Minot

“ Lord Harrowby was at luncheon, and sent word for Mr. Minot to join him. Entering the gay dining-room, Minot saw at the far end the blond and noble head he sought. He threaded his way between the tables. Although he was an unusually attractive young man, he had never experienced anything like the array of stares turned upon him ere he had gone ten feet. "What the devil's the matter?" he asked himself. "I seem to be the cynosure of neighboring eyes, and then some." He did not dream that it was because he was passing through a dining-room of democrats to grasp the hand of a lord. ”

“ Minot threw down the paper. Poor old Jephson! First the rain on the dowager duchess, then an actor's expanding waist—and to-morrow the news that Harrowby's wedding was not to be. Why, it would ruin the man!
Minot stepped to the door of the inner room.
"I'm going out to think," he announced. "I'll see you in the lobby before you leave."
Two minutes later, in the summer-house where he had bid good-by to the sparkling Gaiety lady, he sat puffing furiously at a cigar. Back into the past as it concerned Chain Lightning's Collar he went. ”

“ Minot sat, deaf to the delicous lisp of the débutante at his side. What was woman's greatest privilege? Wasn't it——
His forehead grew damp. His knees trembled beneath the table. "Jephson—Thacker, Jephson—Thacker," he said over and over to himself.
After dinner, when the added guests invited by the duchess for the dance crowded the ballroom, Minot encountered Jack Paddock, Mr. Paddock was limp and pitiable.
"Ever apologize to an angry woman?" he asked. "Ever try to expostulate with a storm at sea? ”

“ She turned away from him, for she was sobbing outright now.
"I never want to see you again as long as I live," she cried. "Never! Never! Never!"
Limp, pitiable, worn by the long fight he had waged, Minot stood staring helplessly at her heaving shoulders. ”

“ If I forget and spring a good one, she jumps on me proper afterward for not giving it to her."
"Jack," said Minot slowly, "come way from here with me. Come north. This place will finish you sure."
"Sorry, old man," laughed Paddock, "but I've had a nip of the lotus. This lazy old land suits me. I like to sit on a veranda while a dusky menial in a white coat hands me the tinkle-tinkle in a tall cool glass. Come away? Oh, no—I couldn't do that."
"You'll marry down here," sighed Minot "Some girl with money. And the career we all hoped you'd make for yourself will go up in a golden cloud." ”

“ Minot saw her coming up the path toward him—coming up that fantastic avenue of palms—tall, fair, white, a lovely figure in a lovely setting—
Ah, yes—Lord Harrowby! He walked at her side, nonchalant, distinguished, almost as tall as a popular illustrator thinks a man in evening clothes should be. Truly, they made a handsome couple. They were to wed. Mr. Minot himself had sworn they were to wed. ”

“ The native descended to the dust and slid under the car. In a moment he emerged, triumphant.
"All O. K." he announced. "Don't you worry, lady. It's San Marco or bust"
"If only something doesn't bust," Minot said.
Again they were plowing through the sand. The girl sat anxiously on the edge of the seat, her cheeks flaming, her eyes alight Minot watched her. And suddenly all the happy, sad little memories melted into a golden glow—the glow of being alive—on this lonesome road—with her! Then suddenly he knew! ”

“ But she drew back a little at his determined glare.
"Miss Rose," he said sharply, "I have discovered that you can not sue Lord Harrowby for breach of contract to marry you."
"Why—why not?" she stammered.
"Because," said Minot, with a triumphant smile—though it was a shot in the dark—"you already had a husband when those letters were written to you."
Well, he had done his best. A rather childish effort, but what else was there to attempt? Poor old Jephson!
"Nonsense," said the Gaiety lady, and continued to play.
"Nothing of the sort," Minot replied. "Why, I can produce the man himself." ”

“ After Minot gets through he comes out into the office and looks around. He sees Ravenell sitting here but for a moment he don’t speak. He just looks at Ravenell and Ravenell looks at him. They don’t act like they knows each other. Yet Ravenell gets up and walks over to Minot and in a minute they’re thick as two thieves. They get off in a corner with their heads together and stay there an hour or more. Talking quiet-like, too, and as though they don’t want no one to overhear them. ”

“ Let that thought console you."
"You are too kind," Minot answered.
"And—you are glad I am not leaving San Marco quite beaten?"
"Oh, yes—I'm wild with pleasure."
"Really—that is sweet of you. I am so sorry we must part. The moonlight, the palms, the distant music—all so romantic. But—we shall meet again?"
"I don't know."
"Don't know? How unkind—when it all depends on you. You will look me up in New York, won't you? New York is not so romantic—but I shall try to make it up to you. I shall sing for you. Just a Little." ”

“ Fifteen minutes later, seated in a small rowboat on the starry waters of the harbor, Minot was loudly saluting the yacht Lileth. Finally Mr. Martin Wall appeared at the rail.
"Well—what d'you want?" he demanded.
"A word with you, Mr. Wall," Minot answered. "Will you be good enough to let down your accommodation ladder?"
For a moment Wall hesitated. And Minot, watching him, knew why he hesitated. He suspected that the young man in the tiny boat there on the calm bright waters had come to repay a call earlier in the evening—a call made while the host was out. ”

“ Minot met her on the veranda. She smiled into his eyes inquiringly.
"Do you mind—a little walk?" he asked.
"Where to?"
"Say to the fort—the longest way."
She glanced back toward the hotel.
"I'm not sure that I ought—"
"But that will only make it the more exciting. Please. And I've news—real news."
She nodded her head, and they crossed the courtyard to the avenue. From this bright thoroughfare they turned in a moment into a dark and unkempt street.
"See," said Minot suddenly, "the old Spanish churchyard. They built cities around churches in the old days. The world do move. ”

“ Gabrielle Rose is here. She's here—with the letters."
"Oh, for a Cotrell's Ink Eraser," Minot groaned.
"My man saw her down-stairs," went on Harrowby, mopping his damp forehead. "Fifty thousand she wants for the letters or she gives them to a newspaper and begins to sue—at once—to-morrow."
"I suppose," said Minot, "she is the usual Gaiety girl."
"Not the usual, old chap. Quite a remarkable woman. She'll do what she promises—trust her. And I haven't a farthing. Minot—it's all up now. There's no way out of this."
Minot sat thinking. The telephone rang. ”

“ Minot—I've been looking everywhere—"
She was beside him now, a slim white figure in the dusk—the one thing lacking in that glittering picture. He leaped to meet her.
"Sitting here dreaming, I reckon," she whispered, "of somebody far away."
"No." He shook his head. "I leave that to the newly engaged."
She made no answer. He gave her his chair, and drew up another for himself. ”

“ Minot felt a thrill of joy in his heart. He smiled the pleasantest smile he had so far shown San Marco.
"Exactly. He was fearfully rattled, was Meyrick. My word, how he did go on. considers his daughter humiliated by the antics of that creature we saw on the stage to-night. Can't say I blame him, either. The wedding is indefinitely postponed, unless that impostor is removed from the scene immediately."
"Oh—unless," said Minot His heart sank. His smile vanished.
"Unless was the word, I fancy," said Harrowby, blinking wisely. ”

“ And, delighted as I should be to know that George is alive, naturally I should prefer to know it after next Tuesday."
Anger surged into Minot's heart.
"Is that fair to the young lady who—"
"Who is to become my wife?" Lord Harrowby waved his hand. "It is. Miss Meyrick is not marrying me for my title. As for her father and aunt, I can not be so sure. I want no disturbance. You want none. I am sure it is better to let things take their course."
"All right," said Minot. "Only I intend to do every thing in my power to put this wedding through." ”

“ But Minot was cunning. He swerved as they drew closer.
“’Tend to him, Ravenell,” he cried. “I’ll follow the girl.”
And I knew that he would catch her; that she could not possibly escape him. I feared that she would not use the pistol she carried; that at the last moment her feminine shrinking from blood would deter her. Further, I feared that she would not dare use it. She had not informed the town authorities of their attack upon her in the path. She did not want publicity.
Would she dare use the gun? Wouldn’t Minot know that she’d fear to use it? ”

“ And not a few of them wondered why such a good-looking young man should appear to be so sorry for himself.
Returning to the hotel at noon, Minot met Martin Wall on the veranda.
"Lucky I put old George on Tarragona for the day," Wall confided. "As I expected, Trimmer was out to call early this morning. Searched the ship from stem to stern. I rather think we have Mr. Trimmer up a tree. He went away not quite so sure of himself."
"Good," Minot answered. "So you changed your mind about going north?"
"Yes. Think I'll stay over for the wedding. ”

“ In the gloom of that dull old balcony her eyes shone strangely.
"Some things aren't to be," she whispered. And"—very faintly—"others are."
A thrill shot through Minot, sharp as a pain, but glorious. What did she mean by that? What indeed but the one thing that must not happen—the thing he wanted most of all things in the world to happen—the thing he had come to San Marco to prevent. He came closer to her—and closer—the blood was pounding in his brain. ”

“ It would only be a second before, twisting on the ice to face him, my right hand would be lowered to steady myself. I could not rise, for rising would mean that my good hand would be thrown out to steady myself, and Minot’s chance would come.
But every moment of delay, every second, in this gathering snow-storm, meant that Ruth Gilman would have so much more time in which to escape. I knew, from the mutterings that fell from Minot’s lips, the snarls of anger, that he knew the same thing, and that he feared me too much to let me gain my feet, for he knew that I would follow. ”

“ All by the name of Minot in America are supposed to have descended from George Minot, whose posterity forms the subject of this Memoir. There was a Thomas Minot, probably a brother, who was a proprietor of Barbadoes in 1638, but I can neither trace his history, nor ascertain that he left posterity. None of the name could be found in the New York or Philadelphia Directories for 1846. The family are all descended from Thomas Minot, Esq., Secretary to the Abbot of Walden, England, by whom he was advanced to great possessions. ”

“ While thus profuse in metrical ornament, Minot cannot, however, be said to show any further care for literary art. He writes in impetuous haste, but without true lyric inspiration; and his energy often confuses his narrative instead of driving it home. But while Minot has no great literary value, and gives almost no new information, he embodies in a most vivid way the militant England of his day. He has but one subject, the triumph of England and the English king over French and Scots. The class divisions among Englishmen are for him wholly merged in the unity of England ”

“ Minot rose and went out on the avenue.
Prince Navin Bey Imno was accustomed to give lectures twice daily on the textures of his precious rugs, at his shop in the Alameda courtyard. His afternoon lecture was just finished as Mr. Minot stepped into the shop. A dozen awed housewives from the Middle West were hurrying away to write home on the hotel stationery that they had met a prince. When the last one had gone out Minot stepped forward.
"Prince—I've dropped in to warn you. A very angry woman will be here shortly to see you." ”

“ I thought, of course, you came for pleasure."
"There'll be no pleasure in this trip for me," said Minot bitterly.
"Oh, won't there?" Paddock laughed. "Wait till you hear Mrs. Bruce talk. See you later, old man."
At luncheon they brought Mr. Minot a telegram from a certain seventeenth floor in New York. An explosive telegram. It read:
"Nonsense nobody here to take your place, see it through, you've given your word. ”

“ Minot began, "you intimated the other day that this man might really be your brother—"
"No," Harrowby broke in. "Impossible. I got a good look at the chap to-night. He's no more a Harrowby than you are."
"You give me your word for that?"
"Absolutely. Even after twenty years of America no Harrowby would drag his father's name on to the vaudeville stage. No, he is an impostor, and as such he deserves no consideration whatever. And by the by, Minot—you will note that the postponement is through no fault of mine." ”

“ Mr. Minot moved on from the imminence of Mrs. Bruce. A moment later the limousine sped by him. One seat was generously filled by the wittiest hostess in San Marco. Seated opposite her, Mr. Paddock waved an airy hand. Life had always been the gayest of jokes to Mr. Paddock.
Life was at the moment quite the opposite to Dick Minot. He devoted the next hour to sad introspection in the lobby. It was not until he was on his way in to dinner that he again saw Cynthia Meyrick. ”