CHRISTMAS MORNING

When I got out on the lawn, I accused myself of doing a very foolish thing.  “Why,” I thought, “should I follow these men?  I know nothing against them.  They have as much right here as I have, and surely two friends can leave the house and come out for a stroll without being watched?”

With this thought in my mind I turned to go back again, when I heard voices close by me.  Evidently they were behind some large laurel bushes which hid them from my sight.  I stopped again for an instant; but, knowing I had no right to listen to what might be private conversation, I started a second time for the house, when I heard the name of Gertrude Forrest, and then I seemed chained to the ground.

“You have inquired about her?” said a voice, which I recognized as belonging to Voltaire.  The answer was in Arabic, and was spoken by Kaffar.

Five years prior to the time of which I am writing I had been engaged in a work that required a knowledge of the Arabic language, and although it cannot be said I had become anything like proficient in that tongue, I had been taught by an Arabian, and could enter into ordinary conversation.  Thus I understood the Egyptian’s reply.

“With regard to Miss Forrest,” he said, “I answer not in the language which every one here knows.  Miss Forrest must be yours, and that for several reasons.  She is a flower in herself.  She is an orphan.  She has a large fortune.  She has absolute control over it.  She has a fine house in England’s capital.  She has a large estate and a grand country mansion in the south of this country.  Win her, Herod Voltaire, and you can be a little king, and I your prime minister.  We heard much about her before we came; but we did not think to find such a queen.  Win her, man, and our fortunes are made.”

This was said quickly, and with all the fervour of an Eastern.

“Yes, Kaffar.  It would be well if it could be done.  To be an English gentleman, with an entree into the best English society, is what I have long longed for.  It will not only satisfy my taste, but give me power, and power is what I must have.  It is by good luck we are here, but neither of us have the means to pass as English aristocrats very long.  As you say, something must be done, and, upon my honour, I have very nearly fallen in love with her.  But she must be won, and won fairly.  She is evidently strong and determined, and can be forced to do nothing.”

“Nonsense,” snarled the Egyptian.  “Use all your seductive arts first, and if you fail to win her by those, trust me to weave such a chain of events as shall make her become Mrs. Voltaire.”

Up to this point I listened attentively, and then a minute’s silence on their part aroused me to myself.  Was it right to stand listening thus?  And yet a thousand things justified the act.

They moved on from the spot where they had been standing, but I was too much stunned to follow them.  At that moment I realized that I had given my heart to Gertrude Forrest, and that another man had designs concerning her.