The young man was a pink-cheeked, yellow-haired youth of extremely boyish appearance, and dressed as if for the race-track.But at the moment his pink and babyish face wore an expression of complete misery.With tear-filled eyes he was gazing at a house of yellow stucco on the opposite side of the street.And his thoughts were these: "She is the best that ever lived, and I am the most ungrateful of fools.How happy were we in the house of yellow stucco! Only now, when she has closed its doors to me, do I know how happy! If she would give me another chance, never again would I distress or deceive her."So far had the young man progressed in his thoughts when an automobile of surprising smartness swept around the corner and drew up in front of the house of yellow stucco, and from it descended a charming young person.She was of the Dresden-shepherdess type, with large blue eyes of haunting beauty and innocence.
"My wife!" exclaimed the blond youth at the railings.And instantly he dodged behind a horse that, while still attached to a four-wheeler, was contentedly eating from a nose-bag.
With a key the Dresden shepherdess opened the door to the yellow house and disappeared.
The calling of the reporter trains him in audacity, and to act quickly.He shares the troubles of so many people that to the troubles of other people he becomes callous, and often will rush in where friends of the family fear to tread.Although Philip was not now acting as a reporter, he acted quickly.Hardly had the door closed upon the young lady than he had mounted the steps and rung the visitor's bell.As he did so, he could not resist casting a triumphant glance in the direction of the outlawed husband.And, in turn, what the outcast husband, peering from across the back of the cab horse, thought of Philip, of his clothes, of his general appearance, and of the manner in which he would delight to alter all of them, was quickly communicated to the American.They were thoughts of a nature so violent and uncomplimentary that Philip hastily cut off all connection.
As Philip did not know the name of the Dresden-china doll, it was fortunate that on opening the door, the butler promptly announced:
"Her ladyship is not receiving."
"Her ladyship will, I think, receive me," said Philip pleasantly, "when you tell her I come as the special ambassador of his lordship."From a tiny reception-room on the right of the entrance-hall there issued a feminine exclamation of surprise, not unmixed with joy; and in the hall the noble lady instantly appeared.
When she saw herself confronted by a stranger, she halted in embarrassment.But as, even while she halted, her only thought had been, "Oh! if he will only ask me to forgive him!" Philip felt no embarrassment whatsoever.Outside, concealed behind a cab horse, was the erring but bitterly repentant husband; inside, her tenderest thoughts racing tumultuously toward him, was an unhappy child-wife begging to be begged to pardon.
For a New York reporter, and a Harvard graduate of charm and good manners, it was too easy.
"I do not know you," said her ladyship.But even as she spoke she motioned to the butler to go away."You must be one of his new friends." Her tone was one of envy.
"Indeed, I am his newest friend," Philip assured her; "but I can safely say no one knows his thoughts as well as I.And they are all of you!"The china shepherdess blushed with happiness, but instantly she shook her head.
"They tell me I must not believe him," she announced."They tell me--""Never mind what they tell you," commanded Philip."Listen to ME.
He loves you.Better than ever before, he loves you.All he asks is the chance to tell you so.You cannot help but believe him.
Who can look at you, and not believe that he loves you! Let me,"he begged, "bring him to you." He started from her when, remembering the somewhat violent thoughts of the youthful husband, he added hastily: "Or perhaps it would be better if you called him yourself.""Called him!" exclaimed the lady."He is in Paris-at the races--with her!""If they tell you that sort of thing," protested Philip indignantly, "you must listen to me.He is not in Paris.He is not with her.There never was a her!"He drew aside the lace curtains and pointed."He is there--behind that ancient cab horse, praying that you will let him tell you that not only did he never do it; but, what is much more important, he will never do it again."The lady herself now timidly drew the curtains apart, and then more boldly showed herself upon the iron balcony.Leaning over the scarlet geraniums, she beckoned with both hands.The result was instantaneous.Philip bolted for the front door, leaving it open; and, as he darted down the steps, the youthful husband, in strides resembling those of an ostrich, shot past him.Philip did not cease running until he was well out of Berkeley Square.Then, not ill-pleased with the adventure, he turned and smiled back at the house of yellow stucco.
"Bless you, my children," he murmured; "bless you!"He continued to the Ritz; and, on crossing Piccadilly to the quieter entrance to the hotel in Arlington Street, found gathered around it a considerable crowd drawn up on either side of a red carpet that stretched down the steps of the hotel to a court carriage.A red carpet in June, when all is dry under foot and the sun is shining gently, can mean only royalty; and in the rear of the men in the street Philip halted.He remembered that for a few days the young King of Asturia and the Queen Mother were at the Ritz incognito; and, as he never had seen the young man who so recently and so tragically had been exiled from his own kingdom, Philip raised himself on tiptoe and stared expectantly.
