Ever since his visit to the Homestead he had found his thoughts constantly turning to Aix-les-Bains, and had made up his mind to go on a certain ship, when he accidentally met Fred Thurston, who was stopping in New York for two or three days before sailing. There was an invitation to dinner at the Windsor, and as a result Rex packed his trunk, and, securing a vacant berth, sailed for Havre with the Thurstons a week earlier than he had expected to sail. Fred was sick all the voyage and kept his berth, but Louie seemed perfectly well, and had never been so happy since she was a child playing with Rex under the magnolias in Florida as she was now, walking and talking with him upon the deck, where, with her piquant, childish beauty, she attracted a great deal of attention and provoked some comment from the censorious when it was known that she had a husband sick in his berth. But Louie was guiltless of any intentional wrong-doing. She had said to Bertha in Boston, that she believed Fred was going to die, he was so good; and, with a few exceptions, when the Hyde nature was in the ascendant, he had kept good ever since. He had urged Rex’s going with them quite as strongly as Louie, and when he found himself unable to stay on deck, he had bidden Louie go and enjoy herself, saying, however:
“I know what a flirt you are, but I can trust Rex Hallam, on whom your doll beauty has never made an impression and never will; so go and be happy with him.”
This was not a pleasant thing to say, but it was like Fred Thurston to say it, and he looked curiously at Louie to see how it would affect her. There was a flush on her face for a moment, while the tears sprang to her eyes. But she was of too sunny a disposition to be miserable long, and, thinking to herself, “Just for this one week I will be happy,” she tied on her pretty sea-cloak and hood, and went on deck, and was happy as a child when something it has lost and mourned is found again. At Paris they separated, the Thurstons going on to Switzerland, and Rex to Aix-les-Bains, laden with messages of love to Bertha, who had been the principal subject of Louie’s talk during the voyage. In a burst of confidence Rex had told her of Rose Arabella Jefferson’s photograph, and Louie had laughed merrily over the mistake, saying:
“You will find Bertha handsomer than her picture. I think you will fall in love with her; and—if—you—do——” she spoke the last words very slowly, while shadow after shadow flitted over her face as if she were fighting some battle with herself; then, with a bright smile, she added, “I shall be glad.”
Rex’s journey from Paris to Aix was accomplished without any worse mishap than a detention of the train for three hours or more, so that it was not until his aunt had been gone some time that he reached the hotel, where he was told that Mrs. Hallam and party were at the Casino.
“I suppose she has a salon. I will go there and wait till she returns,” Rex said, and then followed a servant up-stairs and along the hall in the direction of the salon.
He had expected to find it locked, and was rather surprised when he saw the open door and the light inside, and still more surprised as he entered the room to find a young lady so fast asleep that his coming did not disturb her. He readily guessed who she was, and for a moment stood looking at her admiringly, noting every point of beauty from the long lashes shading her cheeks to the white hand resting upon the arm of the chair.
“Phineas was right. She is handsome as blazes, but I don’t think it is quite the thing for me to stand staring at her this way. It is taking an unfair advantage of her. I must present myself properly,” he thought, and, stepping into the hall, he knocked rather loudly upon the door.
Bertha awoke with a start and sprang to her feet in some alarm as, in response to her “Entrez,” a tall young man stepped into the room and stood confronting her with a good deal of assurance.
“You must have made a mistake, sir. This is Mrs. Hallam’s salon,” she said, rather haughtily, while Rex replied: