Ruth is frowning at me even in the dark. Who would ever
have supposed that an infant like you would talk about 'being in love'
in such a solemn fashion! You don't know the meaning of the word."

"Do you?" Frieda returned, speaking just as seriously.

But Jack only shook her head without replying.

The wonderful ivory-colored house, built in the fashion of the Italian
Renaissance, was now coming into view with hundreds of low-growing
evergreen shrubs close at its base. The house itself was lighted with
golden, shaded lights. To one side was the Italian garden, where the
girls had had tea with the Princess several afternoons before. It was
also lighted, but hardly discernible now from the driveway.

By the Princess' orders, Ruth and the three Ranch girls were shown
immediately to Jean's bedroom, which was apart from the dressing rooms
provided for her other guests.

There Jean was waiting for them in her fancy costume and in a delicious
state of excitement. As her door opened, the newcomers, forgetting
themselves altogether, gave a cry of surprised admiration and were then
curiously silent.

Jean had been standing in front of a long, gold-framed mirror, and now,
turning swiftly, moved in their direction. Her costume was of the palest
pink. The little bodice was of pink silk and pink chiffon, simply made
and cut with a girlishly rounded neck, trimmed with a narrow edging of
old lace. But from her silk girdle the skirt showed a wonderful
arrangement of chiffon drapery, falling below her feet into a slightly
pointed train at the back. She wore pink sandals bound with pink
ribbons.

All this Ruth and the three girls observed in the instant that she ran
to greet them. But the next moment, swinging slowly around on one
lightly poised toe that the full effect of her appearance might be
disclosed, between Jean's shoulders could be seen a tiny pair of
butterfly wings. Her dark hair was parted low over her forehead and
drawn into a loose knot high toward the back of her head. The costume
was a lovely one, and Jean looked exquisite in it.

"Can you guess whom I represent?" she asked shyly, abashed by the
admiration of her own family.

In answer Jack did something unusual between the two cousins, who were
not usually as demonstrative with each other as with Ruth or with Olive
and Frieda. For suddenly she leaned over, and holding Jean's chin in her
white gloved hand kissed her, afterwards studying her face closely.

"I think I can guess, Jean," she returned. "I have been reading so much
mythology lately, besides seeing so many famous statues. Your butterfly
wings tell me that you are Psyche. I remember your story. Psyche was
the daughter of a king and so beautiful that Venus, the goddess of
beauty, grew jealous of her and sent her son Cupid to punish her for her
presumption. But Cupid wounded himself with his own arrow and so fell in
love with Psyche. There is a great deal more to the story, of course;
afterwards Psyche and Cupid quarreled and for many years she had to
wander around the world performing difficult tasks before being reunited
with her love again. Psyche is the Greek name for soul and a butterfly
the ancient emblem of the soul. Somehow you don't look like yourself
tonight, Jean," here Jack hesitated; "you are like a spirit. Please
don't be finding your fate too soon and so flying away from us."

But although Jean blushed and seemed for half a second troubled by her
cousin's suggestion, she shook her head and began helping Frieda remove
her wraps. When the blue cloak and the blue veil were thrown aside, the
youngest of the Ranch girls stepped into the center of the room.

"Do I look almost as well as Jean?" she inquired earnestly. "I thought
my costume so pretty when we left the hotel. But now that I have seen
hers--"

Jean was dancing around Frieda as though she had been in reality a
butterfly. Ruth, Jack and Olive would not allow the maids to take off
their cloaks in order to give her their undivided attention.

"Frieda is the star of us all, isn't she?" Jack declared, since the
spoiling of her small sister was a sin upon which the entire ranch party
agreed. Unwrapping a round gold bowl, she then handed it to her. "Frieda
represents the lovely goddess, Hebe, who served nectar and ambrosia to
the high gods on Mount Olympus," she explained.

Quite oblivious of the admiring Italian maids, Ruth knelt down on the
floor to rearrange Frieda's skirt. The young girl's dress was of corn
color, almost the shade of her blond hair. So her eyes looked bluer and
her cheeks pinker than ever. It was odd that her toilet had been copied
from an old Greek model and yet was not unlike the modern style. A tunic
of soft yellow crepe was loosely belted at the waist, the overskirt
falling to her knees. About this was a border of gold braid in the
Trojan wall pattern and beneath it hung the narrow, plain skirt.
Frieda's yellow hair was caught together in a bunch of curls and a gold
fillet encircled her head.

Olive was by this time ready to be admired. She seemed shy at being seen
even by her dearest friends; but then Olive would never entirely recover
from her timidity. Tonight she wore Nile green, the shade always best
suited to her. She was dressed as Amphitrite, the wife of Neptune. Her
costume was unlike the others. It was of India silk, because of its
peculiar glistening quality, and strung with tiny sea shells. Around her
slender throat was a string of pearls, which she had lately bought for
herself in Rome as a gift from her friend, Miss Winthrop. In and out
among the braids of her black hair were other strands of pearls. Above
the middle of her forehead was a jeweled spear with three points. This
represented a tiny trident, the symbol of Neptune's power over the sea.

Notwithstanding the assistance of the maids, after Ruth Drew had finally
given a hurried glance at herself in Jean's mirror and had seen that
three of the girls were ready to go down to the ball room, to her
surprise she found Jack loitering. The girl had seated herself in a
chair and, in the face of Olive's and Jean's protestations, still had
her opera coat wrapped close about her.

"Are you ill, Jack?" Ruth queried, observing that she was paler than any
one of them.

But Jack shook her head, smiling nervously. All of a sudden she did not
seem like herself.

"I am _frightened_," she confessed the next moment. "It does not seem
possible for me to go down to the ball room dressed as I am before so
many strangers. I don't want to keep the rest of you waiting, but can't
I stay here by myself for a few moments, Ruth? I want to think about
something."

But before Ruth could answer Jean had almost forcibly pulled off her
cousin's wrap. "If you are not ill, Jack dear, how can you be so absurd!
If it were Olive now who suddenly had an attack of stage fright we might
forgive her. But you! Why you have never been afraid of people or of
things in your life. Besides you will only have to speak to the Princess
and the Prince Colonna. We won't know any one else except Captain Madden
and--perhaps a few other persons. The others we can just enjoy seeing."
During her speech Jean had tried to catch her cousin's expression. But
Jack had her eyes down. Now she jumped hurriedly to her feet and went
out of the room ahead of the others. Evidently she did not wish to hear
herself or her costume discussed. She did look unlike the other three
Ranch girls tonight--taller and older. And while their costumes were in
colors, hers was pure white, nothing but soft folds of drapery from her
shoulders to her feet. Her only ornament was a half moon of brilliants
in the bronze coils of her hair. For Jacqueline, partly because the
girls had used to call her Diana in the old days at the ranch on account
of her love of hunting and supposed coldness of character, had dressed
as the far-famed Latin goddess of the moon.

Slipping down the marble staircase in her gray evening gown, Ruth Drew
felt like a chimney swallow amid an assemblage of brilliant, gaily
colored birds. Yet she was glad enough to be inconspicuous. Never in
their lives had the four Ranch girls been so lovely. Ruth was almost
sorry. She did not wish them to attract too much attention. The interest
they had taken in their toilets had been for their own and for her
pleasure and because of the Princess Colonna's kindness. At this instant
Ruth decided that so soon as their greetings were spoken she would find
a secluded place, where they might have their first sight of foreign
society and yet be properly out of the limelight themselves.




CHAPTER XV

A SURPRISE


JACQUELINE RALSTON was sitting alone in a quiet portion of the Princess
Colonna's Italian garden, listening to the soft splashing of a fountain
at no great distance away. Now and then she put her hands to her face.
Why were her fingers so cold and her cheeks so warm? For Jack was no
longer pale; indeed, her whole countenance was curiously flushed. No
longer did she look the tall, stately goddess of a few hours before, but
like a tremulous and startled girl. For Jack had just received her first
proposal and could not for the life of her tell whether she had accepted
or rejected it.

Captain Madden had gone away. She had sent him to find Ruth, as she did
not wish to remain alone; neither did she wish him to stay with her. It
was not that Jack wanted to confide what had taken place to her
chaperon. Nothing was further from her intention at the present time.
For Jack had not yet been able to make up her mind whether or not she
cared for the man who had just told her that he loved her. And
fortunately or unfortunately it was not Jacqueline Ralston's habit to
ask the advice of other people about what seriously concerned herself.
She must decide one way or the other, and then it would be time to tell
Ruth. But suddenly she had felt very young and lonely and forlorn with
an absurd disposition to cry. If only Ruth would come to her now she
could say that she was tired and not feeling particularly well. It would
be quite true. Tonight had been the most wonderful in her whole life;
never had she dreamed of such beauty and such splendor. Yet suddenly
Jack had felt a kind of homesick longing for Jim Colter and the
simplicity of their old life on the ranch.

And yet Jack could not truthfully have said that she had been taken
completely by surprise by Captain Madden's proposal. Ever since their
meeting with him in Rome, there had been times when she had wondered if
it could be possible that he was learning to care for her with more than
a friendly interest. For even a girl as young and as innocent as Jack
cannot be wholly blind.

Ruth had believed herself a careful chaperon. Little did she dream of
the intimate talks the girl and man had had together, standing side by
side in some church or gallery, looking at some special object, when the
other members of their party had wandered away.

Then had come tonight! Jack had grown tired; Ruth was talking to some
new acquaintances, Jean and Frieda and Olive were dancing. Captain
Madden had asked that she walk into the garden with him to rest.

There were many people about and yet they had managed to find a secluded
place. Jack could see a number of men and women passing near her, some
of them in wonderfully beautiful costumes, others looking a trifle
absurd. She closed her eyes, not wishing to see but to think!

Captain Madden had told her that he loved her. He had confessed also
that he was twice her age and poor. But could Jack forget these things
and care for him notwithstanding?

One wonders how the man had come to appreciate Jacqueline Ralston's
nature so thoroughly in the few weeks of their acquaintance? Did he know
that this appeal would be the surest way to awaken her sympathies? Jack
had always a passion for doing things for other people rather than
having them do for her. If she loved Captain Madden, she would gladly
share all her money with him. It was stupid of her, however, not to
realize that no true man could have been willing to ask _all_ the
sacrifices of her. Jack's only present problem was: "Did she care
enough?" Captain Madden was older and wiser and so much better and
braver! Think of all the stories he had told them in which she felt sure
he must have been a hero! Although never once had he so spoken of
himself! Then, too, had he not saved her life? Jack had never forgotten
that moment of danger at Gibraltar, however little her rescuer had made
of his part in it.

Jack sat up suddenly. Captain Madden had consented that she have a week
in which to make up her mind, but had asked that his suit be kept a
secret. Now some one was evidently coming toward her and there must be
nothing in her face or manner to betray her.

What a picture she made at this moment Jacqueline Ralston would never
know! For nowhere could there be surroundings more beautiful nor a
figure which seemed so unreal and yet so ideally lovely! Surely Diana
had wandered to earth from the groves of high Olympus and was resting
here, waiting for her nymphs. She was sitting on a three-cornered marble
bench under a group of palms, with the moonlight flooding her white
dress and sending forth tiny sparks of light from the crescent of
brilliants in her hair.

