THE WEAVER—FATE!
Even in the midst of his happiness John Craig has not forgotten the one important fact that brought him to Algiers.
While he can devote himself to laying a plan for the accomplishment of a certain object, and with the assistance of Lady Ruth arrange to surprise Sir Lionel Blunt, he is at the same time anxiously awaiting news.
Will old Ben Taleb carry out his promise? The heart of the young man beats high with hope.
Unconscious of a great surprise in store for him, John enters the hotel with Lady Ruth.
"A gentleman in the parlor to see you, sir."
John's face flashes; the instantaneous thought flashes into his mind that a messenger has at length come from the Moorish doctor.
He enters.
His eyes are dazzled a little by the glare of the sun on white buildings, and the room is dim. A man's figure advances toward him. Surely that step is familiar. Good heavens, what a shock comes upon him!
"Father!"
"John, my boy!"
He has believed this father to be at the other side of the world. He is surprised at the warmth of the greeting he receives. Really, this is quite unlike the proud man John has known all his life, a man who seemed to ever surround himself with a wall of coldness.
A sudden shock runs through John's frame. It is as if he has been given the negative and positive ends of a battery. He believes that his mother is here, in this city. Can that have anything to do with his father's coming?
A feeling of resentment springs up, then dies away as he gets a good look at his parent's face.
"Father, what has happened? Have you failed; has any disaster come upon us?"
"Why do you ask that, John?"
"Your face; it is changed so. I miss something I have been accustomed to see there."
Duncan Craig smiles.
"Ah! John, my boy, please Heaven, I am changed. I have been humbled in the dust, and I believe I have emerged from the furnace, I trust, a far better man."
John is puzzled. He cannot make out what has caused this humbling on the part of his proud paternal ancestor, nor is he able to hazard a guess as to the effect it may have upon his fortunes.
Craig, Sr., does not explain what brings him to Algiers at this particular time, but immediately starts asking questions regarding the scenes John has gazed upon since leaving the German college of medicine where he received his graduation diploma.
While they are yet talking, who should appear on the scene but Lady Ruth.
"You carried off my fan, John, and I wanted to mend it while I had the chance. Oh! I beg your pardon; I did not know you were engaged. The clerk told me you were in here, but—"
John has eagerly darted forward and has hold of the fair girl's arm.
"I want to introduce some one to you, some one you would see sooner or later. Sir, this is Lady Ruth Stanhope, a young lady to whom I have lost my heart, and my promised wife."
"What!" exclaimed Craig, Sr., "bless my soul, you're only a boy, John."
"Twenty-three, sir," promptly.
"Yes, you're right. Time flies. You've given me quite a little shock, but, by Jove! I'm already favorably impressed with your taste. Will you allow me the privilege of a kiss, my dear?"
"Sir!" indignantly, for in the dim light she does not see that his mustache is snow-white, as is also his hair.
Her tragic attitude rather alarms John.
"Ruth, it's my father!" he cries.
This alters the case.
"Your father! Oh! John, has he—" She sees the warning finger her betrothed raises up, and stops suddenly, for she has been about to say something relative to the presence of Sister Magdalen in the city.
The elder Craig raises the shade, and in the new light Lady Ruth sees a remarkably handsome man of middle age, even distinguished in his manner.
Then he is John's father, too, and that makes quite a difference. She approaches, with hand extended.
"Forgive me, sir. I did not dream John's father was within five thousand miles of Algiers."
"And if you have agreed to be my only boy's wife you must be my daughter, too."
This time he bestows a paternal salute upon her velvety cheek. Possibly Lady Ruth is ready to believe she is entering the Craig family very rapidly; but with a woman's idea of the eternal fitness of small things, she feels very much pleased to know that her future father-in-law is such a distinguished-looking gentleman.
As is proper, she excuses herself, and leaves the room. Doubtless father and son have much to talk over.
When John finds himself alone with the parent for whom he has ever felt the greatest respect without deep filial affection, he grows anxious again.
What can have brought the other across the sea at this particular time? Is it connected with the facts he cherishes; the presence of this other one in Algiers? and if so, what does Duncan Craig mean to do; cut him off with a penny because he has dared allow the longing in his heart to have its way, and has endeavored to find the mother so long lost?
When he steals another look at the elder Craig's face, he cannot see that there is anything like deep anger there, and yet John admits that he is not a good hand at analyzing motives.
He dares not mention the matter himself, and is therefore bound to wait until his respected father speaks, if he does so at all.
Craig, Sr., talks of his trip, declares he is delighted with the glimpse he has had of Algiers, and wonders how it would pay a good doctor to settle down there for the winter months; at which John declares it would just suit him.
