Carmen Ariza
Chapter 135 : "Why, she owns the grandest gold mine in all South America! Think of it!"&qu

"Why, she owns the grandest gold mine in all South America! Think of it!"

"Bah Jove! I--aw--I never was so attracted to a girl in all me blooming life! You will--a--speak to her, eh? Help me out, ye know.

Just a few words, eh? You know what I mean?"

"Never fear, Reginald" she's yours. "There will be no opposition."

"Opposition! Certainly not--not when she knows about our family.

And--aw--mother will talk with you--that is, about the details. She'll arrange them, ye know. I never was good at business."

And the haughty mother of the young Duke did call shortly thereafter to consult in regard to her son's matrimonial desires. The nerve-racking round of b.a.l.l.s, receptions, and other society functions was quite forgotten by the elated Mrs. Hawley-Crowles, whose ears tingled deliciously under the pompous boastings of the Dowager Lady Altern. The house of Altern? Why, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was convinced, after a half hour's conversation with this proud mother, that the royal house of Brunswick was but an impudent counterfeit! What was La Libertad worth? She knew not. But her sister's brother, Mr. Reed, who had hastily appraised it, had said that there was a mountain of gold there, only awaiting Yankee enterprise. And Carmen? There was proof positive that she was an Inca princess. Yes, Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was so honored by the deep interest which the young Duke manifested in the wonderful girl! And she would undertake negotiations with her at once. But it must be done wisely. Carmen was not like other girls. No, indeed!

And now Mrs. Hawley-Crowles had to plan very carefully. She was terribly in debt; yet she had resources. The Beaubien was inexhaustible. Ames, too, might be depended upon. And La Libertad--well, there was Mr.

Philip O. Ketchim to reckon with. So she forthwith summoned him to a consultation.

But, ere her talk with that prince of finance, another bit of good fortune fell into the lady's s.p.a.cious lap. Reed had written that he was doing poorly with his western mining ventures, and would have to raise money at once. He therefore offered to sell his interest in the Simiti Company. Moreover, he wanted his wife to come to him and make her home in California, where he doubtless would spend some years.

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles offered him twenty-five thousand dollars for his Simiti interest; of which offer Reed wired his immediate acceptance.

Then the lady packed her rueful sister Westward Ho! and laid her newly acquired stock before the Beaubien for a large loan. That was but a day before Ketchim called.

"Madam," said that suave gentleman, smiling piously, "you are a genius. Our ability to announce the Duke of Altern as our largest stockholder will result in a boom in the sales of Simiti stock. The Lord has greatly prospered our humble endeavors. Er--might I ask, Madam, if you would condescend to meet my wife some afternoon? We are rapidly acquiring some standing in a financial way, and Mrs. Ketchim would like to know you and some of the more desirable members of your set, if it might be arranged."

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles beamed her joy. She drew herself up with a regnant air. The people were coming to her, their social queen, for recognition!

"And there's my Uncle Ted, you know, Madam. He's president of the C.

and R."

Mrs. Hawley-Crowles nodded and looked wise. "Possibly we can arrange it," she said. "But now about our other investments. What is Joplin Zinc doing?"

"Progressing splendidly, Madam. We shall declare a dividend this month."

The lady wondered, for Joplin Zinc was not yet in operation, according to the latest report.

Meantime, while Mrs. Hawley-Crowles was still laying her plans to herd the young girl into the mortgaged dukedom of Altern, Father Waite kept his appointment, and called at the Beaubien mansion on the afternoon Carmen had set. He was warmly received by the girl herself, who had been watching for his coming.

"Now," she began like a bubbling fountain, when they were seated in the music room, "where's Jude? I want to find her."

"Jude? Why, I haven't the slightest idea to whom you refer," returned the puzzled man.

"The woman who took me to the Sister Superior," explained Carmen.

"Ah! We never saw her again."

"Well," said the girl confidently, "I saw her, but she got away from me. But I shall find her--it is right that I should. Now tell me, what are you going to do?"

