Ainslee's Magazine, February 1913 — page 67: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE YELLOW DIAMOND PENDANT claim the jewel. And the only thing I could frame in my muddled brain was: “Well, I never!” I think Fate must have a sense of humor. Sometimes things get so jum- bled, and are thrown together in such a queer way, that the result is terribly funny; although it was a long while before I could see anything humorous in the way Fate tossed me bodily into the arms of the Seymour Browns, and almost in the same breath sent me a more or less mysterious pendant from my long-lost cousin, Herbert Callaway. If I hadn’t been so credulous, so ut- terly foolish, I should have taken that horrid, yellow-diamond bauble to Billy and told him the silly circumstances of my possession of it; but I didn’t, and - that was the cause of all the trouble. I was sitting in my rose boudoir at the Seymour Browns, cogitating on what a horrible thing it was to de- pend upon the hand which Fate deals from a pack of cards, when Barbara Brown rapped on the door and came in. She looked pale and scared, her breath was coming in little gasps as if she had taken the stairs two at a time, and she came toward me with her hands flung out in a helpless gesture. “Kit!” she breathed tensely—just that truly—“Kit, I'll have to tell you!” She seemed so frightened, so as if she were ready to crumple up in a faint, that I got to my feet, tried frantically to think where the smelling salts were, and, failing, had the presence of mind to wheel a chair toward her, into which she sank with a little whisper of a sigh. I was wondering if I should shriek for assistance when she sat up suddenly. “Don’t ‘call any one!” she com- manded. “For Heaven’s sake, Kit No one must know—except yourself. I wouldn’t even dare tell-mother. Let me get my breath, and I'll tell you. I’ve had an awful scare.” I removed her hat, chafed her wrists, and watched the color come slowly back to her cheeks. Little dabs of perspira- tion stood out upon her forehead, and when she spoke her voice had a dry, cracked sound. 57 “Kit,” she said, “Herbert Callaway has been hurt.” “Herbert Callaway!’ I repeated, much as if every letter in the name had been an exclamation point. “Yes. Oh! I'll have to begin at the beginning. I’m in love with Herbert Callaway.” “In love with Herbert Callaway,” my lips repeated, but no sound came, and I stood there staring at her stupidly, wondering if I had suddenly gone crazy, or if she had; and what in the world Herbert Callaway, in Europe some- where, had to do with anything, any way. “If he should die!” she moaned, and covered her face with her hands. I snapped my lips shut, then I opened them again. “If you'll begin at the beginning, and keep on——” I said. “Yes, yes, of course,’ she agreed. “Let me think. There’s so much to tell, and naturally you are wondering why I’ve never told you before, and oh, Kit, I love you because you are his cousin —no, no, I don’t mean that. I love you for yourself 3 “Come back to the beginning,’ I sug- gested. “Oh, yes. Well, I met Herbert in Monte Carlo. I didn’t know you then, Kit. We were just sticking our noses in here, but, of course, I knew who you were; and when Herbert Any- how, we tumbled head over heels in love with each other.” “Good—good gracious!’ J mur- mured. “Father began to bellow and shout when he found it out. Said he didn't give a damn how fine Herbert’s fam- ily was, that he was trotting in a thiev- ing set of noblemen—Count Pazzini did have some trouble about a pearl neck- lace—and trumped up a lot of silly stuff about some college thefts. It was all so absurd I told Herbert that to prove my faith in him I’d marry him on the spot.” “Then you were the American heiress with whom he tried to elope?” I asked. “We never tried to elope,’ she de- (COLMMUE v_OOK (E@)