At One-Thirty - Isabel Ostrander (book reader for pc .txt) 📗

a few days. Will you do so until after the sixth of November, a week from next Wednesday? I have no right to ask this of you, I know, and I cannot explain my reason for doing so; but, if you find it compatible with your duty, will you do this for me? On the sixth, I shall have something to tell you which may—may change your point of view.”

There was a silence for a moment. Gaunt seemed to be having an inward struggle with himself, as if he found speech difficult. Then, he pushed forward a great, soft-leather arm-chair, and, placing his own near, he said:

“Won’t you sit here. Miss Ellerslie, and let us talk for a little? There is something I would like to say to you.”

Wondering, she took the chair he off’ered, and unfastened the furs at her throat. He seated himself, also, and silence fell again between them. He seemed to have fallen into a reverie, to have forgotten her very presence, while she sat watching his face, with all her heart in her great hazel eyes.

At length, he turned to her slowly.

“Miss Ellerslie,” he said, “I wonder if you will let me tell you a—a fairy story?”

“A fairy story!” She doubted the evidence of her own ears.

“Yes. I suppose you think I have suddenly taken leave of my senses J but, if you will listen, I promise you will not be bored.” ( “I will listen, gladly,” she repUed, softly. The significance that lay behind his quiet utterance gave her a sudden glimmer of comprehension.

“I haven’t heard a fairy story, myself, for many years, and I don’t remember that I ever told one before; so you must bear with me, if, sometimes, I get partly out of the picture…. My story is about two beautiful Princesses, sisters. One was tiny and fair, with golden hair, like most of the Princesses in fairy tales. The other was tall and stately, with auburn tresses—at least I think so; for of course I have never seen them.”

He paused, and from the girl beside him came with a soft murmur.

“The fair Princess was wedded to an Ogre, and, together with her sister, lived in his castle, in a strange, far country. The Ogre was cruel, which was very terrible; and weak, which was worse; and there was a foolish Princess, who lived in her castle, nearby. She was not wicked, this Princess, but only fooHsh, as I have said.

“The Ogre thought he loved her better than the fair Princess, and wanted to drive the goldenhaired one and her sister away, that the foolish Princess might reign in her stead.

“But there was a law in the kingdom in which they dwelt, which even the Ogre was forced to obey, and that law read that, in order to accomplish his purpose, the Ogre was forced to wrest from the fair Princess a certain treasure which she possessed, and valued above all else in the world, and he must trample it under his feet, on the public highway. This treasure was a casket of ivory and gold, and within it lay a jewel beyond price, and that jewel the fair Princess called her Good Name, and she guarded it tirelessly that none might take it from her.

“One night, the elder sister, the Princess with the auburn tresses, had gone afar, to the wedding festivities of another Princess, and the goldenhaired one strayed down to a dungeon set apart in the Castle, where she overheard the Ogre telling the foolish Princess how he meant to obtain by foul means, the casket of Ivory and gold. The fair Princess supposed they were conspiring together to rob her of her treasure, and she fled back to her chamber. Had she waited, she would have heard the foolish Princess repudiate him, and vow never to look upon his face again. That is the sad part of the story—that she didn’t wait.

“Now, it is a curious, but very important, fact that in those days—we will call them the Middle Ages; that might mean any time, for when human beings call their year a.d. 3824, we shall belong to the Middle Ages—well, in those days they had clocks, just as we do. It doesn’t seem likely, but it’s true.

“The fair Princess sat in her turret chamber, until she saw the foolish Princess and her father ride away from the castle. Then she went down immediately to the dungeon, and told the Ogre what she had overheard. Now, when she entered the dungeon, it was just halfpast eleven, by the great, jeweled clock in the hall of the castle. It must have been; for that was the hour on which the foolish Princess and her father departed, and the goldenhaired one had descended at once.

“The Ogre grew great with wrath, and defied her, and, weeping she retired to her turret chamber. She did not know that she had left a strand of her golden hair, clinging to a swinging chandelier in the dungeon.

“When her sister returned from the wedding festivities at one o’clock, the goldenhaired one told her. of the plot to rob her of her casket of ivory and gold. And the auburn-haired Princess knew there was but one way to save it, and to avenge the creation of the plot against it; so she descended to the dungeon, and slew the Ogre.”

Damon Gaunt paused, and the woman beside him gave a little, shuddering moan, and her hands clenched and unclenched on the arm of her chair. After a moment, he continued, as if he had not heard.

“Hours after the Ogre had been slain, someone entered the dungeon, and tried to change its aspect so that it would appear that a robber band had broken into the castle, and slain the Ogre for his personal treasure. This personage took the treasure away with him, to make the robbers’ attempt seem more real; although he did not want it, and knew not what to do with it.

