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And the pleasure-seeking Lady Rourke, with her hair of spun gold and her provoking smile, found Lou Chada dangerously fascinating; almost she was infatuated she who had known so much admiration. Of those joys for which thousands of her plainer sisters yearn and starve to the end of their days she had experienced a surfeit. Always she sought for novelty, for new adventures.
"Even their little handkerchiefs have black borders," somebody beyond replied. Emmy Lou wondered if she was in some dreadful dream. Was she a grandchild or was she an orphan? Her head swam. The service began and there fell on the unwilling grandchildren the submission of awe.
And ten minutes later, when the bandages had been wound, there was a strange sight of Lord Nick striding up the street with his victim in his arms. How lightly he walked; and he was talking to the calm, pale face which rested in the hollow of his shoulder. "He will live? He will live?" Lou Macon was pleading as she hurried at the side of Lord Nick. "God willing, he shall live!"
Reaching the pasture, she stood at the gate with her arms resting upon the topmost rail, and was so deep in reflection that she did not hear a step behind her until a hand touched her shoulder, and Jim's voice asked quietly: "What are you doing off here by yourself, Lou? Mrs. Bemis didn't know what had become of you, and I've been looking everywhere." "I dunno," Lou answered truthfully enough.
At sight of the sweet, troubled face the faithful creature just dropped into a chair, and throwing her apron over her head, rocked back and forth, moaning "You po' chile, you po' chile!" "Yes, mammy," cried Miss Lou, forgetting for the moment that a stranger was within hearing. "I'm in desperate straits, and I don't know what to do."
The handsome, cultured young Eurasian, fresh from a distinguished university career and pampered by a certain section of smart society, did not conform to Detective Sergeant Durham's idea of a suspect. He knew that Lou was the son of Zani Chada, and he knew that Zani Chada was one of the wealthiest men in Limehouse.
"I love the South, Ben, as I loved Aunt Lou, my old black mammy. I've laid in her arms many a day, and I 'most cried my eyes out when she died. But that didn't mean that I never wanted to see any one else. Nor am I going to live in the South a minute longer than I can help, because it's too slow. And New York isn't all I want to travel and see the world. The South is away behind."
Whately and Aun' Jinkey nursed Miss Lou into a slow, languid convalescence, till at last she was able to sit in an easy-chair on the piazza. This she would do by the hour, with a sad, apathetic look on her thin face. She was greatly changed, her old rounded outlines had shrunken and she looked frail enough for the winds to blow away.
And catching up the churn she ran into the house, Mrs. Mayfield calling after her. "Come back, Lou, I didn't mean that. Please come back and let me explain." She hastened toward the door and Lou came running out. "Lou, I didn't mean " But she would not stay to hear. She ran away and Mrs. Mayfield was begging her to return when Tom came hurriedly out of the house.
Lou Tres de May was selected as the best; and on the letter attached to the poem being opened, the president proclaimed the author to be "Jasmin, Coiffeur."
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