THE 
 SMILE OF THE SPHINX
 
 "You are teaching me the meaning of heaven upon earth,*' 
 she murmured dreamily 
 
 [Chapter XXI II]
 
 THE SMILE 
 OF THE SPHINX 
 
 BY 
 
 MARGUERITE BOUVET 
 
 Author of "Sweet William," etc., etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 H. S. DE LA Y 
 
 CHICAGO 
 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 19H
 
 Copyright 
 A. C. McCLURG & CO. 
 
 1911 
 
 Published October, J911 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England 
 
 The author wishes to express her thanks and gratitude 
 to Dr. S. Weir Mitchell for granting to her permis- 
 sion to quote several passages from his poetic works 
 
 W. If. If all Printing (Cuuty any 
 CCJjiraga
 
 foil 
 
 Who have inspired the better pages of this 
 book ; to you who wear not the smile of the 
 Sphinx, inscrutable, impenetrable, unchang- 
 ing but the genial smile of friendliness and 
 good-fellowship, unashamed of its sincerity 
 and candor ; the smile that reflects heart and 
 soul from the crystalline alembic of a mind 
 distilling none but fresh pure thoughts, leav- 
 ing no riddle to be solved, but prompting the 
 question: "Why are there not more in the 
 world like you ? " 
 
 2134390
 
 " By thine own tears thy 
 Song must tears beget." 
 
 CATULLUS.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I THE DOLLIVERS IN TOWN . . .13 
 II MATILDA COMES UNDER THE INFLUENCE 
 
 OF THE SMILE . . . . .33 
 III HELENE DOYLE AND HER ENTOURAGE . 52 
 IV BENEDICT: THE ONE BLESSED . . 72 
 V BENEDICT PURSUES Miss DOLLIVER'S AC- 
 QUAINTANCE . . ... 8,8 
 VI THE HADLEYS AT HOME . . .97 
 VII THE YOUNG LADY GRADUATES ARE 
 
 LAUNCHED UPON THE SOCIAL SEA . 116 
 
 VIII THE HADLEYS ALSO ANTICIPATE . . .139 
 
 IX THE ATWOOD BALL .... 161 
 
 X BENEDICT SUCCUMBS TO NATURE'S FORCES 187 
 
 XI EFFECT OF MATILDA'S VICTORY . . 210 
 
 XII MATILDA MEETS PREFERMENT IN THE 
 
 FRENCH CAPITAL .... 225 
 
 XIII BENEDICT TURNS TO HELENE . . 242 
 
 XIV AN EPOCH-MARKING LETTER . . 257 
 XV HELENE STEERS THE CRAFT INTO MORE 
 
 PEACEFUL WATERS .... 274 
 
 XVI MR. DOLLIVER WRITES A LETTER AND THE 
 
 UNEXPECTED HAPPENS . . .291 
 
 XVII MATILDA RETURNS TO HER FATHER'S HOME 307 
 XVIII MATILDA is COMFORTED BY HER FRIENDS . 319 
 XIX THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX: HELENE'S IN- 
 TERPRETATION THEREOF . . . 332 
 XX BENEDICT CANNOT ACCEPT THE INEVITABLE 349 
 XXI BENEDICT PAYS A RUDE PENALTY . . 368 
 XXII HELENE EXPERIENCES A REACTION . 386 
 XXIII HELENE DOYLE EXPECTS THE WORST, AND 
 
 MEETS THE BEST . 401
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " You are teaching me the meaning of heaven upon 
 
 earth," she murmured dreamily . . Frontispiece 
 
 " Father, we ought to have a butler " . . .92 
 
 " I did not know, I did not think you cared so much " 206 
 
 She bound his head with the veil she tore from her 
 
 hat . 382
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE DOLLIVEES IN TOWN 
 
 " Some for the Glories of this World; and some 
 Sigh for the Prophet's Paradise to come; 
 Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, 
 Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum! " 
 
 IT was a chill, gray afternoon in late Novem- 
 ber. A sharp wind was clipping through 
 the bare trees of the avenue with a wailing note. 
 A fine, persistent rain fell and froze upon the 
 broad flagstones, leaving its frosted patterns 
 upon the glistening window panes of the great 
 mansions that overlooked the street; not a very 
 cheerful outlook or salubrious atmospheric con- 
 dition for poor Mrs. Dolliver, who suffered 
 keenly with rheumatism and from a deep, habit- 
 ual depression. To-day, her mental depression 
 
 [13]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 was enhanced by the fact that she was separated 
 for the first time in her life from her only child, 
 "Tildy." 
 
 Two weeks had passed since her sixteen-year- 
 old Matilda left for the " Seminary." To the 
 longing mother it seemed almost like three years, 
 and the inclement weather only added to her 
 melancholy state of mind. She drew her chair a 
 little closer to the open fire in the grate. She felt 
 strangely cold and nervous in her new environ- 
 ment, in spite of the cheery blaze. She glanced 
 at her husband who sat with his head buried in his 
 newspaper, and wondered how he could be so con- 
 tented. Her gaze wandered from him to the 
 high, gorgeously decorated walls and ceiling, 
 across the broad stretch of velvet carpet, the 
 massive folding doors, the rich furnishings, and 
 she could not repress the sigh that came to her 
 lips. The grandeur and loneliness of it all, with- 
 out " Tildy " to comfort and help her bear it! 
 
 " Ario," she said at last, feeling that she must 
 break the intolerable silence, "it just seems like 
 it couldn't be!" 
 
 [14]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "Like what couldn't be?" inquired Mr. 
 Dolliver, complacently, as he tilted the end of 
 his nose and the rims of his gold spectacles 
 slightly above his paper. 
 
 " Why, Tildy's being away like this. I don't 
 see how I 'm ever going to stand it four years ! " 
 
 "There, there, there, Emmy," returned Mr. 
 Dolliver, in a tone meant to be soothing. " It 's 
 just because you ain't used to it. When Matildy 
 comes home at week's-end, and you find how 
 pleased she is with it all, she '11 liven you up, I 
 reckon ; she '11 make you feel all right about it." 
 
 Mr. Dolliver himself was of a placid, rather 
 easy-going temperament, undisturbed by such 
 trifling things as the vagaries of the weather or 
 the feminine mind. He never troubled himself 
 with any of the lesser anxieties of life. The rise 
 and fall of the stock-market were of far more 
 import to him than the constant fluctuations of 
 the barometer. 
 
 ' You know she wanted it herself, more 'n any- 
 body," he went on, serenely, for to do him justice, 
 Ario Dolliver was always ready to stop and dis- 
 
 [15]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 cuss any topic with his "Emmy" tolerantly, 
 sometimes, perhaps, but never impatiently. 
 
 " She 's that ambitious, is Tildy ! proud as 
 Lucifer himself. There she 's just like her father. 
 Mark what I say, Mrs. D., we '11 be proud of that 
 girl some day." Ario's round, chubby face 
 beamed all over with satisfaction as he voiced 
 these sentiments. 
 
 " I 'm pleased with her as she is," meekly 
 averred Mrs. Dolliver, who could see naught 
 but perfection in her only child. 
 
 " To be sure we are," complied Mr. Dolliver. 
 "But that's not enough. A handsome young- 
 ster like Matildy 's got to grow up an ornament 
 to society. To do that, she 's got to be properly 
 edjicated, and I reckon I Ve hit on the best way 
 of doing it, sending her to that Pettingill 
 Seminary. Fashionable school that, I'm told. 
 You must try and get over those sentimental 
 notions about keeping her tied to your apron- 
 strings till she's a woman. This here old- 
 fashioned idea of "tooting" girls at home don't 
 amount to shucks in these days of learnin' and 
 
 [16]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 progress. She's got to gradgiate in some fine 
 institootion like the Pettingill. Only real swells 
 go there." Mr. Dolliver smoothed his waistcoat 
 over his capacious paunch with a satisfied 
 air; already he basked in the reflected glory 
 of the Misses Pettingills' eminently respectable 
 establishment. 
 
 "How much is it a year?" he pondered with 
 placid zest. "Let me think: twelve thirteen 
 hundred, without music. 
 
 "Well, I don't mind for Tildy. If she's 
 ambitious to be a fine lady, like those she 's with, 
 I '11 not be the one to hold her back not me ! 
 Millions talk these days, Mrs. D., and why 
 shouldn't Tildy hold her own beside the very 
 best? I can afford it; and I '11 allow that she '11 
 be a dashing young heiress, some day." 
 
 Mrs. Dolliver gazed at her husband with a 
 kind of awe and stupefaction. She always grew 
 silent when he began on his "highty, flighty" 
 projects, as she called them. His ambition 
 always soared to planes she could never hope 
 to reach, and they frightened her more quiet 
 
 [17]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 and humble nature into whose narrow circle the 
 possibilities of his millions could not penetrate. 
 He had been successful in business from his 
 boyhood up. Money-making had become with 
 him an absorbing passion, without disturbing in 
 the least his devotion to his wife and daughter, 
 or his love for his home and its cheerful comforts. 
 He had begun by trundling a basket of small 
 wares from door to door in the country town in 
 which he lived. At twenty-one he opened a 
 humble but prosperous small general store where 
 he had collected a most ingenious assortment of 
 commodities for the benefit of his customers; 
 everything imaginable, from a hat-pin to a 
 feather-bed. 
 
 : With the aid of his young wife, "Emmy," a 
 mild, sweet-natured girl who early recognized 
 his ability and worshipped all his decrees as 
 though voiced by an oracle, they rapidly estab- 
 lished a flourishing trade. His shrewdness and 
 success became proverbial. " As lucky as young 
 Dolliver" was a simile pregnant with meaning 
 in the small town. 
 
 [18]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 But the strongest and most striking factor in 
 his prosperity was his unflinching integrity. 
 People said that he " made money hand over 
 fist," but every dollar of it was as " clean as a 
 whistle." 
 
 Thus he grew to be an influential man, a 
 power in the municipal affairs of his native 
 place. There were many jealous ones who 
 turned to ridicule his " vulgar success," and who 
 condemned his bombastic manner of dictating; 
 but no one ever questioned his equity or his 
 perfect fairness and justice in all his dealings. 
 In time this trait won for him the respect of 
 the entire community, as well as the loyalty and 
 regard of his employees. Anyway, Success 
 always commands respect, just as it gives one 
 the right to be dictatorial. 
 
 When Mr. Dolliver's interests were finally 
 removed to Baltimore, it was his company of 
 clerks and assistants who, wishing to show their 
 appreciation of his many sterling qualities, held 
 a prolonged session during which they drew 
 up endless resolutions attesting Mr. Dolliver's 
 
 [19]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 many virtues, particularly that of turning every- 
 thing he touched into money, finally resolving to 
 appropriate a suitable sum out of the employees' 
 common fund to present him and the worthy 
 " Emmy " with a magnificent parlor suite of bril- 
 liant red plush. Fortunately, Mr. Dolliver's 
 artistic taste was on a level with that of his clerks 
 and drivers, and the gratitude with which he re- 
 ceived the gift was boundless; the speech he 
 made in response was memorable, and did him 
 credit. 
 
 It must not be lost sight of that when Mr. 
 Dolliver entered his home, he resolutely put all 
 business cares behind him. They were banished, 
 forgotten. He took a simple delight, therefore, 
 whenever he occupied the largest of the arm- 
 chairs, in testing the elasticity of its spring seat, 
 his slippered feet barely touching the floor as 
 he lolled his head against its cushioned back. 
 Mr. Dolliver had never before sat in a luxurious 
 chair of his own. The furnishings of the rooms 
 above his country store were plain, haircloth 
 antiquities. One by one the apartments that had 
 
 [20]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 been used as a home for his wife and child had 
 been appropriated for storerooms. The home 
 was literally crowded out. It had shrunk to 
 three apartments, when one day the young 
 heiress to the Dolliver millions of the future 
 touched the kindling spark to the smouldering 
 embers of Mr. Dolliver's pride, and he was 
 induced to seek a domicile commensurate with 
 his rising fortunes. It will thus be under- 
 stood that Mr. Dolliver had outgrown his 
 surroundings. 
 
 " It 's a shame, mother, for us to be living in 
 this way," Matilda had expostulated, with the 
 raw warmth of youth. "The Hackerstown 
 Savings Bank is building additions to its safety 
 vaults. I know it is just to make room for 
 father's money. Why are n't we living in a 
 house like decent people?" 
 
 ' You know your pa won't build a house in 
 this small town." There was a plaintive note 
 in her voice, a wistful light in her eyes that had 
 grown with her husband's wealth. " His mind 's 
 made up to live in the city as soon as you're 
 
 [31]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 old enough to go to one of the schools there. 
 His heart's set on that, though I know it'll 
 most kill me to let you go away from home. 
 But, Matilda, if you're not satisfied, why don't 
 you speak to your pa?" 
 
 " I '11 do it to-morrow," said Matilda, with 
 sudden determination. 
 
 She was a bright-eyed girl of fifteen, with a 
 keen, handsome face that gave promise of 
 striking beauty with the gradual development of 
 young womanhood. Her cheeks were flushed. 
 Her mother's suggestion seemed to have kindled 
 her long-cherished hopes to be allowed to go 
 to a "seminary." She knew of girls who had 
 been to these remarkable institutions, who 
 returned to their homes greatly improved, " per- 
 fect ladies" in fact, and invariably made splen- 
 did matches with city gentlemen. She hated to 
 be called a "country girl." She did not want 
 to marry a country storekeeper, as her mother 
 had done, and spend the rest of her life in 
 Hackerstown. 
 
 She stood facing her mother, with chest heav- 
 [22]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 ing, her whole body quivering with alertness 
 and desire to leap, like a youthful Diana, far, 
 far away, to scenes unknown, lured thither 
 because of their mystery. She was a picture as 
 she stood there beside the wan, frail mother, her 
 eyes aglow, her every nerve vibrant at the 
 thought of going soon to one of those city 
 schools where young girls, by some process 
 incomprehensible to her, were transformed into 
 women of the world. For Matilda Dolliver 
 was, as her father had said, ambitious, and her 
 aspirations were quite beyond her years. The 
 gentle Mrs. Dolliver gazed at her daughter 
 admiringly, a slight moisture coming into her 
 eyes. 
 
 "Why, mother, you're crying! What's the 
 matter?" Quickly she turned, gentle and ten- 
 der, and bent over her mother with genuine 
 solicitude. 
 
 "Is it what I said about being cooped up in 
 these rooms?" 
 
 "No, Tildy; it's nothing you've said or done; 
 it's just thinking we've got to go to Baltimore,
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 sooner or later. Your pa says this place ain't 
 big enough to hold him or his interests; that 
 great, big city, it seems like we'd be lost in it. 
 If it was n't for doing what your pa thinks 
 best, I 'd be content to stay here in Hackerstown 
 all my days." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! " said the girl, reproachfully. 
 'You don't really mean that?" 
 
 The look of disappointment in Matilda's eyes 
 caused Mrs. Dolliver to say hastily: 
 
 " No, no, Tildy, I don't. I '11 go, and willing, 
 as soon as ever your pa is ready. I '11 try and 
 not think of myself. I suppose I 'm nothing but 
 a selfish old woman to feel as I do about it. 
 But for mercy's sake, child, don't look so!" 
 
 For Matilda possessed not only ambition, but 
 also those essential qualifications to success, 
 patience inherited, perhaps, from her long- 
 suffering mother and the dogged persistence 
 of Ario Dolliver, who never allowed such 
 obstacles as time or personal discomforts to 
 thwart him in his chosen projects. 
 
 Matilda had already had her trials and 
 [24]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 humiliations resulting from the anomalous con- 
 ditions in which she lived. She had borne them 
 silently and stubbornly; but these early experi- 
 ences were later to serve her and fortify her for 
 the various conflicts she was to meet in her 
 eagerly anticipated school life. 
 
 The time which Mrs. Dolliver dreaded was 
 come. Matilda had gone to the Pettingill 
 School, a fashionable and altogether worthy 
 institution, frequented by the rich and poor 
 alike so long as one had any claim to aristocracy 
 whatsoever. Mr. Dolliver had met with some 
 difficulty in entering his daughter. He actually 
 did prove that one of his ancestors had fought, 
 bled, and received honors in the Revolutionary 
 War. But the genealogical line had been so 
 dispersed that it was hard to recognize this 
 fragment as belonging to the ancient tree. 
 However, the thing had- been effected, as were 
 most of Mr. Dolliver's plans. 
 
 The week had been a dismal one. Combined 
 with the inclement weather and the loneliness 
 of her strange, new domicile, Mrs. Dolliver to- 
 
 [25]
 
 day felt the separation more keenly than she had 
 at any former time in the past two weeks of her 
 residence in the house of grandeur. She gazed 
 at her husband, as she always did when he ex- 
 pounded his wisdom to convince her, and thought 
 of what a wonderful man he had come to be, and 
 how little she had dreamed that the plain but 
 determined youth who had asked her to share 
 his modest fortunes would one day be the owner 
 of millions, and a powerful figure in the com- 
 mercial world! It appalled her to think of it. 
 The higher he rose the more humble and alone 
 she felt. Unlike other wives in her condition she 
 shrank more and more from keeping pace in the 
 brilliant evolution through which her husband 
 and her daughter were being so willingly and 
 irresistibly propelled. 
 
 Mr. Dolliver could not quite fathom the depth 
 of her gentler nature. He interpreted her mild- 
 eyed look of trust into serene acquiescence, which 
 was eminently satisfactory. 
 
 In his young daughter, however, he sought 
 and met all the responsive chords attuned to the 
 
 [26]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 highest goal of his ambition. She was the one 
 force outside himself that spurred him ever 
 onward in his fearless and boundless career. 
 
 " There 's something mighty handy about a 
 good edjication," chuckled Mr. Dolliver, with 
 evident contentment. "That's something you 
 and I didn't get when we was young, 
 Emmy eh?" 
 
 " It *s not kept you from succeeding in 
 everything you've turned your hand to, Ario," 
 remarked Mrs. Dolliver, pride shining in her 
 eyes. "You've always been smart enough to 
 please me," and she continued to gaze at him 
 fondly. 
 
 "Well, 'twas mere luck that brought you my 
 way, Emmy dear," returned Mr. Dolliver, gal- 
 lantly. "You and I've pulled together mighty 
 snug these lemme see, how many years is it 
 since? well, it's no matter; you're just as 
 young to me now as you ever was, Emmy. But 
 with Matildy it 's altogether different : she wants 
 improvement. She's a great chit, is Matildy!" 
 
 Mr. Dolliver might have gone on indefinitely
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 in his expansive mood had not a sudden ring 
 at the door bell interrupted him, and caused him 
 to bounce from his easy-chair with corresponding 
 alacrity. 
 
 "Who can it be?" thought Mrs. Dolliver, 
 dreading the possibility of having to receive any 
 of her Hackerstown associates in these unaccus- 
 tomed and strange surroundings. 
 
 " It 's the postman," said Mr. Dolliver, return- 
 ing with a look of immense gratification. "He's 
 brought a letter from Tildy. That's something 
 to hearten you up, Emmy." 
 
 Mrs. Dolliver clutched the letter and hurried 
 to the nearest window to gaze for the first time 
 at the unformed handwriting of their daughter, 
 upon a letter addressed to them. " It 's most 
 too dark to see, Ario," said Mrs. Dolliver, trying 
 with nervous hand to adjust her spectacles. 
 
 "Well, there goes Amanda's tea bell. Let's 
 read it at table," said her husband, taking the 
 letter. " It '11 seem more like she 's eating with 
 us." At that moment the two heavy folding 
 
 [28]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 doors were parted, and their faithful maid of 
 all work, Amanda, beckoned them in. 
 
 "Well, I reckon weVe got light enough to 
 see here," exclaimed Mr. Dolliver, in a roar of 
 laughter. "If Mandy hasn't gone and lit up 
 the whole chandelier! Whew! feels like I was 
 setting down in one of them big New York 
 hotels. There, set up right close to me, Emmy; 
 you might be lonesome off so far. I ain't quite 
 got used to sech a big table for jest us two." He 
 was doing his best to live up to his newly acquired 
 magnificence without showing embarrassment. 
 
 " Read Tildy's letter," said Mrs. Dolliver, still 
 holding to one corner of the envelope. 
 
 "A letter!" cried Amanda, leaning familiarly 
 over her master's chair. "My sakes! What 
 stylish letter paper! It's just like Tildy to 
 catch on to any new kink ! " 
 
 Mr. Dolliver paused a moment to admire the 
 fanciful monogram adorning the top of the first 
 sheet. " I rather like that way of stamping a 
 lady's note paper, don't you, Emmy? It's like 
 
 [29]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 putting fine headings to your business sheets; 
 it advertises your quality!" 
 
 "It looks very well," assented the gentle 
 Emmy, casting eager glances at the scraggling 
 words that told of her Tildy's feelings after two 
 weeks' separation. 
 
 Mr. Dolliver began to read the letter aloud 
 with some difficulty, pausing for breath after 
 his perusal of the first page; but the mother's 
 anxiety had already absorbed its import, and 
 she sat quivering with impatience for him to 
 turn the sheet. 
 
 "I reckon she ain't finding it all so gay and 
 fine as she thought. Everything's new and 
 strange to her there. I expect, mebbe, she's a 
 little mite homesick." 
 
 "Homesick!" repeated Mrs. Dolliver, with 
 moist eyes. " Oh, dear me, dear me, I wish she 
 didn't have to do it!" And a strange feeling in 
 her throat made her cover her face with her 
 napkin. 
 
 " Tut, tut, she '11 get all over that after a 
 while. She'll come home in a week or two so 
 proud and happy you won't know her by her 
 
 [30]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 distangy manners. Gosh! I wouldn't feel so 
 bad, ma; you know she was the one that wanted 
 it the most," argued Mr. Dolliver, by way of 
 consolation. " Now, jest fall to on your victuals 
 while I see what else she says for herself." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Dolliver, though Amanda pressed 
 her with her most tempting dishes, could find no 
 appetite until she heard more about her daughter. 
 
 Not so with Mr. Dolliver, however, who found 
 the task of reading aloud on an empty stomach 
 too difficult, and experienced a singular delight 
 in giving out his daughter's words when his 
 mouth was fullest. By the time they had read 
 Matilda's letter, supper was finished and Mrs. 
 Dolliver had recovered her usual spirits at the 
 happy news that Matilda would spend Sunday 
 with them at the following week's end. Ario 
 took his wife's arm and they returned to the 
 spacious drawing-room, which Mr. Dolliver 
 insisted upon calling the " salon.' 11 
 
 Amanda giggled and disappeared, while Mr. 
 Dolliver lustily repeated the words: " Le salon, 
 le salon that's the French for parlor, so 
 Matildy says. She 's taking up the study of that 
 
 [31]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 language at the Pettingill, because she says 
 French is the proper and distangy speech of most 
 Continental courts." 
 
 Mrs. Dolliver accepted the dictates of both 
 her husband and her daughter without question. 
 Mr. Dolliver drew up his easy-chair nearer the 
 electric lamp, took up his evening paper, pol- 
 ished his spectacles, and began to enjoy what he 
 considered << _spjid comfort." He was, undoubt- 
 edly, a model husband. He neither smoked nor 
 drank, nor entertained any dangerous, worldly 
 habits. He had but one all-engrossing passion 
 money-making. To watch its miraculous 
 multiplication under his magic touch had been 
 sufficient game. He had no other hobby, that 
 one having been sufficiently absorbing to dis- 
 courage every other temptation. His sole recre- 
 ation consisted in spending one or two evenings 
 a week at home in the bosom of his family. The 
 rest of his time was passed at his down-town 
 offices, where he sat weaving and sorting the 
 golden threads of his great mercantile problems, 
 and laying the plans that were to construct, a 
 few years hence, his fabulous fortune. 
 
 [32]
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 MATILDA COMES UNDER THE INFLUENCE 
 OF THE SMILE 
 
 " Wake! For the Sun who scatter' d into flight 
 The Stars before him from the Field of Night, 
 Drives Night along with them from Heav'n, 
 
 and strikes 
 The Sultan's Turret with a Shaft of Light." 
 
 THE Misses Pettingills' school was situated 
 far down-town, almost in the business sec- 
 tion of Baltimore, in spite of which fact it had 
 retained its high prestige and distinguished 
 clientele from some of the most aristocratic and 
 wealthiest quarters of the city. It was a quaint 
 old structure, built in the architecture of several 
 generations ago. It still retained its broad front- 
 age of four tiers of iron-railed verandas rising 
 above the Venetian arcade that formed its main 
 entrance, and presented an aspect altogether 
 striking when viewed among the great towering 
 
 [33]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 buildings that had long since crowded it out of 
 its cheery atmosphere of home. 
 
 Matilda's first impression of it was one of 
 gloom and gray shadows. As she stepped 
 beneath the cool arcade her girlish ardor suf- 
 fered its first shock of restraint. The life of 
 absolute freedom and independence which she 
 had been accustomed to enjoy at home seemed 
 suddenly shut out. The superstructure of green 
 railings suggested a mammoth bird-cage in which 
 many gay-plumed birds were imprisoned. A 
 tall, ceremonious butler, white-gloved and silver- 
 trayed, admitted them finally to the mystic pre- 
 cincts of refinement and culture for which the 
 Pettingill School was far-famed. 
 
 Unfortunately, Mr. Dolliver was not pre- 
 pared with visiting cards; but with characteristic 
 sang-froid he tore off a sheet from one of his 
 business note-books and scribbled hastily: " Ario 
 Emerson Dolliver, and daughter," after which 
 they were ushered into the vast drawing-room 
 where the Misses Pettingill received their new 
 pupils. 
 
 [34]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Mr. Dolliver pompously sat down in the most 
 conspicuous chair and began to scrutinize his 
 dignified surroundings. There were long rows 
 of books enclosed in tall glass cases, a few pieces 
 of strictly classic statuary and several remark- 
 able pictures upon the sedate walls. 
 
 " Well, how d' you think you 're going to like 
 it here, Tildy?" he asked, assuming an air of 
 ease, but anxiously searching her countenance. 
 He was manifestly impressed, testimony that the 
 Misses Pettingill had not vainly created this 
 chaste, scholastic atmosphere. 
 
 "Oh, I'll like it all right," said Matilda, 
 calmly determined to let nothing sway her from 
 her chosen purpose. 
 
 ' 'Cause, you know," her father went on, " if 
 you don't like it here you can go somewheres 
 else. I can afford to put you in any school you 
 like." 
 
 "We've already selected this one, father," 
 said the girl, " and I 'm satisfied." 
 
 "That settles it, then!" and Mr. Dolliver, 
 already feeling upon intimate terms with 
 
 [35]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Minerva, began to strut about the room, giving 
 vent to a low whispering whistle, which was his 
 habit, examining the various pieces of statuary 
 with a mild degree of amazement that such 
 damaged objects could bear any value, artistic 
 or otherwise notably the Flying Victory of 
 Samothrace. He was on the point of express- 
 ing himself warmly on the subject of classic art, 
 when the door opened and two ladies entered. 
 
 "Mr. Dolliver," said the elder of the two, 
 /after a momentary inspection of the callers, " I 
 am most gratified to make your acquaintance. 
 I am Miss Pettingill." 
 
 There could be no mistaking this fact. She 
 carried herself with an oppressive air of dignity 
 that proclaimed her assurance in every move- 
 ment. Her countenance was austere, and she 
 was tall and very thin. 
 
 "Miss Pettingill, ma'am," Mr. Dolliver sa- 
 luted, with a low bow, "I'm proud to know 
 you! This is my daughter, Tildy, that I've 
 come to place under your tootership." 
 
 [36]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 The austere countenance turned slowly to- 
 ward the girl. 
 
 "Matilda, am I right in presuming?" inquired 
 the elder Miss Pettingill in a precise tone which 
 marked the correction and at the same time 
 reproved Mr. Dolliver's careless speech. 
 
