Robert Kimberly Part 8

There was an instant of embarra.s.sment. "Francis feels our pagan atmosphere so keenly," Kimberly said slowly, "that I gave him the news about you as a bracer--just to let him know we had a friend at court even if we were shut out ourselves."

"He told me," continued Francis, with humor, "that a Catholic lady was coming this afternoon, and to put on my new habit."

"Which, of course, you did not do," interposed Kimberly, regaining the situation.

Brother Francis looked deprecatingly at his s.h.i.+ny serge.

Dolly and Alice laughed. "Mr. Kimberly didn't understand that you kept on your old one out of humility," said Alice. "But how did you know anything about my religion?" she asked, turning to Kimberly.

Francis took this chance to slip away to his charge.

"Arthur De Castro is the culprit," answered Kimberly. "He told me some time ago."

"You have a good memory."

"For some things. Won't you pour tea for Mrs. MacBirney, Dolly? Let us go downstairs, anyway."

He walked with Alice into the house, talking as they went.

Dolly bent over Uncle John's chair. "Isn't she nice?" she whispered, nodding toward Alice as Alice disappeared with Kimberly. "You know Madame De Castro went to school in Paris with her mother, who was a De Gallon, and her father--Alice's grandfather--was the last man in Louisville to wear a queue."

Uncle John seemed not greatly moved at this information, but did look reminiscent. "What was her father's name?"

"Alice's father was named Marshall. He and her mother both are dead.

She has no near relatives."

"I remember Marshall--he was a refiner."

"Precisely; he met with reverses a few years ago."

Uncle John looked after Alice with his feeble, questioning grin. "Fine looking," he muttered, still looking after her much as the toothless giant looked after Christian as he pa.s.sed his cave. "Fine looking."

Dolly was annoyed: "Oh, you're always thinking about fine looks! She is nice."

Uncle John smiled undismayed. "Is she?"

CHAPTER VI

Alice had been married five years--it seemed a long time. The first five years of married life are likely to be long enough to chart pretty accurately the currents of the future, however insufficient to predict just where those currents will carry one.

Much disillusioning comes in the first five years; when they have pa.s.sed we know less of ourselves and more of our consort. Undoubtedly the complement of this is true, and our consort knows more of us; but this thought, not always rea.s.suring, comes only when we reflect concerning ourselves, which fortunately, perhaps, is not often. Married people, if we may judge from what they say, tend to reflect more concerning their mates.

Alice, it is certain, knew less of herself. Much of the confidence of five years earlier she had parted with, some of it cruelly. Yet coming at twenty-five into the Kimberly circle, and with the probability of remaining in it, of its being to her a new picture of life, Alice gradually renewed her youth. Some current flowing from this joy of living seemed to revive in her the illusions of girlhood. All that she now questioned was whether it really was for her.

Her husband enjoyed her promise of success in their new surroundings without realizing in the least how clearly those about them discriminated between his wife and himself. She brought one quality that was priceless among those with whom she now mingled--freshness.

Among such people her wares of mental aptness, intelligence, amiability, not to discuss a charm of person that gave her a place among women, were rated higher than they could have been elsewhere. She breathed in her new atmosphere with a renewed confidence, for nothing is more gratifying than to be judged by what we believe to be the best in us; and nothing more rea.s.suring after being neglected by stupid people than to find ourselves approved by the best.

Walter MacBirney, her husband, representing himself and his Western a.s.sociates, and now looked on by them as a man who had forced recognition from the Kimberly interests, made on his side, too, a favorable impression among the men with whom his affairs brought him for the first time in contact.

If there was an exception to such an impression it was with Robert Kimberly, but even with him MacBirney maintained easily the reputation accorded to Western men for general capacity and a certain driving ability for putting things through.

He was described as self-made; and examined with the quiet curiosity of those less fortunate Eastern men who were unwilling or unable to ascribe their authors.h.i.+p to themselves, he made a satisfactory showing.

In the Kimberly coterie of men, which consisted in truth more of the staff a.s.sociates in the Kimberly activities than of the Kimberlys themselves, the appearance of MacBirney on the scene at Second Lake was a matter of interest to every one of the fledgling magnates, who, under the larger wing of the Kimberlys, directed the commercial end of their interests.

McCrea, known as Robert Kimberly's right-hand man; Cready Hamilton, one of the Kimberly bankers, and brother of Doctor Hamilton, Robert's closest friend; Nelson, the Kimberly counsel--all took a hand in going over MacBirney, so to say, and grading him up. They found for one thing that he could talk without saying anything; which in conducting negotiations was an excellent trait. And if not always a successful story-teller, he was a shrewd listener. In everything his native energy gave him a show of interest which, even when fact.i.tious, told in his favor.

Soon after the call on Uncle John, Dolly arranged a dinner for the MacBirneys, at which Charles Kimberly and his wife and Robert Kimberly were to be the guests. It followed a second evening spent at the Nelsons', whence Robert Kimberly had come home with the De Castros and MacBirneys. Alice had sung for them. After accepting for the De Castro dinner, Robert at the last moment sent excuses. Dolly masked her feelings. Imogene and Charles complained a little, but Arthur De Castro was so good a host that he alone would have made a dinner go.

MacBirney, after he and Alice had gone to their rooms for the night, spoke of Robert's absence. "I don't quite understand that man," he mused. "What do you make of him, Alice?"

Alice was braiding her hair. She turned from her table. "I've met him very little, you know--when we called at his house, and twice at the Nelsons'. And I saw very little of him last night. He was with that drinking set most of the evening."

MacBirney started. "Don't say 'that drinking set.'"

"Really, that describes them, Walter. I don't see that they excel in anything else. I hate drinking women."

"When you're in Rome, do as the Romans do," suggested MacBirney, curtly.

Alice's tone hardened a trifle. "Or at least let the Romans do as they please, without comment."

"Exactly," snapped her husband. "I don't know just what to make of Kimberly," he went on.

"Charles, or the brother?"

"Robert, Robert. He's the one they all play to here." MacBirney, sitting in a lounging-chair, emphasized the last words, as he could do when impatient, and shut his teeth and lips as he did when perplexed.

"I wonder why he didn't come to-night?"

Alice had no explanation to offer. "Charles," she suggested, tying her hair-ribbon, "is very nice."

"Why, yes--you and Charles are chummy already. I wish we could get better acquainted with Robert," he continued, knitting his brows. "I thought you were a little short with him last night, Alice."

"Short? Oh, Walter! We didn't exchange a dozen words."

"That's just the way it struck me."

"But we had no chance to. I am sure I didn't mean to be short. I sang, didn't I? And more on his account, from what Dolly had said to me, than anybody else's. He didn't like my singing, but I couldn't help that.

He didn't say a single word."

"Why, he did say something!"

"Just some stiff remark when he thanked me."