In surprise she lifted her head to watch the stranger approaching her.
She had thought at first that it might be Captain Madden with Ruth or
one of the other girls. But the man was taller, younger, more slender
and was alone. Who on earth could he be? Jack rose hurriedly and took a
step forward. The man was holding out both hands with an oddly familiar
gesture.

"Jack," he said slowly, "don't you know me? Aren't you glad to see me? I
arrived in Rome only an hour ago and came directly here. I have spoken
to Jean and Ruth and now have found you."

"Frank Kent!" Jack repeated, too surprised by the young man's unexpected
appearance to show any other emotion. "You _have changed_, but in the
daylight of course I should have recognized you. It was only that I
should never have dreamed of your coming to Rome without letting us
know. I asked you to wait to see us until we arrived in England."

She had given both her hands to her old friend and was trying not to
have her manner appear cold. Yet she could feel rather than see that
Frank's face was flooding with color, just as it had so easily in those
old days of their first acquaintance at the Rainbow Ranch.

"That is a discouraging greeting after a two years' separation. I hoped
you might feel more pleasure in seeing me," Frank suggested.

Jack and the young man had walked slowly forth from her retreat and were
now within the glow of the yellow-shaded electric lights. Jack looked up
into her companion's face. He was older and tonight seemed graver. Also
he wore the expression of dignified displeasure, which Jack recalled so
readily. She could almost remember this same look on his face the day
she had run away to the round-up and so lost Olive and brought
tremendous unhappiness upon herself and her family. Less than anybody in
the world did Jacqueline Ralston desire to see Frank Kent during this
particular week of her life. Yet she could not willingly hurt his
feelings.

Now she laughed, looking a little more like the girl of the past.

"I didn't mean to sound ungracious, Frank. Of course I am glad to see
you, for you must have had some good reason for coming to Rome just now.
Otherwise I know you would have granted me my wish and waited until we
got to England for our meeting. What was your reason?"

But Frank Kent did not at the present moment have to answer this
question. For within a few feet of them were Captain Madden, Ruth and
Olive.

And whatever of kindness Jack's reception may have lacked was made up
for by Olive's enthusiasm. Forgetting her shyness for one of the
occasional times in her life, she ran forward with her eyes shining and
a lovely color in her cheeks. Jack thought she had never seen her friend
prettier or happier.

"Oh, I am so delighted you have come, Mr. Kent--Frank," she declared.
"It seems too much like old times to be formal. Ruth had just told me of
your arrival and I could hardly give you time even to speak to Jack."

There could be no doubt of how much pleasure Olive's frank welcome
afforded the Ranch girls' former friend. Frank Kent had always been
much interested in Olive and her peculiar history from the day when his
presence saved her from being taken away from Rainbow Lodge by the
Indian woman Laska and her son. He had seen her develop from an
apparently poorly educated, part-Indian into a gentle and charming
American girl.

And now she was no longer a girl, but almost a woman.

The expression of Frank's brown eyes changed. He gazed so steadily at
Olive that she blushed and then smiled.

"I have been seeing so many visions tonight I ought to be prepared for
most anything," he remarked. "But I confess I am not for this
transformation of Olive into a sea nymph." The young man made no effort
to conceal his admiration as he held Olive's hand in his own a little
longer than was necessary.

For just half an instant Jack wondered; then she brought herself sharply
to task. Because of her own recent experience why should she be dwelling
so much on one subject? Besides, without wishing any one to guess it,
she was interested in Frank Kent's and Captain Madden's manner toward
each other. Captain Madden approached to shake hands with his cousin
with entire amiability, but to Jack's irritation Frank's behavior was
hardly civil. The young man never had been able to disguise his real
feelings (the trait is not an English one); so now he bowed coldly. Then
he continued talking to Ruth and Olive, almost as though the older man
were not present.

If all of Jack's friends had been doing their level best to force her
into the championship of Captain Madden, they could hardly have arranged
a better method. She slipped her arm through the older man's at this
moment in a very pretty fashion and together they led the way back to
the ball room.

It was now a good deal past midnight and Ruth decided that the time had
come for saying farewell. Jean was dancing with Giovanni Colonna and
Frieda with Leon. But in a few moments they were persuaded to stop, and
the Ranch party found the Princess Colonna, to say good-night.

The Princess had appeared at her ball in the character of Atalanta, the
maiden who could run more swiftly than any man in the world. To all her
suitors she had imposed the condition that she should be the prize of
the man who could conquer her in a race, and had been finally won by the
youth who dropped the golden apples at her feet, which she stooped to
pick up.

Jean's Princess wore a crimson robe and around her yellow hair a wreath
of golden laurel leaves. In her hand she carried a golden apple.

Yet in spite of the magnificence of the scene about her, she excused
herself from her guests and went with the Ranch girls to Jean's room.
Jean was going home tonight with her family.

Quite like another girl, who was neither a Princess nor yet a
mythological character, the Princess Colonna kissed Jean good-by.

"I do wish you could let one of your girls stay with me always," she
said, when she and Ruth were parting. "I think I am often homesick for
America and the old life in the west which I led as a child. Jean has
made me feel almost young again."

And though Ruth and the four girls laughed at the suggestion of the
Princess' needing to feel young, each one of them noticed that when one
studied her face closely there were lines about her mouth and eyes.

On the way home, the five women crowded into one carriage, Jean turned
to her chaperon: "I know it isn't good taste to talk about people, Ruth
dear, when one has been visiting them, so please don't reproach me. But
I could not help seeing while I was the Princess' guest that, without
knowing it, she has been a kind of Atalanta. Only in the race for
happiness the golden apple she stopped to pick up was not money. She had
wealth enough, but it was a title and a great position. The Prince may
be very nice. I did not learn to know him very well, but certainly he
seemed more like his wife's father than her husband. How can a girl ever
marry a man twice as old as she is?"




CHAPTER XVI

LEAVING ROME


"I AM sorry, Jean, that you think no one could care for me for myself,
and that it is my money that is my sole attraction. If that is true I
could wish for my own part that the Rainbow mine had never been
discovered."

The two cousins, Jack and Jean, were alone in their sitting room in
their hotel in Rome. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon, six
days after the Princess' ball, and although it was raining and a cold,
disagreeable afternoon, Ruth, Olive and Frieda had gone forth on another
sight-seeing pilgrimage.

Jack had been writing letters, but had ceased and gone over to stand by
the window when Jean began her conversation. There was just a chance
that it might be wiser for her cousin not to be able to see her face,
for she was quicker to arrive at conclusions than any other one of them.

But Jean had said more than Jack supposed she would have dared. Now she
turned from pretending to view the dismal picture of chilly orange trees
and chillier marble statuary and her gray eyes met Jean's brown ones
coldly.

Jean sighed. Somehow she and Jack had so often managed to misunderstand
each other, ever since they were little girls. And now, when she
particularly wanted to keep her cousin from growing angry and to talk
things over candidly, why, as usual, she had begun matters by putting
her foot in it. Jack had such an uncomfortable fashion of growing white
and quiet when she was furious, instead of crimson and teary like Jean
and Frieda. Why on earth had Ruth ever appointed her to tell Jack Frank
Kent's account of his cousin and to find out whether she cared for him.
It was certainly Ruth's place to have done it herself. Why in the world
hadn't she had the sense to decline.

"But I never said anything in the least like that, Jack, and it is not
fair of you to suggest it," Jean replied, doing her best to answer as
gently as possible. "It was only that I told you we had good reason to
believe that Captain Madden is a fortune-hunter. I don't know, of
course, whether you care in the least who or what he is, but he is
desperately poor, has had to resign from the British army because he
didn't or couldn't pay his debts, and, and--do you care to hear anything
else?"

Jack's eyes flashed curiously. Jean remembered how ever since she was a
little girl her cousin's eyes had had this fashion of turning dark when
any one opposed her will. And they had all thought Jack so entirely
changed by her illness, so much softened, so much readier to give up her
own way to other people's. At this instant Jean wondered if any one ever
really changed in the leading traits of character?

"I don't care to learn anything more just now to Captain Madden's
discredit," Jack was saying quietly and reasonably enough, "but I would
like very much to know how you and Ruth, and Olive and Frieda for that
matter, have heard so much in such a short time? Is it Frank Kent who
has told you? Because if he has, I should like to tell you that Captain
Madden had warned me Frank was apt to say disagreeable things about him.
As for his being poor and having had to leave the army because of it,
why of course I knew that. And I don't believe I care to hear anything
more on the subject that you may wish to say."

"But you _must_, Jack," Jean ordered unwisely. "Unless you can
positively swear to me that Captain Madden means nothing in the world to
you and that you do not intend having any further friendship with him.
Ruth told me if I could make you promise this, we need not speak of the
matter again."

Jack bit her lips. However angry Jean's interference might be making
her, this was no time to be losing her temper like a silly child.

"I can make you no such promise, Jean, and I don't think Ruth should
have allowed you to ask it of me. But there is one thing I should like
very much to have you tell me. How did Frank Kent happen to come to Rome
at this especial time? Before we left America I asked him to wait until
we reached England before joining us, and all of you knew of my letter
and made no objections. I thought it would be better for us to have the
first of our journey to ourselves while we were learning to be more
experienced travelers. Frank said he understood and agreed, and yet here
he turns up in Rome without writing me and straightway begins
interfering in my affairs. I used to like Frank very much in the old
days at the ranch, but no amount of friendship can make me forgive--"

"You need not be so unfair to Frank, Jack," Jean interrupted, losing
control of herself at this evidence of Jack's liking for the middle-aged
man whom she had always detested, and whom the other members of her
family were now learning to dislike almost as much. "I wrote Frank Kent
while I was staying with the Princess Colonna, begging him to join us
here in Rome at once. Ruth had said she was afraid you were growing too
much interested in Captain Madden and that we ought to be finding out
more about him. I knew Frank would know, and I thought you would believe
what _he_ said. Frank is here now, waiting downstairs to talk to you.
Perhaps he will have more influence than I can." And without daring to
find out whether or not her cousin would consent, Jean darted quickly
from the room. Something or other Jack called after her. Nevertheless
Jean preferred neither to hear nor heed and a few minutes after
reappeared with Frank Kent.

During her brief absence Jacqueline was trying desperately hard to make
up her mind what she had best do. To run away, declining to see Frank,
would look as though she feared what he might have to tell her. To
stay--Jack wondered how far in her present mood she might trust herself?

Certainly, on his entrance, Frank appeared as supremely uncomfortable as
a young man could, which should have softened Jack's heart or her
temper.

However, his first words were as unfortunate as Jean's had been.

"I never could have dreamed it would be necessary for me to tell you all
this, Jack," he began. "I never have thought of you except as a
child--well, not a child exactly, but a jolly, sensible kind of a girl.
And now, oh, it is too absurd to find you thinking you have a liking for
a man like Bob Madden! He is more or less of a rascal, you know," Frank
blurted with the dreadful English directness which the Ranch girls had
used to like in him.

Jack had been listening so quietly that he had no idea of what mood she
was in. The next instant, however, it was easy enough for him to guess.
Jack was sitting quite still in a tall carved chair with her head bent
a little forward and both hands clasped so tightly together in her lap
that the knuckles showed white. The lines of the girl's face were always
clearly cut, but today they seemed more so. Even Jean noticed how deeply
gray her cousin's eyes looked and how crimson her lips. The bronze of
her hair was of an even richer tone than usual. Inwardly Jean sighed
again. If only Jack could realize how splendidly handsome she was and
how worth while, would she waste any more of her time and their's on
such an undesirable friendship?