 "My name is Matilda," the girl shyly 
 admitted. But her attention was far more taken 
 by the other lady, who as yet had not spoken, 
 but stood gracefully at ease during the intro- 
 duction and greetings, surveying Matilda with 
 a kind, smiling regard and now and then 
 glancing at the father. She was so quiet and 
 self-possessed and sympathetic that the girl 
 unconsciously responded to the appeal of her 
 personality. 
 
 Noting the transfer of her visitors' interest, 
 Miss Pettingill perforce presented her. 
 
 " Miss Doyle, who is kind enough to assist 
 me to-day, my sister feeling quite too ill to 
 pursue her customary duties." 
 
 There was an inarticulate murmur of solici- 
 tude from Mr. Dolliver, which w r as faintly 
 
 [37]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 echoed by Matilda; then he made a profound 
 obeisance to Miss Doyle. 
 
 She was a young woman of singularly fine 
 and wax-like appearance, evidently not far 
 removed in years from Matilda's age. She 
 was dressed in deep mourning, which costume 
 contrasted strangely with the youthfulness of 
 her face and the obvious seriousness of her duties 
 as locum tenens. She took Matilda's hand, and 
 the younger girl's heart went out to the repressed 
 warmth of the act and the smile that still played 
 upon her lips and sparkled in her eyes. So, also, 
 did Mr. Dolliver respond to the unspoken 
 sympathy of this beautiful girl. His look was 
 continually reverting in the direction of the 
 young assistant, even as he carried on the neces- 
 sary conversation with the elder Miss Pettingill. 
 
 " I take it, Miss Pettingill, ma'am, you've got 
 the right sort of accommodations for these 
 young things to romp and gambol out-of-doors. 
 You see, Tildy 's been brought up in the coun- 
 try. She 's used to sunshine and plenty of fresh 
 air," he was saying, rather doubting his assump- 
 
 [38]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 tion of the fact from Miss Pettingill's somewhat 
 dark and sallow complexion and the extreme 
 pallor of Miss Doyle's. 
 
 "Mr. Dolliver, my dear sir," the elevated 
 brows now implied resentment "we have ample 
 facilities for out-of-door exercise and recreation. 
 Miss Doyle," turning to the young woman, 
 " kindly conduct Mr. Dolliver and Miss Matilda 
 through Juno's Court that they may judge for 
 themselves. It is near the recess hour and in a 
 minute or two the young ladies will all be out 
 promenading." 
 
 But the prospect of meeting a bevy of fash- 
 ionable young ladies promenading quenched Mr. 
 Dolliver's desire for investigation. 
 
 " Not at all necessary, ma'am, I '11 take your 
 word for it. But me and my wife was jest 
 discussin' these various points of sanitation. In 
 these days of learnin' and progress everything 
 must be at the top-notch of perfection, ma'am." 
 
 "Let me assure you, my dear Mr. Dolliver, 
 that our establishment is fully equipped with all 
 the appliances and conditions necessary to the 
 
 [39]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 health and welfare of our young ladies," and 
 Miss Pettingill's neck and nose attained such a 
 point of elevation that Mr. Dolliver hastily 
 replied : 
 
 "'Nuff said, Miss Pettingill, ma'am 'miff 
 said. We was sure we'd made no mistake in 
 sending our Tildy to your worthy institootion." 
 With which gallant speech he prepared to take 
 leave of his daughter. 
 
 Matilda showed no undue emotion at parting 
 with her father. She seemed quite contented to 
 be placed under the protection of the smiling 
 young woman, never having questioned or 
 doubted in her own mind the success of her 
 school life. When, therefore, Mr. Dolliver left 
 Pettingill Seminary that morning it was with 
 that sense of security and satisfaction which he 
 liked to meet in all his transactions. 
 
 As he galloped away in his hired carriage, he 
 was blissfully unconscious of the eyes that peered 
 at him from behind the green railings up stairs, 
 or of the agitation and number of unflattering 
 remarks that followed his modest exodus. For, 
 
 [40]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 quite contrary to the elder Miss Pettingill's sur- 
 mise that all the young ladies were recreating in 
 Juno's Court, spacious behind those quad- 
 rangular walls, many of them had rushed to 
 their rooms to peer out at the father of the new- 
 comer. His fame had evidently preceded him. 
 It was known that he was immensely rich. They 
 saw the Dolliver wagons passing through their 
 quiet street every day. For he had now risen 
 to the dignity of a manufacturer of daily com- 
 modities, and was widely known by the com- 
 mercial world of Baltimore. 
 
 Judgments about him ran high in the scale 
 of exaggeration and were, of course, diversified. 
 The young ladies of Pettingill Seminary could 
 form no opinion from the glimpse they had 
 caught of him as he rode away in his cab. They 
 were consumed with curiosity to see his daugh- 
 ter. But the fact that in his earlier career he 
 had been a " penny grocer," went far to preju- 
 dice them against her. 
 
 As Matilda passed out of the drawing-room 
 under Miss Doyle's chaperonage, Miss Pet- 
 
 [41]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 tingill shot a significant glance at the young 
 assistant, a look freighted with meaning and 
 which Helene Doyle understood and acknowl- 
 edged with her usual enigmatical smile. Miss 
 Pettingill remained seated, apparently lost in 
 meditation as she watched the two young women 
 pass out of her sight. She wondered if she had 
 done right to admit this young person of low 
 degree into her flock of high-bred girls. She 
 shuddered at the recollection that Mr. Dolliver, 
 in his brief conversation, had twice used the 
 expression "we was." She hoped Miss Doyle 
 had noticed it, and taken due account of the 
 enormity of her task ; for she had been previously 
 informed that Matilda Dolliver would be her 
 especial care. It would be her pleasant task to 
 correct, refine, civilize, and instruct the uncouth 
 damsel in all the polished ways and usages of 
 good society. 
 
 Helene Doyle was certainly fitted for the 
 task, having herself been born and reared under 
 the highly cultured influences of the Pettingill 
 School. This young woman might have rebelled 
 
 [42]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 at the ignominious duties sometimes imposed 
 upon her, if rebellion had been allowed at such 
 a well-regulated academy. But it was not. The 
 Pettingill Seminary for young ladies was con- 
 ducted in every respect with military order and 
 precision. Nonconformity to its rules and 
 regulations was an undreamed-of contingency 
 among pupils and teachers. One would no more 
 have dared to oppose the elder Miss PettingilTs 
 plan of action or decision than if she had been 
 the commander-in-chief of an army preparing to 
 attack a formidable enemy. Her word was abso- 
 lute and irrevocable. Whatever were the 
 reasons for this coup d'etat in the harmonious 
 and unsuspecting circle that constituted her 
 well-ordered establishment were, therefore, best 
 known to herself. 
 
 The younger Miss Pettingill who was in every 
 particular the exact counterpart of her sister, 
 only less aggressively so, entertained the secret 
 opinion that nothing but the certainty and munif- 
 icence of Mr. Dolliver's bank checks had clinched 
 her sister's final decision. 
 
 [43]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Miss Pettingill, the elder, sat some moments 
 apparently lost in profound meditation. How 
 long she might have remained thus is beyond con- 
 jecture, if the younger Miss Pettingill, whose 
 violent headache was conquered by curiosity, had 
 not come tip-toeing down to learn the result of 
 the first interview. 
 
 "My dear sister," she burst forth in excited 
 whispers, "I 've just met her crossing the Court 
 with Helene Doyle!" 
 
 " Miss Doyle," corrected the elder woman with 
 reproving gravity; "Miss Doyle, chaperon and 
 assistant instructress at the Pettingill School, is 
 not to be confounded with Helene Doyle, the 
 former pupil. Will you never learn to observe 
 the formalities, sister ? Please endeavor to bear 
 in mind hereafter that it is Miss Doyle." 
 
 The younger Miss Pettingill was properly con- 
 trite after this rebuke; observing which the elder 
 Miss Pettingill inquired with much condescen- 
 sion: "And what do you think of her?" 
 
 "Rather a good-looking girl on the whole," 
 was the chastened reply. But seeing at once 
 
 [44]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 from her sister's severe expression that this was 
 not the precise answer expected or desired, she 
 made haste to add: " Her eyes and hair are quite 
 nice, but her taste in dress is atrocious. She is 
 awkward and ungainly. Her native deportment 
 must be moulded and chiselled like a piece of 
 rough marble." 
 
 The elder Miss Pettingill's own unexpressed 
 opinion being thus affirmed, she permitted herself 
 to be mollified. 
 
 " Miss Doyle will effect this change if it can be 
 done. It will take time and perseverance on her 
 part. Judging from the father's conversation, 
 Matilda Dolliver's parents are extremely or- 
 dinary people." And the elder Miss Pettingill 
 whispered a few of Mr. Dolliver's pet aphorisms 
 in her sister's ear lest the air might again be 
 vitiated by their repetition. 
 
 " Shocking!" exclaimed the other lady, though 
 less perturbed than her sister by the discovery. 
 "I will endeavor to assist poor Hele Miss 
 Doyle in her herculean task ! " 
 
 The look of approval on her sister's face caused 
 [45]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 the younger Miss Pettingill to retire promptly 
 upon her errand of helpfulness. She joined the 
 young women in Juno's Court, where she liked 
 to go during the recreation hours and where she 
 was more or less of a favorite with the pupils. A 
 few of the younger enthusiasts immediately sur- 
 rounded her, putting their arms about her 
 waist, school-girl fashion, and plying her with 
 eager questions about the new arrival. 
 
 " Oh, dear Miss ' Pett,' do tell us all about her. 
 Has she really come to stay?" 
 
 "Most certainly! And why not, my dears? 
 Isn't Pettingill Seminary capable of transform- 
 ing any diamond in the rough, even as rough a 
 diamond as Matilda Dolliver? For I will tell 
 you something in strict confidence, something not 
 to be repeated, mark you!" and the injudi- 
 cious Miss Pettingill related to these artless 
 young ladies her sister's stupefaction at Mr. 
 Dolliver's frequent use of " we was." Guileless 
 Miss Pettingill! What are you storing up for 
 this, your latest charge! 
 
 "They must be common people, of course, 
 [46]
 
 but very rich. Money is a powerful thing these 
 days, as Mr. Dolliver himself says. If Matilda 
 shows a receptive nature, you will be surprised at 
 the change in her after a short residence here." 
 
 The younger Miss Pettingill was as unsophis- 
 ticated as the most innocent of her young ladies, 
 but even her simple mind realized suddenly that 
 she had been decidedly too free with her con- 
 fidences, and she made haste to add: " Come, let 
 us go and make her acquaintance. Miss Doyle 
 will present us. And do be cautious not to re- 
 peat what I have said ! " The young ladies of 
 course promised great secrecy, and went will- 
 ingly to pay their respects to the " rich Miss 
 Dolliver." 
 
 Poor Matilda was a little abashed by this per- 
 emptory meeting with a host of young girls so 
 entirely different from herself. In her imagina- 
 tion their polite curiosity marked hostility, and 
 she felt the awkwardness of her situation and saw 
 at a glance the wide gulf that separated her from 
 them. So she met their well-trained advances 
 coldly, a little defiantly, at first, feeling conscious 
 
 [47]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 of her own inelegance. Her feet were not so 
 daintily shod as theirs, her gown of not so fash- 
 ionable a cut. Her gold-brown hair was parted 
 with rural simplicity and hung in two long braids. 
 
 The group that surrounded her were among 
 "the elect" of Pettingill Seminary; chief among 
 which were the swan-necked Miss Angela At- 
 wood and her sister Maud, who held their heads 
 above most of the other pupils, and assumed the 
 air of injured queens when required to perform 
 any act of common civility. They touched Ma- 
 tilda's hand lightly with their slender finger-tips, 
 expressing some trite sentiment of welcome, 
 which rang insincere. Miss Dolliver was quick 
 to resent the scorn that accompanied their greet- 
 ing. Young and inferior as she was, her pride 
 was sufficiently sensitive to be angered more than 
 cowed by their condescension. Her only reply 
 was a flash from her dark eyes and a " Thank 
 you," that admitted of no further intercourse 
 between them. 
 
 Miss Helene Doyle, who was curiously study- 
 ing her new charge, was rather pleased to see her 
 
 [48]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 display so much spirit. Those Atwood girls were 
 insufferable; they posed as social leaders in the 
 school, ruling and imposing upon their friends 
 with fine superiority. Helene Doyle knew their 
 influence and tried to turn the tide of their unfa- 
 vorable impression by drawing Edith Hadley into 
 the group. The fair Edith was a great favorite 
 among her mates owing to her amiable disposition 
 and attractive personality. She would act as a 
 counterpoise to the Atwood disdain. Her hearty 
 grasp of the hand won Matilda immediately and 
 the latter began to recover her natural self- 
 possession, after the sudden plunge into this 
 totally new sphere of existence. 
 
 ' You are going to take up all the arts, I sup- 
 pose, along with the regular studies, drawing, 
 dancing, music, singing!" and Edith uttered 
 the last word with rapturous longing. 
 
 " I have everything to learn," said Matilda 
 humbly. 
 
 " Are you fond of music? I love it, especial!} 7 
 singing. I'm wild to go to Europe and study 
 with the great masters ! " 
 
 [49]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 ' You must have a voice," suggested Matilda. 
 
 " Oh, the girls here say I sing well enough, but 
 I should like to do something larger." 
 
 " I don't know whether I have any talent, but 
 my father wants me to take the whole course." 
 
 "Isn't that splendid!" exclaimed Edith, 
 devoutly wishing she had a father who could sat- 
 isfy her every wish. " Have you a preference for 
 any special study?" 
 
 " I want very much to learn to speak French," 
 the novice timidly offered. 
 
 " Oh, that 's good ! We all prefer it to German. 
 It is such a bright, racy language. Miss Doyle 
 teaches it and speaks it perfectly. You will find 
 it so useful when you travel abroad." 
 
 Matilda laughed a little at the prospect. 
 " That seems very far away," she added. " I 
 have so much to do in the four years before me." 
 
 Miss Doyle joined them at this point, and the 
 three went off to finish their promenade together. 
 
 " Now, that 's the way I like to hear a girl talk," 
 said one of the young ladies left standing with 
 
 [50]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 the younger Miss Pettingill. " She 's not so bad, 
 and she seems to have lots of good sense." 
 
 "Didn't I tell you so?" returned Miss Pettin- 
 gill, glad of this opportunity to retract. 
 
 " She 's going to come out all right," said an- 
 other. "I think she'll be quite handsome when 
 she puts on some good-looking clothes," with 
 which promising predictions the young ladies all 
 went in at the sound of the gong. 
 
 Thus entered Matilda into that select fold of 
 virgins presided over by the Misses Pettingill. 
 
 [51]
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 HELENE DOYLE AND HER ENTOURAGE 
 
 " I sometimes think that never blows so red 
 The Rose as were some buried Caesar bled; 
 
 That every Hyacinth the Garden wears 
 Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head." 
 
 THE tall, exquisitely moulded young woman 
 who had been chosen to chaperon and 
 practically take charge of Matilda Dolliver's 
 mental and physical advancement, enjoyed the 
 rare distinction of being every one's friend at the 
 Pettingill School. Furthermore, she was sought, 
 consulted, and appealed to by her entire circle of 
 acquaintances in and out of the seminary. Her 
 judgment being always prudent and discerning 
 was asked upon all weighty subjects. She pos- 
 sessed to an exceptional degree that well-poised 
 attitude of high breeding which places every one 
 at ease, whatever his character or station. Her 
 
 [52]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 presence in any community diffused calm, re- 
 pose, and harmony without visible effort on her 
 part. Her quiet, low-pitched conversational 
 voice seemed the index to a restful, sympathetic 
 temperament. Those who met her in almost 
 daily contact held this opinion. 
 
 Yet Helene Doyle had somewhere hidden 
 within her sentient being, a warm, impulsive, 
 emotional nature which she concealed absolutely 
 under the mystic smile that won for her the pop- 
 ular name of the " Smiling Sphinx," the 
 " Mona Lisa," and like classic epithets from the 
 young ladies of the Pettingill School. Many of 
 her intimates marvelled at her perfect self- 
 government. That apparently placid mien which 
 accepted all that came into her life with equally 
 smiling serenity; could it be inborn? or in- 
 herited from either parent? It might be from 
 the big-hearted, wide-souled man who was her 
 father. Every one in Baltimore remembered the 
 tall, genial old man who had ministered so faith- 
 fully to one of the largest and poorest congrega- 
 tions in the city for upwards of forty years. 
 
 [53]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Helena's scintillating mental attributes might 
 easily be traced to the spiritual Dr. Doyle; but 
 the ever-smiling reserve, the passive, undemon- 
 strative element restraining all attempts at too 
 close familiarity surely she obtained from the 
 mother. 
 
 Mrs. Doyle was still a young, rather attractive 
 woman, and the people of their congregation dis- 
 cussed long and extensively the puzzling fact 
 that two persons of such widely differing tastes 
 should have elected to spend their lives together. 
 Singularly enough, the union of these polemic 
 extremities of temperament re-occur constantly 
 in our generation. Yet the result had proved 
 surprisingly satisfactory to the parties concerned. 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Doyle was too high-minded ever 
 to have garnered more than a scant sufficiency for 
 his own small family. His wife, on the contrary, 
 was entirely self -engrossed and self -centered ; 
 absorbed in her own and her family's interests 
 exclusively. She had no patience with her hus- 
 band's extravagant ideas of charity, and kept up 
 a perpetual worrying and fretting that never 
 
 [54]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 appeared to ruffle the good Doctor's amiable 
 mood. She belonged to that class of women who, 
 in spite of their weak, petty natures, assume a 
 kind of power and supremacy over the yielding 
 members of their own household ; but relapse into 
 abject humility and submission in the presence of 
 those keen enough to pose as superiors. 
 
 Early in her daughter's infancy she had con- 
 ceived her education with a heroic, almost Spar- 
 tan, rigidity. The child's education was to be 
 paramount. Nothing should retard the march of 
 her progress. In spite of the slender income 
 Helene must move onward to become a great 
 scholar like her father. His mind was full of 
 high and noble things: she must attain his per- 
 fection, and lose no time in the unnecessary prog- 
 ress of growing up. Mrs. Doyle had inherited 
 a small dot from a French grandmother, but that 
 would not be enough. Little Helene was per- 
 petually impressed with the fact that she would 
 have to be self-sufficient. In order to fit herself 
 for this, she must enter the Pettingill Academy 
 at the earliest stage of her girlhood. Mrs. Doyle, 
 
 [55]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 in spite of her many weaknesses, was a person of 
 action. She had outlined and formed plans for 
 her daughter's career extending from her birth 
 to the age of twenty. At four Helene was to be 
 taken to M. Lemaire's for private tutoring in 
 Greek and Latin ; at thirteen she was to enter the 
 renowned Pettingill School; at seventeen take a 
 chair in some college, or marry, all this, with 
 the lightning rapidity of an expert mathematical 
 computator. She had taken the entire control 
 and government of the child, relieving the gentle 
 Doctor of all disciplinary responsibility owing to 
 his church duties, which were manifold, and also 
 because she took a special maternal joy in exer- 
 cising her role of petty tyrant. 
 
 Poor little Helene was not even suffered to 
 have the measles or any of the childish interrup- 
 tions common to children, in peace and comfort, 
 but was hurried out of bed several days sooner 
 than is usually customary in such cases. No 
 trifling causes should be allowed to impede the 
 course of her education. When she should leave 
 Pettingill at seventeen she must be ready to begin 
 
 [56]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 her career of instructor the following Autumn. 
 Thus Mrs. Doyle's well-laid plans must work out 
 their fruition without any hateful obstacles. She 
 would have her daughter's education, love affairs, 
 or professional career march on with clock-like 
 regularity and persistence. 
 
 The direct opposite of her patient, generous 
 husband, Mrs. Doyle peppered his daily exist- 
 ence with petty reproaches. She harped con- 
 stantly on the inconvenience and aggravation of 
 being poor. She found fault with him con- 
 tinually for indulging too freely in his eccentric 
 notions of giving to the poor of his parish. 
 
 "What is the use of pampering such people 
 with comforts they've never been used to? It 
 only cultivates in them a taste for ease and sen- 
 suousness incompatible with their lives, and 
 creates a demand for more. Their natures are 
 not refined or sensitive like ours. We suffer 
 more by the lack of certain necessary luxuries 
 than they do from hunger or cold." 
 
 " My dear, you seem unduly agitated about 
 something to-day," said Doctor Doyle, lifting 
 
 [57]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 his mild eyes upon her. For he was in his private 
 study revising an old sermon to adapt it to a more 
 modern application. 
 
 "That is what you always say when I'm 
 anxious about something." 
 
 " Anxious, my love? You ought to be anxious 
 about nothing. Worry will fade your pretty 
 cheeks and bring lines around your bright eyes. 
 Tell me what troubles you." 
 
 She drew nearer, invited by his extended hand, 
 and laid her other hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 "You know Helene must shortly go to the 
 Pettingill Seminary. It is so expensive and yet 
 she must stand on a level with her rich social 
 friends. The Atwood girls, the Hadleys, all her 
 playmates are to enter in the Fall." 
 
 "And you worry about the expense? You 
 little Martha! Have not the means always been 
 provided? Cease from troubling; all will be well 
 with my little daughter. Heaven has prepared 
 a high place for her in this world of joys and 
 sorrows. I have no fear. Wait God's good time." 
 
 [58]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Mrs. Doyle was quieted by his soothing, al- 
 ways beautiful faith. But her restless, active 
 spirit was only temporarily allayed by his wise 
 counsel. 
 
 From these two diametrically opposite minds 
 the daughter derived a composite nature, the 
 feminine element merging in singular conformity 
 the best characteristics of both parents into a 
 pleasing whole. 
 
 Helene had now reached her nineteenth year, 
 yet without having fulfilled her mother's high 
 ambition of attaining a scientific or mathematical 
 chair in one of America's leading colleges. True, 
 unavoidable interruptions had intervened. The 
 beloved father had quietly passed out of their 
 lives, his only legacy to his daughter being the 
 great heart and noble mind that had been his only 
 motive force to conquer and achieve much in the 
 great ends of a spiritual world. 
 
 Mrs. Doyle wept his loss and shrouded herself 
 in mourning garb. She tearfully consented to 
 Helene's taking a position at the Pettingill 
 
 [69]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 School to instruct and chaperon young ladies but 
 a few years her juniors. 
 
 "I never dreamed of such a cataclysm of all 
 my hopes! " she bewailed. " Now that your dear 
 father is gone, I have no power to think, to act. 
 You must take his place. You must upbear me 
 and comfort me ! " 
 
 Helene had already proved herself the stronger 
 nature, by setting aside her own grief to alleviate 
 her mother's, by taking all the decisive steps of 
 their lamentable condition. At the Pettingill 
 School she was welcomed by the young ladies as 
 a superior companion. The Misses Pettingill 
 [regarded her as a veritable treasure, but were too 
 Napoleonic in their manoeuvres to acknowledge 
 it. Here, too, she found entertainment and dis- 
 traction in the young life about her, and subjects 
 sufficient to cheer her disconsolate mother when 
 she went home. 
 
 The account of the arrival of the new pupil at 
 Pettingill Seminary was an effective rouser to 
 Mrs. Doyle. She immediately looked up and 
 began to take interest in the things and people 
 
 [60]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 that surrounded her. She questioned her daugh- 
 ter constantly about Matilda, and made inquiries 
 about the family among the sympathetic friends 
 who came to condole with her. The chief thing 
 she could learn about the Dollivers was that they 
 were immensely rich, but honest and worthy peo- 
 ple whose one object in life seemed to be to 
 educate, refine, and ennoble their young daugh- 
 ter. They were doing everything that could be 
 done for a child. 
 
 " How extremely interesting! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Doyle. "If it were not for my mourning, I 
 would at once call upon Mrs. Dolliver. I am sure 
 we should find one bond of sympathy in common 
 our daughters. And thus I should be follow- 
 ing the wishes of my beloved husband by calling 
 immediately upon new members of our church. 
 Oh, how it would please him, now, if he could 
 know I took more interest in church affairs ! But, 
 you understand, during his lifetime I could not 
 neglect my home duties, nor my responsibilities in 
 regard to Helene. It was all I could do to get 
 the child ready in time for Sunday-school. And 
 
 [61]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 invariably afterwards I would suffer with one of 
 those splitting headaches ! Helene and her father 
 never knew what headaches were. I used to tell 
 them they did not know the meaning of suf- 
 fering. I always said it was because their minds 
 were gifted and therefore more active. Have you 
 ever noticed that really great and gifted people 
 never mention the subject of headache? Whereas, 
 comparatively brainless people like you and me 
 are forever complaining." 
 
 " There is, no doubt, a great deal of truth in 
 the modern idea that the mind controls the body 
 to a remarkable degree," said the unoffended 
 visitor. 
 
 " That is just what Helene is always telling 
 me. And if you'll believe me, that young Dr. 
 Rasburn has the same notion, only he is more 
 sympathetic." 
 
 Mrs. Doyle could go on for hours expatiating 
 about her pet maladies when she found some one 
 willing to listen. Dr. Rasburn, who had been 
 called during Dr. Doyle's last illness, was now 
 her daily visitor. She found endless comfort in 
 
 [62]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 retailing to him all her various complaints, while 
 he with keen professional insight directed the 
 conversation to topics of general social interest. 
 He entertained her so adroitly about the new- 
 comers that one day Mrs. Doyle asked Helene to 
 bring Matilda Dolliver home with her. 
 
 :< We might make it an occasion for asking a 
 few others who have been so very kind during our 
 trouble ; the Hadley girls and Benedict, of course, 
 and Dr. Rasburn who desires to meet Matilda. 
 He has told me so much that interests me about 
 the family. I see no reason why we should not 
 have a quiet little social gathering of a very few 
 intimates." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Helene, welcoming the 
 slightest evidence of her mother's returning 
 spirits. " We might ask them for next Monday. 
 It will be the first week of vacation, and I should 
 think agreeable to every one. Is there any one 
 else whom you would like to ask ? " 
 
 "Perhaps the Atwoods?" 
 
 "No, not the Atwoods, mother," objected 
 Helene. "This must be so very quiet and 
 
 [63]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 informal, and you know the Atwoods entertain 
 elaborately. Their presence alone would trans- 
 form our simple 'afternoon' into a formidable 
 affair." 
 
 "Then, why not ask Mr. and Mrs. Dolliver? 
 I have been wishing to meet Matilda's mother; 
 but in my position, it is impossible for me to call. 
 Perhaps they will .understand." 
 
 " That will be very pleasant," Helene ac- 
 quiesced. " They will stand upon no ceremony. 
 They will gladly welcome an occasion where 
 Matilda will be the social attraction." 
 
 "It is very sweet of you, Helene, to think of 
 diverting me from my present loneliness. Now 
 write our invitations, my daughter," added Mrs. 
 Doyle, whose inclination was to be ceremonial in 
 whatever she did. 
 
 " That will hardly be necessary," explained 
 Helene with an amused look. "An invitation 
 would be rather too formal for Mr. and Mrs. 
 Dolliver. It might intimidate them. We can 
 easily reach every one by telephone. That will 
 savor more of the intimite de famille." 
 
 [64]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Helene had met Mr. and Mrs. Dolliver several 
 times during their visits at school, and she chose 
 this way of doing them a kindness. The other 
 friends whom they asked were all prepared to 
 take the Dollivers at their face value. Therefore 
 she feared no friction or embarrassment in their 
 contact with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Dolliver 
 would have no cause to feel their position of 
 declasses. Matilda had won too many friends in 
 her first year's schooling. She had conquered 
 almost every one except the Atwood girls who 
 were too fundamentally snobs to be touched by 
 Matilda's rapid development. 
 
 It was at the close of the last school term. 
 The Spring had swung round with unusual 
 vigor, and the atmosphere at Pettingill Sem- 
 inary had relaxed into a social warmth char- 
 acteristic of young women who have lived, 
 thought, and worked side by side for the better 
 part of a year. 
 
 Among those drawn into the circle that had 
 accepted Matilda was the blonde Edith, youngest 
 of the Hadley sisters. According to youthful 
 
 [65]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 enthusiasm she had " raved " at home about her 
 new friend her quiet, unostentatious manner, 
 her father's wealth and the royal yet simple use 
 she made of it. The elder sisters were naturally 
 eager to meet this phenomenon. Sophie, who 
 was short of forty and felt she was fast border- 
 ing on " old maidism," naturally held skeptical 
 views. 
 
 " How can she be such a paragon of perfection 
 with such antecedents! Didn't you say her 
 father was a cheap grocer in Hackerstown and 
 that her mother measured out prunes and dried 
 apples by the half-pound?" 
 
 " All the more credit to them for rising where 
 they are now," retorted Edith, who entertained 
 strictly democratic views on the subject. " It 
 would be better for our social position to-day if 
 we had had one or two grocers or shoemakers on 
 our ancestral tree instead of poets and philos- 
 ophers whose legacy to us is something short of 
 beggardom!" she protested warmly. 
 
 " Come, girls, don't wax so eloquent over those 
 
 [66]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 innocent Dollivers," interposed Lucy. "What 
 shall you wear to Mrs. Doyle's ' afternoon?" 
 
 "I shan't go, for one," said Sophie. "I've 
 nothing to wear, as usual ; and I 'm too busy with 
 my essay on ' The Influence of Heredity over 
 Environment' for the Woman's Club." 
 
 " Why, the dotted challis you Ve just made 
 over, with that handsome lace from Aunt Mary's 
 collar, is just the thing," suggested Lucy. " I 
 think we ought to go. An invitation from 
 Mrs. Doyle at this particular time is a great 
 compliment." 
 
 "I shall wear my blue organdie. That's 
 always becoming," complied Edith, dancing away 
 with a pretty tra-la-la, to press jt out for the 
 occasion. 
 
 'That's right, look your prettiest; I hear 
 Benedict Travis is to be there," called out Lucy. 
 
 " It won't do a bit of good," resumed Sophie 
 pessimistically. " They say he 's seen Matilda 
 at church, and is crazy to meet her." 
 
 " So is Dr. Rasburn, I hear," said Lucy. 
 
 [67]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "Well, I don't see where the attraction is," 
 snapped Sophie, "unless it's the money," and 
 marched off to inspect her old challis gown. 
 
 The select " afternoon " at the quiet, refined 
 home on St. John's Street, following their first 
 period of mourning, was an uncommonly pleas- 
 ant affair. Every one invited was present. 
 Even the Atwood ladies who were not, dropped 
 in to call, by mere coincidence, towards the latter 
 part of the day, and were compelled to shake 
 hands with Mr. and Mrs. Dolliver who seemed 
 to be the life of the party. 
 
 "It is a perfect mystery to me," observed 
 Maud as the three stepped stiffly into their glit- 
 tering car, feeling that they had been slighted, 
 " why every one seems to make so much of that 
 girl. Did you notice Mrs. Doyle's arm around 
 her when she was being introduced?" 
 
 " It is on Helene's account," said Angela. 
 "You know she has grown fond of Matilda in 
 spite of having been with her so constantly." 
 
 " That was the Misses Pettingills' policy," said 
 the mother. "It may not be altogether sincere. 
 
 [68]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Helena Doyle does not show her feelings. But 
 did you notice those young men surrounding her 
 like a blockade? They could hardly tear them- 
 selves away long enough to be polite to us ! There 
 is certainly a kind of magnetic attraction about 
 that young person which I should be sorry to see 
 in my daughters. It will play the mischief some- 
 where." Mother At wood closed her lips very 
 tightly after this prophetic utterance and 
 gathered up her silken skirts about her with 
 effusion. 
 
 "I hope not with Helene," pursued Maud, 
 malevolently. 
 
 "It is very likely to be. Where do we stop 
 next, daughters?" 
 
 " At the Del Bondios' ; it is the nearest point 
 on our way," said Angela, turning to direct the 
 chauffeur. 
 
 ; ' Very well, I shall inform them of my senti- 
 ments regarding Miss Dolliver, for I should like 
 to know their aristocratic opinion on the subject." 
 
 The Atwood motor-car sped around the corner, 
 leaving but slight impression of its occupants 
 
 [69]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 upon the selected company at Mrs. Doyle's. 
 Helene, however, was not at all concerned about 
 the impression Matilda had produced upon her 
 friends ; but rather what effect they had produced 
 upon her. 
 
 "How did you enjoy them?" she asked as she 
 helped Matilda on with her wrap upstairs. 
 
 ' You know what I think of the Atwoods," said 
 Matilda smiling. 
 
 " I don't mean them, I mean the others." 
 
 "They are dears, all of them," returned 
 Matilda, gently pressing her friend's hand. " I 
 was so glad to meet the two elder Hadley girls. 
 Sophie is so original and droll, and Lucy is a 
 darling." 
 
 "And Dr. Rasburn, and Benedict?" 
 
 Oh, Benedict, he is by far the more at- 
 tractive of the two. He is a protege of yours, is 
 icnot?" 
 
 " We played together when children. We have 
 been friends a long time. I hope you will like 
 him. He is going home with you, Dr. Rasburn 
 with the Hadleys." 
 
 [70]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " I will try to, for your sake," and Matilda 
 leaned forward to kiss Helene the first time in 
 their year's acquaintance. 
 
 " That was a successful little affair," said Mrs. 
 Doyle as the last guest left the house, " and all 
 owing to you, Helene. You always manage to 
 bring together people who will not clash or ruffle 
 each other. That is the true art of entertaining, 
 a trait which you must have inherited from my 
 side of the family." 
 
 Thus it happened that Helene Doyle was 
 responsible for Matilda's introduction into one of 
 the choicest, yet most formidable little circles of 
 Baltimore society. 
 
 [71]
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 BENEDICT: THE ONE BLESSED 
 
 "Ah, fill the Cup: what boots it to repeat 
 How Time is slipping underneath our Feet: 
 
 Unborn To-morrow, and dead Yesterday, 
 Why fret about them if To-day be sweet! " 
 
 NOW and then we come across his like in this 
 world of ours; a creature who from his 
 birth seems to move in sublime agreement with 
 God and Nature. Mrs. Travis must have had 
 prescience of her son's fair destiny. She was 
 moved to call him Benedict, which philologically 
 interprets itself into: "One who is blessed of 
 God." From childhood he had been favored 
 beyond the lot of ordinary man. An only son 
 reared by an adoring and tender mother, directed 
 by a strong, upright father, he seemed to have 
 imbibed and concentrated in his small personality 
 all the traits of the gentlemanly stock from which 
 
 [72]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 he descended. The Travises possessed good 
 blood and the quintessence of grit and honor for 
 generations back. In the history of Baltimore 
 they had figured; some as warriors and conquer- 
 ors, others as peacemakers and civilizers of men. 
 They owned great tracts of fertile country where 
 they themselves dwelt and furnished a living to 
 hosts of other fellow-men. Their sons, raised in 
 that atmosphere of peace, plenty, and industry 
 the industry of mind and body had grown 
 to manhood in that larger life of pure air and un- 
 dulating meadows ; amid the growth and fruitage 
 of the great forces that move the world. -They 
 were, without exception, true and noble sons of 
 the soil. 
 
 Benedict Travis drew from this chain of stal- 
 wart antecedents his vigorous physique, his 
 healthy mind and sound judgment, all the qual- 
 ities that won for him the approbation of his 
 fellows. His grandfather had been a scholar 
 a sort of Jean- Jacques Rousseau whose sons 
 had naturally followed in way of their 
 predecessor. 
 
 [73]
 
 Major Travis had united in his beautiful home, 
 ' Willow Brook," all the elements requisite to the 
 perfect up-bringing of his son Benedict. In the 
 great stone mansion, with its vast cool rooms, its 
 wide halls and verandas, its orchards and sur- 
 rounding gardens, and far beyond him that 
 horizon of fields and meadows where the grain 
 swelled and the cattle grazed beside peaceful 
 streams young Benedict Travis grew up to 
 manhood. 
 
 He loved the place. Though soon impelled 
 from it by his youthful aspirations and ambition, 
 for he looked to the city near by for the realiza- 
 tion of all his hopes for the future, he never 
 ceased to yearn for the spot where his first and 
 strongest affections were rooted. 
 
 He was a tall, well-built young fellow who 
 walked erect, his head aloft like a young Greek. 
 His eyes of a sapphire blue were set deep beneath 
 his brows. Against his dark hair, they suggested 
 a remote tinge of Irish ancestry. Major Travis, 
 however, always declared that naught but Eng- 
 lish blood flowed in the Travis veins. There 
 
 [74]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 might have been an infusion somewhere in the 
 mother's, who was American born. 
 
 The boy's first approach to any one was always 
 genial, smiling, and frank. The pressure of his 
 hand immediately set one upon a free-masonry of 
 good-fellowship, and gradually drew one nearer 
 and nearer by those subtle attractions, personality 
 and youth. He was everybody's chum. Men, 
 women, and children alike took him into their 
 confidence, and found him a rare companion. 
 
 At college he was popular and at the head of 
 anything that called forth the expenditure of 
 strong physical or mental effort. His professors 
 soon came to observe the wise precaution of never 
 praising him publicly. Secretly they felt for him 
 as for an enfant gate who resisted every tempta- 
 tion to be spoiled. His mind had been charged 
 with the strength and glory of Nature's elemental 
 forces the living grain, the fragrant hop-vine, 
 the vigor of ripening barley, the strong breezes 
 that blew across the bending harvest to infuse the 
 very life-blood into his young veins. The con- 
 quering spirits of the world all come from the 
 
 [75]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 country, the vast productive country: for in it 
 are health and strength, and beauty and kind- 
 ness of heart inculcated into its sons by Nature's 
 own graciousness. 
 
 From college Benedict aspired to the dignity 
 of the law. In the city he met an old friend 
 of his father, a prominent judge of the Superior 
 Court of Baltimore, who took him into a mild 
 sort of partnership. At first Benedict was all 
 seriousness and enthusiasm in his profession. It 
 was his nature to dive deep or not at all. He 
 would sit among his books and papers hour after 
 hour, day after day, intent upon his determina- 
 tion to achieve success in this as in everything 
 else. 
 
 One morning in June when the thermometer 
 had soared beyond its normal limitations, Judge 
 Sanford entered his office and found young 
 Travis literally ensconced in a medley of 
 municipal books and sheets. 
 
 " Put up all this stuff and take a spin out upon 
 a country road a morning like this, my boy. The 
 office is stuffy; you need the out-door air." 
 
 [76] 
 
 J
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " I Ve been brought up on air," returned Bene- 
 dict, brightly; " I think I Ve stored up enough to 
 last me some years. If you don't object, I'll 
 finish up the thing this morning, and beg off for 
 this afternoon." 
 
 "What's up?" grinned the judge. "Some 
 social doings, eh ? You '11 take a high hand at 
 that, if you once get started." 
 
 "Just a small informal afternoon at the 
 Doyles'. You know them." 
 
 ' Yes, yes, you 're all right there. How are 
 they all?" 
 
 ; ' Pretty well, I think. Mrs. Doyle is cheering 
 up a bit now Helene is at home for the vacation. 
 They are entertaining a few friends for the first 
 time in a year." 
 
 :c There 's a fine young woman for you! " the 
 judge was enthusiastic. " I mean Helene. You 
 ought to see a great deal of her." 
 
 " I do. I 've frequented their house ever since 
 I first came to Baltimore. Don't you remember, 
 Dr. and Mrs. Doyle used to come out to Willow 
 Brook to spend the Summers? Helene and I 
 
 [77]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 played together as children." The young man 
 smiled. " I never had a sure-enough sister, you 
 know, Judge ; Helene, though, fills the place with 
 eminent success." 
 
 Judge Sanford regarded him quizzically a 
 moment. 
 
 "Sister?" he said meaningly. 
 
 But Benedict continued to meet his look, and 
 the judge pursued: 
 
 " There are plenty of sisters around that you 
 can pick up for a song, but not many like Helene 
 Doyle. She's an exceptional young woman. 
 Hold on to her. What are you going to do there 
 this afternoon, meet some of her numerous 
 friends?" 
 
 " I know most of them, the Hadleys and a few 
 others. But it 's Miss Dolliver, I think, who is to 
 be the central figure." 
 
 " What! The millionaire's daughter? " 
 
 " Yes, don't be alarmed " ; and Benedict 
 laughed lightly. " I 'm proof against money 
 temptations. I'll try to resist them to please 
 
 [78]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 you and my father," he added with refuting 
 good-nature. 
 
 " Then, fire away; I'll put up my money on 
 Helene if the fight grows hot." 
 
 " It 's safe to stake your wager on an undis- 
 puted fact, like the katy-did," bantered Travis. 
 
 The Judge gave him a searching look, and both 
 men fell to the tasks at their respective desks. 
 
 To deny that Benedict was pleased with 
 Matilda that afternoon would be to make a 
 wrong assertion. In fact, he was quite struck 
 by her appearance, her freshness, and straight- 
 forwardness of thought. He guessed at once 
 the keynote of their sudden congeniality; 
 these two beings who had begun life in God's pure 
 air reflected in their faces the intense joy of liv- 
 ing which they found in their now more narrowed 
 existence. He was acquainted with the Atwood 
 girls, Maud and Angela. He was not attracted 
 by them. They were too superficial and artificial ; 
 their near presence was stifling. 
 
 At the Hadleys' he was enjoyably and domes- 
 
 [79]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 tically entertained. He spent many hours at their 
 modest home where he installed himself like a 
 relative ; solemnly advising Sophie in her imprac- 
 tical ventures and poking mild fun at her; sym- 
 pathizing with and petting Lucy who bore the 
 burdens of the home and wrestled with the daily 
 problem of living very well on very little. As to 
 Edith who was younger and more in his world, 
 he gratified her by paying due homage to her 
 blonde beauty, listening to her pretty singing, and 
 accompanying her to social functions now and 
 then when she lacked an escort. Altogether they 
 formed a very amicable little coterie. 
 
 With Helene, however, he showed his serious 
 side. Alone with her he was always boyishly 
 candid and open. He talked of his plans for the 
 future; he discussed all sorts of topics of interest 
 to them both, sociology, religion, ethics, and 
 politics alike. They took endless satisfaction in 
 working a subject threadbare, treating it from 
 every point as if their decision of the matter were 
 a monumental issue to themselves and the coun- 
 try at large. They were on a more equal mental 
 
 [80]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 level than the others and thus had formed an al- 
 most necessary habit of seeing each other often. 
 Truly there existed a rare sympathy between 
 these two handsome, high-bred, young people. 
 A As he told the judge, Helene stood to him 
 more in the relation of a sister than any woman he 
 iiad ever known. He was just twenty-one and she 
 /not quite a year older, but it was not their equality 
 / of age as much as their uniformity of mind that 1 
 / had cemented their two natures into an indis- ' 
 / soluble friendship. Friendship it was, not yet 
 platonic on either side, for neither of them had 
 ever indulged in the triviality of a love affair. / 
 Benedict was, as he had told the judge, safe. / 
 
 Not many days after he had met Matilda he 
 repaired again to the Doyles', to talk of her with 
 ene. She opened the topic by inquiring his 
 opinion. 
 
 Travis reflected. " She possesses a strong 
 individuality," he remarked at length. " She has 
 a straightforward manner of pleasing that I like. 
 And then, Helene, in this day and age it is a little 
 unusual to come across a girl so courteous to her 
 
 [81]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 parents, so thoughtful of their welfare." He was 
 obviously thinking of the disparity between them 
 and Matilda. 
 
 " That is one of the traits that I most admire 
 in Matilda," said Helene. " Do you know what 
 Maupassant says somewhere of women?" 
 
 He watched her, interestedly. 
 
 "He says," Helene went on: * 'Woman has 
 neither race nor caste. Her charm alone suffices 
 and takes the place of birth and family. Her 
 native finesse, her instinctive elegance and sub- 
 tleness of mind, constitute the only hierarch that 
 can make a woman of the people the equal of 
 great ladies." 
 
 Travis thoughtfully nodded. "You mean," 
 he said, "that she exemplifies his opinion?" 
 
 " It is largely a matter of prejudice," returned 
 Helene, looking at him with her special smile. 
 " In Matilda's case I will accede to it, but not in 
 many others." 
 
 "The exception that proves the rule," Travis 
 observed. ;c Yes, Miss Dolliver is an exceptional 
 case. Compare her, for example, with - 
 
 [82]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 But he did not finish. It was not in his nature to 
 criticise others, impossible if they were ladies. 
 Helene, however, who could read almost his every 
 thought, who was as familiar with all the details 
 that went to make up his life as she was with her 
 own, supplied the rest. 
 
 ' You were thinking of the Atwood girls," she 
 said. His silence was taken for assent, and she 
 proceeded. "I know. But," with a twinkle, 
 "comparisons are always odious." She loved to 
 tease him whenever she divined that he was 
 specially interested in some girl. 
 
 Both felt that the Atwood girls were heartless 
 in their treatment of their parents, that they 
 were wanting in sense. Atwood pater toiled day 
 in and day out for their sole pleasure and comfort. 
 He had grown to be a convenient sort of machine, 
 grinding out the necessary luxuries of life 
 for them with a punctual regularity that caused 
 them to be utterly heedless and selfish. Their 
 demands were insatiable. Instead of showing 
 gratitude, as Miss Dolliver did, they tyrannized 
 
 [83]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 mercilessly over the poor man, withholding even 
 the meed of some slight show of affection. 
 
 " What joy," asked Benedict, " does Mr. 
 Atwood find in life with his nose ever at the 
 grindstone?" 
 
 " Mr. Atwood, fortunately, is endowed with an 
 amiable disposition and that saving trait, a sense 
 of humor. He laughs at the girls' discontent 
 and goes on gratifying their extravagant whims. 
 
 " There," Helene explained, " lies his satisfac- 
 tion This question of people educating their 
 children far beyond their own position in life, so 
 that when the children return home, developed, 
 the breach made by their absence places them far 
 ahead of their parents in social or mental prog- 
 ress, is one of the problems of the day. On the 
 wisdom of such a course, we who live in a land of 
 social and moral freedom must refrain from 
 dogmatizing." 
 
 " I '11 grant all that," said Benedict, in a tone 
 which betrayed that she was not amplifying that 
 phase of the topic which, for the moment, held his 
 interest. " But I want you to agree with me that 
 
 [84]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Matilda Dolliver is away ahead of the average 
 girl." He waited with some eagerness for her 
 response, which the girl was quick to note. 
 
 " Fie, Benedict," she teased. " It is a mistake 
 to encourage so warm an interest." 
 
 "In another girl?" retorted he, matching her 
 bright regard. 
 
 In any girl. Do not forget, young man, that 
 your future is yet to be carved; you are only 
 learning how to handle the tools." 
 
 r ' Am I squelched?" he laughed. "I am. I 
 think, though, you might answer my question 
 without doing me any particular harm. Neither 
 I nor Miss Dolliver is in any immediate danger." 
 
 "Well," said Helene, with an air of gravely 
 considering the matter, " I will admit that 
 Matilda has one or two traits that make her in a 
 way superior to some girls." 
 
 " Rubbish! " - scornfully. ' You know bet- 
 ter!" 
 
 The thin, fine lips curved in their mysterious 
 smile. " Yes," she said, seriously now, " Matilda 
 is much superior to the average girl. I have lived 
 
 [85]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 with her during the better part of a year, and 
 have discovered in her many traits of character 
 that I admire. She is a sweet, lovable girl. 
 Matilda's mother comes from very good stock, but 
 she is timid, retiring, afraid of her husband's and 
 daughter's advancement." 
 
 " And there is something pathetic about that," 
 mused the young man. " As the faded mother is 
 standing still, they are marching away from her, 
 leaving her alone. Her eyes only can follow them 
 wistfully, I fancy." 
 
 " That is the inevitable fate that awaits some 
 women," said Helene. " Mrs. Dolliver's life has 
 been lived in a rut; all her habits of mind and 
 body are fixed ; while Mr. Dolliver's life has been 
 one of much variety. Although without any 
 education to speak of, nevertheless he has learned, 
 and is still capable of learning and growing. 
 Matilda realizes this. Quietly, without ostenta- 
 tion, she is trying to improve her father, to impart 
 to him some of her acquired polish and innate 
 refinement of character. As his heart is wrapped 
 up in her, her efforts are bound to produce some 
 
 [86]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 result. He very gratefully accepts these attempts, 
 striving earnestly to profit by them." 
 
 " How fine a thing it is," asserted Travis, " for 
 a girl to protect her parents from ill-natured, 
 malicious tongues. Her patent pride in them is 
 disarming." 
 
 'Yes," assented Helene, "it is very fine 
 and uncommon." 
 
 When he left Helene Doyle's he came away 
 with the set determination that he would call upon 
 Miss Matilda, as he had been invited to do by 
 her father, at his earliest opportunity. To a 
 young man not especially interested, it would 
 hardly have been necessary to promote the ac- 
 quaintance, for she and Helene were constantly 
 together, and he w r ould have ample occasion to 
 meet her at the Doyles'. But he was interested 
 and frankly admitted it. 
 
 [87]
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 BENEDICT PUESUES MISS DOLLIVEfi's 
 ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 " The Grape that can with Logic absolute 
 The Two-and-seventy Sects confute: 
 
 The subtle Alchemist that in a Trice 
 Life's leaden Metal into Gold transmute." 
 
 DURING the years of Matilda's absence 
 at the Pettingill School, the Dolliver 
 mansion had been subjected to a number of very 
 marked changes. Her fortnightly visits home 
 were largely responsible for the gradual trans- 
 formation. The Misses Pettingill themselves, 
 ladies of ancient wealth and culture, were cog- 
 nizant of the very best usages of refined society. 
 They, therefore, conducted their highly esteemed 
 establishment on lines commensurate with their 
 former grandeur. It was their purpose to place 
 their school appointments upon an exact level 
 
 [88]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 with the homes of their wealthiest patrons, thus 
 to elevate and place upon a certain degree of 
 equality the daughters of those who were not. 
 
 Not one detail of the management had escaped 
 Matilda's notice. Her wakened sensibilities were 
 ever on the alert. She wished to extract every 
 advantage from this atmosphere of elegance and 
 culture for which her father was paying generous 
 prices. She would not only imbue herself with 
 its influence, but she would bring it into her 
 father's home and gradually raise herself and 
 her parents to a more congenial level. 
 
 The house itself, situated on Charles Street 
 Avenue, could not be improved. Matilda had 
 helped her father make the selection. But its 
 furnishings, alas! swore roisterously at the noble 
 structure. 
 
 The testimonial parlor suite was the first to be 
 relegated to some remote part of the great house. 
 A more subdued, refined substitute was installed 
 which pleased Mrs. Dolliver's quiet tastes far 
 better. Ario, with his usual amiability and good- 
 humor, approved and extolled everything sug- 
 
 [89]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 gested by his daughter. His estimate of her 
 judgment rose with every innovation. 
 
 The time soon came when Amanda had to 
 be deposed from her province in the dining-room. 
 A young person of more graceful and slender 
 presence appeared in her stead; a young woman 
 who wore a cap and a voluminous white apron 
 joining at the back with eccentric bows, who 
 never took the liberty of speaking to the family 
 at table, unless addressed; a miracle of deport- 
 ment excerped from a class of maids employed 
 by Mrs. Doyle. Helene and her mother were in- 
 vited to dine at the Dolliver mansion, and the 
 change had to be effected before their coming. 
 
 Mrs. Dolliver had finally consented to the 
 accession of two new maids upon Amanda's frank 
 declaration that " willin' as she was, she could n't 
 be in nineteen places at once and keep her head 
 on." Mrs. Dolliver, too, discovered that the care 
 of a large house exhausted her waning strength. 
 She was growing old, she said, and could n't begin 
 to do the things she used to when Matilda was 
 a baby. Year by year, as the daughter's educa- 
 
 [90]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 tion progressed, the whole tone of the Dolliver 
 establishment was metamorphosed. Its former 
 atmosphere was entirely abrogated and reached 
 a level consistent with the best homes of the city. 
 Mr. Dolliver, spurred by his daughter's ambi- 
 tious demands, fanned the fire of his genius, 
 and redoubling his energies, leaped from a mono- 
 to a multi-millionaire's estate. There was noth- 
 ing too good or too costly for the home that was 
 to be Matilda's when she should at last grace it 
 by her appearance as a strong factor in the social 
 world. 
 
 Mrs. Dolliver, who by now had made an un- 
 conditional surrender of all her private opinions, 
 moved daily about her magnificent home with a 
 quiet, tremulous, apprehensive look of solicitude. 
 She had grown to say very little. The expres- 
 sion of her own feelings was of so little account. 
 She only looked her wonder, her admiration, 
 when she sat gazing at her two idols. Her words 
 were inadequate. 
 
 One day when Matilda was at home upon one 
 of her visits she made this announcement: 
 
 [91]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " Father, I think we ought to have a butler." 
 
 " A butler? " inquired Mr. Dolliver with a ris- 
 ing desire to accede, but wishing to be circum- 
 spect about it. " What is a butler? " 
 
 "Why, father, you know perfectly well," 
 returned Matilda, conciliatingly. "Don't you 
 remember those people who lived in the big house 
 in Hackerstown, and how their butler used to 
 come for crates of fruit, and how you admired 
 their motor-car he always came in? They were 
 the first in the village to have an automobile." 
 
 " I Ve got one now that 's a heap-sight hand- 
 somer 'n theirs," chuckled Mr. Dolliver, with 
 irrepressible glee. " Do the Atwoods have a 
 butler? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "The Del Bondios?" 
 
 "I think I heard Helene say that the Del 
 Bondios had one whose father, grandfather, and 
 great-grandfather had been in the family for 
 generations back." 
 
 "Gee whilikins!" exclaimed Mr. Dolliver in 
 surprise. " Guess we can't get one that '11 stay 
 
 [92]
 
 '. 
 
 Father, \ve ought to have a butler"
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 with us as long as that. He 'd please your ma 
 mightily, though. She likes folks that come to 
 hire out to stay a long time; that is, if they're 
 the right kind. 
 
 " Well, if it 's a butler we must have, get one ; 
 tell your mother to get one you get one. Get 
 as many as you like, my dear. I 'd like to see 
 how it feels to have a man ' butling ' around in 
 my house.'* 
 
 Thus it happened that when Benedict Travis 
 came to make his first call at the great mansion, 
 he found it all that a fastidious young gentle- 
 man of the world could desire. The only thing 
 that could have marred the harmony of its 
 artistic interior would have been the presence 
 of its irrevelant proprietor. Mr. Dolliver, 
 according to his custom, was in his down-town 
 office, whither he had repaired shortly after 
 dinner. 
 
 That office was his favorite sanctum; the one 
 crucible of his great industrial activities; the 
 place where he felt his keenest and most real 
 enjoyment of life. 
 
 [93]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Mrs. Dolliver's mild, delicate presence, smiling 
 and thoughtfully silent, now occupied her spa- 
 cious drawing-room without a feeling of intru- 
 sion. She could have been out of place nowhere. 
 There was always about her the suggestion of a 
 fragile flower nearing dissolution, ready to 
 shake off its trembling petals with the first harsh 
 blast. Beside her frail, slightly stooping figure 
 Matilda rose, the very essence of being, with all 
 the freshness and fairness of youth, vigor, 
 strength, beauty, and gentleness, toward the 
 deciduous mother. 
 
 Travis was impressed with the sight as he 
 beheld them together in their home for the first 
 time. In all his acquaintance with young ladies 
 he had never seen such solicitude, such thoughtful 
 consideration for one's mother, except in the case 
 of Helene Doyle. But Helene was a rare 
 exception to the modes and ways prevalent 
 among the young women of society. 
 
 He was more and more enchanted with what 
 he saw of Matilda. She was affable, but not 
 aggressive. She held herself reservedly aloof 
 
 [94]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 from those she did not know well. She never 
 made advances when none were proffered. This 
 attitude debarred many from attempting a too 
 close intimacy with her. 
 
 With Benedict Travis, however, her reserve 
 only inflamed his desire to be often in her com- 
 pany, to know her character from personal con- 
 tact with her, rather than through certain 
 observations of Helene Doyle's previously com- 
 municated to him. He realized more forcibly 
 that Helene was seldom mistaken in her esti- 
 mate of people. As he talked with Matilda he 
 felt returning the strong congeniality of their 
 first meeting. A tacit, rather surprising under- 
 standing of each other's natures; one of the 
 phases upon which he and Helene had rarely 
 touched Matilda's bringing up was analogous 
 with his own. Born and reared in that unre- 
 stricted, unconventional atmosphere of green 
 meadows, whispering willows, undulating hills, 
 and general moral freedom, added to which was 
 her mental, yet delicately feminine development 
 which raised her to an equal plane with him, 
 
 [95]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Benedict found endless delight in discovering 
 the pleasant unity of their ideas. 
 
 When he left her that evening, his thoughts 
 were very much engrossed. As he raised his 
 eyes to the starry night, reproaching the gaudy 
 glare of the brilliant avenue, Lorenzo's rap- 
 turous words came to him: 
 
 "On such a night " -but he checked him- 
 self and finished the citation with his own words, 
 "one could write poetry and enjoy it." He 
 laughed aloud at his own exaltation. Then 
 reasoning with himself: 
 
 "It is really quite absurd how the mere con- 
 tact with an attractive young woman who agrees 
 with a fellow on every point, will send him 
 dancing off to Olympus without the slightest 
 preparation ! Well, I Ve promised to spend to- 
 morrow evening at the Hadleys'; that will sober 
 me back to the humdrum of mundane affairs," 
 he added, as he ascended the steps of his apart- 
 ment hotel and nodded genially to the elevator 
 boy. 
 
 [96]
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE HADLEYS AT HOME 
 
 " With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, 
 And with mine own hand wrought to make it grow; 
 
 And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd 
 ' I came like Water, and like Win$ I go.' " 
 
 NOT far from the Doyles' residence, on 
 Park Avenue, was the Hadley home; a 
 rather pretentious name for so small a street 
 where the houses could hardly be called resi- 
 dences. Yet the Hadley girls were glad to give 
 their address to their most intimate friends; glad 
 that it was, at least, an avenue, and not a half- 
 street with an ignominious name like " Goose- 
 "berry Lane " or " Pigeon Cove Road," as Sophie 
 explained to a well-meaning neighbor who came 
 to offer her assistance in helping them secure a 
 reliable milk-man the day after they had 
 moved in. 
 
 [97]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "It's a comfort to have kindly disposed 
 people in the vicinity. We've always been used 
 to a large house ; but now that we 're alone, 
 no man in the family since father's death, 
 we Ve got to get along in this little rabbit-hutch 
 and make the best of it! " 
 
 "What did your father die of?" asked the 
 neighbor, by way of showing interest. 
 
 "Big tobacco deal loss of money nervous 
 break-down broken heart," enumerated the 
 eldest Miss Hadley, striking each of these calam- 
 ities off on her fingers in the most matter-of-fact 
 manner. 
 
 " He must have been still a young man," was 
 the next remark of sympathy. 
 
 "Oh, mercy, nol I'm past thirty-five and 
 Lu is past thirty. Edith is the only young 
 thing in our family. She draws the butterflies. 
 There's always some young man dancing her 
 attendance. Father was nearly seventy when he 
 died." 
 
 " Your sister Edith is real pretty she has 
 
 [98]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 such lovely hair. I saw her coming in this morn- 
 ing with her arms full of bundles." 
 
 " She'd been to market; we haven't fished out 
 the market basket from the debris; so many 
 things get lost when one moves. She came back 
 with her purse empty. When I asked her why 
 she 'd spent all her money, she answered, ' I did 
 it purposely, I wanted to create a vacuum.' ' 
 
 " She must be real clever and witty," said the 
 visitor, quite impressed. 
 
 ' You see," Sophie went on, " we have a tradi- 
 tion in our family; it's that when any one of 
 us is hard up and spends every last cent she 's 
 got, as sure as fate, money drops down from 
 somewhere. Aunt Mary sends us a box of 
 Cousin Harriette's old fineries or a check for 
 some one's birthday, or Edith gets a new piano 
 pupil who pays by the lesson, or Lucy has an 
 order for a batch of home-made mince-meat or 
 English plum-pudding it never fails. I'm 
 the only one that never succeeds in bagging 
 anything. I Ve tried to write stories for the 
 
 [99]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 magazines; they all come back some with 
 thanks, and some without. I do a lot of literary 
 work. I 'm busy now with an article, very deep 
 subject, ' The Influence of Heredity versus 
 Environment.' I 'd like to sell it, but if I don't 
 I'll patch it up for the Woman's Club. They 
 like my things, anyway." 
 
 Sophie rattled on in this manner without in- 
 terruption, hardly pausing to take breath. 
 
 Although a Pettingill graduate of some six- 
 teen or seventeen years back, she had fallen into 
 a masculine way of using slang and happy-go- 
 lucky phrases, much to the chagrin of the two 
 other sisters who felt that, in spite of their 
 reverses, they were still "ladies." 
 
 The friendly neighbor was not tired though 
 she had been standing all the while ; for the tied- 
 up chairs were not "get-at-able," Sophie said. 
 Miss Sophie was so entertaining But at this 
 juncture the door opened and Edith excused 
 herself by saying, 
 
 "I am sorry to disturb you, Sophie, but the 
 paper-hangers are here to renovate your room." 
 
 [100]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 The visitor left promptly, promising to call 
 again and inviting Sophie to "come over." 
 
 " You all come over," she repeated kindly, as 
 Edith closed the door very quietly, and immedi- 
 ately turned upon Sophie: 
 
 " I hope you are satisfied, now you 've told 
 our whole family history to that woman," said 
 Edith, with asperity. "If you have nothing 
 else to tell her, would you mind helping me 
 untie that roll of carpet?" 
 
 "You needn't be so smart, Miss Snippy," 
 Sophie returned without the least show of resent- 
 ment. " If I did n't talk I wouldn't say anything, 
 would I? I talked about our affairs because I 
 need to to get inspiration for my work." 
 
 " Oh, that 's the way you get inspiration, is 
 it?" Edith studied her elder sister's placid 
 visage. " Perhaps you 'd like to go and spend the 
 rest of the morning with her; I wish you would." 
 
 "No, I shouldn't," said Sophie, who was 
 befagged by Edith's sarcastic remarks. 
 
 " Come, come, girls," called Lucy. " Don't 
 stand there bickering when there is so much to 
 
 [101]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 do to get the house settled. Cannot one of you 
 'phone for a man to help open and unpack this 
 barrel of china?" 
 
 "Where are those miserable paper-hangers, 
 and what do they want of me?" wailed poor 
 Sophie, looking around her in dismay. 
 
 " They want you to read them your last poem 
 on ' The Cruelty of Love Unrequited,' " and the 
 three girls separated with a laugh. 
 
 Misnamed Sophie had her trials, though her 
 sisters never gave her credit for anything but 
 being "funny" and affording them and their 
 friends inexhaustible amusement. 
 
 She often wondered why she had been named 
 Sophie, that appellation of wisdom. " Oh, the 
 irony of nomenclature! I'm not a Minerva," 
 was her familiar plaint. "I don't see why 
 people use so little foresight in naming children. 
 When they behold their first-born innocent, 
 squirming thing! they immediately think it is 
 going to be either the future president or his 
 first lady, and they invariably strike it wrong. 
 
 "Now, I came into the world with absolutely 
 [102]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 no qualifications; no beauty, no fortune, no wit, 
 no wisdom. For we were not rich when I was 
 born. Mother had a small legacy which, as 
 usual, she let father take to put in some big 
 investment. Father was always visionary and 
 high-falutin' in his ideas. At first he succeeded 
 phenomenally. By the time Edith was born we 
 were very well off indeed. Mother sailed 
 around in her own carriages, like the other 
 grandees. I remember, when I saw her dressed 
 up to kill to go out in company, I used to think 
 she was the grandest of ' dees.' ' 
 
 " For a while everything went as fine as a 
 fiddle. Lu and I were sent to Pettingill 
 Seminary, each four years successively. Then, 
 k'flump! came that villainous tobacco deal and 
 father lost everything but his life insurance. It 
 was just about time for Edith's education to 
 begin and mother wouldn't hear of her darling's 
 going to public school. She'd take boarders 
 rather than subject her precious, delicate darling 
 to such humiliation. The Miss Pettingills came 
 to call and found mother in tears over her 
 
 [103]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 dilemma. No doubt the Miss Pettingills remem- 
 bered remorsefully the heaps and heaps of 
 money they'd already got from us, so they 
 turned magnanimous and told mother not to 
 worry, Edith should enter Pettingill School in 
 the Fall, concessionally. The child has been a 
 favorite there with every one these three years. 
 Mother was so grateful that she 'd bake and knit 
 and bake the whole time to send them things. I 
 really think she killed herself knitting and bak- 
 ing. I wish you could see the shawls and 
 afghans, and the pies and volovangs. Of 
 course, we were all glad that Edith was to have 
 the same advantages that we'd had. They 
 gave her music lessons both kinds and 
 brought out her voice wonderfully. Now, she 
 makes more at giving little girls piano lessons in 
 a week than Lu and I do in a month. She will 
 be graduated next year with Matilda Dolliver 
 and the others. Matilda thinks she ought to do 
 wonders with her voice, and she 's promised to 
 help her." 
 
 In this wise Sophie entertained whomsoever 
 [104]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 she could with the " family secrets." The two 
 younger girls reproved and implored her to 
 guard her tongue, but all in vain. Sophie would 
 agree with them that it was not necessary to 
 publish all one's private affairs; promised to be 
 discreet, and would resume at the first 
 opportunity. 
 
 However, the Hadley girls were well thought 
 of, not only in their present locality but among 
 those who had previously been their friends. 
 Every one seemed to overlook Sophie's singulari- 
 ties, and made due allowances. For in spite 
 of her one unruly member she was, as Matilda had 
 said, droll and strikingly unique. Kind and 
 generous-hearted, but brainless as the traditional 
 March Hare, she spent her life repairing by 
 her goodness the havoc wrought by her 
 thoughtlessness . 
 
 It was here in this dove-cote of simplicity 
 and domesticity that Benedict liked to come to 
 shake off the shackles of a too rigid convention- 
 alism. At Mrs. Doyle's, life, conversation, and 
 entertainment were more or less ceremonial. 
 
 [105]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 There was never the atmosphere of free expan- 
 sion which he found at the Hadleys'. He ban- 
 tered with Sophie upon all sorts of subjects. 
 The eldest Hadley girl could not carry on a 
 serious discussion upon any topic. She was too 
 much of a caqueteuse; not enough of a thinker. 
 He would make some startling declaration just 
 to get her " rattled," as he expressed it, and she 
 would try to argue with him; but his sound 
 premises, his logical reasoning, the strong flow- 
 ing words that made him a good lawyer would 
 demolish all her poor casuistry. Then feeling 
 herself worsted, she would shake her finger at 
 him roguishly: 
 
 " I '11 have a talk with you again about that 
 some day and convince you." And Benedict 
 would cheerfully accept the challenge; but that 
 "some day" of Sophie's was already lost in the 
 misty future of impossibilities. 
 
 He enjoyed the Hadleys' home because he 
 found there entertainment and satisfaction to 
 please every phase of his nature. Sophie amused 
 him. Lucy afforded him an outlet for his boyish 
 
 [106]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 sympathies. He would follow her around the 
 house from kitchen to garret when she was con- 
 fiding to him her troubles or anything of special 
 interest about their domestic affairs. This was 
 a strikingly new side of life to him. In his own 
 home, where ease and plenty abounded, he had 
 never heard of the perplexities of having to tirer 
 la ficelle, as the French have it, to make 
 ends meet. He had evinced so much interest that 
 Lucy had fallen into the way of asking his advice 
 about every momentous question that came into 
 their simple lives. He had known them, through 
 Helene Doyle, since his earliest college days. 
 That was about the time Mr. Hadley had lost 
 his money. They struggled hard to keep up 
 appearances as long as their mother lived; but 
 when she, too, left them, they began to think 
 of curtailing their expenses. 
 
 It was Benedict Travis, boy as he was, who 
 had counselled them to make the change from 
 their ruinous, large mansion to the humbler 
 home on Park Avenue. In spite of their reduced 
 circumstances, the Hadley girls retained their 
 
 [107]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 place in Baltimore society. They were invited 
 to all large functions, although they were not in 
 a position to return such civilities. The girls 
 truly believed that it was through Benedict's and 
 Helene's continued loyalty and friendship that 
 they had not been totally ostracized from the 
 social world. But it was not. The Hadley girls 
 were women of refined and cultured habits. 
 Edith and Lucy, and even Sophie, when she 
 set her mind to it, were fitted to mingle with the 
 best society the city afforded that city which 
 has retained to-day its high ideal of what con- 
 stitutes real culture. Edith was especially sensi- 
 tive to all that was artistic and beautiful. Her 
 charming voice, her pleasing personality, secured 
 for her a permanent place in all small gather- 
 ings as well as great. Their own informal enter- 
 tainments to their intimate friends were always 
 pronounced most enjoyable. 
 
 They had retained from their former house of 
 wealth and grandeur, such things as gave their 
 modest home an air of culture and artistic refine- 
 ment. Benedict used to say he would rather 
 
 [108]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 spend an hour at the Hadleys' than a whole 
 evening at some of the houses where pomp and 
 glitter were displayed, and satiating banquets, 
 served where no true spirit of cordiality or hos- 
 pitality prevailed. 
 
 It was now three years since the Hadleys had 
 moved and were comfortably settled in what 
 Sophie was pleased to call their " rabbit-hutch," 
 when Benedict remembered his promise to them, 
 that night returning from his first call upon 
 Matilda Dolliver. They had invited him and 
 others of their coterie to an old-fashioned " tea " 
 and bridge, a game to which Sophie was espe- 
 cially partial. The rest of the company enjoyed 
 it too, because it gave her such a fine opportunity 
 to discuss points when she chanced to become 
 Benedict's partner in the course of the games. 
 
 " He goes for me as if I were a pickpocket 
 when I happen to make a wrong play," she said, 
 as they all sat around the tables; "but I don't 
 mind being sat upon, if I can only learn to play 
 a good game." 
 
 "That is one of Sophie's extravagant meta- 
 [109]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 phors," condoned Lucy. "Benedict is never so 
 discourteous as she makes him out to be." 
 
 "I don't mind being abused by Sophie," he 
 replied with a screened look at the offender. " I 
 rather enjoy it." 
 
 It was quite evident that Benedict enjoyed 
 everything when he was among that charmed 
 circle, for Helene and Mrs. Doyle were there, 
 lending dignity and propriety to the event. 
 Matilda Dolliver was at his left, dividing her 
 attention between her mother and himself, radi- 
 ating as she always did, for him, the glorious 
 effulgence of young womanhood. Her very 
 presence made his mind tingle, but he repressed 
 his desire to be too much elated out of consider- 
 ation for others. They went on bantering, 
 exchanging witticisms with one another, and were 
 just finishing supper when every one's attention 
 was arrested by the sound of heavy wheels halt- 
 ing before their door. 
 
 " Oh I " cried Sophie, in a fever of excitement. 
 "It's the express wagon!" 
 
 Anything so unusual in the quiet street as that 
 [110]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 lumbering, imposing vehicle, caused a thrill of 
 expectant joy in the hearts of the Hadley girls 
 when it stopped anywhere near the cottage. 
 
 " There goes the door-bell!" 
 
 " I '11 go," cried Benedict, wishing to share 
 the fun. 
 
 " Tell him to bring it to the back door. It 's 
 a barrel!" directed Lucy who had run to the 
 window. 
 
 Young Travis made strides from one entrance 
 to the other, arriving just in time to hand a gen- 
 erous fee to the expressman. 
 
 "It is Aunt Mary's annual donation," an- 
 nounced Edith who was unconcernedly dawdling 
 with her berries beside Dr. Rasburn. "I sup- 
 pose we must go and inspect the contents." 
 
 " It 's like a missionary box to the heathen," 
 exclaimed Sophie with delight, "and just the 
 thing to have you two men here to open it." 
 
 "My stars, what luck!" cried Benedict. 
 "Come and fall to, you Rasburn; we'll have 
 the thing done in a jiffy." 
 
 The two young fellows pulled off their coats 
 [111]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 and went to work. By this time, the invading 
 company filled the small rear rooms and watched 
 operations with interest. Every one wore an 
 exulting smile, like children surrounding a 
 Christmas tree. 
 
 "The first 'bags I' belongs to you and me, 
 doctor," jollied Benedict. He pulled away the 
 top paper and his hand lighted on two huge 
 boxes of French bonbons. 
 
 " That 's right," chimed Dr. Rasburn. " I 've 
 prohibited all kinds of sweets to my patients," 
 trying to stuff the box in a trousers pocket. 
 
 "Treasures untold!" from the enraptured 
 Sophie who was pulling attractive-looking bun- 
 dles from the barrel. 
 
 In the meantime Lucy and Edith were clear- 
 ing off the table in the dining-room so as to 
 prepare a place on which to display the barrel's 
 treasures. 
 
 "Oh, dear me!" Sophie wailed, her nervous 
 fingers dropping each package as fast as it was 
 picked up. "I'm so confused! It's just like 
 getting ready to have a wedding," and when
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 everybody laughed, " I 'm sure there 's nothing 
 funny about it," she rebuked them. 
 
 " It 's up to you to have the first. You 're the 
 oldest," called out Edith from the dining-room. 
 
 " I am, but it 's not very sisterly to remind me 
 of it so often. Phew! I 'm all out of breath !" 
 
 " I '11 see if I can't fish out of here a new dress- 
 suit for the occasion," added Benedict. "You 
 sit down, Sophie, till you get your second wind." 
 
 By this time the entire company had broken 
 into a burst of rippling merriment. Mrs. 
 Dolliver was pleasantly reminded of her own 
 enthusiasm at such surprising joys in younger 
 days. Matilda laughed aloud at Benedict's 
 hearty enjoyment of the whole affair. Helene's 
 invincible smile reflected its radiance as the 
 young moon sheds its soft light on the woes and 
 joys of mortals here below. 
 
 Later, they played a poor, rather unsatisfac- 
 tory game of bridge. The Hadley girls' minds 
 were continually reverting to the unlimited pos- 
 sibilities of the barrel's contents. 
 
 "My!" suddenly exclaimed poor Sophie in 
 [113]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 genuine dismay. "Wasn't that the proper 
 play? Then we've lost the rubber!" Her 
 countenance wore such a distressed look that the 
 disaster was forgotten. 
 
 " Benedict, I know you '11 never want to play 
 with me again. And I can't for the life of me 
 see what you girls are laughing at." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, I will," condoled Benedict. " I 
 would take pleasure in being beaten almost any 
 time, just for another sight of the expression on 
 your face. Somebody bring a hand-glass; let 
 Sophie laugh too." 
 
 * You knave of hearts ! But I was thinking 
 O f_of_ 
 
 " Not of me," he said with a despairing look. 
 
 " No, of that dress-suit you did n't fish out of 
 the barrel. So I suppose the wedding must be 
 postponed." 
 
 The party broke up with endless expressions 
 of delight; they had all experienced such a good 
 time. But it was always thus at the Hadleys'. 
 Their inner lives were free and open as the day. 
 Even Edith who had long cherished a secret 
 
 [114]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 desire to be like Helene Doyle, placid, reserved, 
 undemonstrative of her inmost feelings, had 
 succumbed to the contagious spirit of the after- 
 noon. Taking into consideration the pleasure she 
 had had with her friends, together with the bar- 
 rel surprise from Minnesota, her adamant resolu- 
 tions were quite mollified. She took her elder 
 sister's face between her hands: 
 
 "Oh, Sophie, you dear, incorrigible goose!" 
 she said vehemently. " I wish some one would 
 come along and marry you, and take you off to 
 to Alaska!" 
 
 "Gracious goodness!" Sophia exploded in 
 consternation. She invariably accepted the most 
 absurd suggestion with utmost seriousness. 
 "What would I do in Alaska? Talk to the 
 Eskimos who would n't understand a word I 
 said? Besides, I haven't any suitable clothing. 
 No, thank you, Missy, you've got several wishes 
 more coming to you." 
 
 The three girls laughingly parted for the 
 night, feeling, on the whole, very well satisfied 
 with the result of their " tea-party." 
 
 [115]
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE YOUNG LADY GRADUATES ARE LAUNCHED 
 UPON THE SOCIAL SEA 
 
 " Before the Phantom of False Morning died, 
 .Methought a Voice within the Tavern cried, 
 
 ' When all the Temple is prepared within, 
 Why nods the drowsy Worshipper outside?'" 
 
 IT was the Summer after their graduation ; the 
 young ladies of Pettingill School had flown 
 hither and yon from the city to havens of 
 diversion and rest after the strenuous labors 
 that culminated in their final triumph. Every 
 one left Baltimore in June. Even Helene 
 Doyle and her mother departed for some quiet 
 sea-port near by, as Mrs. Doyle could not bear 
 the suffocation of the city. The only ones 
 among the graduates who did not leave were 
 Edith Hadley and Matilda Dolliver; the first 
 because she could not, owing to financial re- 
 
 [116]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 straint, the second because she had not yet 
 acquired the habit. She was well satisfied to 
 remain at home; the home that had been so 
 munificently embellished for her permanent 
 reception. 
 
 Among the recent acquisitions of the 
 Dolliver mansion was a new parlor-grand piano, 
 Matilda's graduating present. It was con- 
 structed upon the most symmetrically graceful 
 Louis XV model. Its surface was completely 
 covered with a satin finish of gold-leaf, giving 
 it an appearance of extreme elegance and splen- 
 dor, surrounded as it was by a multitude of 
 chaste artistic objects. 
 
 Matilda, in her four years of school, had 
 grown to be an adept at playing the beautiful 
 instrument. And it was one of her father's 
 chief compensations to see his daughter sitting 
 before it, at evening, extracting rare, sweet 
 sounds that stirred his burly nature to depths 
 he had never known. Mrs. Dolliver usually 
 sat near him to listen, and expressed her sensi- 
 tiveness only by the tears trembling upon her 
 
 [117]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 lashes. When the strains were most touching 
 he would lean comfortingly toward her and 
 whisper : 
 
 " It affects me kind of queer-like, too, mom- 
 mee," and put his fine linen handkerchief to her 
 eyes. 
 
 Dolliver had learned to respect his wife's 
 more delicate organism. He no longer chided 
 her for showing her emotions. He realized that 
 she had grown, with Matilda, more fine, more 
 dainty, more suitably Matilda's mother. He 
 glowed inwardly when he stopped to realize the 
 fact : "I have made it possible for them to be 
 like this!" 
 
 The thought of his own abnormity never 
 entered his mind. They were satisfied with 
 him; that was enough; he w r as satisfied with 
 himself. Egotism was not a component part 
 of Ario Dolliver's nature. He lacked in many 
 ways, but not through selfishness. The pure 
 ego was with him entirely out of the game. It 
 was his power to act and do for others that 
 impelled him to every venture. 
 
 [118]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Through the long summer days that followed, 
 Benedict Travis found it refreshing and invigor- 
 ating to spend a few hours now and then at 
 the Charles Street Avenue mansion. He was 
 very much engrossed with a difficult case placed 
 in his hands by the judge, who was beginning 
 to shirk hard work. Benedict, like Matilda, had 
 not formed the "vacation habit." He found 
 rest and refreshment in her companionship. 
 Sometimes he came with Edith Hadley and 
 they had charming musical evenings; or he 
 accompanied Matilda and her mother on short 
 motoring tours, ample opportunities, these, for 
 promoting friendly relations. 
 
 While they were on one of these pleasure 
 trips, one sultry afternoon in late August, Mr. 
 Dolliver was at his down-town office, heedless of 
 the sweltering atmosphere and of his clerks' 
 fagged-out expressions of weariness. A knock 
 at his private office caused him to raise his eyes 
 to the intruder. 
 
 "And now, what, Percy?" he demanded with 
 unruffled countenance. 
 
 [119]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " If you please, sir, there 's a young man here 
 that insists on seeing you." 
 
 "What sort of a fellow is he?" was the next 
 inquiry from Mr. Dolliver who remained 
 unperturbed. 
 
 E< Why, a nice enough looking chap. He says 
 he's a college man and selling some sort of a 
 concern to help him pay his way for next year." 
 
 " Trot in your customer," and Mr. Dolliver 
 moved away from his papers and leaned back 
 in his swinging chair. 
 
 A bright-looking youth promptly stepped in. 
 
 " Good-day, sir, I don't wish to take up too 
 much of your valuable time, but I 'd like to talk 
 with you about an attachment that perhaps 
 would interest you." 
 
 "Very well. Say what you have to say as 
 briefly as possible. I can" with a glance at 
 his watch "give you just five minutes." 
 
 " Thank you, I trust I shall convince you 
 the period is not wasted. It will not be if I 
 can interest you in this remarkable attachment, 
 the greatest development of the age." 
 
 [120]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Mr. Dolliver eyed him with such a curious 
 look of severity and merriment combined that 
 the youth's enthusiasm was checked for an in- 
 stant. Mr. Dolliver was repeating quizzically: 
 
 ' ' An attachment attachment ? " 
 
 ' You may not understand just what I 
 mean," the boy hastened to explain. 
 
 "Yes, I do. I know the meaning of * at- 
 tachment.' I have a couple of very strong 
 attachments at my house up-town. Don't guess 
 I want any more at my time of life." 
 
 " But not like the one I 'd like to sell you," 
 the boy was trying to wedge in. "I hear you Ve 
 recently purchased a costly instrument; with my 
 attachment you can enjoy the finest music 
 without any one's taking the trouble to touch the 
 keys. It's a self -playing arrangement." 
 
 "Young fellow," began Mr. Dolliver, get- 
 ting warmed up to the point of eloquence, 
 "you've got a good deal of sand to come to 
 this here beehive of industry and expect me to 
 talk with you about an ' attachment,' when I Ve 
 already got one! My daughter is the only at- 
 
 [121]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 tachment I want to see at that ' costly instru- 
 ment.' Man, I Ve spent a good-sized fortune 
 educating that daughter to every degree of 
 perfection, piano-playing included. You come 
 and want me to buy an attachment. Gosh!" 
 
 "But, sir," pursued the enterprising young 
 agent, "you'll be having an introductory affair 
 for your daughter next Winter : " 
 
 Mr. Dolliver's interest was aroused. 
 
 "What's that?" he sharply interrupted. 
 
 " You '11 be having an introductory affair for 
 your daughter," the young man repeated, " and 
 at such an occasion you can't depend on her for 
 the music. She'll be standing in the reception 
 line." 
 
 " How do you know I 'm going to have one?" 
 demanded Mr. Dolliver. 
 
 "Because, sir, all the best families do; and 
 I supposed, of course, you would." 
 
 'You supposed wrong if you supposed that 
 when I have a coming out party for my daugh- 
 ter I '11 have an old attachment piano-playing 
 machine!"
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "It's not old, sir, it's the newest thing out 
 in the line of musical instruments." 
 
 " I don't doubt your word. But when I give 
 an introductory affair, I'm going to have an 
 orchestry, I am, the best in the city." Mr. 
 Dolliver paused a moment to reflect upon the 
 possibilities which had all at once been opened 
 up in his mind. " Introductory affair," he pres- 
 ently mused aloud "attachment* Humph!" 
 
 Mr. Dolliver was evidently very firm in his 
 decision. The young man looked crestfallen 
 and took up his hat to go. 
 
 " I 'm sorry to have troubled you, sir; good- 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Stop a bit! " said Mr. Dolliver as the youth 
 was nearing the door. " I 'm inclined to believe 
 that the five minutes were wasted. I can afford 
 to lose them better than you." He pulled out his 
 book and wrote a check. " Here, take this and 
 buy an attachment for yourself, your sweet- 
 heart, your grandmother, anybody who wants 
 one! I don't." 
 
 The young fellow, doubtful, wondering,
 
 walked back hesitatingly to receive the check. 
 He did not look at it until he had said, " You 
 are very kind indeed, sir, and I thank you." 
 
 He went out as promptly as he had come in. 
 But Percy, the office boy, wondered what Mr. 
 Dolliver had done to make his visitor so sud- 
 denly happy. 
 
 When Mr. Dolliver returned to the bosom of 
 his family that evening he told them the story 
 of the young man with the "attachment." 
 Matilda and her mother were much amused by 
 his account of the interview. 
 
 " But I sent him off grinning all over," he 
 added, and they easily guessed what had 
 happened. 
 
 "And now, what's all this about giving com- 
 ing out parties for young ladies that have just 
 been graduated?" he inquired, touching upon 
 the cue given by the agent, which had prompted 
 the generous check. Mr. Dolliver liked to be 
 enlightened without his ignorance being re- 
 vealed, and he was ever ready to pay hand- 
 somely for such suggestions. 
 
 [124]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "It is quite the custom in families where the 
 daughters are apt to go out much into society," 
 exclaimed Matilda. " But it will not be necessary 
 for you to do it, father, unless you want to. 
 We know so few people." 
 
 "I do want to," he warmly insisted. "We 
 don't have to be such sticklers in regard to a big 
 thing like that. We '11 ask everybody and make 
 no hard feelings anywhere." 
 
 "We would better not give the first," sug- 
 gested Matilda, fearing her father might wish 
 to make the venture. " In a month or two, in- 
 vitations will begin to arrive. It would be nice 
 to wait until one or two receptions have been 
 given." 
 
 " I don't mind waiting," said he. " Your 
 idea, Tildy, of waiting to see how other folks 
 do it is right, as usual. But the affair, I'm 
 going to give has got to be a splendiferous blow- 
 out! The best caterers, best musicians, best of 
 everything the city can offer. James, our but- 
 ler here, says he knows just how the thing ought 
 to be done. I 'm going to let him have his own 
 
 [125]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 way in all except one thing no liquors; no 
 champagne. I 'm not going to let any respect- 
 able young fellows go from my house drunk! 
 Fruit punch colored with grape juice galore, 
 but nothing stronger; that's all they'll have to 
 drink. O.K., is it?" 
 
 " Most certainly, it is, father; mother and I 
 shouldn't think of wanting anything of which 
 you disapproved. We shall be satisfied with 
 whatever plans you make, won't we, mother?" 
 
 "Surely, my dear, surely," replied the gentle 
 Mrs. Dolliver, who seldom raised a dissenting 
 voice. 
 
 " Then that 's another thing settled," and Ario 
 took up his evening paper. 
 
 The first October days opened with a whirl 
 of social excitement. Invitations arrived for 
 two introductory receptions a week apart. Mr. 
 Dolliver was enchanted. At the dinner table 
 that same evening he issued this proclamation: 
 
 " One coming out party for October the 
 twenty-eighth, another for November the fourth. 
 We'll have the third one! James," addressing 
 
 [126]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 the butler, "it's up to you for the feast, illu- 
 minations, the flowers, everything that 's wanted. 
 Ladies," turning to his wife and daughter, " you 
 will attend to the invitations no later than to- 
 morrow, and also to your toilettes. I will see to 
 the orchestra and the bills!" At which he 
 laughed heartily to evince the great satisfaction 
 he took in doing so. 
 
 The Dolliver affair was one of ttye great social 
 events of that Winter. According to Mr. Dol- 
 liver's wish, they had invited "everybody," and 
 judging from the long file of elegant motor-cars, 
 limousines, and handsomely groomed equipages 
 that extended up and down the avenue, every- 
 body had accepted. 
 
 Ario Dolliver had chosen a most propitious 
 time, the latter part of November, when the social 
 life of any large city is just newly awakened 
 from its somnolent Summer, and ready to enjoy 
 itself with keen enthusiasm. It was a magnificent 
 and dignified social function where entertainment 
 was provided for all. The house was brilliantly 
 illuminated from the vast reception-rooms below 
 
 [ 127]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 to the dancing hall above, where the famous 
 orchestra played. A ceaseless procession of 
 richly attired guests passed up and down the 
 broad stairways whose railings were entwined 
 with garlands of sweetly scented blossoms. 
 
 " The gods are with him in all he undertakes! " 
 exclaimed Benedict, as he stepped out upon one 
 of the wide verandas to breath the cool air, and 
 beheld a full November moon flooding the gar- 
 dens below. 
 
 He had come with the two elder Hadley sisters, 
 Edith being escorted by Dr. Rasburn, Helene 
 Doyle and her mother, by an old friend of her 
 father's, visiting them at the time. So he had 
 made a martyr of himself, as Edith said, and was 
 playing the gallant to her elder sisters. 
 
 He was promenading with Lucy, but talking 
 of Matilda. Mrs. Doyle and Helene who, with 
 Edith Hadley, had been in the reception line, 
 he had run across several times. But with 
 Matilda, Benedict had not yet had a chance to 
 talk, although the line had been broken an hour 
 or two before. 
 
 [128]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 She was, of course, the centre of attraction. 
 Simply but exquisitely gowned, he thought 
 he had never seen her look so well. Sur- 
 rounded by such a multitude, it was difficult to 
 have access to one in such demand. He had made 
 the effort repeatedly, but unsuccessfully. Fi- 
 nally, as Edith and Rasburn were on their way 
 to the ball-room, he caught sight of her going in 
 the same direction on some one else's arm. 
 
 " There," he said to himself, " I ought to have 
 been there to get the first dance!" and he accele- 
 rated his steps. Once in the ball-room his op- 
 portunities were larger. He danced once around 
 with Edith, then busied himself securing part- 
 ners for her and Rasburn, after which he made a 
 straight cut for the place where Matilda and her 
 escort were sitting. She greeted him with a 
 smile and held out her hand. 
 
 "Where have you been all the evening? I 
 have n't once seen you." 
 
 ' Trying to get to your side and failing," 
 he replied, smiling. " Let me have your card, if 
 you please. You are not going to let this duffer 
 
 [129]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 fill up your whole programme anyhow, not as 
 long as I can write my name." The duffer pro- 
 tested ; but Travis had his way. 
 
 " No, indeed," said the fair debutante. " I 
 will reserve one or two for you." 
 
 " This next schottish then? I like the Caledon- 
 ian movement," he went on, coolly striking off 
 three or four more numbers. 
 
 " That is altogether too many," she objected, 
 examining her card. "How can you spare so 
 many dances from your legation of of sisters? 
 Where are the Hadleys, and Helene?" 
 
 " Edith is over yonder with Dr. Rasburn, but 
 flirting with the Grey boys. Look! Observe 
 how the scowl with which they regard one another 
 changes to a fatuous grin when they turn to 
 her. . . . Helene is still down-stairs with 
 her mother and an old friend of her father's a 
 poetic theologian with whom Sophie is having 
 the time of her life. And" looking intently 
 into her eyes " I am here." 
 
 Matilda's lids fluttered and drooped, the color 
 rose in her cheeks. " Where is Lucy ? " she asked. 
 
 [ISO]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " I left her with them; she seemed to be enjoy- 
 ing herself." 
 
 "Truant!" 
 
 " I wanted to be with you. A fellow can't be 
 expected to devote all his time to his sisters." 
 
 Matilda's laugh erased her temporary discom- 
 posure; she laughed, not especially at what he 
 had said, but from sheer abundance of happiness. 
 His ardor was too ridiculous at such, a time. 
 
 " Helene should be up here," said the girl. " I 
 love to see her dance or stand or oh, do any- 
 thing. She always makes me think of a Corin- 
 thian column standing silent in the pallid light of 
 a midnight moon." 
 
 " Manifestly," Travis laughed, " she is an 
 inspiration to poetic flights. But she is not danc- 
 ing this evening; she seems preoccupied with her 
 mother." 
 
 The music was striking up once more. " This 
 is our dance," he reminded her in a whisper. 
 Taking her hand into his without giving her an 
 opportunity to reply, they went flitting over the 
 polished floor, as light as thistle-down. Many 
 
 [131]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 eyes watched them ; many voices commented upon 
 their fine appearance together. When the 
 schottish was ended, Matilda said to him, 
 
 " Try to gather our crowd so that we may all 
 go to supper together. It will be such fun!" 
 
 " This is all the fun I want," declared Travis, 
 guiding her slowly toward their seats. 
 
 Her eyes flashed him a swift look of inquiry, 
 and dropped before his ardent gaze. 
 
 " It 's a pleasure that will soon pall," she 
 laughed nervously. "Besides, I must distribute 
 the favors of my card, Mr. Travis." 
 
 "Not too lavishly," he promptly objected. 
 He was not inclined to give her up just yet. 
 "Anyhow, we have two more numbers before 
 supper." 
 
 ' Yes," she acquiesced, nodding archly to him 
 as she floated away with another cavalier. 
 
 Glowing in his exaltation, Benedict crossed the 
 ball-room, instinctively dodging the whirling 
 couples of whom he was for the time being obli- 
 vious. Presently he sought Edith, but she, too, 
 had flown away, with Rasburn, an eager 
 
 [132]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 waltzer. He leaned back in his chair, glad of 
 the chance to muse a while ; but seeing him alone 
 Edith came over to say, 
 
 'What, not exhausted so soon!" in mock 
 wonder. 
 
 "Not a bit of it." 
 
 " Then, why are you not dancing? You look 
 contented happy. There are a number of 
 unengaged damsels across the way."/ 
 
 " I would rather wait for you," he returned. 
 
 " So sweet of you, " laughed Edith, com- 
 posedly. 
 
 " Only two more waltzes after this, mind, then 
 the banquet. Make the most of them." 
 
 "But you are engaged to Matilda for those," 
 she flashed at him, and danced off again. 
 
 " Why add the ' for those ' ? " he asked him- 
 self, smiling. " Engaged! I wish I were! " 
 
 Another waltz, and he is gliding around with 
 Matilda in his arms. Again the fascination of it 
 seems to demand an endless protraction of the 
 pleasure that stops all too soon. He leaves her, 
 now, to await the next climax. He circles the 
 
 [133]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 hall twice with Edith, but it is not the same. He 
 watches her as they pass each other now and then, 
 and feels that he can never enjoy dancing with 
 any other woman. 
 
 At length the last waltz tunes up. He has 
 worked himself into a perfect fever of desire. 
 He crosses the hall to claim her; but she is com- 
 ing toward him with Angela Atwood. 
 
 " Mr. Travis, I must beg you to excuse me for 
 this number," she says, with no sign of regret. 
 " I must go into the conservatory with Angela. 
 I will join you later at the supper table." 
 
 Travis does not like this at all; the light in his 
 face immediately gives away to gloom. He has 
 always entertained a dislike for the Atwood 
 girls. Why should one of them come now to 
 cross his pleasure? 
 
 "D !" The expletive is clipped off be- 
 tween his set teeth, which come savagely together. 
 
 But he conquers a feeling so foreign to his 
 nature, and gratifies Edith by dancing the last 
 waltz with her. As soon as it is over, he hastens 
 to the supper room. He wishes to lose no time 
 
 [184]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 in getting the clique together. He will keep his 
 promise to Matilda. He seeks Helene and Mrs. 
 Doyle. They are still in the company of the 
 Hadley girls. Sophie is discoursing volubly to 
 the mature theologian. Helene notes the anxious, 
 searching look in Benedict's eyes; he is not like 
 his own free, happy self. 
 
 She rose and came to him, and he felt the relief 
 
 of her nearness. 
 
 f 
 
 "Are we going now?" she asked. 
 
 "ISTo, no; I came down to wait for Matilda. 
 She wants us all to go to supper together." 
 
 "Where is she now?" 
 
 " She has gone to the conservatory with Angela 
 Atwood." His tone revealed the desertion, and 
 Helene's smile taunted him. 
 
 The party that were there followed him to the 
 dining-room. He wished to secure a place from 
 which he could observe the conservatory door. 
 He wanted to draw Matilda into their circle and 
 exclude the Atwood element, if possible. 
 
 In the ball-room Angela Atwood had suffered 
 a mishap. Some one had stepped upon the train 
 
 [135]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 of her gown, and she had appealed to Matilda. 
 The latter felt it encumbent upon her to assist in 
 repairing the damage. She supplied herself from 
 her room with the necessaries, and the two young 
 women betook themselves to the now deserted 
 conservatory to adjust matters. While there 
 they fell into a conversation, greatly aggravating 
 Benedict's watchful expectancy. 
 
 " I am so very glad of this occasion to tell you, 
 Matilda, how pleased we all are with your recep- 
 tion. It is a glorious success ! " 
 
 "I am happy to know you approve of it," 
 returned the young hostess with a gracious smile, 
 as she gathered up the tattered shreds of her 
 guest's train and fastened them together. 
 
 "I suppose it is all your planning? It does 
 you credit." 
 
 "Not at all," corrected Matilda. "Father 
 planned and managed the whole affair." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 'Yes; my father, you know, excels in carry- 
 ing out successfully what he undertakes." 
 
 "Well, he has certainly succeeded in this. 
 [136]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 But, my dear, I want to confide something to you. 
 It is for the present a secret!" Angela lowered 
 her voice and came very near Matilda. " Maud 
 and I are giving our introductory reception next 
 month, shortly before Christmas, and we are to 
 have a young French nobleman; the Due de 
 Beauchamps, who arrives in December to pass 
 the holidays with the Del Bondios. They are dis- 
 tantly related, you know." 
 
 Angela paused to note the effect of this an- 
 nouncement. She thought : " This must surely 
 abase the Dolliver lustre to mere mediocrity." 
 
 "That is charming!" said Matilda, genuinely 
 pleased. "A real French nobleman!" 
 
 The toilet was, by this time, in order, and they 
 both came out of the conservatory. Benedict 
 went forward and the young ladies separated; 
 Matilda to join the party at the supper table, 
 Angela to the ball-room to finish her dance, and 
 thinking to herself all the while: " I wonder if 
 you will meet him. Not if Maud and Mother 
 can prevent it ! " 
 
 The festivities were lasting into the small hours 
 [137]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 of morning. No one seemed disposed to break 
 the sociability of the banqueting table. Here 
 the disgruntled Benedict quite recovered his 
 equanimity of spirit. He talked incessantly to 
 Matilda, as if making up for time lost. He made 
 inroads into the delicacies and declared he had 
 never tasted such good punch. He was in an 
 exhilaration of heart and mind which showed no 
 sign of desisting. 
 
 At three o'clock, Mrs. Doyle and the older 
 members of their party began to fear that day- 
 break would surprise them. They dispersed to 
 the various dressing rooms, and were soon re- 
 assembled in the lower hall. Benedict was again 
 talking to Matilda. She followed them, listening 
 and smiling, as far as the entrance landing. As 
 she stood there beneath the lights, bowing her 
 adieux to these, her chosen friends, there were 
 others besides Benedict who felt that they were 
 taking away in their memory the picture of a 
 gracious, adorable woman. 
 
 [138]
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE HADLEYS ALSO ANTICIPATE 
 
 "And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before, 
 The Tavern shouted ' Open now the door! 
 
 You know how little while we have to stay, 
 And, once departed, may return no more.'" 
 
 A WEEK later the Dolliver family received 
 cards to the Atwood ball. Matilda ex- 
 haled a long sigh of relief and exultation when 
 hers was brought to her. Since her conversation 
 with Angela she had experienced a slight feeling 
 of disquiet which, however, her better judgment 
 persistently dispelled. The arrival of the card 
 restored to her that well-poised attitude of assur- 
 ance which had placed her at the head of all the 
 young debutantes. 
 
 Mr. Dolliver was exceedingly gratified. 
 " Looky here, Emmy, here 's ours. * Mr. and 
 Mrs. Ario Emerson Dolliver.' Don't that look 
 
 [139]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 grand? I tell you what, Mrs. D., you're some- 
 thing of a debutante yourself. Right in the swim, 
 going to parties and balls, just like the young 
 folks." Mr. Dolliver beamed, as he summed it 
 up by adding, "And it's all Matildy's doings." 
 
 " Not entirely mine, father," said the dutiful 
 daughter. " You are too modest. You forget 
 that you are the prime factor in every success I 
 may have achieved." 
 
 "But 'twas you that dropped the first hint," 
 combatted her father, with inflating satisfaction. 
 
 " You would have come to it in time. I only 
 hastened the consummation." 
 
 Mrs. Dolliver's eyes were glistening; her 
 whole face expressed the pride and joy she felt 
 at Matilda's approbation of her father. 
 
 " You are right, daughter, we owe everything 
 to him." 
 
 Mr. Dolliver broke into a hearty laugh. 
 
 "What more do you women folks want? A 
 new gown for the coming ball? Jewels? Any- 
 thing to fill your heart's desire?" 
 
 " Since you propose it, father," Matilda 
 [140]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 laughed, " I think I would like a new gown for 
 the occasion. The Atwoods entertain so very 
 largely. There will be some great people at their 
 ball." 
 
 "Why, sure," agreed Mr. Dolliver, perfectly 
 elated at the suggestion. ' That gown you wore 
 to our reception was mighty neat and becoming; 
 but it was still a school-girl's dress. You must 
 have a ball-room costume, and a necklace; I '11 
 'tend to the latter. I want you to be the queen 
 not of the huckleberry-bush, as I used to tell your 
 ma she was, but the queen of the ball ! " 
 
 Matilda had kept Angela's secret. She had 
 not revealed the fact to her father that a young 
 duke was to be present. But she had inwardly 
 determined to attire herself in chaste but regal 
 splendor. Her father's offer of a necklace was 
 most welcome. Thus equipped she thought she 
 might venture to meet the Due de Beauchamps. 
 
 When Mr. Dolliver's selection came home a 
 few days later, it was a beautiful stream of dia- 
 monds. Matilda's face glowed with pleasure. 
 
 " Try it on, Matildy, see how you look in it," 
 [141]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 urged her father, as he fastened the brilliant 
 gems around her neck. " My ! but you do look 
 stunning in 'em. There's nothing like genuine 
 diamonds to set off a lady's toilette, by Gum! 
 Your eyes shine just like 'em now. Only they 
 are black diamonds ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dolliver was thoughtfully contemplating 
 her daughter. 
 
 " If it is going to be such a tremendous affair," 
 she said, tremulously, " I think I won't try to go, 
 Matilda. It makes my eyes blur, and my heart 
 beat so. I would rather stay home and think 
 how it 's all going to be while I sit up for you." 
 
 Matilda came near her mother. 
 
 "Do not feel that you must go to all these 
 assemblies, mother dear; I do not wish my life of 
 gaiety to weary you." 
 
 " It does n't, my dear. I love to have you go 
 as it is right you should. But let me stay and 
 hear about it afterwards. You are sweetest to 
 me at home." 
 
 The lusty master of the house felt no such 
 pangs; he promised to be Matilda's escort. 
 
 [142]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 ' You won't be lonesome that evening, Emmy, 
 'Mandy'll keep you company, if she can sit up 
 that late!" 
 
 " No one need keep me company. I will have 
 plenty to think about. I shan't be lonesome; 
 James will sit up in the hall till morning." 
 
 " And I '11 chaperon Matildy all right. I 
 won't promise to dance, but I '11 take a wager she 
 won't lack for partners. That young man 
 Travis won't let you do that, I '11 be bound ! " 
 
 " He is to be Helene's escort for the evening," 
 said Matilda, without the slightest concern. 
 
 " I bet he '11 dance the most with you." 
 
 Mr. Dolliver did not dream how nearly his 
 prognostics for the great Atwood ball would meet 
 fruition. But, as Benedict had so perfectly ex- 
 pressed it, " The gods were with him in all he 
 undertook." 
 
 While the society members of the Dolliver 
 family were joyfully anticipating the coming 
 event, the Atwood ladies were in a fever of excite- 
 ment, confusion, and discussion. The Dollivers, 
 by their conciliatory lavishness with invitations, 
 
 [143]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 had made it compulsory for them to return the 
 compliment. 
 
 " What shall we do about the Dollivers? " said 
 Maud, with a contumelious peevishness. 
 
 " That was certainly a very genteel affair of 
 theirs," said Mrs. Atwood; "all excepting that 
 'local option' element of his; the result, I pre- 
 sume, of his long residence in a small place like 
 Hackerstown." 
 
 " That sort of thing is strained in a function 
 where hundreds of people are concerned," ob- 
 jected the elder Miss Atwood. Maud and her 
 mother had surreptitiously thought that Matilda's 
 invitation might perhaps be suppressed, by an 
 accidental omission. Such mistakes were not at 
 all uncommon in a case of four or five hundred 
 guests. But Angela had won the day by 
 arguing: 
 
 " It would offend too many of our intimate 
 friends. Some persons would guess your subter- 
 fuge. People in general, would say that we were 
 snobs ! For there are some old residents of Balti- 
 more who still remember that our grandfather 
 
 [144]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 was a shoe-tinker in a small town of Vermont, 
 who tapped at people's run-down heels from early 
 morn till dewy eve." Angela had learned that 
 it was politic not to score Matilda, and being 
 slightly jealous of her sister, had won the game 
 by saying decisively: "We must invite them 
 all." But Matilda's poor card had trembled in 
 the balance an hour or two, until Angela had con- 
 cluded her speech. The Atwood valet called for 
 the post, and all the invitations departed in 
 unison. 
 
 The Dollivers' acceptance to that munificent 
 affair was like crossing the Rubicon. The die 
 was cast. There could be no recalcitrating move 
 made. 
 
 The Hadley girls each received a card, and 
 great excitement was caused thereby. 
 
 "What shall we wear?" was the choral 
 exclamation. But another barrel from Minne- 
 sota solved the problem of the entire outfit. The 
 three girls ripped and remodelled, planned and 
 created the most stunning effects out of its con- 
 tents. They toiled indefatigably for one week; 
 
 [145]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 all was in readiness, and they were prepared for 
 the great ball. 
 
 "Isn't it nice, girls, to be all ready so long 
 beforehand ? " said Lucy, who was responsible for 
 the precaution. 
 
 ' Yes," replied Sophie for all. " Now, we 
 won't have to break our necks at the last minute 
 the way we usually do." 
 
 " I may make a few slight alterations in my 
 toilette," digressed Edith. She was anticipating 
 a great many dances with young Doctor Elmer 
 Rasburn, to whose lot it fell this time to immo- 
 late himself on the sacrificial altar, by conducting 
 what Mr. Dolliver called the " whole bunch " of 
 Hadley sisters. 
 
 Unfortunately, the doctor had an engagement 
 for the forepart of that evening ; a surgical opera- 
 tion that would keep him until nearly eleven. 
 But he would send the taxicab for them at half- 
 past nine, and meet them later in the ball-room. 
 Everything was arranged and settled, and the 
 ball was just two weeks ahead. 
 
 In the meantime, the whole city was stirred by 
 [146]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 a notable event. The Duke of Beauchamps dis- 
 embarked at Baltimore in the early days of 
 December. The news of it rippled into high 
 social circles and caused feverish anticipation. 
 The Atwood limousine puffed up to the Del 
 Bondios' several times a day and puffed back 
 again. A constant pressure of animation and 
 agitation seemed to prevail between the two 
 houses. 
 
 Edith, a trifle enviously, perhaps, watched the 
 cars rush past the longitudinal street nearest 
 them. 
 
 " Well," she sighed, turning away, "they must 
 be having great doings since the Duke's arrival." 
 
 "I shouldn't think you'd waste your time 
 watching from your window what other people 
 are doing," rebuffed Sophie. She was sitting by 
 the open fireplace knitting woollen slippers for a 
 Christmas present. 
 
 " I suspect they are getting ready for the ball 
 with a vengeance," Edith continued, heedless of 
 her sister's insinuation. 
 
 "People, when they assume an undertaking, 
 [147]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 usually are interested in its success, aren't they?" 
 was Sophie's sapient observation. 
 
 "What is the date?" 
 
 " December twenty-first." 
 
 Sophie never hesitated, not the fraction of a 
 second, for an answer to any question. The 
 readiness of her tongue was equalled only by the 
 warmth of her heart. 
 
 "No, it isn't," Edith promptly contradicted. 
 And the other as promptly insisted : 
 
 "It is." 
 
 " Go look at your invitation and find out your 
 mistake." 
 
 " Get your own; I don't need to look. I know. 
 Anyhow I 'm too busy finishing these slippers ; 
 you 're only looking out the window." 
 
 Edith disdainfully wrinkled her nose. 
 
 "By the number of slippers you make," she 
 bitingly remarked, " one would think you had to 
 keep a centipede shod." 
 
 " Now, Edith," without the slightest pause in 
 her work, Sophie resorted to wheedling, "do go 
 up and find out that 's a dear. It won't take 
 
 [148]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 but a second, and I do so want to know pos- 
 itively." And in a fervent aside: " Thank good- 
 ness, it is n't a centipede ! " 
 
 " I know it 's the nineteenth," Edith flung 
 across her shoulder, stalking stubbornly from the 
 room to seek the invitation. Her seconds were 
 prolonged into minutes. Sophie at last grew 
 impatient. 
 
 " Why don't you come down?" she called. 
 
 " I can't find it," came carolling back from the 
 upper regions. 
 
 "Well, ninny, get mine." 
 
 A pause, while Edith wondered why the sug- 
 gestion had not occurred to her. 
 
 "Where is it?" she asked at last. Her voice 
 had a muffled sound, as if she spoke from the 
 depths of trunk or dresser-drawer. 
 
 "Heavens!" Sophie screamed. "How should 
 I know?" 
 
 A sudden banging, rattling clatter from up- 
 stairs not only announced the eagerness of Edith's 
 search, but startled another scream from Sophie. 
 
 "Edith!" 
 
 [149]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 That young lady's voice was next heard at the 
 head of the stairs. 
 
 "What did you say?" 
 
 "Are you tearing the house down?" wailed 
 Sophie. 
 
 "No, silly. I just dumped the dresser- 
 drawers out on the floor. I hoped you 'd remem- 
 bered where your invitation was." 
 
 The overhead tumult immediately began again 
 with renewed vigor, and Sophie despairingly 
 cast her knitting aside and took a hand herself in 
 the search. 
 
 They were obliged to give up at last, for 
 not only Edith's invitation had disappeared in 
 some darkly unaccountable manner, but neither 
 Sophie's nor Lucy's could be brought to light. 
 
 "Where is Lucy?" Edith demanded, panting 
 from her exertions and dropping heavily into the 
 nearest chair. 
 
 Sophie wiped the tiny beads of perspiration 
 from her brow and brushed back her dampened, 
 disordered curls. 
 
 " Oh, sakes alive! Where did she go! " she cried 
 [150]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 in perplexity. Her face all at once lightened. 
 "Why, come to think of it, she went to the 
 Doyles'. " 
 
 " Well," Edith announced, with a resigned air, 
 " we '11 just have to wait until she comes home. 
 She '11 know where hers is, that 's certain. . . . 
 I 'm pretty sure, though, it 's the twenty-first." 
 
 The two girls resumed their occupation am- 
 icably. Edith was really doing something; she 
 was reading over music, a task that permitted 
 occasional interruptions. They worked silently 
 for two or three hours; yet no Lucy appeared. 
 It was growing to be four o'clock, and the short 
 winter day was darkening. 
 
 "Good Peter!" cried Sophie, looking out of 
 the window in her turn and seeing no sign of her 
 missing sister, " I hope they won't keep her to 
 dinner. I 'm as hungry as a bear, and don't like 
 picked up scraps for dinner." 
 
 "Don't fret about that," replied Edith. 
 " There is not much danger of the Doyles ask- 
 ing any one to a ' drop in ' dinner, like that. Mrs. 
 Doyle is so very formal, you know. She holds 
 
 [151]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 her hand out to you as if it were a ten-foot pole, 
 to make you keep your distance." 
 
 " She does n't do that with me. I don't see 
 enough of her. I like Helene awfuly well; but 
 I don't care much for her ma." 
 
 Just as the girls rose to put away their work 
 there was a sound of familiar footsteps on the 
 landing. 
 
 " That is Lucy," said Edith, running to open 
 the door. 
 
 "What in the world have you been doing?" 
 demanded Sophie. 
 
 "Why, nothing but visiting with Helene." 
 
 " First, tell us the correct date of the Atwood 
 ball," continued Sophie, dancing about Lucy 
 with unseemly eagerness. 
 
 " I don't recall the date. But what is all this 
 excitement about? Does not your invitation 
 tell?" 
 
 "We have both mislaid ours. We can't find 
 them anywhere." 
 
 "I felt sure you'd know where yours was," 
 flattered Sophie, hopefully. 
 
 [152]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "Of course, I know where it is," affirmed 
 Lucy. " Right on the table in my room where I 
 keep my magazines and papers." 
 
 " Go and get it, that 's a dear," coaxed Edith. 
 :{ We are neither of us sure of the date." 
 
 Lucy went to her room with absolute confi- 
 dence, and the two other girls followed her. 
 " What has become of it? " she puzzled. " I had 
 it right here under those magazines, or I may 
 have slipped it in the bottom one for safety, I 
 sometimes do." 
 
 " Oh, my prophetic soul! " ejaculated Sophie in 
 dire dismay. 
 
 "What have you done with them?" urged 
 Lucy. " I had six and there are only two left! " 
 
 " Methought I am methought I was man 
 is but a patched fool if he will offer to say what 
 methought I am!" began Sophie, moved to 
 Shakespearean quotations at the contemplation 
 of her own stupidity. "What did I do with 
 them? Why, I gave them to that Salvation 
 Army man who collects them every month for 
 their Sunday-school." 
 
 [153]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " Now, not one of us knows the date of the 
 ball!" Edith broke out with vexation. "Three 
 invitations received in this family and not one to 
 refer to for the date!" 
 
 " And we are requested to present the cards at 
 the door!" added Lucy to enhance the general 
 consternation. 
 
 "Well, I never did!" Sophie moaned, drop- 
 ping into a chair with weary exhaustion. 
 
 "And I hope you never will again!" returned 
 Edith. 
 
 " Now, girls, let us talk sensibly about the 
 matter. Which of you is the surest of the date? " 
 demanded Lucy. 
 
 " I 'm very positive that it is after the twen- 
 tieth, so I think it's the twenty-first," declared 
 Sophie, with unshaken conviction. 
 
 " I thought it was the nineteenth, but I won't 
 insist upon it since I 'm not sure," said Edith, 
 with uncommon meekness. 
 
 "If the day between was anything but Sun- 
 day, I would say the twentieth, if only to split 
 the difference," suggested Lucy. " But as it is, 
 
 [154]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 we will decide on Sophie's date, the twenty-first. 
 She is the oldest and ought to have the choice. 
 Now, do remember the date, one of you, and 
 write it out on something in the hall so that we 
 can't possibly forget it." 
 
 The two other girls relied implicitly on Lucy's 
 practical good sense, and were satisfied. So the 
 matter was settled. The appointed day arrived. 
 The Hadley girls were the whole day getting 
 ready for the ball. When seven o'clock came the 
 dinner was over and everything of a servile or 
 domestic nature was put out of the way. Only 
 one thing was now left before them; the brilliant, 
 dazzling, intoxicating scene of the ball! Lucy 
 advised that each one take a nap from half -past 
 seven to half -past eight in order to refresh her- 
 self for the evening, and all complied with 
 unusual docility. They set the alarm clock 
 beforehand lest they might fall into the nightly 
 habit of prolonging sleep. They must waken in 
 plenty of time to dress for the ball. 
 
 At half -after nine they began to look for the 
 taxicab. They were all ready. The hour waxed 
 
 [155]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 to nine forty-five, and still the conveyance had 
 not arrived. 
 
 "Perhaps some one would better 'phone; it 
 may have slipped Elmer's mind. You know, he 
 had a serious case on hand for to-night," was 
 Lucy's thoughtful advice. 
 
 Edith was occupied in adjusting her head- 
 gear, therefore Sophie called up the garage 
 office. 
 
 " Have you an order for a cab to call at No. 
 205 Park Avenue?" 
 
 "Just one minute, please." 
 
 Sophie tapped the floor nervously with her 
 foot as she sat waiting. 
 
 " Hello." 
 
 " No, madam, there is no order for No. 205 
 Park Avenue." 
 
 ' Why, that 's very strange ! It must have been 
 forgotten! Please send out one, immediately." 
 
 " At once, madam," was the reply. 
 
 Ten minutes later they were puffing toward 
 the Atwood mansion. It was some distance away, 
 
 [156]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 so they had ample time to discuss their prospec- 
 tive movements upon arriving. 
 
 " It is 'way after ten, now, but Elmer said he 
 could n't possibly be there till half -past. It is no 
 matter ; we will get on all right," planned Edith. 
 " I know a number of the boys who are to usher, 
 and they will escort us in with proper form." 
 
 When they reached the scene of festivities, 
 they noticed that the lower rooms alone were 
 lighted. 
 
 "That's mighty queer," uttered Sophie, as 
 they ascended the marble steps. 
 
 " Perhaps we are too early," suggested Lucy. 
 " Sometimes people give a dinner before the ball." 
 
 They were obliged to press the electric button, 
 as the huge batten doors were inhospitably closed. 
 "A very strange approach to a ball!" Sophie 
 went on sputtering. 
 
 At last the magnificent butler opened the door. 
 They entered and all stood in the broad vestibule, 
 looking at each other in a blank sort of way. 
 Finally the butler said, holding out his tray, 
 
 [157]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 'Your cards, if you please.'* 
 
 "We haven't got them," replied Sophie, 
 "We've " 
 
 " We forgot them," interrupted Edith, hastily. 
 "If you will ask Miss Angela to come, I will 
 explain to her." 
 
 " Miss Angela is at the present moment dining 
 with a party of friends invited for the evening. 
 Will the ladies step into the withdrawing room 
 and await them? " 
 
 With a shocked and confused look, Edith 
 asked, 
 
 " Is not this the evening of the ball? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, no, miss. The ball is on 
 the twenty-third." 
 
 Mentally speaking, Sophie uttered a shriek of 
 despair. Actually, she merely said: 
 
 " Oh, we must have mistaken the place. We 
 will withdraw altogether," and they rapidly 
 descended. The butler followed them down sev- 
 eral steps. 
 
 " Shall I 'phone for your carriage to conduct 
 you to the right place? " 
 
 [158]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " Thank you, no ; it is only a short distance 
 away. We will walk." 
 
 As soon as they got beyond his hearing, the 
 chorus began. 
 
 "Who ever heard of such a lunatic perform- 
 ance ! " drawled Sophie. 
 
 " And at the Atwoods', too, of all people! I 
 wouldn't have had it happen for the world I 
 Your subterfuge, Sophie, was lame, halt, and 
 blind. Angela knows there is no other ball worth 
 attending to-night, and even if there were, we 
 should n't be going. I trust the conversation will 
 not be repeated to her! She knows we don't go 
 to balls more than once in a coon's age." 
 
 "Well, girls, don't let us get too warmed up 
 over this affair; we might catch cold, this breezy 
 night. Edith, gather your cape around you well. 
 We will walk to the next corner and take the 
 trolley home. Then, we '11 go to sleep and forget 
 all about it." 
 
 The two girls meekly agreed and they rode 
 home in silence. Each one felt her share of the 
 reflex action. Sophie thought: 
 
 [159]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " I wish I had n't told that fib about the other 
 place." 
 
 Lucy's anxiety was: 
 
 " Now, there is that taxicab! I '11 have to pay 
 for it, as it was I who told them to 'phone for it." 
 
 Edith's hope was: 
 
 " If only Elmer does n't hear of it ! I should 
 be mortified to ashes!" 
 
 When they reached home and separated for the 
 night, Sophie said consolingly: 
 
 ' We '11 try it again on the twenty -third, girls. 
 Repetition makes perfection." 
 
 [160]
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE ATWOOD BALL 
 
 " Look to the blowing Rose about us ' Lo, 
 Laughing, ' she says, ' into the world I blow, 
 
 At once the silken tassel of my Purse 
 Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.' ' 
 
 AS Matilda had said, Mr. Travis was to be 
 Helene Doyle's escort on that occasion, 
 and according to Mr. Dolliver's prophecy, Bene- 
 dict was to dance oftenest with her. Mrs. Doyle 
 was in a very delicate and irritable humor that 
 evening. She had not been well since the Dolliver 
 banquet, and was making a great sacrifice of her 
 personal inclination by accompanying Helene. 
 She did not mention the fact that her suspicious 
 curiosity made it imperative for her to be there. 
 
 Upon entering the ball-room, Benedict's eyes 
 instituted an expectant search for Matilda. Her 
 father's car had just been leaving when he and 
 
 [161]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 his party had arrived; he knew, therefore, that 
 she was in the ball-room which was filling rapidly. 
 Disappointed at first in his efforts to locate her, 
 he turned his attentions to Helene in order to talk 
 about Matilda. His eyes were still searching the 
 crowd, as he halted in front of Helene. 
 
 "Surely you are going to dance?" he said, 
 earnestly surveying her. 
 
 " I don't know," doubtingly. " I almost fear 
 to leave mother, she is so unwell " 
 
 " Stuff!" Benedict broke in, with man's lofty 
 contempt for feminine weakness and irresolution. 
 " If she was well enough to venture here to-night, 
 she's well enough to spare you as often as you 
 care to dance. There are lots of nice fellows here ; 
 you'll not want for partners." 
 
 The girl's sole answer was her faint, cryptic 
 smile. 
 
 "Anyhow," Benedict rattled on with boyish 
 ardor, "let's move over to the entrance. You 
 girls always enjoy keeping tab on who comes and 
 who stays away. Wonder if the Duke's 
 arrived?" 
 
 [162]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Again his eyes eagerly scanned the throng; 
 but he was not looking for Monsieur le due. 
 
 "No," quietly replied Helene, "the Del 
 Bondio party has not yet arrived. You know 
 what a stickler for the formalities Mr. Del 
 Bondio is. If you saw him talking to any beauti- 
 ful lady Matilda, for instance " 
 
 "Or you " 
 
 She smiled again and tapped his arm lightly 
 with her fan. 
 
 " you would think he was Talleyrand con- 
 versing with Mme. Recamier," she finished 
 composedly. 
 
 " Helene! " His happy face tried to assume a 
 pained expression. ' That 's a poor comparison 
 to come from you; it makes me think of some 
 kind of smelly face-powder instead of Mr. D-B., 
 striking a pose." 
 
 "Well, then," she retorted, "it's not so bad 
 after all." 
 
 But her nice irony was lost upon her compan- 
 ion. She realized that she had his attention only 
 intermittently. His eyes returned from another 
 
 [163]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 eager scrutiny of the assembled guests, but at 
 once they brightened and smiled back into hers. 
 
 "I suppose," he spoke derisively, "that the 
 feminine contingent would be horribly disap- 
 pointed if D-B.'s Duke failed to show up to- 
 night. For my part I should not care much. 
 What chance have the rest of us poor chaps in 
 I was about to say in the presence of royalty, 
 but a Duke 's as bad." 
 
 " But this one, I believe, is a good Duke. 
 There," with sudden animation, " turn your gaze 
 in the opposite direction and you will behold your 
 dazzling luminary." 
 
 Travis stared hard at his beautiful companion. 
 
 " Huh ! " he said bluntly in a moment. " How 
 did you know whom that I was looking for any 
 particular individual? " 
 
 "Benedict! Hurry!" There was a trace of 
 excitement in the usually tranquil girl's de- 
 meanor. "Hurry before the crowd eclipses 
 her!" 
 
 He obeyed. He caught sight of Matilda in 
 her marvellous costume, radiant under the bril- 
 
 [164]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 liant lights. And then, alas ! not she but Helene 
 was eclipsed from his thoughts. 
 
 'You will excuse me just a moment, won't 
 you, Helene?" He was somewhat confused. 
 " I must see her before the music begins, you 
 know." 
 
 The sudden awkwardness which seized her 
 erstwhile cavalier was so foreign to his customary 
 ease and grace of bearing that Helene Doyle re- 
 garded him in mild surprise. But then the occult 
 smile again stirred her lips, and all emotion was 
 veiled. 
 
 " Surely," she murmured, her eyes downcast. 
 " And you are under no obligation to return, 
 since I am not dancing." 
 
 The look of gratitude that leaped to his frank 
 eyes was doubtless involuntary, but Helene 
 caught it in a swift upward glance. An instant 
 later, when she heard her mother's voice at her 
 ear, he was crossing the hall with more haste than 
 dignity. Her thoughts and feelings were still 
 submerged in the phantom of a smile. 
 
 " You were foolish, Helene," Mrs. Doyle com- 
 [166]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 plained, "to call his attention to her. You are 
 always so impolitic." 
 
 "Why try to keep him here," said the girl, 
 calmly, "since I must disappoint him?" 
 
 "Disappoint him?" echoed Mrs. Doyle. "I 
 am not sure that I understand you." 
 
 The girl, however, was abruptly saved from 
 becoming more explicit. 
 
 " Behold, mother," she announced, " there 
 comes his grace, the Duke." 
 
 Mrs. Doyle's attention was diverted. The 
 other chaperons were likewise trying to get a 
 glimpse of his highness. The At wood ladies were 
 smiling nervously. 
 
 Mrs. Atwood, who was an obese little woman, 
 always gave one the impression of being filled 
 with highly colored sawdust; hard and prickly, 
 she was, as irresponsive as a horse-hair sofa. 
 To-night, she was bubbling over with impor- 
 tance. The desire to shine and please was un- 
 comfortably evident; in the tight twist of her 
 hair, the studied folds of her dress, the artificial 
 
 [166]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 bloom of her cheeks, she was painfully good- 
 looking. 
 
 Monsieur le Due de Beauchamps was creating 
 a tremendous sensation among these unknown 
 foreigners by his genial courtesy, his gracious 
 and cordial manner. This was all perfectly 
 natural to him, owing to the accomplished and 
 valiant gentlemen of whose superlatively rare 
 class he was the scion. A youth of barely twenty- 
 two, yet a powerful figure upon whom the eyes 
 of the multitude were riveted. He spoke in 
 absolutely perfect English to those surround- 
 ing him. Miss Maud and Miss Angela were 
 among them. His phrases, couched in that 
 exquisite delicacy peculiar to the French, brought 
 waves of delight to their expectant ears. There 
 was a murmur of solicitude outside the favored 
 circle. Would he confine his regards only to 
 a few? No; he began to observe the whole 
 assembly. Being tall he could command the 
 brilliant scene to perfection, and it was enough 
 to enthuse almost any young man of the world. 
 
 [167]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 He watched the fair ladies in their bewildering 
 toilettes and his eyes spoke admiration. 
 
 At the same moment Matilda Dolliver was 
 crossing the dancing-hall upon Benedict Tra vis's 
 arm. The Duke abruptly halted. 
 
 "Who is that young lady?" he asked. The 
 sudden checking of their leisurely progress, the 
 unwonted fervor in his tone, made Angela look 
 quickly up at him. Following his gaze, she too 
 beheld the couple. 
 
 " Oh, that girl. She is the daughter of 
 one of Baltimore's leading merchants and 
 manufacturers." 
 
 The lack of warmth in the reply caused De 
 Beauchamps to glance curiously at his compan- 
 ion. A slight ironical smile twitched his lips. 
 
 "Ah!" he said, moving forward again. And 
 Angela, thinking that her response had dashed 
 his interest, ventured further: 
 
 " Scarcely of an equal station with your grace." 
 
 "Doubtless you are correct," with a dry cour- 
 tesy that escaped the girl. " The aristocracy of 
 industry is far more ennobling to a man's char- 
 
 [168]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 acter than a life of idleness, indolence, and lux- 
 ury. Believe me, I am a toiler, both with my 
 hands and such brains as God has given me." 
 
 Angela so far forgot herself that she stared at 
 the Duke in surprise; but she was quick-witted 
 enough to realize that she had made a mistake in 
 her estimation of the young nobleman. She at 
 once recovered herself. 
 
 "Judged by such a standard," she said 
 promptly, "then Matilda should be at least a 
 princess." 
 
 " Then pray do me the honor of presenting me 
 to your princess." 
 
 Angela bit her lip in chagrin, but she could not 
 refuse, and a few seconds later the Duke was 
 bowing low over Matilda's hand. 
 
 'Your highness," said he, with a twinkle, 
 "you bear my favorite of all French names 
 Mathilde." 
 
 For once all the careful attention and training 
 bestowed upon her by the Misses Pettingill went 
 down in shipwreck under the wave of confusion 
 that swept over her. 
 
 [169]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "But highness," she stammered, rosy red to 
 her coiffure. "I I don't under " She be- 
 came all at once speechless, staring distressedly 
 from one to another, while Travis regarded the 
 Duke haughtily. 
 
 The nobleman was quick to discern her embar- 
 rassment and as quick to relieve it. 
 
 " Pardon me," he said, at once grave. " I was 
 but furthering a bit of jesting information 
 just now imparted to me by Mademoiselle At- 
 wood." 
 
 Before he could proceed f urther Matilda looked 
 to Angela for an explanation. That young lady 
 was now wretchedly embarrassed herself; she was 
 placed in the unenviable predicament of either 
 giving a verbatim report of the conversation 
 between herself and the Duke, or else courting 
 his disapprobation by a lack of candor. The 
 young man appeared to realize and enjoy 
 the situation. 
 
 At last Angela floundered through some sort 
 of explanation and hastened away. The incident 
 was closed. 
 
 [170]
 
 THE SMILE OF. THE SPHINX 
 
 "You speak our language, perhaps?" De 
 Beauchamps asked. 
 
 " I do," returned Matilda, her color heighten- 
 ing again. 
 
 Monsieur de Beauchamps immediately opened 
 up a rapid-fire of exclamations expressive of both 
 delight and surprise at the discovery. During a 
 full half -hour they conversed with that vivacity 
 which only the French know. 
 
 Verily, the Misses Pettingill were this night 
 apotheosized. 
 
 Travis sat moodily near the two young people, 
 though with a growing, depressing conviction 
 that he was not one of them. He formed 
 the hypotheneuse of a triangle that was self- 
 sufficient as a straight line. Matilda, he reflected 
 with some bitterness, might be in very truth a 
 princess, De Beauchamps a courtier in temporary 
 high favor, while every other man in the hall 
 was a humble vassal not only willing but eager 
 to do her slightest bidding. 
 
 Duke? faugh! The fellow made him sick; 
 he was like all the rest of them : a rake, a spend- 
 
 [171]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 thrift, everything despicable. He was only 
 after Matilda's money, or that of the next 
 innocent who crossed his path, who could boast 
 a bigger bank-account. 
 
 But as he watched the young nobleman's 
 frank, animated countenance these reflections 
 were neither convincing nor consoling. His own 
 face was heavy with gloom, his heart depressed; 
 he was banished, already an exile. 
 
 Quite disregardful of the fact that he was on 
 her card for the first dance, he all at once rose 
 and flung himself into the joyous throng, pain- 
 fully conscious that his departure had been 
 unnoticed and that Matilda was giving her hand 
 to the Duke for the first number, oblivious that 
 it was by right his. 
 
 His right ? What right had a trusted friend 
 against this interloper with a title, this blue- 
 blooded adventurer ? Women were merciless, cruel 
 creatures ! All except Helene. Ah, yes, Helene. 
 She was an exception, was Helene; one who 
 would never disregard the obligations of friend- 
 ship under the fascination of an unknown in- 
 
 [172]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 truder to their charmed circle, be he a duke or 
 even a reigning sovereign. 
 
 With a sudden sense of guilt, he reflected 
 that he had treated Helene rather shabbily to- 
 night. Well, he had been amply punished; he 
 would go hunt her up and try to make amends 
 or, at least, this praiseworthy determination 
 was his interpretation of the great yearning for 
 sympathy which burned in his bosom. 
 
 In the meantime others were rapidly follow- 
 ing Matilda's and the Duke's example. The 
 animation and gaiety rose. Never had a ball 
 been so fraught with the novelty of such an 
 experience within their generation. It was 
 something unconscionable. Matilda Dolliver, 
 handsome though she was, in the lead of all of 
 Baltimore's society belles! 
 
 "I never saw such infatuation on the part of 
 a young man!" remarked one matron who had 
 several eligible daughters. " One would think he 
 was her sworn fiance" 
 
 "It is due, I opine, to some kind of mes- 
 merism which she possesses," said another. " The 
 
 [173]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 father uses it in his business affairs. The luck 
 that man has is stupendous!" 
 
 "But don't you admit that her beauty has 
 something to do with it?" ventured a third. 
 
 "No; I don't think she is so wonderfully 
 pretty," retorted the mother of the marriageable 
 seven. " There are plenty of girls in Baltimore 
 who are just as attractive to me. It is quite 
 incomprehensible." 
 
 Now at this stage of their discussion old 
 Monsieur Del Bondio, who was circulating 
 among the elderly spinsters and widows, sat 
 down beside these prejudiced matrons. He be- 
 gan at once to extol the young couple ; the charms 
 and graces of the young demoiselle with whom 
 his distant relative was dancing. He said good- 
 humoredly that the boy evinced rare good taste. 
 The irritated hearers were obliged to moderate 
 their opinions considerably in order to meet his 
 superior amiability and judgment. 
 
 During this time, Benedict had found his way 
 back to Helene, greatly to Mrs. Doyle's relief. 
 
 ; 'You might as well dance a little, daughter, 
 [174]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 if you care to. I will be very comfortable here 
 with Mr. Del Bondio to entertain me." For the 
 old gentleman had moved up to a more genial 
 clime. 
 
 Benedict hailed the suggestion. Slipping an 
 arm about Helene's waist, they went whirling 
 amid the flock of happy dancers. Travis, when 
 his eyes met the fine blue ones, wore a look of 
 exultant triumph, instead of one of dejection 
 or disappointment. Helene was a perfect 
 dancer, and he was proud to pass Matilda and 
 the Duke several times with so accomplished a 
 partner. While they were doing a slow, grace- 
 ful waltz that so well became Helene's classic 
 figure, she said to him in her usual undertone, 
 
 ' You must try it again with Matilda." 
 
 Instantly the dark look once more shadowed 
 his face. He remained silent. 
 
 " Surely," Helene laughingly pressed him, 
 "you are not going to surrender to a French- 
 man, even if he is a duke, are you?" 
 
 He glumly replied, " It is not a question of 
 surrender." 
 
 [175]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 And Helene said no more. 
 
 Mrs. Doyle and old Mr. Del Bondio were 
 seated side by side, watching the two. 
 
 " How well they look together," said the lady. 
 "Benedict is so considerate of Helene; his 
 attentions are ideal." 
 
 ' Yes," replied the chivalrous old man. " To- 
 night, Miss Dolliver is the glowing jewel; but 
 Helene is always the gleaming pearl." 
 
 At length they sat down after the wholesome 
 enjoyment which young people find in the 
 exercise. Benedict stood up beside Helene, 
 fanning her with brotherly attention, and jest- 
 ing with a forced gaity of which the girl was 
 keenly sensible. He did not go near Matilda 
 the rest of the evening. Mrs. Doyle thought he 
 really ought to fetch the Duke and introduce 
 him to Helene. 
 
 " She speaks French quite as well, if not 
 better than Matilda," she suggested. " She 
 might make as good an impression on him." 
 
 Benedict declined the honor, but he was will- 
 ing to pass it over to Mr. Del Bondio, who was 
 
 [176]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 charmed with such a piece of knight-errantry 
 and went to bring Monsieur de Beauchamps 
 where the ladies were sitting. Then he departed 
 to busy himself with finding other partners. 
 He waltzed once around with each of the 
 Hadley girls. He even went so far as to pivot 
 Angela through a long redowa, in fact, disported 
 himself like a young man who was enjoying the 
 evening mightily. 
 
 When the hour waned far past twelve, Mrs. 
 Doyle wished to retire from the festive scene if 
 Helene had enjoyed sufficient pleasure. 
 
 "Certainly, mother. I am at your service 
 whenever you are ready." 
 
 "At once, then, for my head is beginning to 
 ache with all this light and noise." 
 
 " If you don't care to go to the supper, may 
 I not bring some light refreshment for you and 
 Helene? I '11 find a waiter immediately," offered 
 Travis. 
 
 "No, I thank you, not even that, Benedict," 
 replied Mrs. Doyle, wearily. " Doctor Rasburn 
 has cautioned me to indulge in nothing to-night." 
 
 [177]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 They went to the dressing-room to be en- 
 veloped in their wraps, while Benedict hurried 
 down to have his taxicab brought to the door. 
 When once they were all seated, he leaned over 
 and caught Helene's hand. Mrs. Doyle, her 
 head pillowed on the cushion, was peacefully 
 dozing. 
 
 "God bless you!" he whispered fervently, 
 looking intently into her eyes. 
 
 "I am surprised that you should take it so 
 hard," she returned half -mockingly, yet with an 
 undercurrent of genuine sympathy that did not 
 elude Travis. 
 
 ' You are the best and gentlest of friends, 
 Helene; I shall always love you. I know that 
 in your heart, anyhow, there is always some 
 concern for my welfare. My dear, dear sister!" 
 
 The dim light only partially revealed the 
 masking smile. She returned the pressure of 
 his fingers and quickly withdrew her hand. 
 
 'You know, Benedict," she said steadily, 
 " that you always have my sympathetic interest. 
 What can I say to you now?" 
 
 [178]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "Nothing. But I feel that I am to blame 
 somewhere for something an act of omission, 
 perhaps. What can it be?" 
 
 "No, no," she returned, still speaking low. 
 "You are over- wrought ; that is all. You will 
 feel right about it in the morning. Consider 
 Matilda's fondness for everything French; give 
 her time to adjust herself to this novel 
 experience." 
 
 " The glamour of a title!" bitterly muttered 
 the young fellow. 
 
 " I think so. And so much the better : it can 
 never dazzle her again." 
 
 " It never would have caught you, Helene," 
 he said earnestly. ;< Why? Why are you so 
 different?" 
 
 This time she laughed outright at his im- 
 pulsiveness. 
 
 "It is possible that I am not so different 
 after all," she said. "Maybe you will find it 
 out some day." 
 
 "Find out?" explosively. "What is there to 
 find out about you that I don't already know? 
 
 [179]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Fiddlesticks! You're the rippingest girl a fel- 
 low ever had for a friend a sister; I need know 
 nothing more; that's all I want to know." 
 
 "Very well, then," Helene announced with 
 abruptly assumed lightness; "we have arrived at 
 the last word good-night and home at the 
 same time." 
 
