Lucile Triumphant Part 38

Silently, and as yet unable to comprehend the full extent of what had occurred, the party, which had started out so merrily and under such bright auspices in the morning, returned to their hotel.

Only once did Lucile shake off her preoccupation long enough to ask for M. Charloix.

"Did you find him, Dad? We thought you might have had some trouble, you were so long getting back."

"Oh, it did take more time than we expected, but it was worth the trouble when we did find him." In spite of his anxiety, Mr. Payton's eyes twinkled at the memory.

"But what did he do?" Phil broke in. "How did he take the news?"

"Running, I guess. Before I had half finished explaining to the lawyer, he was off on a dead run for the chateau. Didn't even wait to hear about the will."

"Then he doesn't know yet?" Phil cried.

"Of course he does, silly," said Lucile, with the air of one who knows all there is to know of such matters. "Don't you suppose Jeanette has told him long before this?"

Again Phil retreated gracefully. "Well, you know the lady," he admitted.

The rest of the trip pa.s.sed quickly in visioning the joyful reunion of the two young lovers, and it was not till they were fairly upon the inn that the grim specter of war again intruded itself.

They found the same feverish excitement there as elsewhere, for the newspapers had arrived with the mail and the dire news spread like wildfire.

As Jack took his leave, saying that he had promised his uncle to spend the night with him, but would return the first thing in the morning, uncle and all, to accompany them home, he drew Lucile aside for a moment.

"Mighty hard luck, not seeing the lights, after all," he whispered, "but there may be other times."

"I don't know when we will ever get to Europe again, and there was so much to see yet--Switzerland, and Rome, and--and----" She struggled bravely to choke back the tears of bitter disappointment that rose to her eyes. "I--I don't see--why they had to have an old war--anyway," she sobbed.

For a moment they were alone, and very gently he took her hand in his.

"Don't you worry," he soothed. "Some time, after we get home, perhaps you will come to New York, and then I'll show you Broadway. It's better than anything you can get over here, anyway! Here, I have your handkerchief,"

and he abstracted a filmy little square, all lace and no center, from his pocket and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she said, and smiled uncertainly through her tears. "You must think I'm very childish and foolish--and--everything----"

"Especially the last----"

"Lucile, Lucile, Dad wants to know where you are." It was Phil's voice.

"I'm coming," called Lucile; then, turning to Jack, "Good-by," she murmured, suddenly very reluctant to have him go.

"Until to-morrow," he whispered, and was gone.

CHAPTER XXVI

THROUGH SHROUDING MISTS

To the girls, the week that followed seemed like some vivid, disjointed nightmare. They were hurried from Paris to London and from London to Liverpool, along with crowds of worried, anxious Americans, who, like themselves, were fleeing from the unexpected cataclysm.

After much difficulty, Mr. Payton finally succeeded in securing two staterooms, second cabin, while Jack and his Uncle were lucky enough to get one not very far removed from our party.

"But how are we going to manage with only two cabins for six of us; little ones at that, from your account?" Mrs. Payton protested, in dismay. "Why, the three girls and I will have to occupy one between us!"

"Can't be helped," replied Mr. Payton, and then added, with intense earnestness, "I don't believe that one of you realize yet the magnitude of this tragedy that menaces Europe. If you did, you would thank your lucky stars every minute of the day that you have the chance to leave England for our own blessed country, no matter what the cost or inconvenience. Why, within a month this whole continent will be involved in war. There are people now besieging the booking offices by the hundreds who would be glad and thankful to find room in the steerage. If we had not started when we did, we would be among them."

Lucile s.h.i.+vered. "Oh, Dad, it does make the thought of home seem good,"

she said.

Their s.h.i.+p was to sail at nine o'clock the following morning, and long before the appointed time the girls were up and ready for the voyage.

"What a difference!" mused Lucile, looking wistfully out upon a dreary, leaden prospect. "Even the weather seems to be in sympathy with the country's trouble."

Jessie adjusted her hat soberly and thoughtfully before she spoke. "Yes,"

she said, at last, "one day it's all suns.h.i.+ne and happiness, and the next--oh, girls, I'm absolutely miserable!"

"What good does that do?" queried Evelyn, snapping her bag shut with an air of finality. "Besides, you're only breaking one of the camp-fire's strictest laws, you know."

"Yes; that sounds all right, but it's pretty hard to be cheerful when everything's going wrong," said Jessie, pessimistically. "I don't notice that anybody looks particularly happy these days, anyway."

"That's no reason why we shouldn't be the exception," said Lucile, shaking off the weight of depression with an effort and smiling bravely.

"You never know what you can do till you try."

"Miss Howland always used to say that. We'll see her and the girls soon, anyway, and that's one big consolation," said Jessie, brightening perceptibly.

"Somewhere the sun is s.h.i.+ning," began Lucile.

"Somewhere the world is gay," added Jessie.

Evelyn flung her arms about her friends. "Somewhere the bells are chiming----"

"And that's in the U. S. A.," finished Lucile, and they went down laughing.

Mr. Payton met them at the foot of the stairs, and the frown on his anxious face turned to a smile as he heard the merry laughter.

"It does me good just to look at you," he said, sincerely.

It was their third night out. In accordance with the strict orders of the captain, there were no lights on board, for there might be hostile warcraft lurking near. So the s.h.i.+p stole silently as a ghost through the mists that shrouded her.

Lucile, Jack and Evelyn were leaning against the rail, talking in subdued tones, awed by the grandeur of the drama being enacted before their eyes.

"Your uncle says that people farther inland are having all sorts of trouble trying to get to the coast," said Lucile, "and now I'm beginning to realize the truth of what Dad said about being lucky to get off as we did. Oh, but the cabin is awful!" she sighed, naively.

Jack laughed understandingly. "I guess you must be rather crowded."

"Oh, but we oughtn't to mind anything now that we're out of danger,"

Evelyn broke in.