"I have no idea. Earn my living some way," he replied meditatively.

"You have lots of friends who will help you?"

"None," he said sadly. "I am an apostate, you know."

"Well, that means that you're free. The chains have dropped, haven't they?"

"But left me dazed and confused."

"You are not dazed, nor confused! Why, you're like a prisoner coming out of his dungeon into the bright sunlight. You're only blinking, that's all. And, as for confusion--well, if I would admit it to be true I could point to a terrible state of it! Just think, a duke wants to marry me; Mrs. Hawley-Crowles is determined that he shall; I am an Inca princess, and yet I don't know who I am; my own people apparently are swallowed up by the war in Colombia; and I am in an environment here in New York in which I have to fight every moment to keep myself from flying all to pieces! But I guess G.o.d intends to keep me here for the present. Oh, yes, and Monsignor Lafelle insists that I am a Catholic and that I must join his Church."

"Monsignor Lafelle! You--you know him?"

"Oh, yes, very well. And you?"

He evaded reply by another query. "Is Monsignor Lafelle working with Madam Beaubien, your friend?"

"I think not," laughed Carmen. "But Mrs. Hawley-Crowles--"

"Was it through him that she became a communicant?"

"Yes. Why?"

"And is he also working with Mr. J. Wilton Ames? He converted Mrs.

Ames's sister, the Dowager d.u.c.h.ess, in England. The young Duke is also going to join the faith, I learn. But--you?" He stopped suddenly and looked searchingly at her.

At that moment a maid entered, bearing a card. Close on her heels followed the subject of their conversation, Monsignor himself.

As he entered, Carmen rose hastily to greet him. Lafelle bent over her hand. Then, as he straightened up, his glance fell upon Father Waite.

The latter bowed without speaking. For a moment the two men stood eying each other sharply. Then Lafelle looked from Father Waite to Carmen quizzically. "I beg your pardon," he said, "I was not aware that you had a caller. Madam Beaubien, is she at home?"

"No," said Carmen simply. "She went out for a ride."

"Ah!" murmured Lafelle, looking significantly from the girl to Father Waite, while a smile curled his lips. "I see. I will intrude no further." He bowed again, and turned toward the exit.

"Wait!" rang forth Carmen's clear voice. She had caught the churchman's insinuating glance and instantly read its meaning.

"Monsignor Lafelle, you will remain!"

The churchman's brows arched with surprise, but he came back and stood by the chair which she indicated.

"And first," went on the girl, standing before him like an incarnate Nemesis, her face flushed and her eyes snapping, "you will hear from me a quotation from the Scripture, on which you a.s.sume to be authority: 'As a man thinketh in his heart, so _is_ he!'"

For a moment Lafelle flushed. Then his face darkened. Finally a bland smile spread over his features, and he sat down. The girl resumed her seat.

"Now, Monsignor Lafelle," she continued severely, "you have urged me to unite with your Church. When you asked me to subscribe to your beliefs I looked first at them, and then at you, their product. You have come here this afternoon to plead with me again. The thoughts which you accepted when you saw Father Waite here alone with me, are they a reflection of love, which thinketh no evil? Or do they reflect the intolerance, the bigotry, the hatred of the carnal mind? You told me that your Church would not let me teach it. Think you I will let it or you teach me?"

Father Waite sat amazed at the girl's stinging rebuke. When she concluded he rose to go.

"No!" said Carmen. "You, too, shall remain. You have left the Church of which Monsignor Lafelle is a part. Either you have done that Church, and him, a great injustice--or he does ignorant or wilful wrong in insisting that I unite with it."

"My dear child," said Lafelle gently, now recovered and wholly on his guard, "your impetuosity gets the better of your judgment. This is no occasion for a theological discussion, nor are you sufficiently informed to bear a part in such. As for myself, you unintentionally do me great wrong. As I have repeatedly told you, I seek only your eternal welfare. Else would I not labor with you as I do."

Carmen turned to Father Waite. "Is my eternal welfare dependent upon acceptance of the Church's doctrines?"