 He got out to see them safely in. 
 
 Helene waved to him from the vestibule. 
 "You will have forgotten all about it by to- 
 morrow," she cheerfully affirmed. 
 
 " Good-night," was all he said. 
 
 He walked away mentally resolving not to 
 forget it, and turned once more toward the 
 intoxicating ball-room. 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances Benedict would 
 have gone straight to his own apartment after 
 leaving Helene and her mother. But to-night 
 there was one insatiable desire to look again 
 upon the scene that had struck his heart an 
 excruciating blow, which swung his indecision 
 into quick action. He had, up to that time, 
 looked upon Matilda Dolliver as a pleasing but 
 
 [180]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 remote possibility. But when he recalled that 
 the Duke of Beauchamps had appropriated 
 Matilda right from his hands to promenade the 
 length of the hall upon his arm, whereas a 
 moment before she had been upon his own, a 
 feeling as akin to jealousy as he had ever known 
 gripped his steadfast heart. He followed her 
 with scorching eyes. He took no notice of the 
 crowd around him, who, like him, were struck 
 with amazement at the young Duke's rapid and 
 unconcealed courtship. 
 
 The two were sitting in animated conversa- 
 tion after dancing. Benedict waited for nearly 
 two hours, trying to catch her eye, to see if 
 she would smile a recognition. But he could 
 not, so absorbed was she. Just as he was 
 preparing to leave with his desire unfulfilled, 
 the Dolliver car whisked up to the entrance. He 
 stopped and stood a while to see what should 
 happen. 
 
 Presently, Papa Dolliver appeared and nodded 
 to Benedict with an air of extreme satisfac- 
 tion. He seated himself comfortably inside. 
 
 [181]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Travis was moved to tarry yet longer, urged by 
 the tugging at his heart strings. It was not 
 long before Matilda followed, still upon the 
 Duke's arm. 
 
 He gave her his hand to assist her in enter- 
 ing the car, and continued his adieux until they 
 were fairly out of sight. 
 
 Benedict told an attendant to call his cab. It 
 was the old friend who waited for him every 
 morning at Cheltenham Court. 
 
 " Whea' abaout, suh? " 
 
 Benedict eyed him fiercely and muttered in 
 his teeth: 
 
 "To the devil!" 
 
 "I didn't catch that, suh," said the darky, 
 coming nearer. 
 
 " Cheltenham Court, then," he growled, dis- 
 appearing inside. 
 
 "Mistah Travis am in a mighty po' humor, 
 this mornin'," cogitated the fellow, starting his 
 honking machine with vociferous noises. He 
 was surprised, for it was customary with the 
 young gentlemen of society to repair to their 
 
 [182]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 clubs after such entertainments to talk over the 
 affair, to drink more, perhaps, until daybreak 
 surprised them in their dress-suits. Then they 
 would retire to their private rooms to refresh 
 themselves with a few hours' sleep and exchange 
 their attire for a more presentable morning-suit. 
 
 Travis was not a club member. He rarely 
 frequented such places, except at the invitation 
 of some friend. 
 
 Having been brought up in a beautiful coun- 
 try home, he was strictly a "home body." He 
 preferred to spend his evenings with his friends, 
 the Doyles, the Hadleys, Matilda Dolliver, 
 where he found a different entertainment, to be 
 sure, but youth loves the spiciness of variety. 
 
 When he reached his rooms at the Court he 
 went to bed but not to sleep. His habitually 
 peaceful mind was in a turmoil of agitation. 
 
 What was this feeling which had so suddenly 
 overwhelmed him and caused him to act in a 
 manner unrecognizable to himself? Was he in 
 love ? The thought almost made him laugh from 
 its strangeness. He had thought himself invul- 
 
 [185]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 nerable. Love great, absorbing, all-embrac- 
 ing that stirred the souls of poets, would not 
 come to him till middle life. The hearts of the 
 young were not capable of nurturing such a love. 
 He had been so deeply engrossed in his profes- 
 sion until now; his social distractions were but 
 a necessary lever to preserve the wholesome 
 equipoise of his keen active mind. What, then, 
 was this maelstrom of conflicting emotions? 
 Was it but a " false creation of the heart-op- 
 pressed brain" that had swayed Macbeth? He 
 would try to sleep ; that balm alone could restore 
 his natural thoughts and enable him to reason 
 clearly when morning came. 
 
 While Benedict was thus employed, Matilda, 
 at the same hour, stood alone before her mirror 
 in all the splendor of her ball attire. She gazed 
 at herself; there was no trace of fatigue in her 
 glistening eyes, for their light was derived from 
 the inexhaustible source of conquests and tri- 
 umphal achievements that have bathed the eyes 
 of human beings since the w r orld began. For 
 the first time in her life she realized that she 
 
 [184]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 was beautiful and that her beauty was her 
 strongest weapon. She felt like a conqueror who 
 on the eve of battle is not absolutely sure of 
 success, but whose hopefulness is unbounded. 
 She was thinking of the young Duke, of his 
 signalized attentions, his obvious preference, and 
 she was attracted to him by two strong, polemic 
 forces, his nationality and his rank. 
 
 In her studies, she had been sedulous but 
 not brilliant, yet that evening, in conversing with 
 Monsieur de Beauchamps, she had discovered 
 herself parrying witticisms with him and coming 
 out victorious. 
 
 There is something surprising in the very 
 actions, thoughts, and movements of a person 
 born and bred in an environment wholly dif- 
 ferent from one's own. This, combined with his 
 exalted station, had fixed Matilda's attention. 
 The mystery and triumph of it all held her spell- 
 bound before her mirror until Mrs. Dolliver's 
 gentle tap at her door warned her that it was 
 nearly morning. 
 
 Then, she, too, went to sleep and to dream 
 [185]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 a vision of prophetic intent. She was mounted 
 on a spirited white horse and stood at the foot 
 of a country road such as she had known when 
 a girl. It was a cool, attractive road edged on 
 either side with tall trees whose branches over- 
 head intertwined in soft embrace. It led up a 
 gently sloping hill where deep mysterious green- 
 ness courted desire. A feeling of something like 
 joy impelled her to pursue the ascent. Once she 
 looked back, to see at the foot of the hill her 
 mother smiling and waving farewell, Edith, 
 Helene, Benedict, her old associates of former 
 days, and she was leaving them all behind with 
 no tinge of regret in her heart; the mysterious 
 clump of green, arching in the distance, seemed 
 to hold such treasures that all the blessings of 
 her past life were by it obliterated. 
 
 [186]
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 BENEDICT SUCCUMBS TO NATURE'S FORCES 
 
 " A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, 
 A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou 
 
 Beside me singing in the Wilderness 
 Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow! " 
 
 WHEN Benedict arose the next morning, 
 the clear, crisp, matutinal freshness of 
 a day in late December should have prompted 
 him to quick, decisive action. Strange to say, 
 unlike his usual self, he was still swinging in 
 the balance. Like Macbeth he " had no spur to 
 prick the sides of his intent." His poor spurs 
 had been so blunted by the rebuffs of the pre- 
 vious night, that the inevitable reaction had set 
 in. He thought, as he walked the distance to 
 his office with vigorous step: "I will wait 
 because I must." 
 
 As he took his place at his desk, he found that 
 [187]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 the hours of sleep and the brisk walk had some- 
 what allayed the fever of his fantasy. Yet his 
 mind was not altogether restored to its normal 
 assumption of irritating facts. In spite of 
 efforts to the contrary, he was obsessed with 
 impressions of Matilda and the Duke forcing 
 themselves upon his carefully prepared judicial 
 propositions. They blockaded his powers of 
 induction. They staggered his clinching argu- 
 ments. They made him realize that there were 
 incidents which, sometimes, caused even a logi- 
 cian's reason to totter upon its lofty throne. It 
 was no use ; he could not concentrate his faculties 
 sufficiently to do independent work. The will, 
 rising superior to the other composite divisions 
 of the mind, would not commingle to harmonize 
 with his purpose. He must subdue it by merg- 
 ing it into the thoughts of the great men who 
 had created the law. He pulled down one of 
 the heavy volumes above and steeped himself in 
 a long, profound extract from the works of 
 Richard Hooker upon the " Necessity and 
 Majesty of the Law." 
 
 [188]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Benedict was very earnest, very determined 
 to let no trivial circumstance impede his ascent 
 in the dignified profession which he had chosen. 
 But even in this he had reckoned without his 
 host. He had not thought of the tremendous 
 forces of nature that are able to toss a man, 
 especially a young man, far out of his instinctive 
 ideas of duty; that make him bend, yield, and 
 oscillate like a bubble, ere he regain strength 
 and power to proceed on his rightful way. 
 
 Travis spent the entire morning at his task. 
 Then, by some trifling occurrence, his memory 
 was jogged to the recollection that it was the day 
 before Christmas. He had been so engrossed 
 with the happenings of the past few days that 
 the nearness of the festive season had escaped 
 him. 
 
 'Ye great Olympian gods!" he exclaimed. 
 ' What a consummate ass I have been to forget 
 everything and everybody!" 
 
 He closed his voluminous book with a resound- 
 ing flop, and left the place, saying to himself, 
 
 "Now, to the Court to feed the inner man, 
 [189]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 then, to the first bijoutiers, and other shops of 
 the city, to contend with the army of belated 
 buyers." On reaching Cheltenham Court he 
 hailed Sambo, his favored taxicabby, and told 
 him to wait just a minute till he had swallowed 
 his lunch. 
 
 "We'll put for the city all afternoon; but 
 we'll wind up at Willow Brook where we'll be 
 sure of a good square meal." 
 
 He disappeared a few moments, leaving the 
 darky on the steering seat grinning at the pros- 
 pect of a good feast. When Travis had finished 
 his meal, they both spun to town to conclude the 
 necessary shopping. When he had finished, 
 having remembered every one, according to his 
 custom, he said, 
 
 "It is five o'clock and dark enough to play 
 Santa Claus about town." 
 
 They stopped at the various residences; the 
 Doyles', and the Hadleys', where the darky left 
 mysterious-looking packages, and skipped away. 
 They worked up to the Charles Street Avenue 
 mansion, depositing there something for Mrs. and 
 
 [190]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Miss Dolliver. The Del Bondio equipage was 
 standing in the porte-cochere, so Sambo deliv- 
 ered his gifts at the front door, where Amanda 
 received them, being curiously and stealthily on 
 duty. 
 
 Benedict wondered what the carriage was 
 doing there. Was the Duke just coming, or 
 going? Never mind, he would drown the mem- 
 ory of his insolence by scaling to the front seat 
 beside Sambo to face the wind and cold on their 
 way through the beautiful Green Spring Valley 
 green even in the winter, owing to its tall 
 cypress and pine trees whose branches were 
 fretting the new-fallen snows. 
 
 Willow Brook lay in the heart of that Green 
 Spring Valley, with hill and dale beyond, and 
 the bending willows, from which it derived its 
 name, shedding their icy tears of mourning upon 
 the frosty stream below. Benedict felt that its 
 peaceful, restful solitude would balm his per- 
 turbed spirit as nothing else could. The house, 
 surmounted by its snow-thatched roof, looked a 
 warm and cordial welcome from within. Both 
 
 [191]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Major and Mrs. Travis had heard the honking 
 warning of his emissary, and were at the open 
 door to receive him. 
 
 "Bully for you, Diet, my boy!" said his 
 father. 
 
 " My son, my son ! " and Mrs. Travis held him 
 in a motherly embrace. 
 
 It was always so when he came home. His 
 presence was the crowning point of all their 
 days of merrymaking. The adulations and 
 compliments poured in from all sides. 
 
 "What, another Christmas and no fianp 'allies 
 to make gay the festal board! " said the Major 
 jocundly. "How is that, Benedict? I thought 
 you'd bring home some fair damsel with you 
 this year, on approbation." 
 
 " Not yet, father," the young man sought, by 
 an affected lightness, to turn a topic which, now, 
 was far from agreeable. " Life is too serious 
 with me to indulge in such frivolities." 
 
 " Let him be a boy, our own boy, as long as 
 he will, say I ! " was Mrs. Travis's imploration. 
 
 " That 's right," readily agreed the Major, 
 [192]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 always falling in with his wife's views. " Stick to 
 business, my boy ; make hay while the sun shines ; 
 that's what your forefathers all did. There is 
 always plenty of time for a fellow like you to 
 spend at love-making." 
 
 The sensible construction his father put upon 
 his own words, struck him a little incongruously, 
 set beside his actions of the night before. 
 
 After dinner they all sat around the blazing 
 log fire with their feet upon the big bear rug 
 on which he had romped as a child. He told 
 them all about his work, his hopes, and ambitions 
 for the future. He told modestly of his rising 
 successes in his profession; but failed to volun- 
 teer one word about his social diversions. His 
 almost studied avoidance of the subject caused 
 his father to introduce it. 
 
 "How are Helene and Mrs. Doyle?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, Helene is all right," was the indifferent 
 reply; "she can't be otherwise. I can't say as 
 much for Mrs. Doyle; she is always ailing." 
 
 Mrs. Travis murmured sympathetically. 
 [193]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "How unfortunate," she said. "I am very 
 sorry for Helene." 
 
 But the Major blindly persisted. "Where is 
 your enthusiasm for the fair Miss Dolliver whom 
 you used to extol so highly? And her father 
 has he still the Midas touch?" 
 
 " Mr. Dolliver still pursues his monumental 
 climb of the financial ladder." 
 
 Mrs. Travis noted his ignoring of half of the 
 question, and the intuition of her mother's heart 
 immediately seized upon a meaning in the son's 
 silences. Although she was troubled, she real- 
 ized how unpleasant must be to Benedict their 
 effort to force his confidence. She knew his 
 sensitive nature; if she read aright the cause of 
 his reticence, she knew that their inquisitiveness 
 was making him inwardly cringe. So she play- 
 fully chided her husband into talking of incon- 
 sequentials. 
 
 "Can't you see that Benedict is tired, my 
 dear ? " she gently pointed out. " He- would much 
 rather sit comfortably with us and listen to what 
 we have to say. Retire whenever you feel like 
 
 [194]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 it, my son; you must suffer nothing that may 
 mar the enjoyment of your visit." 
 
 He was very grateful, and in a little while 
 retired. 
 
 Although he was in truth very weary, before 
 going to bed, he gazed a moment at the glowing 
 firmament from the window of his boyhood days. 
 In the glittering stars, he saw reflected only 
 Matilda's eyes; and those stars did not leave him 
 till their mirrored reality had been dispelled by 
 the morning light. 
 
 He spent Christmas and the day following at 
 home, that benign spot which had ever proved 
 a Lethe to his youthful woes! In spite of his 
 mother's fond insistence to prolong his visit, the 
 stress and pressure of city life, at this especial 
 season, lured him thither. So soon did he feel 
 the surfeit of those two days of rest and calm. 
 He longed for the surging billows of the life 
 that had first taught his heart to suffer. Such 
 is the madness of youth. It is willing to ex- 
 change the ways of peace and oblivion for the 
 raging sea without, often to find itself sub- 
 
 [195]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 merged by its overwhelming breakers ! Benedict 
 returned to the city, to that complex life of 
 strenuous labor, and its counter-weight of social 
 distractions which had tortured his heart. 
 
 One morning, on his way to the office, he 
 stopped at the Doyles'. He lingered a moment 
 to glean a little of Helene's beneficial advice. 
 
 " This life of protracted dissipation is too 
 much for you, Benedict, you look a little hag- 
 gard, this morning," she said. 
 
 "Haggard?" resented Travis, "I don't feel 
 haggard never felt better in my life. What 
 makes you think it?" 
 
 'You cannot fool me, Benedict Travis; your 
 assumption of indifference betrays the effort. I 
 could not help noticing you at the theatre, last 
 night." 
 
 "I know what you refer to; but I want to 
 tell you that I should be perfectly contented to 
 let things remain as they are, if it wasn't for 
 that coquin of a Frenchman who comes to spoil 
 all our fun!" He smiled quizzically at her. 
 "Ministering Angel, what is your counsel?" 
 [196]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "My advice to you," she said, with prim 
 severity, " is that if you care so much for Matilda, 
 you declare yourself to her, and thus establish 
 your true position." 
 
 'You see," Helene pursued, "you are too 
 much of a dilettante" 
 
 "It's not that. It is that when I am with 
 you, Helene, I think more calmly, more con- 
 secutively. Let me consider a moment." 
 
 She smiled at him kindly. "It is right and 
 just that you should; I claim no jurisdiction 
 over you." 
 
 "I wouldn't mind if you did. I have given 
 you every cause to exercise it. You are my 
 veritable Mentor; it is for me to be a faithful 
 Telemachus. I will do as you propose. I will 
 see Matilda before many days." He rose to go 
 and held out his hand. She took it and gave it 
 an added pressure of encouragement as she said, 
 
 " Plead your cause well. You are able to do 
 it. You ought to win in that as in everything 
 else." 
 
 She followed him to the door, the mystical 
 [197]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 smile still upon her lips, until he was far down 
 the street. Then she closed it to shut out the too 
 glaring light of day. 
 
 Benedict continued his way to the office, 
 moulding and remoulding these thoughts : Helene 
 is always a good counsellor. She knows 
 Matilda's preferences; they have been daily 
 friends for so long! She advises me to plead 
 my cause. She thinks I ought to win. 
 
 Five months ago, the thought of winning Ma- 
 tilda would have seemed an easy goal. But now, 
 the advent of this foreigner, a man of wealth, 
 birth, rank, and good address, was threatening 
 the balance of power among other suitors in that 
 exclusive circle of society. 
 
 Benedict was not nervous. The women who 
 had been his friends were gifted with evenly 
 balanced, well-ordered minds. He knew not the 
 feeling or the malady. He was not afraid; he 
 had met so far nothing he was unable to con- 
 quer. Then why did his resolution stagger? 
 He had never spoken of love to any woman. 
 No other had ever stirred the embryonic germ- 
 
 [ 198 ]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 ings of that great passion. He felt he must 
 prepare as for a combat. The thought of facing 
 Matilda Dolliver with words of love made him 
 grow weak. Yet he had conjured up in his mind 
 scores of endearing terms in thinking of her. 
 Would his ready speech fail him when he came 
 to touch upon a subject in which he had had so 
 little practice? 
 
 He would write to her that very night, beg- 
 ging an interview, that she, at least, might be 
 prepared. Their relations had been so friendly, 
 so cordial, yet so free from sentiment. He had 
 never been able to guess just how she regarded 
 him. The emotion he felt in his heart for her 
 had expanded only that night of the ball, when 
 he saw another claiming the privileges which he 
 craved. 
 
 His proverbial good fortune guided him even 
 in the choice of time for his interview. One 
 evening, in the week following the New Year, 
 had accidentally been overlooked by the pro- 
 moters of social activity. It was like a lull 
 in the tempest; and Benedict's heart bounded 
 
 [199]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 with hope when he received a dainty billet, bear- 
 ing the Dolliver insignia, granting his request. 
 She also added that she would be happy to see 
 him, as there was nothing afoot for that evening. 
 
 All of Benedict's previous trepidations van- 
 ished. Buoyant with the thought that if 
 Matilda had not cared for him, she would not 
 have acceded so readily to his petition, he 
 mounted the steps of the Charles Street Avenue 
 mansion, almost sure of success. The house was 
 dimly lighted below and above stairs, as it was 
 the Dolliver custom to do, when they were not 
 expecting a large company. His frugal habits 
 had never left Ario, even though he had grown 
 to be a very rich man. In large projects he was 
 inordinately lavish. In the lesser ones, he ex- 
 ercised thrift. There was no cause for a display 
 of brilliant lights to-night. Delicate Mrs. Dol- 
 liver retired early to rest when her husband's 
 presence was required at the down-town office. 
 He had deemed it a good evening to absent him- 
 self. He bade his wife an affectionate good-bye. 
 
 " Go to bed early, Emmy dear, and get a good 
 [200]
 
 night's rest. You'll have nothing to keep you 
 waking. Matilda '11 be entertaining a beau, and 
 I '11 be home soon after ten." 
 
 Benedict's path was, therefore, clear. When 
 he was ushered into what Matilda was pleased 
 to call the petit salon, where she liked best to 
 receive her intimates, the light immediately 
 blazed up. 
 
 "Turn that down a little, will you?" he said 
 to the butler. ' We don't want broad daylight 
 in here." 
 
 The man complied, with a knowing smile, 
 showing he understood the other's mission. In 
 a very few moments Matilda entered. She had 
 been waiting for him, and went straight to him 
 with both hands extended. 
 
 " I am so glad you have given me this oppor- 
 tunity to explain some things to you!" 
 
 He had taken both her hands and was still 
 holding the right one, as he said, 
 
 " You need make no explanation to me, 
 Matilda; there is only one thing I wish to ask 
 
 of you." 
 
 [201 ]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "You are always so generous," she broke in, 
 "and we have been such good friends! I did 
 not want to think I had disregarded your great 
 courtesy, that evening. I hoped to make com- 
 pensation. But you did not once come near me. 
 I feared you might be offended." 
 
 "Never with you," he made reply, as they 
 sat down side by side. 
 
 "I have really longed to see you, to have a 
 talk with you. It seems as if I had so much to 
 tell you of the happenings of the past two weeks. 
 You have been away? You received my note 
 of thanks for your exquisite remembrance?" 
 
 ' Yes, to both," he replied smiling. He had 
 never seen her so animated, so free to speak of 
 herself. There was abandon and effusion in the 
 manner with which she received him. 
 
 " I went home for Christmas, but the desire 
 to be near you brought me back to Baltimore." 
 
 " You are not only generous, but kind. I felt 
 as if I must talk with you. I know no one else 
 to whom I can open my thoughts as candidly 
 
 as I can to you." 
 
 [202]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 He felt the complexity of her meaning, which 
 threw a shadow upon his ardor, yet he said, 
 
 " I thank you sincerely for your confidence. 
 What is it you have to tell me? Let me play at 
 being your confessor, perhaps, your legal ad- 
 visor; I will try to excel in both offices to serve 
 you. 5/ 
 
 Matilda breathed a sigh of relief and con- 
 tinued : 
 
 "We have met very frequently of late." 
 
 "Not with me?" he put in. 
 
 " No; I was speaking of Monsieur de Beau- 
 champs. Have you conversed with him suffi- 
 ciently to form an opinion?" 
 
 " I have spoken with him very little. Per- 
 sonally, I should think you would have had the 
 best opportunity to form the opinion you ask 
 of me; but I will say frankly, that from the 
 standpoint you speak of, I think him a very 
 attractive young man, a little too attractive to 
 suit me." 
 
 "Benedict! What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean that, using your own words, we 
 [203]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 have been too good friends for me to stand by 
 and see, without resenting it, a foreigner, duke 
 though he is, step in and make love to you." 
 
 " Love is entirely out of the question with me," 
 said Matilda. " I know not the word or the 
 feeling, save for the love I bear my parents and 
 my friends. I should have to learn to love the 
 man who wished to marry me. That was one of 
 the few things not included in the Pettingill 
 curriculum, the kind of love you mean." 
 
 " Couldn't you learn to love me, Matilda? 
 not a little, but a great deal. I want as much as 
 I am able to give." 
 
 She looked at him with a coyly coquettish 
 little smile. 
 
 "I think I could; but I do not want to." 
 
 "Matilda!" exclaimed Benedict, in an agony 
 of spirit. " Don't tell me you have no heart ; your 
 face, your personality, your whole attitude 
 belies it." 
 
 "Indeed, I have a very large heart. I love 
 many people dearly, but not with that other love ; 
 the greatest and best, they say it is! At this 
 
 [204]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 point of my career, the only feeling that sur- 
 mounts all others with me, is the achievement 
 of a great social triumph. Monsieur de Beau- 
 champs offers me this." 
 
 "Have you accepted him?" gasped Benedict. 
 
 "Not yet; but my hand has been asked." 
 
 "Oh, Matilda," pleaded the wounded lover, 
 "have you thought of the consequences of an 
 international marriage for an American woman? " 
 
 :< The difference in nationality is the very 
 thing which attracts me most," said Matilda. 
 "As a school girl, my first ambition was the 
 study of French. I had an instinctive desire to 
 perfect myself in that language, in order that 
 I might later be able to converse fluently with 
 any one from France. I have no fears on the 
 point of congeniality, nor of sordid monetary 
 aims. Monsieur de Beauchamps pere's fortune, 
 in lands and collaterals, exceeds my father's," 
 Matilda went on to explain, with cool, but 
 smiling calculation. 
 
 Travis was on the point of suggesting a pos- 
 sible lack of geniality on the part of the Duke 
 
 [205]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 de Beauchamps' family; but refrained, remem- 
 bering how Matilda had won the very cream of 
 Baltimore society by her alluring and gracious 
 manner. There is something very good in the 
 mother's blood, he thought, and discarded the 
 De Beauchamps from his mind in order to attest 
 the Travis loyalty and devotion. 
 
 "What you say is all perfectly true; but take 
 your thoughts away from transatlantic con- 
 siderations to dwell a moment on the relations 
 that have existed between you and me for nearly 
 four years." 
 
 Matilda sat a while in mute contemplation. 
 There was no trace of an emotional conflict in 
 her heart, only a momentary indecision of the 
 mind, whether the glory of a great social 
 triumph outweighed the price of a strong, en- 
 during love. But the desire of youth, coupled 
 with the inherited need of surpassing others, 
 clinched Matilda's decision. 
 
 "It seems to me, now, that the two short 
 weeks I have known Monsieur de Beauchamps 
 embody years of association," she said, in that 
 
 [206]
 
 
 'I did not know, I did not think you cared so much"
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 quiet, thoughtful tone that was like a cruel blow 
 demolishing all of poor Benedict's hopes. 
 
 " Then, you do not love me ; you do not want 
 even to learn to love me?" he asked, with 
 faltering tones. 
 
 She lowered her head, and said, penitently, 
 
 "I regret that I cannot." 
 
 Travis walked to the window where, lifting 
 the curtain, he saw the bright stars still shining. 
 His heart was too full to speak. His deep sap- 
 phire eyes wore a look of wretched suffering. 
 Matilda went to him and laid her hand gently 
 on his arm. 
 
 " I am very, very sorry, Benedict. Please be- 
 lieve me that I am speaking the truth." 
 
 He turned and faced her again. 
 
 "Is there nothing I can do to alter your 
 decision, before it is too late? Oh, Matilda, I 
 have always loved you! I love you now, so 
 intensely, so passionately; does this count for 
 nothing with you?" 
 
 'You have been generous and kind. You 
 will be good enough to forgive me. You 
 
 [207]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 will always hold an especial place in my affec- 
 tions. Is it asking too much of you to be 
 present at the ceremony? It will be very quiet. 
 It will take place in the Roman Catholic Church 
 some time in April." 
 
 There was a chair near the window. Benedict 
 dropped into it and covered his face with his 
 hands. Matilda's eyes, regarding his deep de- 
 jection, glistened with tears. She dared not 
 offer too keen sympathy. 
 
 " I am deeply grieved at the thought of giv- 
 ing you pain. I did not know, I did not think 
 you cared so much," she said, sorrowfully. 
 
 Benedict recovered himself and rose. " It is 
 my duty, now, to ask your forgiveness," he said, 
 looking down into her moist eyes. " I did not 
 think I could be so unmanned even by so great 
 a disappointment. I will do all that you ask 
 of me. To do your wishes in anything is my only 
 compensation while you still remain with us." 
 
 Matilda, glad to see the return of his frank, 
 sweet nature, gave him her hand again at parting : 
 
 "Think kindly of me," she said, "you have 
 [208]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 / 
 so strong and noble a heart. I will always hold 
 
 you and Helene as my best and truest friends." 
 Benedict walked out once more into the starry 
 night. Its beauty held no more sway over him. 
 He wanted to shroud his wounded spirit in the 
 more merciful darkness. He walked to the 
 nearest 'phone station and ordered his taxicab 
 to take him to his lodgings. 
 