Then the other drops a gentle clew to his late movements by asking John which arm it was upon which he was recently vaccinated, which is a puzzler to the young fellow until the name of Malta is mentioned, when he cries:
"Were you at Valetta, father?"
"I reached there two days after you left. Bless me, the whole town was still talking over a brave deed that had recently saved a child's life."
"Nonsense!"
"Well, it pleased me when I heard the name of the young man who saved the child at the risk of his own life. I was proud to know I was his father."
Still no mention of the real cause that has brought him so far from home. John is baffled.
His recent happiness is dimmed a little, and he has an uneasy feeling as though the unknown were about to happen; a weight rests upon his heart.
A strange thing occurs. Sir Lionel passes the door, and immediately Craig, Sr., is taken with a spasm of fury. He acts as if to start to rush out, then faces his son. John sees his father's face for the first time convulsed with fury.
"Do you know that man?" he demands.
"Certainly."
"Is his name Blunt?"
"Yes, sir."
"I thought I could not be mistaken. There is something singular that brings him here at this time. John, is this Reginald Blunt a particular friend of yours?"
"Why, no, sir, in fact, he was my rival for the hand of Ruth Stanhope. But you call him Reginald; this is Sir Lionel Blunt, a colonel from India and the south of Africa."
"Then I made a mistake. It is his cousin. Yet I knew the face; I knew the face."
Again John wonders.
"Did a Blunt ever do you a wrong, father?"
"Yes, I have believed so these many years; have been ready to stake my very life upon it; and yet, and yet. Heaven forgive me for what wicked thoughts I have hugged to my heart."
These words arouse a wild hope in the mind of John Craig. Can it be possible his father has after all these years seen light?
The idea is so wonderful that, although hope causes his heart to beat like a trip-hammer, he remains silent. When the time comes, Craig, Sr., will speak; he knows this of old.
Later on, when John finds himself alone, he begins to think again of the little scheme he has decided to work, for the edification of himself and the future good of Sir Lionel Blunt—ditto Mademoiselle Pauline, the tragedy queen.
It must be well carried out to produce the intended effect, for these are more than ordinarily sensible people and might resent the interference of outsiders in their private affairs.
Whatever happens must not appear to have been prearranged, but be purely accidental.
Perhaps success may come; it is worth an effort at any rate.
John fears more than ever lest Pauline, in the bitterness of her anger, attempt some injury toward the girl he loves and who has made the sweet confession that he is very dear to her.
This causes him much more uneasiness than anything else ever did. He can feel afraid for the safety of Ruth where he would not dream of allowing the sensation on his own account.
Hence his anxiety to mature his plans and clear the path ahead.
In the perfected work he believes he can count on the assistance of Mustapha Cadi. The Arab guide has already proved himself so valuable a man that John is ready to trust him with nearly anything.
So he waits to hear of some message from the old Moorish doctor, and while waiting begins to arrange in his mind the plans for a future campaign.
Pauline is still at the hotel, for he has had a glimpse of her. The actress does not seem very much discouraged by the disasters of the past. She smiles on meeting John, and nods in a cheery way, as though giving him to understand that she is not done with him yet. He feels that he can afford to meet her in the same spirit, although anxious about his Ruth.
Fortune favors him, too.
The British nobleman happens to be standing near as Pauline sweeps past, and as is her professional habit she gives him a bright look, that somehow starts the blood to bounding in the veteran's veins.
He approaches John.
"Pardon me, but did you bow to that lady, my dear doctor?"
John admits that he did, though careful not to show any unusual eagerness about it.
"May I ask who she is?"
"Come! this is rather singular."
"What is?"
"Why, truth to tell, I believe the lady is already interested in you."
"In me?"
Sir Lionel at once puffs out a little, as though feeling consequential. It is gratifying to his conceit to hear that this beautiful being has actually taken notice of him.
"Well, it would not be right for me to say more," continues the diplomatic young man, and this increases the curiosity of the soldier.
"Who is she, doctor?"
"One of the most noted beauties on the American stage," replies John.
"An actress?"
"Yes, and a clever one; very popular in the States, and highly respected. Why, she set half the young men in Chicago wild a year or two ago."
"Including yourself, doctor?" slyly.
"I acknowledge the corn, Sir Lionel. Young men have no show to win her favor."
"Indeed."
"She prefers a gentleman of middle age. A man who has seen life and had varied experiences."
"Wise girl."
"In short, Sir Lionel, Pauline Potter is an admirer of bravery; she adores a soldier who has won his spurs."