But Jack was speaking. "No, I am not a child, Frank," she declared,
"though I am sorry you think I am no longer a jolly or sensible girl.
You see, I am nearly twenty and I don't believe you are more than three
years older. Ever since you and Jean began talking to me this afternoon
I have been wondering why you had agreed that I cared for Captain
Madden. I have never said a word of his liking for me or of mine for
him. And I am sure he has never spoken to Ruth or anybody else."

"That is just the horridest part of it," Jean murmured irritably. But
her cousin went on without heeding her. "The truth is I have been
trying this whole week to find out whether or not I cared enough for
Captain Madden to promise to be his wife. I was intending to write to
him and beg him to wait a little longer, when Jean came in to talk to
me. Now you have both helped me make up my mind. I shall not ask him to
wait. I shall tell him that I do care and that I do not believe the
things I hear against him. Oh, he warned me long ago, Frank, of the
trouble he had had with your family, of how your father had inherited
all the money so that no one else had any--"

But the rest of Jack's declaration was discontinued because of Jean's
bursting suddenly into tears and rushing out of the room.

Frank picked up his hat uncertainly. "I suppose it is not worth while
for me to tell you anything further, Jack, if you have determined not to
believe me," he declared. "Nevertheless I feel it my duty to warn you
that I shall talk freely to your chaperon, Miss Drew, and that I shall
also write Jim Colter. Oh, say, Jack, I can't bear it, you know, for you
to go and throw yourself away like this!" Frank had started his reproof
like Jack's grandfather, but the ending was a good deal more like the
boy friend for whom she had once had such an affection.

Then for a moment Jack's lips trembled and she wanted to say something
kinder, except for her fear of following Jean's example and beginning to
cry.

At this moment, however, Ruth Drew, still wearing her hat and coat, came
hurrying into the room. She had just seen Jean and knew what had passed
between Frank and the two girls.

Ruth put her arms around Jack. "It is my fault, dear, and I shall never
forgive myself. I have been blind and a coward straight through. You are
too young to know anything of the world and have been left too much to
your own judgment. I ought to have stopped this acquaintance at once and
I ought to have talked to you myself this afternoon instead of having
Jean do it. I was just hoping against hope that we had all been mistaken
and that you would laugh at our idea. But, oh Jack, you won't write the
letter you have just said. You _must not_, dear; I forbid it. You are
not yet of age and I am here in Europe as your chaperon, temporarily as
your guardian. What will Mr. Colter think and say?"

Quietly Jack drew herself away from Ruth's agitated embrace. Frank had
already gone out of the room.

"Please don't talk to me as if I were a silly child, too, Ruth, please,"
Jack pleaded. "I am sorry to be disobedient; but you can't forbid my
writing to the man who has asked me to be his wife. After all, it is
_my_ life and _my_ love Captain Madden has asked for. But I don't want
you and Jean and Olive and Frieda to be angry with me and not love me
any more. I must write Captain Madden, of course, but after that I will
wait until you hear from Jim." Jack's self-control was giving way now
and she covered her face with her hands.

"Of course you will tell Jim what you think and what Frank says, and
poor Jim will be nearly crazy. Because he is sure to believe you as long
as he has always been in love with you. But Jim has more charity and
sympathy and will want me to be happy and--" Jack could not go on.

Ruth was by this time shedding tears herself, so that the atmosphere of
the room with the rain pouring down outside was distinctly dismal.

"Don't we want you to be happy too, Jack? You must believe that; but I
suppose you consider we are unjustly prejudiced. Still, dear, won't you
promise me at least not to see Captain Madden again until we have heard
from Jim?" Ruth implored.

There was no immediate answer, and for this much the older woman was
distinctly thankful. If Jacqueline Ralston would only once give her word
there would be no going back upon it.

"Yes, Ruth, I promise," she replied after a little while.

The next moment Ruth had led her to a chair and after Jack had seated
herself, she rested on the arm for a moment, pressing her cheek against
the girl's golden-brown hair. For although Ruth was a good many years
the older, Jack was now several inches taller than her chaperon.

"Are you so sure Captain Madden does mean your happiness?" Ruth
whispered, and then held her breath, so fearful did she feel of the
answer.

For the second time Jack hesitated. "Yes, I _think_ so; that is, Captain
Madden says he will spend his life trying to make me happy. But, oh
Ruthie, please don't let's talk about anything more that is serious
just now. It seems to me that everybody has been scolding me all
afternoon and I'm tired." This was spoken so like a fretful child that
actually Ruth was able to summon a smile.

Before her reply, however, Frieda came strolling in, carrying a box of
chocolate drops and thoughtfully biting one in two.

She extended her refreshments to her sister and chaperon. "Dick Grant
has just brought me these; they are American, and I _am_ grateful to
him," she remarked pensively. "That foolish Mrs. Grant told me that the
candy business was such a be-au-ti-ful business and I laughed at her.
Now I am beginning to think so too. I am so homesick for most anything
that is American. Isn't Rome dismal today? Ruth took Olive and me to
another old picture gallery and just as we were trying to take an
interest in things, suddenly she decided that we had to rush back to the
hotel. Don't you think we have had enough of Rome? Jean says she is
tired and I am, and Ruth and Olive say they are a little bit. Besides,
if we are to see enough of Europe to count, this summer, ought we not to
be starting out again?"

Ruth had risen and walked toward the window. She was not sure of how
much Frieda knew of what was troubling all of them this afternoon.
However, she devoutly hoped that there might be no further reference to
it until the atmosphere was more peaceful.

Frieda placed herself on a stool facing her sister.

"Jack, let's go away from Rome in a few days?" she demanded. "I am sure
the rest of us would like to if you are willing."

Jack shook her head. "No, no, Frieda, not for another week or two," she
protested. "I am sure there are still lots of things that we ought to
see."

"There would be if we stayed here until we died," the younger girl
grumbled. "Look here, Jack, you know you like to preach to me sometimes,
though you are mostly pretty good about it, now I would like you to
remember our compact. Didn't we promise that if three of us decided that
we wanted to go to a certain place or do a certain thing the other two
had to follow suit. So if Ruth and Jean and Olive and I are weary of
Rome and want to go away, don't you think it your duty to do what we
like? Just think it over, dear!" And Frieda popped a chocolate drop
into her sister's mouth and then one into her own with instant
promptness.

Jack got up and moved toward the door. Somehow, in the face of the
question she was now having to solve, Frieda's reference to their
compact seemed childish and absurd. Could she actually have felt young
enough not a month ago to have entered into such an agreement with all
seriousness? And yet to give one's word was final.

"All right, Frieda baby," Jack assented, as she was about to cross the
threshold, "if the others really do want to leave Rome now, it would not
be fair to keep you here on my account. Wherever you go I will come
along."

When Jack had finally disappeared and was safely out of hearing, Ruth
turned from pretending to stare out the window and gave Frieda an
ecstatic hug. "That is the best thing that has happened to us this day,
baby!" she exclaimed, not pretending to explain her remark.

Frieda received the mark of affection placidly; she was perfectly
accustomed to being embraced by her family at unexpected moments.

"Yes, I thought it would be best to get Jack away from the chance of
seeing him, though I did not want her to guess that was our reason," she
remarked sagely. "Of course Captain Madden is Jack's first truly beau
and she takes love and things like that so seriously. She and Olive are
not like Jean and me. She'll get over it, though, I am pretty sure, if
we can only get her into the country where she can hunt and fish and do
the things she used to do. The sky is too blue and there are too many
flowers in Italy."

Then Frieda went on pensively devouring dozens of chocolates, while Ruth
retired into her own room to lie down. She was half amused and half
aghast at Frieda's sudden burst of worldly wisdom. Indeed, she was not
at all sure whether she wished to shake the youngest of the Ranch girls
or whether she desired to embrace her again.




CHAPTER XVII

THE OVERSEER OF THE RAINBOW RANCH


"OH," sighed Frieda sleepily, "isn't it too delicious to hear the
American language spoken once again!"

Ruth and the three other Ranch girls laughed almost as sleepily as
Frieda had spoken. They were on the night train coming up from
Folkestone to London, after having crossed the English channel from
Boulogne earlier in the afternoon. It was now the first week of June.

"Bravo, Frieda!" teased Jean. "One can always count on the younger Miss
Ralston's saying _the_ memorable thing as soon as the Rainbow Ranch
party arrives on a new soil. Who would have thought of the American
tongue being employed in the British Isles. I shall mention it to Frank
Kent as soon as we see him."

"Oh, for goodness' sake, don't be funny, Jean Bruce," the first speaker
protested, "for you know exactly what I mean. I suppose I should have
said the English language. But even if the English do speak deep down
in their throats and their voices are kind of choky and queer, at least
one can understand what they mean without consulting a dictionary or
trying to remember something one has learned at school. After having
heard nothing but Italian, German and French for over two months, I
could almost have hugged that porter who carried our bags off the boat."

Frieda had been resting her head on her chaperon's shoulder, but now
lifted it to continue her argument with Jean. However, Ruth drew her
back to her former place.

"Don't be a purist at this late date, Jean," Ruth murmured, shaking her
head in a kind of mild reproof. "I must confess I am feeling pretty much
as Frieda does. English or American, whichever you may prefer to call
it, after our continental wanderings, England does seem almost like
home."

And Ruth closed her eyes, she and Frieda both dropping off into a gentle
doze, while Olive and Jean talked in whispers, and Jack stared out of
the window into the darkness.

Since leaving Rome, the five young women had become proverbial Cook's
tourists. They had been traveling almost continuously, sight-seeing
during every possible hour, and allowing no time for loitering. For
after Rome had followed Florence, Venice and then Paris, until now they
were on their way to spend the fashionable season in London.

Such rapid journeying had not been Ruth's original idea, but somehow
after Jack's experience in Rome it had seemed best to keep her
constantly busy, allowing as little time as possible for reflection or
argument.

Faithful to her word, Jacqueline Ralston had not seen Captain Madden
since the afternoon of her talk with Ruth. At that time, it is true, she
had promised to wait only until an answer could arrive from her own and
Ruth's letters to her guardian, Jim Colter, but later she had made a
further promise to Jim.

Almost from the day of his arrival at the Rainbow Lodge, the overseer of
the ranch and afterwards the girls' devoted protector and friend, had
had a peculiar understanding of Jack's character. When she was a small
girl, insisting on some order of hers being obeyed or angered because it
had not been, Jim's "Steady, boss!" used always to help her control
herself. For reasonableness was ordinarily one of Jack's strongest
characteristics. Always she wished to be just and patient. Her
wilfulness came not so much from original sin as because she had had too
much her own way as a child and had had to depend too much on her own
wisdom.

Her mother had died when she was a very young girl and her father not so
many years after. Why, when Jacqueline Ralston was fourteen, virtually
she was, under Jim's guidance, the head of a thousand-acre ranch, and a
kind of mother to little Frieda and Jean.

So, though Jim Colter was more broken up by the news in Ruth's and
Jack's letters than he had been by anything since Ruth's refusal of his
love, he wrote to Jack with more tact than you could have expected from
a big, blunt fellow like Jim.

It took him almost one entire night, however, to write the letter.

