Hence, it followed that in a spirit of sheer comradeship and sympathy he kept an eye on Power during the next few days. He saw how matters were tending, and risked a rebuff in offering a friendly hint when disaster was imminent. Above all—whether for good or evil who can judge? at any rate, the writer of this record of a man’s life feels least qualified to decide the point—he brought a dominating influence to bear at a moment when Power was adrift in a maelstrom which threatened to engulf him.
Yet there was slight sign of impending tempest in that bright room with its groups of diners seemingly well content with their surroundings. From the adjoining table, which Power could not see owing to the position he occupied, came gusts of animated conversation. Mrs. Van Ralten rejoiced in the loud, penetrating accents of the Middle West, and snatches of her talk were audible.
“I do think James Gordon might have provided a more stylish Casino while he was about it.”
“Yes, I sail on the Teutonic first week in August. Nothing will keep Willie away from the moors on the Twelfth.”
“Did I see them? My dear, who could miss them? Has anyone ever met such freaks outside a dime museum?”
“Why, Nancy, I don’t wonder a little bit that you were such a success in Paris. The nice things I was told about you turned me green with envy.”
Alabama hotly contested each milestone of the Mason and Dixon Line; but Dacre believed that Power was less intent on the color problem than on catching each syllable of a sweet voice seldom heard above the clatter of tongues at the next table. At last the meal was ended, and the men strolled out into the veranda. Mrs. Marten seemed to know when her friend had risen; she turned and waved a hand, and obviously explained her action in the next breath. Soon she appeared, a radiant being fully in keeping with moonlight and a garden of exotics.
“Mary Van Ralten is a duck,” she said joyously, when Power hurried forward. “She has given me half an hour; but I mustn’t be a minute later, as she has turned out of her own house to accommodate the Barnstormers from Boston, who are acting for her guests tonight. All Newport will be there. You are coming, Derry. I asked her, and will introduce you afterward. My carriage will wait. But, gracious me, why are you lame?”
He was leading her to a couple of reserved chairs in a palm-shaded nook, and she noticed that he walked with a limp.
“Happened an accident near the mine quite a time since,” he said.