“Do you have many visitors belonging to the nobility?” asked Mrs. Thornton, evidently inclined to change the conversation from its personal trend.
“Oh, lots of ’em! There’s a Spanish count and an Italian prince stopping up at the Gonzales place now. The Italian has been there some time, making himself solid with the señorita, I reckon. And we are expecting a party this week, Baron Von Boodle, or some such name, with his friends”—here the baron rose abruptly and walked out of the saloon—“at least Mr. Morning telegraphed the captain from San Diego that when this party arrived he meant to run over here and make his first visit to Castle Dome, which will be an event, for, after all the millions of money he has spent on the place, he has never been near it, and everybody is wondering at it.”
After a night’s rest at the great Rio Colorado Hotel, built upon the bluff at Yuma, the party had made an early start, and had been on board the Undine for some time before the line was thrown in and the steamer began to move.
The steward bustled away, and the baroness rose, with a deep breath of relief, and walked to the mirror. It may have been observed of many women that any new or sudden sensation or condition or emotion suggests a looking-glass. Not that they see or are thinking of themselves, but they seem thus best able to collect their thoughts. So it was with this woman, only that now she did observe two very bright eyes and a radiant face, with the swift blood coursing back from her cheeks, across the smooth white surface of her neck, to the closely-defined growth of hair—that oracle of beauty which no ugly woman ever wore, whatever her features. She turned quickly away, and, following the doctor and her father, the three ladies went out to view the scenery.
“You observe this bend in the river,” a voice was saying, “where many a poor fellow has gone to his death, for there swoops the most fatal pool of eddies, perhaps, to be found in the whole channel of these whimsical waters.”
The baroness turned to look for the speaker, whose voice seemed familiar, and there, under the shade of the awning, in full silhouette, looking in the face of her husband, with whom he was pleasantly conversing, stood David Morning.
Her first thought was to retreat to the saloon and wait for him to present himself, but as his swift eye swept the deck, he caught sight of her face, and came quickly over, followed by the baron, saying, as he cordially took her hand, and held it closely for a long time, “I enjoy one advantage over you, baron, my acquaintance with the baroness dates back of yours. I hope she has not forgotten me.”
The woman made no reply to this remark; she simply said, “How do you do, Mr. Morning,” and presented him to her friends.
The brief trip up the river among the cliffs and cascades and whirlpools and caves and cañons and towering cathedral rocks, furnished prolific and auspicious topics for conversation, but it need not be said that neither the baroness nor Mr. Morning knew altogether what they were talking about. She could not fail to see the pupils of his sea-grey eyes grow very large when he looked at her, and he in turn observed that she scarcely looked at him at all.
The professor talked a little dryly at first, and Mrs. Thornton sat apart, evidently nursing her chagrin, for Mr. Morning was at this moment not only the wealthiest but the most famous and powerful man in all the world, and, had he sought it, could have obtained orders of high nobility from every crowned head in Europe. The baron, who would have seen “Helen’s beauty in a brow of Egypt,” if that brow possessed the attribute of Midas, looked at the situation from an altogether different standpoint, and was thinking at what period of the new-formed acquaintance it would be prudent to ask the loan of a few, or, possibly, more than a few, thousand pounds.