For one thing, he did not say that he believed just what Ruth Drew had
written him of Captain Madden, nor did he mention Frank Kent's
information, which painted an even worse picture of Jack's friend. Nor
did he demand that Jack immediately break off her engagement or stop
writing Captain Madden. He simply suggested, as he had in the old days
at the ranch, that "the boss go slow" and would Jack agree not to see
Captain Madden and not to think of him more than she could help, until
Jim himself could find out something more about him? For of course Frank
Kent might be prejudiced and Ruth might be mistaken. Jim would see to
the whole matter himself, and Jack could surely count on his wanting to
give every man a square deal.

Jack had at once agreed to her guardian's request. She realized that
Jim's efforts must take time, as he was a long way from proper sources
of information. So she had meant to be and had been very patient,
trusting that Jim would never believe Captain Madden the kind of villain
that Frank Kent had declared him.

Jack was reflecting on this now as the lights from hundreds of small
houses along the line of the road blinked at her like so many friendly
eyes. Probably Jim would let her hear what conclusion he had reached
some time during their stay in England. She was rather dreading this
visit to London. For not once had she seen Frank Kent since their
interview in the hotel sitting room in Rome. Frank had come to say
good-bye the next day, as he was leaving that evening for home; but
Jack had excused herself from meeting him. Now there would be no way of
escaping, for Frank was Ruth's and the other girls' devoted friend, as
he had formerly been hers. They would want to be with him as much as
possible. Jack glanced at Olive. Had she not imagined several years ago
that Olive liked Frank better than any other young man of their
acquaintance? Certainly she had seemed to prefer him to Donald Harmon,
in spite of Don's devotion.

Well, for the sake of her family, she must conquer her own unfriendly
attitude. Candidly, she was sorry not to be able to like Frank herself
as she once had. How much they had used to talk of her first visit to
England! Then Frank had insisted that Ruth and the four Ranch girls were
to make a long visit at his country estate in Surrey. He wished them to
know his family intimately, as for several years he had been talking
continuously of his western friends. Jack regretted the loss of this
visit. Frank had made her almost love his beautiful English home in his
homesick days in the west, when he was ill and had chosen her for his
special confidante.

Just in time, a sigh that was about to escape into their compartment
was surreptitiously swallowed. Ruth was stirring and begging Frieda to
wake up. Olive and Jean were dragging down luggage from the racks
overhead. And where the twinkling lights outside had been hundreds, now
there were thousands. They must have reached the outskirts of London and
would soon be entering the Charing-Cross station.

"I believe," announced Jack, who had not spoken for the past half hour,
"that I have more real feeling about seeing London than any other city
in the world. I think we have something more in common than just the
language, baby." And she helped Frieda get into her traveling coat.

Perhaps Ruth had been asleep, for she appeared more than commonly
flurried. "I hope you girls understand just exactly what we are to do,"
she began nervously. "I declare, I don't consider that I shall ever make
a successful traveler, I do so hate the excitement and responsibility of
arriving in places. I wish now I had allowed Frank to meet us. He was
good enough to offer to come in from the country, but I declined."

"But, my beloved Ruth, what have we to do but get ourselves and our
belongings into cabs and drive to our hotel? I will manage if you prefer
it," Jack proposed.

Their train had stopped and a guard was opening the door. Several
porters soon had their bags and steamer rugs, and almost before they
were aware of what they were doing the five young women were following
the men down the station platform, Jack in advance, Ruth and Olive
together, and Jean and Frieda bringing up the rear.

Once inside the gate, however, the four girls were startled past speech
on seeing the usually dignified Jack stop for an instant, clasp her
hands tight together, then stare and with a cry rush forward and
positively fling herself into a tall man's arms.

Their silence and stupidity only lasted for an instant. Ruth was next to
run after Jack and seize the man's one disengaged hand.

"Oh, Jim, oh Mr. Colter, why didn't you tell us you were coming to
London? I never was so glad to see anyone before in my life!" And this
from the former dignified "school marm." Probably Ruth had never
forgotten her reserve so completely in her life as at this moment. Tears
of delight gathered unheeded in her eyes.

Jack and Ruth were both swept aside by the onslaught of Frieda, Jean and
Olive.

"How on earth did you decide to come? When did you come? Why did you
come?" Jean demanded all in one breath and then stopped to laugh at
herself.

Jim was staring at the little party critically. He looked more western
and unconventional than ever in his big, broad-brimmed, felt hat, his
loose fitting clothes, with the tan of his outdoor life still showing on
his strong, handsome face.

Jim's deeply blue eyes suddenly crinkled up at the corners in a way they
had when he wanted to laugh or to show any particular emotion.

"Well," he drawled in his slowest and most exaggerated cowboy fashion.
"I've been thinkin' lately that I was gittin' a bit tired of bein'
everlastingly left at the post. Seems like you been acquirin' so much
culture and clothes I was kind of afraid you might not want to know me
when you got back to the ranch. I ain't so sure about the culture, but
I'll capture the glad rags all right soon as you girls are able to go on
a shoppin' party or so with me." And Jim, glancing at an Englishman just
passing them, attired in a top hat and frock coat, pretended to wink.

No one was deceived in the least by his poor pretense of a joke. Jim was
really so much upset by the pleasure of seeing Ruth and the girls that
he was talking foolishness to cover his emotion.

Frieda's break, therefore, saved them all "Oh Jim, won't you look too
funny, dressed like a gentleman!" she exclaimed, and in mock wrath Jim
marched the five of them off to their cabs.




CHAPTER XVIII

RELIEF OR REGRET?


"TELL me what you have found out, Jim. I think I know why you have come
all this way to London," Jacqueline Ralston said.

The man and girl were seated on a bench in Kew Gardens, the wonderful
park a few miles out from London, two afternoons after the arrival of
the Rainbow Ranch party. Ruth and the three other girls had gone to view
Westminster Abbey. But Jack, pleading a need of fresh air, arranged for
a few quiet hours with Jim.

The man rose and thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, started
striding up and down. His blue eyes were curiously gentle, but his mouth
was stern. Indeed, he represented a strange combination of anger and
nervousness. Finally, before speaking, he placed himself on the seat
next Jack again, but this time so that he could look directly into her
face.

Jack's eyes were down, her manner quiet and reserved. The man had no
way of guessing how his news would affect her.

"See here, boss," he began after a moment, "you and I've been pretty
much on the level with each other _all the time_, haven't we? We ain't
tried to keep things back 'cause they hurt." He took the girl's gloved
hand, patting it softly. "Sometimes, maybe, I've seemed harder with you,
Jack, than with the others. But I always thought you'd understand. You
kind of like to face the music, to know the worst and have things
settled quick. Well--"

Possibly Jacqueline's face turned a shade paler; certainly her lips did.
Nevertheless, they curved into a kind of a smile.

"Well, we aren't getting them settled very quickly today, are we, Jim?"
she returned. "You are right, though, I do like to know the truth. What
have you found out about Captain Madden."

"That he ain't no good," Jim replied, forgetting his grammar and all his
carefully planned methods of breaking the unpleasant news to the girl.
"Seems like the English know how to put it better than we do when they
say a fellow is a _cad_. I tell you, Jack, this is honest. I've found
out every thing I could from the time this man was a boy. He has never
done an honest day's work in his life. Why, I even learned that he had
written back to Wyoming to ask what the Rainbow Mine was worth. 'Course,
I don't claim he don't care for you, child--most any man might be able
to manage that. But to think of John Ralston's daughter and my old boss
of the Rainbow Ranch marrying a man old enough to be her father, and
such a man!" Jim had been trying his best to hold in, but now he swore
softly under his breath. "Say, Jack, old girl, say you believe I'm
telling you the truth. I hate to hurt you, the Lord only knows how much,
but if you don't tell me you'll break it all off, I think I'll go plumb
crazy." And Jim mopped the moisture from his brow, though it was a
peculiarly cool day.

Jack was so painfully silent. Could a girl not quite twenty suffer much
over an interrupted love affair? Jim did not know. He remembered his own
grief when Ruth refused him. It had been awful! He carried the ache
inside of him to this day. Glancing at the girl near him, he saw that
the tears, which came so rarely, were now in her clear gray eyes.

"I believe you, Jim," she returned finally. "I believe you'd play fair
with me and with Captain Madden even if you loathed the idea of my
caring for him. Don't worry, old man. I promise this is the end. But,
please, would you mind if I cried a while? No one is paying any
attention to us and I think I'd like to very much."

Without waiting for permission, Jack's shoulders shook, and she covered
her face with her hands. But a few seconds later Jim sighed so miserably
that Jack slipped one of her hands inside his and held it close.

"I am not crying because my heart is broken, Jim dear," she explained;
"I think I am crying because I am ashamed of myself. Sometimes I wonder
how many lessons it will take before I learn not to be so self-willed. I
have made things so hard for Ruth and for the other girls. Yet I
believed what Captain Madden told me; I thought people were prejudiced
against him just because he was poor. And I hate that. So when Ruth and
Frank said such horrid things I told him I would marry him if you would
give your consent. And, oh Jim, I have been so afraid lately--"

Jack began crying softly again.

"Been so afraid, poor little girl! If you only knew how I dreaded
telling you this, I haven't had a good night's sleep in two weeks, and
waiting for you to arrive in London nearly broke my nerve." Jim Colter
probably had not shed any tears in almost twenty years, yet he looked
perilously on the verge of them now.

Jack pulled at his coat sleeve uncertainly. "But Jim, dear, you don't
know what I have been afraid of! I have been afraid you would discover
that Captain Madden was all right and that I would then _have_ to marry
him. I had given him my word. It would not have been honest to go back
on it. You see, when we were in Rome I did believe I cared for him. He
was awfully kind and interesting and different from any one I had ever
known. Then I suppose I was flattered in thinking a so much older, wiser
man could care for a stupid girl like me. And Ruth and Frank were
dreadfully dictatorial. But since we left Rome, I've been thinking--I
feel I have not been doing anything else _but_ think. And I realized
that I did not really love Captain Madden. I felt as if I should die if
he took me away from my family. Still I didn't know just what to do. I
was so frightened, Jim, until I saw you there at Charing Cross."

Jim Colter took off his big western hat. The English sky of a June day
can be a very lovely thing--soft fleecy clouds, floating over a surface
of translucent blue. Jim looked up into it. "I thank Thee, Lord," he
whispered reverently, and then, stooping over, kissed Jack.

The next moment he was up on his feet. And though he failed to electrify
Kew Gardens by giving his celebrated cowboy yell, he waved his sombrero
and the yell apparently took place inside him.

"Come on, Jack, let's do something quick to celebrate or I'm liable to
bust with gladness!" he exclaimed. "This is a right pretty park we're
in. I hear it's one of _the_ most famous on the map, with every known
tree growing inside it. Wouldn't you like me to buy it for you, or maybe
you can think of some other little remembrance?"

Jack hung on to his arm and the man and girl started off on their
sight-seeing expedition together, both feeling as though they were
treading on air instead of the velvet softness of the English turf.

"I should like to go back and tell Ruth at once and apologize for being
a nuisance," Jack confided, "but I don't want any one to guess I have
been crying, and then Ruth will probably be mooning over tombstones in
the Abbey until dinner time. I tell you what, Jim, we will have a
wonderful dinner party tonight to celebrate and you can wear the new
evening clothes you bought yesterday. Then, afterwards, you must take
all of us to the theater. Now I have got you to myself, we might as well
see Kew and have some tea. I am dreadfully hungry. You can bring Ruth
some time by herself and I will promise to keep the girls away."

