Graustark. George Barr McCutcheon

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СКАЧАТЬ the mountain, the plain and the sky. There are homes in the valley, homes on the mountain side and homes in the clouds.”

      “And yours? From what you say it must be above the clouds—in heaven.”

      “We are farthest from the clouds, for we live in the green valley, shaded by the white topped mountains. We may, in Edelweiss, have what climate we will. Doctors do not send us on long journeys for our health. They tell us to move up or down the mountain. We have balmy spring, glorious summer, refreshing autumn and chilly winter, just as we like.”

      “Ideal! I think you must be pretty well toward the south. You could not have July and January if you were far north.”

      “True; yet we have January in July. Study your map. We are discernible to the naked eye,” she said, half ironically.

      “I care not if there are but three inhabitants Graustark, all told, it is certainly worthy of a position on any map,” said Lorry, gallantly; and his listeners applauded with patriotic appreciation. “By the way, Mr. Gug—Guggenslocker, you say the conductor asked you for my name and you did not know it. May I ask how you learned it later on?” His curiosity got the better of him, and his courage was increased by the champagne the old gentleman had ordered.

      “I did not know your name until my niece told it to me after your arrival in the carriage,” said Uncle Caspar.

      “I don't remember giving it to Miss Guggenslocker at any time,” said Lorry.

      “You were not my informant,” she said, demurely.

      “Surely you did not guess it.”

      “Oh, no, indeed. I am no mind reader.”

      “My own name was the last thing you could have read in my mind, in that event, for I have not thought of it in three days.”

      She was sitting with her elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, a dreamy look in her blue eyes.

      “You say you obtained that coin from the porter on the Denver train?”

      “Within two hours after I got aboard.”

      “Well, that coin purchased your name for me,” she said, calmly, candidly. He gasped.

      “You—you don't mean that you—” he stammered.

      “You see, Mr. Lorry, I wanted to know the name of a man who came nearest my ideal of what an American should be. As soon as I saw you I knew that you were the American as I had grown to know him through the books—big, strong, bold and comely. That is why I bought your name of the porter. I shall always say that I know the name of an ideal American—Grenfall Lorry.”

      The ideal American was not unmoved. He was in a fever of fear and happiness—fear because he thought she was jesting, happiness because he hoped she was not. He laughed awkwardly, absolutely unable to express himself in words. Her frank statement staggered him almost beyond the power of recovery.

      There was joy in the knowledge that she had been attracted to him at first sight, but there was bitterness in the thought that he had come to her notice as a sort of specimen, the name of which she had sought as a botanist would look for the name of an unknown flower.

      “I—I am honored,” he at last managed to say, his eyes gleaming with embarrassment. “I trust you have not found your first judgment a faulty one.” He felt very foolish after this flat remark.

      “I have remembered your name,” she said, graciously. His heart swelled.

      “There are a great many better Americans than I,” he said. “You forget our president and our statesmen.”

      “I thought they were mere politicians.”

      Grenfall Lorry, idealized, retired to his berth that night, his head whirling with the emotions inspired by this strange, beautiful woman. How lovely, how charming, how naive, how queenly, how indifferent, how warm, how cold—how everything that puzzled him was she. His last waking thought was:

      “Guggenslocker! An angel with a name like that!”

IV. THE INVITATION EXTENDED

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      They were called by the porter early the next morning. The train was pulling into Washington, five hours late. Grenfall wondered, as he dressed, whether fortune would permit him to see much of her during her brief day in the capital. He dreamed of a drive over the avenues, a trip to the monument, a visit to the halls of congress, an inspection of public buildings, a dinner at his mother's home, luncheon at the Ebbitt, and other attentions which might give to him every moment of her day in Washington. But even as he dreamed, he was certain that his hopes could not be gratified.

      After the train had come to a standstill he could hear the rustle of her garments in the next compartment. Then he heard her sweep into the passage, greet her uncle and aunt, utter a few commands to the maid, and, while he was adjusting his collar and necktie, pass from the car. No man ever made quicker time in dressing than did Lorry. She could hardly have believed him ideal had she seen his scowling face or heard the words that hissed through his impatient teeth.

      “She'll get away, and that'll be the end of it,” he growled, seizing his traps and rushing from the train two minutes after her departure. The porter attempted to relieve him of his bags on the platform, but he brushed him aside and was off toward the station.

      “Nice time for you, to call a man, you idiot,” was his parting shot for the porter, forgetting of course, that the foreigners had been called at the same time. With eyes intent on the crowd ahead, he plunged along, seeing nobody in his disappointed flight. “I'll never forgive myself if I miss her,” he was wailing to himself. She was not to be seen in the waiting rooms, so he rushed to the sidewalk.

      “Baggage transferred?”

      “Cab, sir?”

      “Go to the devil—yes, here! Take these traps and these checks and rush my stuff to No.——, W—— Avenue. Trunks just in on B.& O.,” he cried, tossing his burdens to a transfer man and giving him the checks so quickly that the fellow's sleepy eyes opened wider than they had been for a month. Relieved of his impedimenta, he returned to the station.

      “Good morning, Mr. Lorry. Are you in too much of a hurry to see your friends?” cried a clear, musical voice, and he stopped as if shot. The anxious frown flew from his brow and was succeeded instantaneously by a glad smile. He wheeled and beheld her, with Aunt Yvonne, standing near the main entrance to the station. “Why, good morning,” he exclaimed, extending his hand gladly. To his amazement she drew herself up haughtily and ignored the proffered hand. Only for a brief second did this strange and uncalled—for hauteur obtain. A bright smile swept over her face, and her repentant fingers sought his timidly, even awkwardly. Something told him that she was not accustomed to handshaking; that same something impelled him to bend low and touch the gloved fingers with his lips. He straightened, with face flushed, half fearful lest his act had been observed by curious loungers, and he had taken a liberty in a public place which could not be condoned. But she smiled serenely, approvingly. There was not the faintest sign of embarrassment or confusion in the lovely СКАЧАТЬ