CHAPTER IV.
THE WINNING OF A HEART.
Jessie set some very bad stitches in madame’s ruffling the next half hour, for her slender fingers trembled with the quick beating of her heart.
She had had her shy dreams of a lover, like other girls, and now they seemed about to become blissful reality.
Could it be he had fallen in love with her? This rich, handsome young man—in love with the face that she could not help knowing was very fair. Madame must be mistaken thinking that his strange agitation came from a quarrel with his sweetheart. He could not have had any sweetheart, surely.
Her dark eyes beamed with joy, her cheeks glowed crimson as a sea shell, and her heart throbbed wildly with suspense. Madame Barto came in presently with the young man, and said blandly:
“I have consented to your taking an hour’s drive in the park with this gentleman, my dear, if you wish.”
“Let it be this afternoon. I will call for you promptly at four o’clock,” he added, smiling at her as he bowed himself out.
Madame Barto laughed knowingly, and exclaimed:
“You pretty child, you are fortunate to have Frank Laurier pay you such attention. He is well-born, and rolling in wealth. Your dark eyes have turned his head! Hark, the bell again!” and she retreated quickly to her parlor.
Jessie hurried to the door, and again her unconscious hand opened the door to destiny.
A beautiful brunette of about twenty, richly gowned, and with an imperious air, entered the hall, and said curtly:
“I wish to see Madame Barto quickly.”
Jessie carried the message, and said:
“This young lady looks as pale and agitated as the young man who has just left.”
“Oh, it’s another love scrape, I suppose. That’s what usually brings them here! Well, you may send her in at once!”
The moment that the beautiful brunette found herself alone with Madame Barto she exclaimed breathlessly:
“Just now as I was passing in my carriage I saw a young man I know—Frank Laurier—leaving this house. Did he come to have his fortune told, or—or—to see that lovely girl that admitted me?”
Madame answered demurely:
“To have his fortune told, of course. In the lines of his hand I found a broken engagement, and he wished to know if it would ever be renewed.”
“And you told him——” eagerly.
“I beg pardon. I cannot disclose the secrets of my customers,” madame returned, rather stiffly, as she bent over the jeweled hand her customer had just ungloved.
A bursting sigh heaved the young girl’s breast, and she cried plaintively:
“Quick! What do you see?”
“Ah, how strange! I see in your hand, also, a broken engagement!” she exclaimed, in surprise.
“Yes, yes—now, tell me, will we ever make it up, our foolish quarrel!” cried the girl wildly.
Madame answered deliberately:
“The fates are against it. I see here that your path will be crossed by a charming rival, who will lure his heart away!”
The girl snatched her hand away and arose, furious with passion, crying:
“Woe be unto that girl! She had better never been born than come between me and my lover!”
“There are other men to love you!” consoled madame.
“What do I care for them? I want only him! And I have been so foolish, I have driven him from me! But no one else shall have him! I swear it!” cried the brunette, her dark eyes flashing wildly, as she paid the fortune teller, adding, “Come, tell me all you told Frank Laurier, and all this is yours!” and she held out a roll of bank notes.
Madame was not proof against the golden bribe, so she answered:
“I told him the engagement would most likely never be renewed—that a lovely blonde was fated to come between them and cause much unhappiness.”
“Let her beware!” hissed the beautiful girl, under her breath, as madame took up her hand again, saying:
“You have much to console you for a single disappointment in love. You are beautiful and rich, and you can have great success as an actress if you wish to——”
“That is an old story. I do not wish to hear any more—not that I believe what you have told me! It is all jargon—he shall make up with me!” muttered the proud, beautiful creature, tearing her hand from madame’s, and flinging out of the room in a rage.
As Jessie opened the door for her exit she gave the girl one keen, disdainful glance, whispering to herself like one distraught:
“A lovely blonde! But she shall rue the day she comes between us!”
She swept out of the house like a beautiful fury, and Jessie sighed.
“She must be very unhappy in spite of her silks and jewels!”
Then she forgot the haughty beauty in tender thoughts of the man who had preceded her—“my lover” she already called him softly to herself.
It seemed long to Jessie till four o’clock sounded, though she was kept busy with the customers coming and going all day, eager to know their fate and fortune from the palmist.
But at last business hours were over, and Jessie and her employer lunched frugally, after which the madame said kindly:
“Now you may get ready for your drive with Mr. Laurier, for it is on the stroke of four o’clock.”
There was no getting ready for a girl who possessed but one gown, except to bathe her face and hands and rearrange her wealth of sunshiny tresses in the loose plait in the back, then affected by girls of her age. This done, Jessie placed on her charming head the black sailor hat madame had bought her, while she sighed to herself:
“I fear my dress is not fine enough for a drive in the park with such a grand, rich gentleman as Mr. Laurier. Perhaps his fashionable friends will laugh at me. I wonder why he cares to take me with him like this, when he could have his pick of grand, rich girls like the one that came to have her fortune told this morning!”
The bell clanged loudly, and she flew with a beating heart to the door, her cheeks glowing, her eyes shining with the tenderest love light.
She had not the slightest doubt but that it was Frank Laurier waiting outside.
She opened the door quickly, with a smile of welcome on her coral lips.
Oh, how quickly the glad smile faded when she saw instead the young man who had recommended her to this place but yesterday—the dispossess agent.
He was dressed very fine in a loud, flashy style, and smiled patronizingly at lovely Jessie, exclaiming:
“Ah! Miss Jessie, how sweet you look. That new dress is very becoming. Now, don’t you feel grateful to me for getting you this nice place with my aunt? I didn’t tell you Madame Barto is my aunt, did I? My name is Carey Doyle, and I came to take you for a nice little walk, if you will go with me.”
“I—I—thank you, but—I have an engagement,” Jessie faltered, drawing back in secret disgust from her bold admirer.
“Well, you may break that engagement, my pretty little Jessie, for I’m bound to have you for my little sweetheart, I swear, and you shall give me a kiss to seal the bargain!” protested Carey Doyle, crowding her to the wall and throwing his arms around her slender waist despite her cries and struggles in his effort to press a kiss on the pouting, scarlet lips.
But in the excitement of his entrance they had forgotten to close the door, and Frank Laurier, bounding up the steps, took in directly the situation.
The next moment he had wrenched the burly wretch away from Jessie, and thrust him by force down the steps, aiding his progress by a kick as he exclaimed:
“Take that for insulting the young lady!”