Jim did not answer. But, under the circumstances, it is perfectly
certain that he could have refused Jack nothing in the world.

For the next two hours he could hardly keep his eyes off her. And he
seemed especially happy when she devoured three English scones and drank
two cups of strong tea.

"Ain't intendin' to pine away, are you, Jack?" he asked. And then, when
the girl blushed, he laughed and held out his hand.

"Shake on it once more, boss," he demanded, "and you can count on this,
sure thing. You ain't going to make but one man happier than you've made
me this day. And that is when you say 'yes' to the right fellow."




CHAPTER XIX

RECONCILIATIONS


LATER that evening the four girls and Ruth were dressed and waiting in
their sitting room for Jim Colter to come to them, when Frank Kent's
card was sent up to their room. By accident the man at the door gave it
first to Jack. The girl's face flooded with color, but she turned at
once to Ruth.

"Frank Kent has come to see us," she explained, "and I want very much to
see him by myself for a few minutes. If you don't mind, I will go down
to meet him."

And as Ruth nodded, Jack disappeared.

Before she got near enough to speak to him, Frank realized that some
change had taken place in his former friend since their last meeting in
Rome.

For one thing, Jack looked younger and happier. Then she had on some
thin white girlish dress, and was coming forward with a smile to greet
him.

"I have been perfectly horrid to you, Frank, and I apologize with all
my heart," she began immediately. "Yet you knew I had a bad disposition
years ago, and still managed to like me a little. Please try again. Our
dear Jim Colter is here from the ranch and has made me see things in the
right light. But don't let's talk about my mistakes. We are having a
dinner and a theater party tonight. Do join us. Olive and Ruth and
everybody will be so glad."

In the elevator on the way upstairs to their apartment, Jack looked at
Frank critically for a moment. Not until now had she been willing to
make a fair estimate of the changes the two years had wrought in him.

In the first place she could see that Frank had grown a great deal
better looking. He had lost the former delicacy which had sent him to
the west, and seemed in splendid physical condition. He was six feet
tall and had the clear, bright color peculiar to young Englishmen.
Frank's expression had always been more serious than most young
fellows', and this had been lately increased by his wearing glasses.
Tonight, however, his clever brown eyes positively shone with relief.
And though he could hardly dare express himself so openly or so
eloquently as Jim Colter, Jack appreciated that he was unfeignedly happy
over her escape.

Possibly the Rainbow Ranch party and their two men friends had never had
a more delightful evening in their lives. They were in such blissfully
good spirits. Indeed, each one of the seven felt as though an individual
load had been lifted. And particularly because Jack appeared to be the
gayest of them all. And Jack _was_ happy in feeling herself released
from an obligation which lately had begun to weigh upon her like a
recurrent nightmare. Moreover, she was particularly anxious not to have
her family regard her as broken-hearted.

She whispered to Jean and Frieda before starting for the theater that
they were to leave Ruth and Jim and Frank and Olive together as much as
possible, for in so large a party it was necessary to make divisions.

Olive and Frank did sit next one another at the play, but the three
girls were not so successful with Jim Colter and Ruth. For there was no
doubt but that Jim avoided being alone with Ruth whenever it was
possible. He had always been perfectly polite to her, but not once since
the night of their parting had he ever voluntarily spent an hour in her
society, unless one of the Ranch girls happened to be present.

Of course Ruth was aware of this. What girl or woman can ever fail to
be? Nevertheless on their way back to the hotel Ruth turned to Jim.

"Would you mind, Mr. Colter, staying in the sitting room with me for a
little while after the girls have gone to bed. I am so anxious to talk
to you?" And there was a gentleness and a hesitation in her manner that
made it impossible for the man to refuse. Also, he understood what it
was she wished to discuss.

Although Jim's manner was gay enough as he told the four girls
good-night, Ruth saw with regret that it altered as soon as the last one
of them had disappeared. He did not even sit down, but waited by the
door, awkwardly fingering his hat like an embarrassed boy who wished to
run away but did not quite dare.

Ruth did not ask him to have a chair. She, too, was standing by the open
fire, with one foot resting on the fender and her head half turned to
gaze at him. She looked a little unlike herself tonight, or else like
her best self. For the Ranch girls had seriously objected to their
chaperon's nun-like costumes, which she had had made in Vermont, and
insisted on getting her some new clothes in Paris, while they were
making their own purchases. Ruth had objected but Olive had solved the
problem. Each one of the four girls had presented Ruth with a toilet
shortly before leaving Paris. And so much care and affection had each
donor put into her gift that she had not had the heart to decline.

Tonight she was wearing Jean's offering, which had been voted the
prettiest of the lot. Over an underdress of flame-colored silk there
were what Jim considered floating clouds of pale gray chiffon. And at
her waist, with a background of the chiffon, was a single flame-colored
flower.

Ruth had lost a good deal of her Puritan look; somehow the man thought
she seemed more human, more alive. She had a vivid color, and her hair,
which Jean had insisted upon dressing, was looser about her face. Jim
remembered the moonlight ride they had had together when a lock of her
hair had blown across his cheek. Then he brought himself sharply to
task.

Ruth had already begun speaking.

"Mr. Colter," she said, "there are so many, many things I want to say to
you I hardly know where to begin. I know how you must feel toward me,
how you must feel that I have utterly failed in my duty toward Jack, and
how nearly I have come to allowing her to wreck her life. There is
nothing that you can think about me that I do not about myself. Of
course, you know, I erred through ignorance, and yet ignorance is no
excuse. A woman with so little knowledge, so little tact--" Ruth's face
was crimsoning all over and she had to put her handkerchief to her eyes
to wipe away her tears.

Jim had stepped forward and stood towering above her so that he had to
bend his handsome head to see into her face.

"Miss Drew, you are not to go calling yourself bad names and then
declare that I feel as you say I do. Honest Injun, Miss Ruth, I haven't
had a single one of those feelings about you. Since I have known about
this tragedy that poor Jack has nearly gotten us all into, I have been
plumb sorry for you with all my heart. How could a little New England
girl like you know anything about an accomplished rascal like this
fellow Madden? Yet I guessed if Jack wouldn't give in (and she is
usually a hard-headed customer), why you'd be blaming yourself for a
thing you couldn't prevent until the end of your days. I tell you, Miss
Ruth, that thought, besides my love for Jack, kept me hot on that man's
trail. And it even helped me break the news to Jack today, which was the
hardest part."

Ruth looked up into the deeply blue eyes above hers.

"Jim Colter," she announced quietly, "I believe you are the very best
man in the world."

But instead of being pleased, Jim drew back as though his feelings had
been deeply hurt. "Don't say that, Miss Ruth," he begged. "And don't you
go and believe because I don't mention it that I have forgotten that sin
I committed a way back in my youth and the way it made you feel about
me. You have been awfully good treating me so kind and polite whenever
you have to meet me around with the girls. I've done my best not to
worry you any more'n I could help."

"Oh, Mr. Colter, oh Jim," Ruth faltered, "please don't say a cruel
thing like that to me. Haven't you forgiven me after almost three years?
You must have known that in a few months, as soon as I got away from the
ranch, I realized how narrow and foolish and blind I had been. You are a
good man; you are the bravest, kindest, most forgiving in the whole
world. And I don't care, I know you have forgotten about me long ago,
but I want you to know I love you. It seems to me sometimes a woman must
have the right to say this just to prove she can be as generous as a
man. But I don't care whether I have the right or not. I am just saying
it because it is true."

"For heaven's sake, stop, Ruth," the big man implored.

But the little New England school teacher, who had hardly ever dared
show her real feelings before in her life, would not be silenced.

"Don't worry, Jim, I shall never regret what I have said, though I shall
never speak of it again--and perhaps never see you after you sail for
America."

Jim swept the little woman off her feet and held her for a moment to his
heart.

"Don't you dare say a thing like that to me, child," he threatened. "And
don't you believe you are going to lose sight of me more than a few
hours at a time while both of us are living in this world. Why, you
little white, New England snow-maiden. The very idea of your having the
nerve to stand up right before my face and say you love a big,
good-for-nothing, sinful fellow like me. But I kind of wish you'd wake
Jack and the other three girls up and tell them we are going to get
married tomorrow."




CHAPTER XX

AN ENGLISH COUNTRY PLACE


TWO figures on horseback galloped rapidly across the English downs, the
one a number of yards in advance of the other.

A low stone fence divided the adjoining meadows. But at a slight touch
from its rider the first horse rose easily in the air, clearing the
fence without difficulty. On the farther side it stumbled, plunged
forward until steadied by the hands on its reins and came gradually to
the earth upon its knees. Then the rider slid off and talking quietly to
the horse brought it up on its feet again, just at the moment that her
escort jumped the fence and drew up alongside her.

"Jacqueline Ralston, I take off my hat to you. You are one of the best
riders I ever saw in my life. Goodness, but you gave me a nasty moment
when you made that unexpected plunge forward and I had a vision of your
going over head-foremost." Frank Kent's face was pale from the moment's
alarm, but he tried making his voice as calm as possible.

"Yes, it was stupid of me," Jack returned. "There evidently was a hole
this side the fence and I managed to make straight for it. Look, will
you, Frank, while I get my breath."

Jack took the reins of both horses and waited for a moment, while the
young man made the search. It required hardly a second, for the
depression in the ground was only a few feet back of them. There it was
a hole not more than twelve inches in diameter and half as many inches
deep, yet of a peculiarly dangerous character for horseback riders.

"Suppose I had broken your father's finest riding horse's leg!" Jack
exclaimed, when her companion had made the report and pointed out the
spot to her. "Gracious, I should have been so sorry, both because of him
and because of the horse, too!" Jack added. Having now given up both
bridles into Frank's keeping, she continued patting the quivering sides
of the beautiful animal, which had not yet recovered from its moment of
danger.

"Let us sit down here a few moments and rest, Jack," the young man
suggested. "I can tie the horses nearby and it will be a good idea to
let them have a short breathing space. The others won't miss us for a
while yet; we were too far ahead."

Several yards beyond there was a clump of old chestnut trees, and Jack
sat down in the shade of one of them, where Frank joined her a little
later.

Flinging himself down lengthwise on the ground, the young man rested his
head in his hands, facing his companion.

Jacqueline had taken off her riding hat and was adjusting the heavy
braids of her hair, which had become loosened by her plunge.

"I say, Jack, you do look awfully fit these days. You turned a bit pale
a few moments ago, but now your color is as good as ever. I was afraid
you might feel kind of used up. It was like you to start talking about
the possible loss of a horse when you might have been smashed up," Frank
began.

Jack laughed rather faintly. "Oh, I had a bad moment too," she
confessed. "What is the use of pretending to be a heroine when it is not
true? But one can't be laid up for nearly two years as I was without
even being able to walk and face the chance of another accident with
altogether steady nerves. And just when I was feeling exactly like my
old self. I tell you, Frank, this visit to your father and mother has
been a beautiful experience for all of us. I can't tell you how grateful
we are. I believe it has been this delicious outdoor life and the news
of Ruth's and Jim's engagement that has made me absolutely well in a
hurry, after taking rather a long time to get fairly started."

"It can't mean to you, Jack, what it has to me," the young man answered
in such a queer, constrained voice that the girl looked at him curiously
from under her downcast lids.

