Robert Kimberly Part 5

She had heard for years, since girlhood, indeed, of the house of Kimberly. Her own father's struggle through life had been in the line of their business, and the name of the Kimberlys could not but be haloed wherever refiners discussed their affairs. Moreover, at the moment her own husband was seeking, and with prospects of success, an alliance with them.

Yet in a moment she found it all very easy. Kimberly's manner as he met her was simplicity itself. His words were few and did not confuse her, yet they were sufficient to relieve the necessity of any effort on her part to avoid embarra.s.sing pauses. She only noticed that the others rather waited for Kimberly to speak; giving him a chance to say without interruption whatever he pleased to say. Beyond this, that the conversation was now reserved for herself and Kimberly, she was at ease and wondered why she had been a little afraid of him. The surprise was that he was younger than she had supposed. She began to wonder that his name should at times command so much of the public interest. Nor could any but those who knew him have realized that under his restraint Alice was experiencing his most gracious manner.

But those who did know him saw instantly how interested he was in her youth and inexperience. Her cheeks were already flooded with pink, as if she realized she must do her best to please and was conscious that she was not wholly failing. Timidity reflected itself in her answers, yet this was no more than an involuntary compliment, pleasing in itself.

And whenever possible, Alice took refuge from the brother's more direct questions by appealing to his sister Dolly. Kimberly was diverted to see her seek escape in this fas.h.i.+on from his directness.

She expressed presently her admiration for the decorations at the Casino and the talk turned upon the Hawaiian singers; from them to Hawaii and Honolulu. Word at that moment came from the music room that the singing was beginning. Kimberly without any sign of giving up Alice, followed Dolly and her husband down the hall to where the guests were gathering.

The group paused near the foot of the stairs. Alice asked an explanation of the chant that they had heard at the Casino and Kimberly interpreted the rhythm for her. "But I should have thought," he added, "you would be familiar with it."

"Why so?"

"Because you have been at the Islands."

"Pray, how did you know that?"

"By your p.r.o.nunciations."

"Ah, I see. But I was there only once, when I was quite young, with my father."

"And yet you have no lei to-night? That is hardly loyal, is it?"

"We came late and they had all been given out, I suppose."

"I have one in reserve. You must show your good-will to the musicians.

Permit me." He turned with dignity to the console where he had so unceremoniously discarded his own lei and picked the garland up to lay it upon Alice's shoulders.

"But Robert," Fritzie cried, "you mustn't! That is a rose lei."

"What is the difference?" asked Kimberly.

"There's a superst.i.tion, you know, about a rose lei."

"Mercy, what is it?" demanded Alice, pink and smiling.

"If a man gives you a rose lei you must marry him or you will die."

"Fortunately," remarked Kimberly, lifting the decoration quickly above Alice's head and placing it without hesitation on her shoulders, "neither Mrs. MacBirney nor I are superst.i.tious. And the roses harmonize perfectly with your gown, Mrs. MacBirney. Don't you love the Islands?"

"I've always wanted to go back to them to stay. I don't think if I had my choice I should ever leave them."

"Neither should I. We must get up a party and have a yacht meet us in San Francisco for the trip. This fall would be a good time to get away."

His decisive manner was almost startling; the trip seemed already under way. And his mannerisms were interesting. A certain halting confidence a.s.serted itself under the affected indifference of his utterance.

Whatever he proposed seemed as easy as if done. He carried his chin somewhat low and it gave a dogmatism to his words. While he seemed to avoid using them obtrusively, his eyes, penetrating and set under the straight heavy brows which contracted easily, were a barometer from which it was possible to read his intent.

"You have been frequently at the Islands?" returned Alice.

"Years ago I knew them very well."

"Father and I," Alice went on, "spent a month at Honolulu." And again the softness of her long vowels fell agreeably on Kimberly's ear. Her voice, he thought, certainly was pretty. "It is like a paradise. But they have their sorrows, do they not? I remember one evening," Alice turned toward Fritzie to recount the incident, "just at the sunset of a rarely perfect day. We were walking along the street, when we heard the most piercing cries from a little weeping company of women and children who were coming down the esplanade. In front of them walked a man all alone--he was a leper. They were taking him away from his family to be sent to Molokai. It was the most distressing thing I ever saw." She turned to Kimberly. "You have never been at Molokai?"

"I have cruised more or less around it. Do you remember the windward cliffs just above the leper settlement? They are superb from the sea.

We put in once at Kalawao for a night and I called on the priest in charge of the mission."

"It must have been very, very dreadful."

"Though like all dreadful places, disappointing at first; nothing, apparently, to inspire horror. But after we had breakfasted with the priest in the morning, we went around with him to see his people."

Kimberly's chin sank and his eyes closed an instant as he moved his head. "I remember," he added slowly, "a freezing up around the heart before we had gone very far." Then he dismissed the recollection. "The attendant at home who takes care of my uncle--Francis--" he continued, "had a brother in the leper missions. He died at Molokai. Francis has always wanted to go there."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Kimberly placed it without hesitation on her shoulders]

The conversation waited a few moments on the singing. "Miss Venable tells me," said Alice, presently, "these singers always come out to sing for you when they visit this country."

"I have met most of them at one time or another in Hawaii. You know they are the gentlest, most grateful people in the world. Sha'n't we have some refreshment, Mrs. MacBirney?"

CHAPTER IV

"I am hoping it will all be settled satisfactorily soon," said Dolly De Castro to Alice one afternoon a few weeks afterward. She had invited Alice out from town for a fortnight at Black Rock while MacBirney, with McCrea and the active partners of the Kimberly interests were working on the negotiations for the purchase of the MacBirney factories.

"And when it is settled, I can congratulate you, I think, my dear, most sincerely on any issue that a.s.sociates your husband and his interests with those of my brothers."

"Indeed, I realize that it would be a matter for congratulation, Mrs. De Castro. I hope if they do come to terms, your brothers will find Mr.

MacBirney's Western acquaintance and experience of some value. I am sorry you haven't seen more of my husband----"

"I understand perfectly how engaged he has been."

"He is an unceasing worker. I told him yesterday, when he was leaving home, that Mrs. De Castro would think I had no husband."

"Then," continued Dolly, pursuing her topic, "if you can secure the little Cedar Lodge estate on the west sh.o.r.e--and I think it can be arranged--you will be very comfortable."

Dolly had suggested a drive around the lake, and as she made an admirable guide Alice looked forward with interest to the trip. If it should be objected that Dolly was not a good conversationalist, it could be maintained that she was a fascinating talker.

It is true that people who talk well must, as a penalty, say things.

They can have no continued mental reserves, they must unburden their inner selves. They let you at once into the heart of affairs about them--it is the price that the brilliant talker must pay. Such a one gives you for the moment her plenary confidence, and before Alice had known Dolly a month, she felt as if she had known her for years.

On their drive the orders were to follow the private roads, and as the villas around the entire lake connected with one another, they were obliged to use the high-roads but little. Each of the places had a story, and none of these lost anything in Dolly's dramatic rendering.

From the lower end of the lake they drove to Sunbury, the village--commonplace, but Colonial, Dolly explained--and through it.

Taking the ridge road back of the hills, they approached another group of the country places. The houses of these estates belonged to an older day than those of the lake itself. Their type indicated the descent from the earlier simplicity of the Colonial, and afforded a melancholy reminder of the architectural experiments following the period of the Civil War.

"Our families have been coming out here for a hundred years," observed Dolly. "These dreadful French roofs we have been pa.s.sing, give you the latest dates on this side of the ridge." As she spoke they approached a house of brown sandstone set in an ellipse of heavy spruces.

"This was the Roger Morgan place. Mrs. Morgan, Bertha, was our half-sister, dear, the only child of my father's first marriage--she died seven years ago. This villa belongs to Fritzie Venable. She was Roger Morgan's niece. But she hasn't opened it for years--she just keeps a caretaker here and makes her home with Imogene. To me, spruces are depressing."