He shifted uneasily in his seat and shut his mouth tight. In his excitement he had forgotten he was speaking to ladies. “I guess I’m talking too much. I must apologize. But you’ve been so interested that I couldn’t help myself.”
The girls assured him that they had enjoyed his story extremely and begged him to tell them some more of his interesting adventures. But Don was too cautious now to be caught a second time.
Morton now appeared, followed by Mihai. He looked up at the porch and took the situation in at a glance. Don approached his master looking as if he had been caught, like a child in a naughty act. A few whispered words passed between them, and Don walked off without even giving the girls a glance.
“I suppose Donald has been chattering,” remarked Morton as he stepped on to the porch, “he’s a great yarn-spinner and doesn’t know when to stop. I hope he has not bored you.”
“Oh, no—not at all! He was telling us some of the incidents of your life in the desert——” Helène was attempting to shield the fellow.
“A-h—then I guess he’s been sounding my praises. But you must not believe everything he says. He’s a true Yankee, and knows how to drag the long bow. Have you rested?”
Both the girls assured him that they had and that Mr. McCormick had entertained them immensely. Morton smiled, and excusing himself, left them to themselves. The Princess, however, was tired; the bracing air had made her drowsy. She begged Helène to remain while she lay down in her room.
Morton was really disturbed about Don’s chatter; he was afraid he might have spoken of Count Rondell’s illness. He would find out, and warn the man to say nothing about that matter to the Comtesse.
Helène sat for a long time thinking over what she had learned from Don’s narrative. Instead of clearing up the situation it had only aroused in her more questionings. She could not explain Mr. Morton’s presence in Roumelia. Why had he undertaken this mission? It was true that her father had written begging her to place implicit confidence in him—but why this man, this American of all men? Even if it were dangerous for him to come himself, could he not have sent one of his own friends? It was more than she could understand. And yet—and yet—she was glad it had been this man. He was so different from the men she had met. He came from a country where there were neither kings nor nobles and yet, he knew how to command and be obeyed. His father wanted him to be a man first—yes, he was that—the equal to the best she had known. She felt herself blushing at her thoughts. No, no, no, she must not let herself think like this. Rising suddenly she crossed the open space before the cabin, and with quickened steps passed under the firs, to where a rushing stream was frothing its way down a deep gorge.