Jack wondered if he were going to tell her of his love for Olive.
Earnestly she hoped that he would not--at least, not today. She hated
this business of growing up. Perhaps her own unfortunate experience
earlier in their trip had given her this foolish prejudice. That must be
the reason why she had developed such an odd, choking sensation as soon
as she believed that Frank intended making her his confidante. She
wished that they might all remain good friends as they had in the past.
How dreadful it would be to have to give Olive up--or Frank! Besides,
think of Donald Harmon's feelings! A month ago Donald had joined them in
England and since had been Olive's shadow. Indeed, the young man had
not made the slightest effort to disguise his attitude. He was in love
with Olive and did not seem to mind the whole world's knowing it.

But Olive! Jack glanced carefully at Frank and was glad to see that he
was not looking at her, but was still trying to reach a decision. There
could be little doubt in Jack's mind that Olive must prefer Frank Kent
to Donald. Not that Olive had ever confided in her. But there had always
been something in her friend's manner to make Jack feel this
unconsciously. She believed that she had noticed it particularly in the
past two weeks while they had been the guests of Frank's parents, Lord
and Lady Kent, at their wonderful country estate.

Jack stirred. Then she must not be keeping Frank so long away.

The entire house party from the castle was spending the day in the
woods, and the others must have halted somewhere nearer home and would
be expecting them to return and join them.

"I think we had best go back now, Frank, please. I am not in the least
upset by my near tumble," the girl announced. "But you will not mention
it to Ruth or Jim or any of the girls? It did not amount to anything,
yet I don't want Ruth and Jim to have the slightest shade of anxiety to
spoil their beautiful time of being engaged. Poor Jim was desperate at
first at the thought of waiting almost six weeks before his marriage,
but now the ceremony is so near I think he would not have given up this
time for a great deal. You see, he and Ruth are only going to take a
week's honeymoon journey, as your mother has been good enough to promise
to look after us. And then we are all going back to the ranch together.
This time poor Ruth will be dreadfully well chaperoned."

"Yes, I know, Jack, but please don't go just yet. There is something
that--" Frank hesitated. Evidently, however, Jacqueline had not heard
him, for she had gotten up as she finished speaking and was moving off.

The young people found the rest of their party about half a mile back,
where they had chosen their picnic grounds in the neighborhood of a
brook. Jim and Ruth were not with them, but Olive and Donald Harmon,
Frieda and Dick Grant, Jean and the young Italian, Giovanni Colonna,
Lord and Lady Kent and Frank's two sisters, Marcia and Dorothy, were
sitting in a great circle and in the center was evidently a gypsy woman.
Frank had met Dick Grant in London and thinking him a nice American boy
had asked him down to Kent castle for the day. Giovanni Colonna had been
his guest for a week.

Apparently the advent of the two newcomers had interrupted the flow of
the fortune-teller's narrative, for she was standing perfectly silent
with her big, rather impertinent black eyes fastened on Olive's face.

"Please send the gypsy away, Lady Kent," Olive begged. "She seems to be
making up her mind to say something to me. And years ago I had such a
dismal fortune told me by a gypsy who stopped at the Rainbow Lodge that
I have never been able to forget it."

Frank was paying off the woman and telling her to be gone, so that he
did not hear the next few moments' conversation.

"What did she tell you, Olive?" Frieda asked. "I remember we thought it
queer at the time, but I have forgotten what it was."

Olive flushed. She had her old childish dislike of being the center of
attention, and yet she had brought this upon herself.

"Oh, she told me that I was going to find out my parentage some day, and
I have. Then she told me that I would inherit a large fortune." Olive
glanced a little nervously at Donald Harmon, adding, "but of course that
will never come true. And--and I can't remember much else. The story was
told in a kind of jingle."

"Yes, and I recall it better than you do, Olive dear," Jack suddenly
broke in. "The ridiculous woman suggested such abominable things about
me. She said that without knowing it I was going to bring sorrow upon my
best-beloved Olive. I don't know just in what way she meant it, but of
course it was a ridiculous falsehood." And Jack flushed so hotly and
spoke with such unnecessary intensity that her listeners laughed.

At the same time a man servant appeared, announcing that luncheon was
about to be served. And Olive and Donald, who had been informed where
the lovers were to be found, went off together to summon Ruth and Jim.




CHAPTER XXI

MIDNIGHT CONFIDENCES


A FAINT knock at her bedroom door several nights after their picnic in
the woods startled Jean. It was half-past twelve o'clock, and thirty
minutes before all the guests in the castle had gone to their own
apartments, an informal dance having made them more tired than usual.

But Jean was not a coward, and, still brushing her hair, walked over to
her door. Immediately she heard Jack's voice on the outside.

"Please let me in, Jean dear, I hope I haven't frightened you." Then
Jack slipped inside and stood irresolutely in the center of the big
chamber. She was ready for retiring, clad in a pink dressing gown, with
her hair hanging in two braids over her shoulders.

"I was kind of lonely," she explained. "It is very grand for each one of
us to have an apartment to ourselves, but I am not used to it."

She sank down on a low cushion in front of the big open fire and in a
few moments was staring into it, having apparently forgotten her
cousin's presence in her own room.

However, without speaking, Jean went on quietly undressing. Then, when
she had finished, she too got into a kimona and piled her grate high
with fresh logs. The next moment she had placed herself on another
cushion by the side of her unexpected visitor.

But Jean asked no questions.

"I hope you are not very sleepy, dear," Jacqueline remarked finally. "Of
course you know that I wouldn't have disturbed you at such an unholy
hour except that there was something important I felt I must talk to you
about."

"It isn't--" Jean began. But to her intense relief Jack immediately
shook her head.

"No, it isn't and never will be again. And the sooner that all of my
family forget my miserable mistake, the happier you will make me. It is
something different and yet it is such a kind of intimate, personal
thing, I can't decide whether I have the right to mention it even to
you."

"Ruth and Jim?" the other girl queried. For the second time Jack
demurred.

"No." But she kept on gazing at the fire rather than at her confidante.

"See here, Jean," she inquired suddenly. "I wonder if it has ever
occurred to you that Frank Kent cared, well, cared more than just an
ordinary lot for Olive? Perhaps it does not seem exactly square of me to
be prying into Frank's and Olive's feelings for each other, but on my
honor I have a real reason for wishing to know."

Jean's big brown eyes opened wide with amazement. Was there any question
in the world farther from her imagination than this unexpected one?

Notwithstanding, Jean gave the subject a few moments of serious
consideration. "No," she replied at length, "I have been thinking over
all the time I can recall from Olive's and Frank's first acquaintance
with each other. And I don't remember a single occasion when he seemed
more than just a good friend of hers. To tell you the truth, Jack, I
personally should never have dreamed of Frank's being in love with Olive
in a thousand years! Whatever put it into your mind? Why you and Frank,
after you got over your first prejudice against his being the guest of
our old enemies, the Nortons, were much more intimate than the rest of
us. I always took it as a matter of course that he liked you best until
you had that quarrel in Rome. Lately, though, you seem to have made up."

Jack frowned. "Oh, certainly we were more intimate then. But in those
days Olive was too shy to reveal her real self or her emotions to anyone
except us. Besides, we were only children. Still, I used to notice even
then that Olive grew more cheerful and animated when Frank was around.
And afterwards in Rome and the last month since our arrival in England,
why haven't you _seen_ the change in her? Please think, Jean dear, for
it may be of the very greatest importance what you tell me. You see, I
am so stupid and make such dreadful mistakes about people caring or not
caring for each other; but somehow you are wiser. I feel I may trust to
your judgment. Do you think Olive--" Jack stumbled a little bit over the
fashion for putting her next question. "Do you think that Olive likes
Frank Kent better than anybody else?"

The silence was longer this time and Jean did not happen to catch a
glimpse of her cousin's face, being too deeply concerned over her
inquiry.

"I should never have conceived of such a thing myself, Jack," she
declared after pondering for two or three minutes, "but as you have put
it into my mind, why, possibly Olive _may_ be interested in Frank. He
has always been awfully good to her ever since their first meeting, and
he thinks her wonderfully beautiful and charming. I can't say, though,
that I am at all convinced that her feeling is serious. Oh, dear me, why
can't you two girls be as frivolous over affairs of the heart as I am! I
should like at least a dozen romances before I settle upon one."

"Well, I presume you are in a fair way to have them, sweet cousin,"
Jacqueline returned. "And tonight I feel as though I could almost echo
your wicked wish. But, Jean dearest, I have _got_ to find out how Olive
really feels. I can't tell you why now, yet it is of more interest to me
to know than anything else in the world."

And suddenly Jack's face flushed with such a wonderful, radiant color
that Jean caught her breath.

What she saw, however, made her turn her eyes away.

"I will find out for you if I possibly can, Jack," she then replied
quietly, without asking any further questions or attempting to probe
the mystery of why Olive's attitude toward their host should be of such
vital import to Jacqueline Ralston.

"You know though that Olive is desperately shy and reserved," Jean
added, "and has never confided in anybody except you and Miss Winthrop.
Don't you think, after all, perhaps Olive likes Donald Harmon more than
we guess? She and Don would be such a suitable match and her grandmother
is so anxious for it."

But Jack shook her head. "No, I am afraid not," she returned and was not
aware of how much the word "afraid" meant to her cousin's ears. "Olive
told me yesterday that Don had asked her to marry him and that she had
refused him. She told him that she would take the whole responsibility
for the refusal upon her shoulders, that she would write her grandmother
and explain that Don had done his best. The opposition to the plan had
been hers. So Madame Van Mater must do as she had threatened and leave
Don the larger share of the fortune. Poor Don was dreadfully broken up
over Olive's thinking that he had asked her on account of her
grandmother's desire, or because of the money that they were to share
if she accepted him. Don honestly loves Olive, I think, though I don't
believe she returns it in the least. Indeed, Olive told me that she had
never given up her old plan of going out west to teach the Indians as
soon as she feels she has learned enough through her studying with Miss
Winthrop at Primrose Hall. Actually she announced that she was going to
take a teacher's place there next winter for the experience it would
give her. But of course I don't think that Olive means this not if she
cares--if she cares for Frank." Jack got up from the floor. "Dear, I
won't keep you awake any longer. Only there is one more favor I should
like to beg. Will you stay with me as much as possible until you can
find out what I have asked you?"

And Jean only nodded, as her cousin kissed her good-night and went away.

She sat for some time gazing into the fire instead of getting into bed.
Not a particularly good mathematician in her school days, still Mistress
Jean had rather a talent for putting two and two together under certain
circumstances. She had not felt it fair to ask questions of Jack, yet
there could be nothing disloyal in trying to penetrate a mystery for
herself. Especially as she should never betray her conclusions.

Jean pondered. In the first place there was not the least doubt in her
own mind that among the four Ranch girls Frank Kent certainly liked Jack
best. He always had liked her and it was perfectly plain how much her
unfortunate affair with Captain Madden and her unkind treatment of him
had hurt him, although he was not the type of man to betray himself so
openly as Donald Harmon had. Jack's feeling for Frank, Jean had believed
until tonight to be merely friendly. They had many of the same
interests, both loved horses, animals of all kinds, and the business
that went with the running of a big place like their old ranch or the
immense estate, which had been in the Kent family for many generations.
However, since the last hour, Jean was no longer assured of Jack's
impersonal attitude. There was no doubt that her cousin had in her mind
at present two fears--one that Olive, her dearest friend, cared for
Frank, the other that Frank, instead of returning Olive's affection, was
beginning to fall in love with her. Something must have recently
occurred to give Jack this impression. Jean did not believe that she
would ever have attempted to probe Olive's emotions unless this had been
the case.

