“You can imagine the exhausted state Aunt Kate and I are in after travelling five weeks with him. We simply struck in Switzerland and sent him on to Italy alone. I had hoped he would meet us in Valedolmo, but we have been detained here longer than we expected, and now he’s rushed off again—where to, goodness only knows; we don’t.
“Anyway, Aunt Kate and I shall land in Valedolmo about the end of the week. I am dying to see you; I have some beautiful news that’s too complicated to write. We’ve engaged rooms at the Hotel du Lac—I hope it’s decent; it’s the only place starred in Baedeker.
“Aunt Kate wishes to be remembered to your father and Miss Hazel.
“P. S. I’m awfully sorry not to bring Jerry; I know you’d adore him.”
She returned the letter to its envelope and looked up.
“Now isn’t that abominable?” she demanded.
“Abominable!” Miss Hazel was scandalized. “My dear, I think it’s delightful.”
“Oh, yes—I mean about Jerry Junior; I’ve been trying for six years to get hold of that man.”
Tony behind them made a sudden movement that let out nearly a yard of rope, and the Farfalla listed heavily to starboard.
“Tony!” Constance threw over her shoulder. “Don’t you know enough to sit still when you are holding the sheet?”
“Scusi,” he murmured. The sulky look had vanished from his face; he wore an expression of alert attention.
“Of course we shall have them at the villa,” said Miss Hazel. “And we shall have to get some new dishes. Elizabetta has already broken so many plates that she has to stop and wash them between courses.”
Constance looked dreamily across the lake; she appeared to be thinking. “I wonder,” she inquired finally, “if Jerry Junior knew we were here in Valedolmo?”
Her father emerged from the columns of his paper.
“Of course he knew it, and having heard what a dangerous young person you were, he said to himself, ‘I’d better keep out.’”
“I wish I knew. It would make the score against him considerably heavier.”
“So there is already a score? I hadn’t supposed that the game had begun.”
She nodded.
“Six years ago—but he doesn’t know it. Yes, Dad,” her tone was melodramatic, “for six years I’ve been waiting for Jerry Junior and planning my revenge. And now, when I have him almost in my grasp, he eludes me again!”
“Dear me!” Mr. Wilder ejaculated. “What did the young man do?”
Had Constance turned she would have found Tony’s face an interesting study. But she knew well enough without looking at him that he was listening to the conversation, and she determined to give him something to listen to. It was a salutary thing for Tony to be kept in mind of the fact that there were other men in the world.
She sighed.
“He was the first man I ever loved, Father, and he spurned me. Do you remember that Christmas when I was in boarding-school and you were called South on business? I wanted to visit Nancy Long, but you wouldn’t let me because you didn’t like her father; and you got Mrs. Jerymn Hilliard whom I had never set eyes on to invite me there? I didn’t want to go, and you said I must, and were perfectly horrid about it—you remember that?”
Mr. Wilder grunted.
“Yes, I see you do. And you remember how, with my usual sweetness, I finally gave way? Well, Dad, you never knew the reason. The Yale Glee Club came to Westfield that year just before the holidays began, and Miss Jane let everybody go to the concert whose deportment had been above eighty—that of course included me.
“Well, we all went, and we all fell in love—in a body—with a sophomore who played the banjo and sang negro songs. He had lovely dark gazelle-like eyes and he sang funny songs without smiling. The whole school raved about him all the way home; we cut his picture out of the program and pasted in the front of our watches. His name, Father—” she paused dramatically, “was Jerymn Hilliard Junior!”
“I sat up half the night writing diplomatic letters to you and Mrs. Hilliard; and the next day when it got around that I was actually going to visit in his house—well, I was the most popular girl in school. I was sixteen years old then; I wore sailor suits and my hair was braided down my back. Probably I did look young; and then Nannie, whom I was supposedly visiting, was only fifteen. There were a lot of cousins in the house besides all the little Hilliards, and what do you think? They made the children eat in the schoolroom! I never saw him until Christmas night; then when we were introduced, he shook my hand in a listless sort of way, said ‘How d’ y’ do?’ and forgot all about me. He went off with the Glee Club the next day, and I only saw him once more.
“We were playing blind man’s buff in the school-room; I had just been caught by the hair. It hurt and I was squealing. Everybody else was clapping and laughing, when suddenly the door burst open and there stood Jerry Junior! He looked straight at me and growled:
“‘What are you kids making such an infernal racket about?’”
She shut her eyes.
“Aunt Hazel, Dad, just think. He was my first love. His picture was at that moment in a locket around my neck. And he called me a kid!”
“And you’ve never seen him since?” Miss Hazel’s smile expressed amused indulgence.
Constance shook her head.
“He’s always been away when I’ve visited Nan—and for six years I’ve been waiting.” She straightened up with an air of determination. “But now, if he’s on the continent of Europe, I’ll get him!”
“And what shall you do with him?” her father mildly inquired.
“Do with him? I’ll make him take it back; I’ll make him eat that word kid!”
“H’m!” said her father. “I hope you’ll get him; he might act as an antidote to some of these officers.”
They had run in under the shadow of the mountain and the keel grated on the shore. Constance raised her eyes and studied the towering crag above their heads; when she lowered them again, her gaze for an instant met Tony’s. There was a new light in his eyes—amusement, triumph, something entirely baffling. He gave her the intangible feeling of having at last got the mastery of the situation.
CHAPTER XI
The sun was setting behind Monte Maggiore, the fishing smacks were coming home, Luigi had long since carried the tea things into the house; but still the two callers lingered on the terrace of Villa Rosa. It was Lieutenant di Ferara’s place to go first since he had come first, and Captain Coroloni doggedly held his post until such time as his junior officer should see fit to take himself off. The captain knew, as well as everyone else at the officer’s mess, that in the end the lieutenant would be the favored man; for he was a son of Count Guido di Ferara of Turin, and titles are at a premium in the American market. But still the marriage contract was not signed yet, and the fact remained that the captain had come last: accordingly he waited.
They had been there fully two hours, and poor Miss Hazel was worn with the strain. She sat nervously on the edge of her chair, and leaned forward with clasped hands listening intently. It required very keen attention to keep the run of either the captain’s or the lieutenant’s English. A few days before she had laughed at what seemed to be a funny story, and had later learned that it was an announcement of the death of the lieutenant’s grandmother. Today she confined her answers to inarticulate murmurs which might be interpreted as either assents or negations as the case required.
Constance however was buoyantly at her ease; she loved nothing better than the excitement of a difficult situation. As she bridged over pauses, and unobtrusively translated from the officer’s English into real English, she at the same time kept a watchful eye on the water. She had her own reasons for wishing to detain the callers until her father’s return.