Chapter XVIII: The Masquerade

The picture they made as they filed down the oak staircase two by two and all attired in their antique costumes was one long remembered by the servants of Ten Eyck Hall, who had gathered below to see the masqueraders. Miss Stuart and the major, standing together at the door of the red drawing room, were amazed and delighted.

"Is this a company of ghosts," cried the major, "ghosts of my dear departed ancestors returned to the halls of their youth?"

"Look at the dears!" exclaimed Miss Sallie. "How pretty they are in their ancient finery! Ruth, my child, you are the very image of the portrait of your great-grandmother at home. And here is Bab, who might have stepped out of an old miniature."

"So she has," replied Ruth. "In that pink dress she is a perfect likeness of the miniature the hermit had."

"José," said the major kindly, for he could not insult a guest by believing evil of him until it had been actually proved, "you do not belong to this company of belles and beaux. You look more like a Spanish gallant of an earlier day, in that velvet coat and cavalier hat. As for you two slips of girls," he continued, smiling at Mollie and Grace, "you might be my two colonial great-aunts stepped down from their frames. But come along, now. We must have a little fun, after all this trouble you have taken to amuse us. Strike up, my poor bruised Jimmie, and we'll have a dance."

Jimmie had volunteered to furnish the music. His face, in its present state, needed no further disguise, he said. The furniture was moved back, the rugs rolled up, and in a few minutes the dancers were whirling in a waltz. There was a change of partners at the second dance, and Bab found herself dancing with José. He was not familiar with the American two-step, so, after a few rounds, they stepped out upon the piazza for a breath of the cool evening air.

"Aren't you afraid to stay out here, José, after your experience of the other night?" Bab asked.

"Are you afraid, Barbara?" he replied.

"Why should I be?" she answered. "It was evidently you the assassin was after."

He winced at the word "assassin," and did not reply. The two stood gazing silently out onto the stretch of lawn in front of the house. Presently José sighed deeply.

"I am afraid you are unhappy," said Bab sympathetically.

"Madamoiselle Barbara," he replied, "I am in great trouble. I tell you because you have already been more observing than the others, and because I see you keep your counsel."

"Why don't you ask Major Ten Eyck's advice, José?" asked Barbara, "he is so kind and gentle. I know he would love to help you."

"In this case," replied the Spaniard, with a frightened look in his eyes, "he might not be so kind. I am afraid to tell him. To-night I shall decide what to do. It may be that it would be better to go away. I cannot tell, now."

"Tell me, José, have your troubles any connection with the Gypsies?"

"Yes," he assented.

A shadowy figure moved up the lawn and approached the house. José stirred uneasily.

"Who is that?" he whispered. "Don't you think you had better go in?"

"No," replied Barbara. "I am not afraid, if you are not."

It was Zerlina, and, seeing the two people on the porch, she paused irresolutely.

"What is it, Zerlina?" called Barbara. "Do you want to see anyone?"

"My grandmother is over there," replied the girl, pointing to the shrubbery. "She has come to tell fortunes, if it pleases the ladies."

Zerlina did not look at Bab, as she spoke. She was looking at José, long and curiously. And he returned the gaze with interest.

"You have not seen Mr. Martinez, Zerlina?" asked Bab, recalling how he had stolen away in the woods when the Gypsy danced for them.

Zerlina bowed coldly, and José took off his cavalier hat; but neither said a word, and Bab felt somewhat embarrassed at the silence.

"Wait a moment, Zerlina, and I will ask the major about the fortunes," she said, stepping through the French window. Just as she parted the curtain, she turned to say something to José, and saw Zerlina quickly hand him a note. Bab's face flushed angrily.

"This business ought to be stopped," she said to herself. "We'll all be slain in our beds some fine night. Why can't José be frank? The entire band of Gypsies might be a lot of robbers, for all we know."

The revelers inside were all interested to know that Granny Ann had come at last to tell fortunes, and Zerlina was dispatched at once to bring her grandmother back. When the old woman passed through the room on her way to the library, where the fortunes were to be told, she took a rapid survey of everybody there. She examined the girls and boys in their masquerade costumes, looked curiously at Jimmie's bandaged countenance, and finally her eyes rested on José leaning on a balcony rail outside.

While the fortunes were being told, there was a concert in the drawing room. Grace sang in her high, sweet soprano voice, followed by another of Zerlina's Gypsy songs. Then José was induced to sing a beautiful Spanish love song, and finally Jimmie gave a comic version of "The Old Homestead" in which he himself acted every part.

After the fortunes were told Granny Ann sent word that there was one person she had not seen, and go she would not until she had seen him.

"Who has not yet been in?" demanded the major.

There was no reply.

"José, you have not seen her, have you?" asked Mollie.

"No," replied José; "I do not wish to go."

Word was sent in to Granny Ann, who sent a message back that she insisted on seeing the young man.

"Oh, go ahead, José," urged Stephen. "It's only for a few minutes, and we want to have another dance before bedtime."

José bowed and disappeared from the room. Soon after Mollie touched Bab on the arm.

"Bab," she whispered, "come out on the porch. I have something to tell you."

The two girls stole out onto the moonlit piazza, while Mollie continued in a low voice: "I know I should not have done it, but I followed José into the library, by the dining-room door, and hid behind a curtain. I was curious to see what Granny Ann would do. He had hardly got into the room before she commenced talking in a loud voice. She spoke in a foreign language, but she seemed terribly angry, and shook her fist in his face. He was quite gentle with her, and just stood there, pale and quiet. I felt so sorry for him. Once I thought she would strike him, but he never flinched or dodged. What do you suppose it means, Bab, dear?"

"I don't know, Mollie," replied Barbara, "There is some mystery about José. Something happened to-day that put him in a very unfortunate light, but I'd rather not tell you until to-morrow. Don't dance with him any more to-night, but be kind to him, little sister," Bab added, "for I do feel sorry for him."