“Now, when it became known throughout the kingdom that the Ogre was dead, there was great excitement; for, although he had not been liked, or even respected, he had possessed two idols, which in those days were considered very precious. They were called Family and Riches, and because of these he was considered a very great Ogre, indeed. So the people sent Gnome, who was thought to be very wise, to find out for them who had slain the Ogre. The Gnome dwelt in a mountain, and delved far into the earth like a mole; for, like a mole, he was blind.

“He came to the castle, and felt about the dungeon, and found the strand of golden hair, clinging to the chandelier, and he knew that whosoever it belonged to had been in the dungeon that night. He knew, also, that it was golden by its texture, and he touched the hair of the foolish Princess, and of the auburn-haired Princess; but when he came to the fair-haired one, he knew it was she.

“She told him that she had been in the dungeon on the previous morning, not during the fateful night; but she realized, as she said it, that he knaw it was an untruth, and, as he departed from her presence, he heard her cry out to her sister: ‘Oh, auburn-haired one! He knows! H’e knows!’

“Later, when he had discovered many things, the Gnome returned to the turret chamber of the fair Princess, and she, fearing that he knew the truth, cried out that she had slain the Ogre, between the hours of twelve and one o’clock. She told him, also, that it was her sister who had gone down later, and tried to change the aspect of the dungeon. When the Gnome expressed a doubt of this, she vowed that the aubum-haired one had admitted it to her.

“Of course, it might have looked very, very bad for the fair Princess, if the Gnome hadn’t learned three things: The first was that the fair Princess could not have slain the Ogre between the hours of twelve and one, because during that time the Ogre was alive, and something ebe had occurred in the dungeon then. What that something was, the Gnome never afterward revealed to his dying day.

“The second thing the Gnome had learned was who the personage was that had tried to alter the appearance of the dungeon, and this he never revealed either; but he knew that it could not have been the Princess of the Auburn Hair. The third was that he knew where the personal treasures of the Ogre were, and that the Auburn-haired one could not have taken them.

“There was one fact which no one knew, however, and that was that, when the Princess of the Auburn Hair went down to slay the Ogre, she dropped from her garment three telltale bits of evidence. At the wedding festivities she had that evening attended, much rice had been cast at the bride, and some of it had lodged in the robe of the Auburn-haired One. When she slew the Ogre, three grains of rice fell from her mantle.”

The woman beside him caught her breath sharply, and Gaunt rose and went to his desk. He picked up an envelope from it, and, returning, opened it carefully. Then, he took her unresisting hand in his, turned it over, and shook out upon her palm three grains of rice—the three tiny, hard globules, like irregular pearls, which he had picked up from the floor of the den, where they had lain at the feet of the murdered man. Gaunt did not seat himself again, but, standing before her, he concluded:

“There isn’t much more to the story. Of course, if the Gnome had seen the three grains of rice, it might have had a different ending; but he didn’t, you see, because he was blind. So, he went back to his mountain, and no one ever knew who had slain the Ogre.”

“He didn’t—see them I” Barbara Ellerslie cried, with amazement and suddenly awakened hope lifdng the music of her voice into a paean of halfincredulous joy.

“No. You must remember, he was blind. And so—he failed.”

“He—failed!” she repeated, gaspingly. “He— failed!”

Then, quite suddenly, she burst into a storm of weeping, burying her face in her arms while the tears streamed down her face, and great, tearing sobs racked her body. Knowing this sudden storm to be but the reaction from a week of unspeakable horror and nerve-racking suspense, ending in blackest despair, he wisely let her have her cry out. It was only when her sobs had subsided to quivering sighs that he spoke, half-tenderly half-jocularly:

“By Jove! I believe that’s the only fairy story on record in which a Fairy Prince isn’t mentioned! And that only because I forgot to mention him. He’s sailing away next week, and he expects to take both the Princesses with him. But I believe one is to go as his wife…. Don’t you think you’d better call him up? Of course, I’ve no way of knowing; but I rather think he’s expecting a message from you tonight.”

“Oh, I’ll go straight home, and send for him to come to me! I don’t care how late it is, or what the servants will think! Oh, Mr. Gaunt!” Her rich voice thrilled and deepened as she spoke. “What can I say to you? How can I ever thank you?”

“By being happy, by forgetting all that makes you sad, and by looking only to the future.”

“I will—oh, I will!” she whispered, her head bowed as though he had uttered a benediction.

After a pause, she raised her head, and, looking straight into his face, she said slowly and carefully, as if choosing her words:

“Just one word more, Mr. Gaunt. In Kentucky, where we