So here was the difficulty of the situation according to her train of
thought. If Olive really did care for Frank Kent, Jean understood
Jacqueline Ralston well enough to realize that nothing could induce her
to accept his suit. For Jack would never accept her own happiness at the
price of another's; and surely not when the other person was her dearest
friend, for whom she had always felt a kind of protecting devotion.

Yet if Olive did not love Frank, and Jack felt herself able to return
his affection, it would be both cruel and unnecessary to refuse to
listen to him.

At last Jean tumbled into her big, four-posted bed; but even then she
could not go at once to sleep. What a delicate mission she had taken
upon herself and how ever was she to perform it? For Olive must never
suspect any possible motive behind her questioning.




CHAPTER XXII

OLIVE'S ANSWER


JEAN BRUCE'S task did not prove any simpler than she had anticipated.
For one thing, events at the castle left little time for leisure or for
making individual plans of one's own. Almost every hour there were
visits from the neighbors of surrounding country estates, calls to be
returned, riding parties, dinners and dances. For the Kents seemed
determined to give Ruth and the Ranch girls as agreeable an impression
as possible of English country life. And the time was short, since Ruth
and Jim were soon to be married.

Undoubtedly Frank's family had taken a decided fancy to his American
friends, but if one of the number was a greater favorite than the
others, assuredly it was Jim Colter.

At first Jim had strenuously resented becoming a visitor at Kent Castle.
The idea of having to hobnob with titles, as he put it, was extremely
distasteful. He was sure that he would turn out to be an embarrassment
to Ruth and the girls, and that Frank would be sorry for having invited
him. Nevertheless, when Ruth, and therefore the four Ranch girls,
positively refused to leave without him, Jim was compelled to give in.
And now, when there was no opportunity for the overseer of the Rainbow
ranch to be with Ruth, he and Lord Kent were inseparable. The two men
were as unlike as any two extremes could be, and yet they were alike in
that each man was absolutely himself. Lord Kent represented all that
money, education and a high position can do; Jim only what good sense, a
strong heart and energy can accomplish. Yet so far had Jim Colter
learned to forgive Lord and Lady Kent, that actually he had consented
that his marriage to Ruth take place from their home and that the
ceremony be performed at the little English church nearby. He and Ruth
had both been unwilling to delay their wedding until their return home
and had also objected to the strangeness of a wedding in London. So now
everything had been delightfully arranged. They were to be married at
high noon with the Ranch girls as their attendants and only a few
intimate friends of their host and hostess present.

Yet, in spite of their expressed wish to have "no fuss or feathers,"
according to Jim's description, necessarily there were many reasons why
Jean found it peculiarly hard just then to have her quiet interview
alone with Olive. Especially when the interview must appear as an
entirely accidental one.

Nevertheless, Jean did manage to keep one of her promises to her cousin.
She did very often succeed in interfering with any situation which would
apparently throw Frank and Jack together without the rest of the party.
And many times in the face of this, Frank would then seek out Olive's
companionship. So that in the days of her watchfulness Jean herself
became more and more puzzled and anxious. Finally, however, came her
desired opportunity.

Frank had begged as a particular favor that the house party ride or
drive as they preferred to a famous old ruin in the neighborhood. And
just as they were about to leave Olive had suddenly pleaded a headache,
entreating to be left behind. To Jack's and Ruth's requests to remain
with her, Olive had insisted that she would be far more apt to recover
if she might stay alone. And as this was a perfectly sensible statement,
both her friends agreed. Jean, however, made no such offer, said
nothing of her own intentions, but simply, when the party started, could
not be found. Nevertheless, she had left a proper explanation with one
of the servants, so that no time was lost in searching for her.

As Olive had looked really ill, Jean first went for a long walk, hoping
to give her a chance to recover before having their talk.

Tip-toeing softly in at about four o'clock in the afternoon, she found
her friend lying on the bed with a shawl thrown over her. And even in
the semi-light of the great oak chamber Jean could see that Olive's face
was white, and that there were circles about her eyes.

"I would not have let you come in if I had known who you were. I thought
you were one of the maids," Olive protested querulously. And her manner
was so unlike her usual gentle one that the other girl's heart sank.

"I didn't know; I am sorry. I thought you were better or that I might do
something for you," Jean explained hurriedly, making up her mind not to
approach the subject she had anticipated for anything in the world.

Then both girls were silent for a few moments. And finally Jean tried to
slip quietly out of the room.

A voice from the bed called her back. "Don't go, dear. I am sorry I was
cross. I believe I am homesick today. I have been thinking a whole lot
of Miss Winthrop and wanting to go back to my own country. Dear me, I am
glad Ruth and Jim are so soon to be married and we shall then be sailing
for home!"

Jean smoothed Olive's dark hair back from her lovely Spanish face.

"I am glad Jack is not hearing you say this, Olive child," she
whispered. "Think how jealous it would make poor Jack feel to hear that
you felt nearer Miss Winthrop than you do to her. I thought you used to
love her best."

"I did. I do," Olive replied faintly. "But Jean, haven't you or Ruth
guessed that we are not going to be able to keep Jack at the old ranch
always, much as she adores it. Frank Kent is deeply in love with Jack.
And I believe Jack cares for him. Of course I know you will think this
strange after the other affair with Captain Madden. But that is just the
reason why Jack will be able to realize she is in love with Frank. Her
feeling for him is so entirely different."

Jean was glad that her own face was in shadow. This was her opportunity.
But what could she, what should she say?

"Why Olive, I don't believe for a moment old Jack cares a great deal
about Frank," Jean protested, trying to make her manner appear as light
as possible under the circumstances. "Indeed, I am almost sure of it. It
must be a fancy on your part, for I am almost sure Jack thinks that
Frank cares for you."

"Then she is very foolish," Olive returned.

"But why foolish? It seems to me Frank is always preferring to go off
alone with you. And he always has been tremendously fond of you. Once he
told me that he thought you quite the prettiest of the four of us."

The other girl laughed. And Jean wondered if it was her imagination or
if there was a sound in Olive's laugh which she did not like.

"Frank has always cared for Jack. It would have been absurd of me ever
to have failed to see it. Why, he began caring when we were almost
children at the ranch. He has always been a good friend to me, but
nothing else. And lately, if you have suspected anything because we have
been alone together, it was only because poor Frank wished to talk to me
about Jack. He does not believe that she cares for him in the least. He
says that once when he began to try to tell her she stopped him
immediately. Frank is afraid Jack may still have some feeling about the
old affair. I have done my best to make him see things differently. And
he has no right not to make Jack listen to him, even if he believes she
may refuse him. Deep down in her heart Jack has always cared for Frank.
Don't you think so yourself, Jean?"

"I--oh, I don't know anything about it. I am so surprised!" Jean
stammered.

"Frank has asked me to talk to Jack, to find out if she would be wounded
by his telling her of his love so soon after Captain Madden. But
somehow, Jean," and here Olive's voice faltered, "I don't believe I know
how to do it very well. Why, if I began poor Jack might think that I had
believed Frank in love with me and was telling her this to prove to her
I had no feeling for him. It would be like old Jack to get some such
absurd fancy as that into her head. And then, of course, we both know
that Jack would rather die than give poor Frank the slightest chance."

"But don't you care for Frank?" It was on the tip of Jean Bruce's tongue
to ask Olive this question. Yet just in time she stopped it.

Never so long as she or any one else lived could this question be put to
Olive Van Mater. By her own words and manner had she not chosen forever
to silence it. And actually Jean herself did not know what to think. It
was so easy in this world to receive a false impression.

"Would you like me to tell Jack then, Olive dear?" Jean queried, for her
own sake keeping her eyes away from her friend's. "Of course I should
not dare say anything about Frank's feelings. But I could kind of
intimate what you have just told me."

Olive drew the cover a little closer about her. "You are awfully good,
Jean. Yes, that will be best. Now, please, you won't mind if I ask you
to leave me. And will you make my excuses to Lady Kent at dinner? My
head really aches too severely for me to come down."




CHAPTER XXIII

THE WEDDING DAY


IN England the roses bloom all the summer through. And nowhere are they
more lovely and plentiful than in the county of Surrey.

So the little English church on the Kent estate was filled one August
morning with white, pink, red and yellow roses.

Ruth wore a simple white tulle dress and hat. For she did not wish a
wedding veil, and Jim announced that he did not intend having his Ruth's
face concealed at the time he most desired to see it.

Olive, Jean and Frieda were bridesmaids, and Jack maid of honor. Frank
Kent was best man, Richard Grant, Giovanni Colonna and another friend of
Frank's acted as ushers. Donald Harmon had returned to London,
explaining that he felt compelled to join his mother and sister there.

Since the bride would have no unnecessary adornments, the Ranch girls'
toilets were of the same character--French organdies trimmed in Irish
point lace, and big picture hats. The three bridesmaids wore white, and
Jack, pale yellow.

Of course Ruth carried a big loose bunch of white roses and the four
girls yellow ones. Indeed, all the wedding arrangements were perfect in
their simplicity. There was only one possible flaw in the success of the
program and that was the behavior of the bridegroom.

For Jim began by insisting in the early days of the preparations that he
was more than likely to give a cowboy yell of triumph at the conclusion
of the ceremony, and the day of the wedding rehearsal became so nervous
and unreasonable that Frieda decided he would never be able to go
through with the real thing.

Jim did look white as a ghost as he came out into the chancel, supported
by Frank, to wait for Ruth. The English vested choir was chanting, "Oh,
Perfect Love;" the atmosphere of the church was heavy with the odor of
flowers; the light through the old stained glass windows shone dimly
golden.

There was a moment when Jim Colter had a strange and incongruous
sensation. What a queer setting this for _his_ wedding! Surely he would
have felt more at home under a group of tall pines somewhere out in his
western plains or under the roof of one of their homely neighborhood
churches.

[Illustration: RUTH STARTED UP THE AISLE ON LORD KENT'S ARM.]

Nevertheless, when Ruth started up the aisle toward him on Lord Kent's
arm and Jim caught the expression of her face, he did not know or care
about anything else in the world. Frieda always insisted that he never
answered the responses, since not a single sound was she able to hear
fall from his lips. There were other witnesses though, Jack and Frank
for instance, who agreed that the bridegroom did mutter "I will" at the
critical moment after being prompted by the bride. So that Frieda was
finally persuaded to believe that the ceremony was fairly legal.

Back at the castle Ruth had entreated that they need have only the
family to breakfast with them. Mr. and Mrs. Colter were leaving in
little more than an hour for London to take the train to Harwich and
cross on the night boat for Holland, where they meant to spend their
week of honeymoon. And Ruth had also said that she wanted a few quiet
moments alone with each one of the girls.

The marriage was probably as satisfactory a one as had ever taken place,
yet unquestionably the bride and the four Ranch girls were uncommonly
teary all during the wedding feast. Indeed, Frieda actually sniffled
when she drew the thimble from the cake proclaiming that she would be
the old maid of the group, and only recovered when Olive insisted that
some mistake had been made and exchanged the ring for the thimble.

But Jim had entirely regained his spirits, and he and Frank devoted
their best energies toward making the breakfast party as cheerful as
possible. Nevertheless, both Jean and Olive guessed that Frank Kent was
not so gay as he pretended to be. For his brown eyes had a way of
looking grave, even while he was actually laughing. And at least one of
the two girls believed that he had a definite purpose in his mind, which
must be accomplished before the day was past.

By and by Ruth slipped away to her room, asking that Jack be alone with
her for the first five minutes, and then that each one of the other
girls follow in turn, according to age.

Because Jim liked her best in the colors that he had been used to seeing
her wear in the old times at the ranch, Ruth's traveling costume was as
Puritanical a gray as in her most nun-like New England days. But the
hat was a coquettish Parisian creation with a pink rose under the brim.
Besides, Ruth's expression had so changed in the last weeks that there
was no chance of her ever again suggesting an old maid.

She had only taken off her wedding gown, however, when Jack, putting her
arms about her, stooped to kiss her.

"Ruth, dearest," Jack announced, holding the older woman at a little
distance from her, "I want to tell you again that nothing that has ever
happened to me in my whole life had made me so happy as your marriage to
Jim. I know I have always given both of you about twice as much trouble
as the other three of us. Yet I kind of feel it has been made up to you
by having known each other through your coming to teach us at the Lodge.
But I am grown-up now, I think. And this last experience has taught me
more than any of you can guess. If you and Jim can make up your minds to
live on at the old ranch I will try my best never to be a nuisance
again, not if I live to be a hundred years old!"

"Do you expect to live always at Rainbow Lodge, Jack?" Ruth asked,
smiling, but watching Jack's face pretty closely.

Jack nodded. "I don't think I shall dare trust myself again."

But Ruth shook her gently. "That is what I wanted to speak to you about
alone, dear. It was a foolish fancy of mine, wishing to say farewell to
each one of you this way. You must remember how much happiness I have
kept from Jim and myself because of a mistaken idea. Don't repeat it, my
dear. If ever you feel you can care a great deal for any one and that
your love is returned, don't get any silly fancies in your head. Don't
let your one mistake--"

"But, Ruth," Jack interrupted, more seriously than the older woman had
expected, "suppose your foolish fancy happened to be connected with some
one else? Suppose you could only be happy at another's expense! You see,
you never had a rival in Jim's affections."

"And I never would have paid any attention to her if I had," Ruth
replied so emphatically that her companion laughed. "If a man loves a
woman and she loves him, that is the end of it. The third person I am
afraid is the one that must suffer. For can't you see that she must
suffer any way if her affection is not returned!"

There was no thought in Ruth's mind at the present moment that Jack's
words had any special bearing on her own case. For although Ruth and Jim
had suspected Frank's feeling for Jack, their imaginations had gone no
further. Indeed, they were both afraid that the girl had no more than a
passing affection for her former friend.

Ruth now walked over toward her mirror to fasten a diamond brooch in her
dress, which had been the Ranch girls' engagement present.

"I believe our time alone is almost up, and Olive will be appearing in
another moment. But Jim and I have a gift for each one of you which we
want you to keep always if you can in remembrance of our wedding day."

And Jack noticed that there were four jewel cases side by side on Ruth's
bureau, a white, a green, a blue and a scarlet one.

Ruth opened the white one first and clasped a string of pearls about
Jack's throat. Then before the oldest of the Ranch girls could thank
her, she gave her a gentle push toward her bedroom door.

"Go now, Jack, I hear Olive outside. And promise not to let any one shed
a single tear when Jim and I drive away."

Olive flung her arms about the bride with more emotion than Ruth had
ever seen her show. "I wish I could say things like the other girls!"
she exclaimed. "But oh, Ruth, you do understand how grateful I am to you
and Mr. Colter for all you have done for me? Because, however kind the
girls wanted to be, they could not have succeeded without your aid and
Jim's."

"You are as dear as the other girls to me, Olive, I know no difference
between you," Ruth answered, choking a little over Olive's unusual
display of feeling. And as she clasped an emerald chain about her neck
she whispered, "I can hope in return that some day you may be as happy
as I am."

Olive said nothing; only shook her dark head quietly, but before Ruth
could speak again, Jean danced into the room.

"Jack stayed so long there won't be any good by turns for Frieda and
me," she pouted, "unless Olive comes away at once. Jim is already raging
up and down the veranda like a bear, saying that he is sure you will
miss the train."

Jean's gift was a necklace of sapphires set with tiny diamonds in
between. And Ruth had only a chance to kiss her favorite Ranch girl
(for Jean was her favorite, though she would never have admitted it) and
whisper:

"If you don't leave Giovanni alone while we are away, I will make Jim
lock you up alone in your stateroom for the entire voyage home."

Then Frieda, with a slice of wedding cake in her hand, made her
appearance. "I didn't have a chance to eat hardly any at the table," she
defended immediately, answering Jean's teasing glance. "Jim says you
must say what you have to say to me when you get back from your trip,
Ruth; you simply must come on down now right away."

So Ruth had only time to push the scarlet jewel case into the hand
Frieda did not have occupied with cake. And begging her to be a good
baby and not eat too many of Dick's chocolate drops in her absence, she
hurried off to her impatient bridegroom.

Faithfully the four girls kept their promises and not a tear followed
the departing carriage. However, when the last sounds of the wheels had
rolled away they stared at one another as though the world had suddenly
come to an end.

"Well," Frieda remarked, as she held her pretty chain of rubies in her
hand, "I must say I never supposed that Ruth and Jim would ever want to
get married. They _knew_ each other so well. Now take the rest of us.
Nobody would ever want to marry any one of us except a stranger. Jack is
too high-tempered and wants her own way too much, Jean is a perfectly
horrid tease, Olive goes and stays by herself and cries when her
feelings are hurt--"

The day was saved! The three Ranch girls burst into laughter instead of
tears, in which Frank and his sisters, who were standing near, joined.

"And what about you, Frieda Ralston?" Jack demanded, pulling at one of
Frieda's blond curls. "Could anybody ever know you and love you? Tell
us, because a good many times we have felt the strain."

Frieda blushed slightly. "Oh, I suppose I have some faults," she
conceded. "But though I suppose Ruth's wedding has made you forget it, I
would like to mention that I have been cross fewer times than any one of
us on our European trip. Ruth showed me the record and I am to have the
prize when she gets back."

In the face of this evidence there was no chance for a dispute, so
within a few minutes the girls disappeared to their rooms. They were
tired, and each one of them wanted to be alone and to rest in her own
particular way.

To Jacqueline resting meant being out of doors, now that she was strong
again. So within an hour, after the bride and groom's departure, their
maid of honor slipped down the big oak staircase, arrayed in a very
different toilet. She wore a short brown corduroy skirt, leather boots
and leggings, and a soft hat, much the same style of costume that she
had been accustomed to wearing at the Rainbow Ranch.

Five minutes later she was off across the fields on the riding horse
which her host had designated for her especial use during her visit. It
was not a customary thing for an English girl to ride alone;
nevertheless Jack refused the services of the groom. She knew the
English roads and lanes in the neighborhood thoroughly well by this
time. All afternoon she rode, sometimes galloping across an open stretch
of meadow, often walking her horse along a narrow, wild rose-bordered
lane.

The English country was fascinating to Jack, perhaps because of its
utter unlikeness to her own broad, open country. She had been amused at
first by its smallness, its trimness and look of dignified old age. Yet
she had since learned to love the wonderful greenness of the English
landscapes, the quantities of exquisite flowers and trees, such as she
had never seen in her own land.

Certainly the scenery on this special afternoon must have been unusually
fascinating, for suddenly Jack realized that the darkness was coming
down and that she was some distance from the castle. She must not allow
Lord and Lady Kent to become uneasy on account of her absence. Her horse
was comparatively fresh; she would enjoy a hard gallop home.

So Jack paid little attention for the first half mile or so to the sound
of another horse's hoofs pounding after hers. Finally, however, Frank
got within calling distance. "Look here, Jack," he said, "this style of
riding after you reminds me of our first meeting on the Norton ranch.
Remember how you rushed off without allowing me to show you the trail. I
was pretty well out of breath when I caught up with you then, and I am
now."

Jack laughed and slowed her horse down a trifle. "No such thing, Frank;
you look cool as a cucumber. You English people never seem to get upset
and disheveled as Americans do. But it is awfully jolly, Frank, that you
are perfectly strong these days. You used to look pretty sick sometimes
when we first knew you."

"Wyoming gave me two great gifts, Jack; it gave me back my health and it
gave me my love for you."

Frank said this so quietly and so simply that Jack felt she must have
been mistaken. Surely she had not understood him! He ought to have given
her some warning, allowed her a few moments of preparation. She could
never have imagined that a man could declare his love in such a
matter-of-fact tone of voice. Jack hardly knew what to do or say.
Surreptitiously she made a movement of her bridle so that her horse
quickened his pace.

But Frank's hand reached out and caught hold of hers firmly. "You must
not run away from me, Jack," he protested. "For you would not like to
have me ride after you shouting out my love for you for all the
neighborhood to hear. And if you won't listen to me quietly, that is
exactly what I will do. Why is it you have been unwilling to listen,
Jack? If it is only that you don't love me in return, I understand that.
But a girl like you has got to get used to refusing men."

"Oh, Frank," Jack protested, "please don't say such foolish things."

Nevertheless, she slowed down her horse, seeing that Frank was
determined that she should listen this time.

"I have loved you always, Jack, from the first day of meeting you. I
have never cared for any one else. I think it only fair to let you know
that I mean to make you love me in return some day."

Frank's tone was so quiet and so positive that Jack smiled. She was not
accustomed to being spoken to in this fashion, but she was not at all
sure she disliked it.

"Why don't you answer me?" Frank asked a few moments afterwards. "By and
by, when you have gone back to the ranch, I suppose you know I shall
follow you. Will you give me my answer then?"

Just for a moment Jack's face turned the warm, radiant color Jean had
seen there once before. Bending slightly from her horse she took Frank's
hand that was now hanging at his side and an instant held it close.

"Don't think, Frank, I don't appreciate what you have told me, or that I
am so cold and unfeeling, as you seem to think I am. It is only that I
don't know, that there is something I may be mistaken about, that I
can't trust to any one else's judgment except my own. But, Frank dear,
if you think I am worth coming across the water and the land to far off
Wyoming to see, why then, then I shall know what to say."

Frank kissed the hand that had held his the moment before. They were now
riding up the avenue within a short distance of Kent castle.

"There is no land and no water that can divide us, Jack," Frank
answered, "if ever there is a chance of my hearing you say you love me
on the other side."

The fifth and closing volume of the well-known Ranch Girls Series will
be known as "The Ranch Girls at Home Again."

In this volume the love stories of the four girls will be finally
concluded. It will also introduce old and new characters at the Rainbow
Ranch.




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       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Note: Two different copies of this book were searched and
both end in the middle of the final ad.

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 80, "rock" changed to "Rock" (historic Rock)

Page 85, "along side" changed to "alongside" (anchoring alongside the)

Page 166, "chaperone" changed to "chaperon" to match rest of usage
(turned to her chaperon)

Page 201, "to night" changed to "tonight" (theater party tonight)

Advertising page, Harry Castlemon's Books, "the" changed to "The"
(Houseboat Boys, The)






End of Project Gutenberg's The Ranch Girls in Europe, by Margaret Vandercook



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