"Ahem! Pauline is a favorite name of mine. I've read of her triumphs, too. She was out in Melbourne two years or more ago and carried the town by storm."
"That is a fact."
"Duse take it, d'ye know what I've half a mind to do?"
"What's that, Sir Lionel?" asks John, with a very sober face, but secretly chuckling at the success that is meeting him half-way. Why, he has hardly dug his pit before the baronet comes tumbling into it.
"I've a good notion to strike up a flirtation with Mademoiselle Pauline, to relieve the tedium of the hours. Who knows what result it might have?" thinking that perhaps such a move might arouse a feeling of jealousy in Lady Ruth's heart, and thus disclose to herself the state of her feelings.
"Who knows, indeed? Be careful, Sir Lionel. Pauline is a bewitching creature. She may add your heart to her list of conquests."
"Well, if I entered the lists, I'd give as good as I received," complacently stroking his luxuriant mustache.
"Jove! I really believe you would. And I'm human enough, having adored the bright star in vain, to wish that some one else might cause the beautiful Pauline to feel some of the pangs she gave us. If the notion strikes you, colonel, I wish you success."
Then John immediately branches out upon another subject.
The seed is sown. It will require a little time to germinate, and then perhaps the result may prove satisfactory.
So much for a beginning.
When John finds himself alone, he sets to work trying to kindle a counter irritant, a congenial flame that will burn in the heart of the actress.
Securing a beautiful bouquet of flowers he fastens to them a card upon which he has written in a hand somewhat like the bold chirography of the veteran, the words:
"A compliment to beauty and histrionic renown."
This he first shows to Lady Ruth.
Then a servant is hired to take it to the room of Pauline Potter, and he is to utterly refuse any information beyond the fact that a gentleman paid him to do it.
Of course this will excite the curiosity of the actress, and further developments may soon be expected.
John, in a secure corner, waits, nor does he have long to watch before Pauline appears, going straight to the desk where lies the ponderous tome in which have registered men of note from all over the world.
She is looking for a signature that will in some degree at least correspond with the writing of the note found among the flowers. Only a few minutes she remains there, and then turning away, gives the watchful John a chance to see the smile on her face.
Pauline has, as she believes, discovered the identity of the unknown who sent the flowers.
The little side plot works apace, since each of them already feels an interest in the other. The flame being kindled, the fire will grow of its own accord.
He believes he can turn his attention to other things if necessary.
The remainder of the day is put in with sight-seeing. John notes one thing. Sir Lionel leaves them after a time and saunters back to the hotel. When this occurs, Lady Ruth and the doctor exchange significant looks. They understand that already the seed is beginning to sprout, and the absence of the Englishman is a positive relief to them.
Duncan Craig accompanies the party. Aunt Gwen has already taken a great fancy to the gentleman, and makes it as pleasant for him as possible.
John tries to study his father in secret, but finds it a hard task.
Craig, Sr., is a lawyer of repute in Chicago, a man with a large income. He has been called a Sphinx, and well deserves the cognomen, for no man shows less upon his face the emotions of his heart.
Only in debate, and when addressing a jury that hangs breathlessly upon his words, does he drop the mask and show what fire is in his soul.
So John, as in times of old, is unable to fathom the depths of his father's thoughts.
He is wretched, not knowing whether the coming of Craig, Sr., will influence his mission for good or evil.
And still the expected message from Ben Taleb does not come.
Once more evening vails day's splendor, and another night approaches, a night that John hopes will make a change in this monotonous run of luck, and bring him news.
Imagine his astonishment and secret delight when an open carriage stops at the door of the hotel, and as he glances at the elegant couple seated therein discovers Sir Lionel and the Potter.
It almost takes his breath away.
"Well, he is a hurricane in love, I declare. If he fought in the same way, the Victoria cross wouldn't be enough to decorate him. Jove! they already are dead set, each with the other. That was the cleverest piece of business I ever attempted. If success comes, I'll have to set up as a match-maker."
How gallantly Sir Lionel assists the lovely actress from the vehicle, as if he expects that the whole town may be watching.
Doubtless his actions are in part studied with a view to the effect upon a certain person, nameless, who must assuredly be looking from her chamber window above.
In that case he is apt to go too far, and soon find himself in the wiles of Pauline, who, accustomed to playing with men as one might the pieces on a chess-board, would have little trouble in manipulating one Englishman, fresh from the wilds of South Africa.
So John rests on his oars and waits for the chance to come; and the unseen hand that weaves the fabric of their lives, manipulates the shuttle through the woof.