“I am not a card man now,” he thought, as he said to a servant, “Tell Mrs. Prescott that Mr. Rayborne wishes to see her,” and then sat down to try to quiet his nerves which tingled as if red hot lead was pouring through them.
It was years since he parted from Helen in bitter anger, but he was not thinking of that time now. His thoughts were back in Ridgefield and the summer morning when he saw her on the north piazza and fell under the spell of her wonderful eyes. He could see the mischief in them now as they had looked when she said to Uncle Zach “Which is Mark and which is Craig? You did not tell me.” He could see Craig dropping his straw into his tumbler of lemonade as he sprang up to meet her and himself knocking his head against Craig’s as each seized the same chair for her. He remembered, too, the rose in her ribbons and knew that somewhere among his belongings the faded leaves and dried calyx were hidden away. It was strange how every detail of that morning came back to him as he sat waiting the return of the servant, who, when he came, said to him, “The lady will see you. Second floor, No. —, to the right.”
CHAPTER XI.
MARK AND HELEN.
Mrs. Prescott had nearly recovered from the fright of the previous day, but had not felt equal to joining the party to the Big Trees. She seldom joined any party. Her room was comfortable and she preferred to stay in it, and when Mark’s message was brought to her she was sitting by her window watching some people who had just arrived.
“Mr. Rayborne?” she repeated. “Who is he? I know no such man.”
“He is the father of the young lady who saved the coach yesterday,” the servant replied.
“Oh, yes, I remember now. Show him up,” Mrs. Prescott said, with a feeling of annoyance that she was to be bothered with so commonplace a man as Mr. Rayborne must be.
As she had been in her room all the morning she had not heard of Inez’s illness and really had not thought much about her, as the loss of her diamonds was uppermost in her mind. Of course she was grateful to her for what she had done and by and by when she felt equal to it she meant to write her a note and tell her so. She had contributed generously towards the watch to be bought for her and should make her some present on her own account. This she thought quite sufficient without a call from the father. Then it occurred to her that he might have come with some news of the diamonds, or at least he could be of use in finding them, and she was more willing to see him.
“I wonder what kind of man he is,” she thought. “Rough, of course, though they said he was well educated and very gentlemanly for a guide,” and immediately her old nature began to assert itself.
There was enough of coquetry left in her to wish to look her best before any man. Going to the glass she pulled down her frizzes a little more in order to cover some rather deep lines in her forehead,—straightened her collar, pinched her cheeks to bring more color to them,—threw a fleecy white shawl over her shoulders and sat down with her back to the door. The carriage was now driving away and she was still watching it, when a voice she had never forgotten and which made her start from her chair, said to her “Helen.”