Miss Caprice Part 39

Up to the now open door of the _marabout's_ tomb rushes a figure that has leaped from a horse.

"_Mon Dieu!_ tell me, are you safe, ze ladies also?" gasps this party.

It is Monsieur Constans. He has faithfully carried out his part of the contract, and is warmly greeted by those whom the coming of the zouaves has saved.

Lady Ruth is pale--she has looked upon sights such as are not usually seen by her s.e.x--sights that make strong men shudder until they become battle hardened, for war is always cruel and b.l.o.o.d.y.

"Let us get to the hotel as soon as possible," she says to Aunt Gwen.

"My goodness, are you going to faint?" exclaims that good soul.

"Oh, no, I don't think so, but the sooner I am at the hotel the better,"

replies the girl.

"There comes John Craig. He has been talking with the officer in command of the soldiers, and I guess has made some sort of arrangements for us."

What Aunt Gwen says is true enough, for John leads them to captured horses, and ere long they are moving in the direction of Algiers, escorted by a detachment of the zouaves on foot.

Their trials for the night are over, but they will never forget what they have seen and endured. John is secretly fuming, as he ponders over the facts. If he could only prove that Sir Lionel is the direct cause of all this trouble, he would demand satisfaction from the Briton in some shape. That is where the trouble lies, in proving it. What he has learned thus far can be put down as only suspicions or hints, though they look bad for the Briton.

If Lady Ruth has observed enough to open her eyes with regard to the veteran soldier, John will call it quits.

A thought occurs to him, even as he rides toward Algiers, that causes a grim smile to break out upon his face. It is a thought worthy of a Richelieu--an idea brilliant with possibilities.

"Here are Sir Lionel and Pauline--two despairing people who long for the unattainable. Why should they not be mated? It is perhaps possible, and would be a master stroke of genius on my part. Jove! I'll see what I can do! Great pity to have all the plotting on one side of the house."

From that hour John Craig devotes his whole mind to the accomplishment of this purpose, for he sees the benefit of diplomacy.

This is the great idea that is struggling in his mind as he rides along.

CHAPTER XXI.

SHE CALLS HIM JOHN NOW.

When the news of the battle is known in Algiers, great excitement abounds. There are many sympathizers of Bab Azoun among the native population, and in some quarters their ugly teeth are shown; but France has too secure a hold of Algeria not to be ready for such an emergency, and her troops parade the streets, armed for battle.

Consequently no demonstration on the part of the natives is attempted.

Among the foreigners, and in the better circles of merchants and traders, there is great rejoicing over the victory, for it has long been dangerous to travel in the region of the coast because of the bold forays of this same Bab Azoun. They hope his power will now be broken, and that perhaps the outlaw himself may be dead.

In the morning our friends gather for breakfast. John alone is absent, nor do they know what has become of him, for the clerk of the hotel informs them that the Chicagoan was early astir.

He comes in before they are done eating, but volunteers no information concerning his wanderings, so that they of course conclude he has only been for a walk.

Sir Lionel seems rather shy. Most men upon making such a dismal failure on two separate occasions, would probably be willing to give up the game, but there is something of the bull-dog about Sir Lionel. He will hold on until the end.

He fears John Craig has penetrated his schemes, and this makes him a.s.sume a dogged air. Evidently he still clings to hope of ultimate success.

As for Craig, he is undecided whether to call Sir Lionel a fool or a knave, and is rapidly drifting to a belief that the Briton may be a composite of both.

They have much to see in Algiers. Mosques, bazaars, and the remarkable features that cl.u.s.ter about this famous resort. A thousand and one things unite to charm a traveler who strikes Algiers in the winter time, and they usually go hence with many regrets, and memories that will never fade.

John watches his chance to speak to the girl at his side. He feels that the time has come when he must tell her what he has in his heart--that he loves her.

If she gives him his _conge_, he will go his way and try to forget; but he has hopes of a different answer; eye speaks to eye, and there is a language of the heart that needs not lips to proclaim it, a secret telegraphy that brings together those who love. The touch of a hand thrills as no other touch can, and the sound of a voice heard unexpectedly causes the heart to almost cease beating.

At length he makes an opportunity, as only a bold and determined lover can. They have gone in the street-cars to the terraced heights of Mustapha Superieur, to visit a house which most tourists see--a house with a remarkable history--and in departing, John and Lady Ruth somehow are separated from the rest. The fault lies with him, because at the last moment he proposed a final view of the wonderful scene spread out below, to which Lady Ruth consented, and as the others boarded the tram-car that would take them back to the city, John called out their intention, and that they would join them later.

There is nothing singular about this, and yet Lady Ruth's cheeks turn rosy as she hears Aunt Gwen's laugh, and stealing a glance over her shoulder discovers that quaint individual shaking her finger out of the car-window.

Upon a rustic seat the two rest. The grand panorama spread before them charms the eye, and they feast upon the glorious scene. How blue the sea appears, and the numerous sails are like splashes of white against the deep background.

There lies Algiers in all her glory, modern structures almost side by side with Mohammedan mosques, whose domes s.h.i.+ne like great b.a.l.l.s of gold and whose minarets guard the sacred edifice like sentries thrown out in the nature of defenses.

Who could gaze upon such a vision and not feel his heart stirred, must indeed be dead to everything that appeals to the better senses.

John Craig, M.D., might ordinarily be set down as an enthusiastic lover of nature, and such a scene when he first gazed upon it aroused the deepest emotions in his artist heart; but strange to say he pays little heed to what is before him now. It is what occupies the rustic seat in common with John Craig that takes his whole attention.

How shall he say it. What words can he frame into an animated expression of his feelings? It was all mapped out before, but the words have utterly slipped his memory, as is always the case in such events.

He turns to Lady Ruth. Her hand is in her lap. He boldly reaches out and takes it. There is only a feeble resistance. Their eyes meet, "Lady Ruth, will you give me this hand?"

"You--I--what could you do with it?" she asks, turning rosy red.

"Well, to begin with--this," and he presses it pa.s.sionately to his lips.

"Oh! Doctor Craig, what if some one should see you!" now struggling to free her hand, which he holds firmly.

He laughs recklessly, this. .h.i.therto shy young man. Once in the affair, he cares little for prying eyes, and indeed there is small chance of any one noticing them in this retired spot, as there are no other sight-seers around.

"I don't care who sees me. I've got to tell you what I'm sure you already know, that I love you--I love you."

He leans forward and looks in her face, which is downcast. She has ceased to struggle now, and her hand lies fluttering in his.

Such scenes as these the novelist has no business to linger over. The emotions that are brought out at such a time should be sacred from the public gaze.

John does not wait long for his answer, as Lady Ruth is a sensible girl, and really cares a great deal more for this young man than she has been ready to admit even to herself.

So she tells him that she is afraid she does take an uncommon interest in his welfare, and that perhaps it would be as well for her to later on a.s.sume such a position as will give her the right to watch over him.

So it is nicely settled, and John feels supremely happy, just as all sincere and successful wooers have done from time immemorial.

After a short time John remembers that he meant to introduce a certain subject, and putting aside his feelings of new-found joy--there will be plenty of time for all that--he speaks of Sir Lionel.

"Now that you know I am not at all jealous, I want to talk about another. Sir Lionel Blunt."