 Matilda went to her room with less than her 
 usual buoyancy of spirit. She thought a long 
 time before she fell asleep, feeling that she had 
 crushed some sacred thing, that would rise again 
 and assert itself far above her ruthless tramplingc 
 
 [209]
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 EFFECT OF MATILDA'S VICTORY 
 
 " The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon 
 Turns Ashes or it prospers; and anon, 
 Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face, 
 Lighting a little Hour or two is gone." 
 
 MR. and Mrs. Dolliver were the first to be 
 affected by the sudden turn in their 
 daughter's career. The all-powerful head of 
 the house had lent himself with noble effort to 
 the winning of the prize for Matilda. He had 
 left nothing undone that an able father could 
 do. He had even held himself sufficiently aloof, 
 that the natural disparities of manner between a 
 duke and a merchant might not suggest them- 
 selves too harshly. Mr. Dolliver was rilled with 
 sound judgment. He weighed and considered 
 every point of a possible venture with the keen 
 perspicacity which had raised him, step by step, 
 
 [210]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 to the financial, and even social position he now 
 enjoyed. The public, knowing him well, were 
 unanimous in their verdict regarding this affair : 
 " He is more than a magician, he is a genius ! " 
 The Del Bondios' equipage which was wholly 
 at the Due de Beauchamps' disposal, seemed to 
 have transferred its interests from the Atwood 
 to the Dolliver mansion. The two homes were 
 in constant communication. Mr. and Mrs. Del 
 Bondio, being elderly, though highly recherches 
 members of society, seldom entertained any but 
 small companies. Entirely under the influence 
 and hospitable consideration of their young 
 relative, they acquiesced to his every desire that 
 concerned Miss Dolliver. He wished to become 
 closely acquainted with this young woman, 
 choosing and creating every possible occasion to 
 further his purpose. The kind Del Bondios 
 fortunately had been prepossessed with Matilda 
 from her very first entrance into Baltimore 
 society. Small dinners and soirees were there- 
 fore given for the entertainment of Miss Matilda 
 and her near friends; Helene Doyle, Edith
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Hadley, Benedict Travis, and Dr. Rasburn were 
 unvaryingly of the number chosen to form the 
 selected company. 
 
 Of course, Mr. and Mrs. Dolliver returned 
 these courtesies for their daughter; Ario being 
 rarely in evidence, and Mrs. Dolliver presiding 
 with gentle dignity. Thus, the friends grew into 
 close companionship. Four months of almost 
 daily intercourse was enough to cement the 
 relations which the Due de Beauchamps wished 
 to establish with Matilda. It was little more 
 than a week when the young Duke declared 
 himself, conditionally, bien entendu upon the 
 satisfactory result of the relative time he was 
 to be in the city. These purposeful amenities 
 continued four weeks before Monsieur de Beau- 
 champs received his acceptance. Matilda had 
 desired the interview with Benedict Travis be- 
 fore framing her final answer, delaying it till the 
 end of February. 
 
 During this time, Benedict was enduring a 
 life of humane, but cruel torture; and the 
 miracle of it was that he enjoyed it. He never 
 
 [212]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 failed to put in an appearance, no matter what 
 the time, day, or weather. He would have 
 deemed it an act of cowardliness, unworthy of 
 him, to have absented himself. For he gloried 
 in his martyrdom like the saints of old whose 
 exalted belief told them their sufferings were 
 but the ante-chamber through which they made 
 a speedy entrance into Heaven. 
 
 The difference between the two men from 
 whom Matilda was making her choice was not 
 fundamentally great. A duke, or earl, or prince 
 derives his gentlemanliness from countless gen- 
 erations of ancestors. He knows no other life. 
 From the beginning he has been taught and 
 trained to it. But a man like Benedict Travis 
 draws his chivalry and courtesy from the depths 
 of his own large manhood, itself induced from 
 like predecessors; from a heart actuated only by 
 the highest and noblest impulses; from the air 
 and soil of freedom which he is constantly 
 breathing. 
 
 Benedict was not spending his days in chant- 
 ing threnodies. On the contrary he concealed 
 
 [218]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 the true state of his feelings from every one, 
 even from Helene Doyle. He assumed, better 
 to decoy his friends and his fellows, not Helene's 
 invincible, inimitable smile, but one closely re- 
 sembling it. When these two met, their eyes 
 looked into each others' and understood. He had 
 not divulged Matilda's secret to her or any one 
 else; but she knew it. Benedict's eyes were 
 windows through which his very soul could be 
 seen. 
 
 They had known each other since childhood. 
 She watched his thoughts and feelings and met 
 them in advance. She had learned to penetrate 
 his innermost sensibilities. The smile with which 
 she perpetually covered her own strong, impul- 
 sive, emotional nature was not the true Smile of 
 the Sphinx; the smile that is unfathomable, un- 
 yielding of the cynical acumen with which it 
 regards the flight of our frail human lives. 
 Helene's smile was one that she used to guard 
 herself from trespassing upon the claims of 
 others, in order that they might more con- 
 veniently and shamelessly disregard her own. 
 
 [214]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 How many of us, in this gay, joyous, sometimes 
 heartless world, wear the Sphinx's smile to 
 shield ourselves and our woes from its laughing 
 eyes! 
 
 Matilda Dolliver was at this present time the 
 symbolic figure of that laughing world. All the 
 witchery of young womanhood was upon her; 
 that soft roundness of limb and feature, the ani- 
 mated lustre of her eyes, the cameo-mould of her 
 throat, the fair, delicate texture of her skin, the 
 graceful droop of her auburn hair upon her 
 temples. The silent charms that had paid tribute 
 to her highborn suitor caused her to be idolized 
 by all. The exultant state of her own mind 
 acted like a contagion upon those around her. It 
 was impossible to show any but good spirits in 
 her presence. Benedict or Helene would have 
 been the last to fall back in the line of those 
 who wished to proffer her happiness. The young 
 Duke was becoming more and more enamoured. 
 
 After a period during which lively negotia- 
 tions were carried on with the transatlantic home 
 of the Beauchamps, in the shape of long, ex- 
 
 [215]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 planatory, eulogistic letters from the young 
 Duke, replied to by cablegrams of unusual 
 length, it was agreed between Monsieur le Due 
 de Beauchamps and Mr. Ario Emerson Dolliver 
 that the Duke's engagement to the latter's daugh- 
 ter should be formally announced. A banquet 
 was, therefore, given for the purpose, to which 
 a selected number of guests were bidden. Owing 
 to Mrs. Dolliver's delicate health, this affair and 
 even the ceremony were to be extremely quiet and 
 unobtrusive. Ario would have been charmed with 
 the eclat of a stupendous marriage-feast. Ma- 
 tilda and the Duke, however, convinced him 
 that tranquil proceedings would be far more 
 recherches. 
 
 So the time was fixed for the last day of 
 February to make known the ducal fiancailles. 
 The event transpired, and the news of it cir- 
 culated far and wide. There were so few invited 
 outside the prescribed coterie of friends, that a 
 hum of murmured dissatisfaction was wafted 
 among the many who had lavished entertainment 
 and courtesies upon the young Duke. 
 
 [216]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "This will never do, Robert," said old Mr. 
 Del Bondio to his guest, with a twinkle in his 
 eyes. "The society of Baltimore will be down 
 on you if you ignore them completely for Miss 
 Dolliver." 
 
 " Sacre bleu, I have forgotten them all! " cried 
 the young man remorsefully. " I will do some- 
 thing * great ' for them, as you say here. I will 
 give what my honored friend Dolliver calls a 
 magnificent ' blow-out' ! I like that expression; 
 it has so round and cordial a sound, just like 
 himself." 
 
 " I see you are profiting well by your sojourn 
 in America, and falling easily into some of our 
 choice Americanisms," smiled Mr. Del Bondio. 
 
 " I do it for the sake of the fair lady who has 
 caused the astriction of my heart. I would that 
 we were living in one of those halcyon periods 
 of our history, that I might enthrone her not 
 with a ducal, but a queenly crown!" 
 
 "You speak with the enthusiasm of youth 
 and love; but love and youth are the indissoluble 
 ties of the human heart. Love takes its place 
 
 [817]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 in the process of building the great structure of 
 a human character. Yours is still to be formed, 
 Robert, and I am glad to see it begin with this, 
 the greatest of life's forces. You are justified, 
 too, in your choice of the young woman. We 
 have all learned to admire her; and I predict 
 for her a fair future in your own country, where 
 a good and beautiful woman is always a queen." 
 
 The young Duke glowed with the older man's 
 praise of his fiancee. "You think my parents 
 will not be disappointed with my foreign mar- 
 riage? I have duly prepared them." 
 
 "They will approve all that you do. They 
 have confidence in your good taste and judg- 
 ment. I know their views. But to return to 
 your obligation to this small social world, what 
 do you propose to do? " 
 
 "I would like to give a grand diner de 
 ceremowe at the very best place your city 
 commands something corresponding to our 
 ' Metropole ' in Paris and do like my large- 
 hearted father-in-law elect, invite everybody 
 without distinction." 
 
 [818]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "You will surely reinstate yourself in their 
 good graces, if you give them a big dinner at 
 'The Renan/" approved the good-natured old 
 gentleman. 
 
 " Renan, Renan? That sounds like a good 
 French name. I will patronize the place." 
 
 " Fond as we Americans are of our democ- 
 racy, there is nothing we prize more than any 
 slight attention from the nobility across the 
 water," averred old Mr. Del Bondio, in his 
 whimsical way. 
 
 The arrangements were finally completed for 
 the great dinner. Never was anything in Balti- 
 more so desired, or so well attended by an antici- 
 pating public! The Duke of Beauchamps' 
 munificence was lauded. His gracious hospitality 
 was the talk of the entire assembly. True, the 
 Dolliver prominence in the affair was a favorite 
 topic among some. The Atwoods, for instance, 
 who were at first incensed at the Duke's prefer- 
 ence for Matilda, had finally moderated their 
 feelings to an acceptance of the ducal dinner. 
 They, nevertheless, made insidious remarks at 
 
 [219]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 opportunity, and partook of the choice viands 
 with asperity. 
 
 The Hadley girls were consumed with grat- 
 itude at their inclusion. Sophie reached such a 
 state of exhilaration that she related to her escort 
 a bright remark of Ario Dolliver's, which he had 
 made to a colleague he was entertaining at this 
 same hotel. 
 
 'You see that man over there in full-dress 
 suit? That 's the head-waiter here; he gets again 
 as much salary as a United States Senator and 
 gives ten times the satisfaction ! " 
 
 Sophie's right-hand man agreed, as the dinner 
 proceeded, that the man deserved his salary. 
 
 While every one seemed to be enjoying himself, 
 there were some in the company who could not 
 but feel that this princely entertainment was only 
 the forecast of the Duke and Matilda's departure. 
 Perhaps, the one in all the great company who 
 most realized this fact, was Ario Dolliver him- 
 self. He who had toiled so unremittingly for the 
 purpose he had just accomplished, was now feel- 
 ing some of the pangs of vaulting ambition. 
 
 [220]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 That dazzling, beautiful creature whom he had 
 raised to the highest point to which an ambitious 
 society woman can attain, was soon to be taken 
 away from him; a whole ocean's distance to be 
 put between her and them! Like the ancient 
 sculptor, he was loathe to part with his handiwork. 
 He lay awake the better part of that night, 
 ruminating strange thoughts in his, now, troubled 
 mind. The next morning at breakfast when his 
 wife asked him the cause of his restlessness, he 
 merely said, 
 
 " Guess it must a' been something I et." He 
 would not afflict his Emmy with any of his appre- 
 hensive thoughts. His greatest anxiety was for 
 the mother who watched all these appalling prep- 
 arations with wide-eyed, ingenuous wonder. 
 Benedict, who sometimes caught sight of Mrs. 
 Dolliver's face in their various meetings, felt his 
 heart go out to her in sympathy. 
 
 " She must feel something as I do," he said to 
 himself. 'Yet for a mother well, it is an 
 overwhelming tragedy ! " 
 
 The time of the conclusive event approached. 
 [221 ]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 The ceremony, as Matilda had told Travis, was 
 to be exclusively quiet, owing to Mrs. Dolliver's 
 tremulous condition. Again was the social world 
 to be grievously thwarted. Yet every one's 
 taste can hardly be consulted in affairs of this 
 sort. Matilda, her family, the friends and 
 associates, who were to perform for her the 
 nuptial offices, went to the church in a few car- 
 riages. Monsieur le Due de Beauchamps and his 
 party did likewise. It took but one short hour for 
 the high mass to be said, which transformed 
 Matilda Dolliver into Mathilde, twenty-second 
 Duchesse de Beauchamps. 
 
 If the newly wedded couple had not themselves 
 been so radiant with joy, it might have seemed a 
 sad wedding ; so many among the few guests wore 
 a sad heart! When they returned to the home, 
 the festive atmosphere was partially regained. 
 Matilda's presence was, alone, a restorative 
 agent; for she was distractingly lovely in her 
 bridal attire. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes 
 lustrously dark and brilliant, for she had taken 
 the master-step in the ascendency of her much
 
 desired conquests. A remarkable attraction 
 emanated from her; a magnetic influence of the 
 mind, keen, sparkling, sometimes brilliant, al- 
 ways gracious. The men were all fascinated by 
 her; a few women were devoted to her; her rivals 
 detested her; every one was forced to admire her. 
 
 A few of her intimates, together with her father 
 and mother, accompanied her to the ship's dock. 
 
 The brightness of her smile did not lessen as 
 she parted from them all with fond farewells. 
 When the boat's anchor was lifted, she still clung 
 to the rail beside her noble liege to wave her ker- 
 chief to them as the ship sailed away to the 
 grandeur and richness of the aristocratic Beau- 
 champs estates. It seemed to the Atwood girls, 
 who had likewise come to the launching, that 
 Matilda was flaunting the flag of victory in 
 their faces. 
 
 When they were quite out of sight, Helena 
 and Benedict came away together. Each one 
 returned to his own home, with excruciating 
 efforts to appear happy. Mrs. Doyle had not 
 gone to the wharf, deeming it far too unpleasant
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 an effort. When Helene entered, her mother 
 expressed herself in this manner: 
 
 " Well, I am very glad it is all over, and I am 
 immensely relieved." 
 
 Helene offered no comments but went straight 
 to her room where she remained the rest of the 
 day. 
 
 Benedict repaired to his lodgings, feeling that 
 he needed a respite from human companionship. 
 He spent the evening in solitude, grieving for 
 Matilda like Helene, who also was grieving for 
 Matilda, but most of all for Benedict. 
 
 [224]
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 MATILDA MEETS PREFERMENT IN THE FRENCH 
 CAPITAL 
 
 "And this I know; whether the one True Light 
 Kindle to Love, or Wrath consume me quite, 
 One flash of It within the Tavern caught 
 Better than in the Temple lost outright." 
 
 PERHAPS it is not possible to describe, but 
 better to imagine, the sensations of a young 
 woman like Madame la Duchess de Beauchamps 
 upon her first approach to the Old World from 
 the New through the triumphal archway of a 
 highly cultured Paris home. Not many Ameri- 
 can women reach that super-exalted pedestal of 
 feminine achievement. Matilde de Beauchamps 
 recognized her position and appreciated it. The 
 reception she received from her husband's family 
 far exceeded her most sanguine expectations, 
 though sanguine hope was not one of Matilda 
 Dolliver's temperamental qualifications. She had
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 imbibed too freely from the main source of sound 
 judgment in her family, to have been carried 
 beyond her own practical good sense. Monsieur 
 and Madame de Beauchamps bestowed a just 
 share of their adoration for their son Robert 
 upon the wife of his choice. 
 
 They belonged to that limited class of the 
 French nobility that is above temptations of a 
 vulgar nature. Their wealth, position and ances- 
 tral greatness of mind debarred them from aims 
 such as are sometimes shown in international asso- 
 ciations. Her husband's parents received Ma- 
 tilda with open arms, as their daughter. Before 
 she had been in their home a week, they fell into 
 the web of her fascinating presence. 
 
 " If we had had a daughter to be a companion 
 to Robert, I could not have wished her more per- 
 fect than is Mathilde," said the elder Monsieur 
 de Beauchamps. 
 
 " She fills all my heart's need of a wife for 
 him," supplemented the Madame Mother, and 
 breathed a long sigh of relief and complacency. 
 
 [226]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Politically speaking, M. de Beauchamps had 
 never entertained an undue ambition for his son 
 Robert; this branch of the family was too far 
 removed from the Orleanists or Bourbons; nor 
 would he have wished his son to hold any juxta- 
 position with the grand-nephew of the great 
 Napoleon, the magic of whose name and inter- 
 woven lineage would surround him with French 
 and Russian allies. Quite the contrary, Robert 
 was not born to rule. His native gentleness and 
 studiousness would have unfitted him. He was 
 far happier married to the educated daughter 
 of an American King of Industry, whose mind 
 was sympathetic enough to respond to his needs 
 for study and research, than sitting upon any 
 throne in Europe. 
 
 The De Beauchamps, as Robert had told his 
 American friends the night of the Atwood ball, 
 were radicalists in their views. 
 
 " It matters not who is at the head of our 
 government," Grandfather de Beauchamps used 
 to say, " as long as it be a man of power, of self- 
 
 [227 ]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 mastery and efficiency, of prodigious energy, like 
 the great Napoleon." 
 
 They rather leaned toward the Napoleonic 
 faction, being admirers of the man and applaud- 
 ing the achievements which cause him to be rec- 
 ognized to-day as one of the greatest personalities 
 in all history. They did not descend from war- 
 riors and conquerors, so much as from scholars; 
 from men whose minds have left their impress on 
 the art, church, history, and literature of the 
 country. 
 
 Mathilde, coming as Robert's wife, seemed the 
 crowning consummation of their latter days' 
 happiness. Her delightfully fresh young nature 
 was itself revealed in that atmosphere of inborn 
 refinement and culture. She inwardly gloated 
 over the richness and antiquity of its furnishings. 
 In the Beauchamps' residence there were appoint- 
 ments of exquisite taste, dating back to the Mid- 
 dle Ages, marvellous carvings of the masters who 
 have left their record in the delicate sculptures of 
 French churches, marvellous and intricate tap- 
 estries from the weavers of Flanders. It seemed 
 
 [228]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 to have accumulated the artistic riches of the 
 surrounding provinces. 
 
 One day, at breakfast, the young Duke, watch- 
 ing her enthusiasm over a table de credence or 
 serving table, of rare workmanship, laid his hand 
 upon hers and said, 
 
 * You are perfectly contented, mon ange, are 
 you not?" 
 
 She smiled radiantly at him. 
 
 " I needed not to have asked the idle question. 
 I might have known by your perpetual expression 
 of sunshine." 
 
 "Mon ami, how could you distrust me!" 
 
 The French say "mon ami" as we say 
 " my love," " my own," " my darling." The crisp 
 little utterance is the one term of endearment, the 
 truest and best. 
 
 Matilda wrote home very frequently during 
 these first days of new-found happiness. Her 
 heart was so full of exulting joy. To her mother 
 she wrote: 
 
 ' You see, my dear mother, that I have not 
 unlearned the lessons you taught me of being a 
 
 [229]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 dutiful daughter. My dear Robert's parents are 
 heavenly kind to me. I hope they feel my grati- 
 tude and affection." 
 
 To Helene, she said: 
 
 " The home of the people into wftose family a 
 kind fate has graciously brought me, is unlike 
 any home I have ever seen. In Baltimore, I dare 
 say, are perhaps the finest, most cultured homes 
 of America. Yet, I know that none approaches 
 this one. I recall nothing in Baltimore that sug- 
 gests anything later than the Civil War, or in 
 Boston, than the landing of the Pilgrim Fathers. 
 
 " The French people certainly know the art of 
 living well and wisely. 
 
 " My husband, I have discovered, has a strong 
 predilection for natural science, a thing which 
 during our brief courtship escaped me. He has 
 a particular fondness for geology and his especial 
 line of interest is glaciers. After taking his 
 degrees at Saint-Cyr, he spent several summers 
 in the glacier regions of Germany and Switzer- 
 land, making an extended study of the subject. 
 When our first year of mutual acquaintance with 
 
 [230]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 each other is past this is a custom in France 
 he will return to the study of his profession. We 
 propose to spend the following Summer in Switz- 
 erland where he wishes to attain a greater knowl- 
 edge of the Rhone Glacier. 
 
 " In July we go to Normandy for the Summer. 
 The Chateau de Beauchamps, they tell me, is an 
 ideal spot to spend what Benedict would call 
 ' the first Olympian joys of our married state.' 
 Remember me to him, and tell me how he fares, 
 when you write." 
 
 Paris in April and June is at its height of ver- 
 dant freshness. The parks, boulevards, and 
 avenues are sweet-scented with the myriads of 
 blossoming trees. The Hotel de Beauchamps, the 
 winter residence of the family, was situated on 
 the Avenue des Acacias, one of the favorite road- 
 ways of the rich and elegant, which faces the Bois 
 de Boulogne and springs from the avenue of that 
 name. When Matilda went from there to view 
 the various attractions of the city, her swift 
 antomoteur carried her past the most beautiful 
 parts of that west end of Paris past the Arc de
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Triomphe, where she thought of the great 
 Napoleon, to whose undying glory it was erected, 
 re-experiencing, perhaps, some of the emotions 
 felt by the conqueror when, making his triumphal 
 entry, he stood upon that eminence to dominate 
 the city. Her victories and conquests were also 
 just beginning. Down the Champs Elysees they 
 flew, that triple esplanade where the fleeting 
 tourers are followed by melodious choruses of 
 songsters from the trees that gird its six sides. 
 No wonder she felt she had reached the fields 
 elysian and that her life henceforth promised to 
 rise to Parnassian heights of perfection. Her 
 husband, who sat beside her emulating the de- 
 lights of the Greek hero when he sat beside his 
 Helen, pointed out to her the elegant quarters of 
 Paris where refined materialism abounds. 
 
 "We know/' he said, apologetically, "that in 
 Paris virtue is not aggressive." 
 
 " All the more credit to those who practise it," 
 returned Matilda. She was gazing at that pleas- 
 ing but superficial aspect of the city. 
 
 " This is the quarter which, so M. Ernest Renan
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 affirms, would make a good furnace wherein 
 might be consumed that superfluity of life which 
 is not occupied in Science, or absorbed in 
 Philosophy!" 
 
 " Monsieur Renan is rather pitiless, is he not? " 
 suggested Matilda. "That conclusive means 
 might apply to other cities as well as Paris." 
 
 " Feminine philanthropy always tempers your 
 judgment to mercy, belle duchesse" smiled 
 Robert adoringly. " But I will conduct you past 
 the great seats of learning where profound 
 thinkers spend their precious days." 
 
 He wished her to observe the Institut, the most 
 glorious creation of the Revolution. He repeated 
 to her what M. Renan says concerning it: 
 " France alone has an institute where all the 
 efforts of the human mind are, as it were, 
 bound into one; where poet, philosopher, his- 
 torian, the philologist, the critic, the mathema- 
 tician, the astronomer, the geologist ; all classes of 
 thinkers can meet as colleagues and enjoy the 
 stupendous result which great and single-minded 
 men have conceived." 
 
 [233]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 He was proud and happy to find her mind 
 keen and responsive. He led her past the great 
 municipal buildings, the Palais de 1'Elysee, the 
 Comedie, every structure that stamps Paris as 
 the mistress and leader of all arts in the world. 
 He visited with her the treasures of the Tuileries, 
 where Matilda saw the far-famed Mona Lisa, 
 whose marvellous smile Helene Doyle's re- 
 sembled. He wished to enlarge the scope of the 
 knowledge she had gained merely through hear- 
 ing or reading of Paris, by actual experience. 
 
 The month of June in Paris is not only the time 
 of Nature's most perfect renewal, but it marks 
 also the revival of social activities. In July every 
 one of distinction performs the great exodus of 
 going en villegiature. The young Duke wished 
 his wife to be at her best when she appeared in 
 that highly learned and aristocratic circle; and 
 he was not disappointed. Matilda was received 
 by society with the same enthusiastic demonstra- 
 tions she had met from Monsieur de Due's family. 
 Her beauty and brilliancy; the natural refine- 
 ment of manner, accentuated by the influence of 
 
 [234]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 the cultured De Beauchamps home, caused that 
 amiable public to shower her with ovations. 
 Helene had acquainted her so thoroughly with 
 French matters that she was able to converse with 
 keen perception on all topics of interest. 
 
 The entire months of May and June were given 
 up to festive entertainment of the young Duke 
 and his beautiful bride. The persons who enter- 
 tained them were not of the so-called society of 
 Paris, the dames du monde, but of that distin- 
 guished circle of savants and thinkers from which 
 the young Duke drew his friends. Some of the 
 older ones were Academicians ; others were young 
 men who, like himself, were aspirants to that high 
 mark of excellence. These persons and their 
 wives, destined to share in the future renovation 
 of French society, held such salons as were known 
 in the days of Madame de Stae'l. Every one of 
 them frequented the Comedie Fran9aise, and 
 discussed the merit and charm of its actors at 
 these reunions. Such things as the Concours 
 Hippique, and other superficial amusements of 
 the monde-ordinaire, were wholly disregarded. 
 
 [235]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 They had no time for the artificial joys of life. 
 They were banded together to raise the standard 
 of existence in Paris, and the world at large, as 
 well as to follow out their own pleasurable 
 interests. 
 
 The test was a severe one for a young woman 
 like Matilda ; but she stood it well, and came out 
 as usual, in the ascendant. Robert, having well 
 convinced himself of his wife's remarkable 
 adaptability, felt that they could now repair to 
 the restful solitude of the chateau in Normandy. 
 He said to himself. 
 
 " She is in such admirable accord with us and 
 our movements that she will welcome the seclu- 
 sion. The dear child, I wonder if she has felt the 
 emotional qualms that have stirred my breast! 
 The change to a more uneventful life will do her 
 good." 
 
 As for Matilda, when the time came for them 
 to leave the city, she confided to her husband, as 
 they rolled away in their closed car to the Gare 
 du Nord, all her impressions of what the life in 
 Paris had been to her. She concluded by quot- 
 
 [236]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 ing to him, in French, Sainte-Beuve's loving 
 ascription : 
 
 " O Paris ! It is with thee that life is sweet to 
 live; it is with thee, and for thee I wish to die!" 
 
 The young nobleman was delighted. " Now, 
 I feel sure that our joint life will proceed in a 
 concourse of sweet harmony! " he exclaimed. " I 
 feared that our quiet, retired life would pall upon 
 a gay young woman of the world, such as I found 
 you to be in Baltimore." 
 
 ' Yours is the life I prefer," said Matilda, and 
 she spoke genuinely. 
 
 " It was the silent sympathy of our two natures 
 that drew me to you with an invisible cord to 
 you, of all the fair young women gathered there 
 that memorable night ! 
 
 " Come, mon ange" he said, tenderly taking 
 her arm, as they made their way to the vagons de 
 luxe awaiting them. 
 
 Monsieur and Madame de Beauchamps fol- 
 lowed them in, and they all started together in 
 comfort and safety. 
 
 The Chateau de Beauchamps is situated some 
 [237]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 little distance from Nantes, whose cathedral 
 spires, as well as the tower of St. Maclou, might 
 have been seen from the north end of the chateau 
 had not the dense wood surrounding it at this 
 season of the year interposed. Few travellers or 
 tourists penetrate into that mysteriously hidden 
 chateau of Normandy, fortified and protected by 
 the natural bulwarks of the country in times 
 when there was every need to dread the invasion 
 of the terrorists. A bend in the river, screened 
 by a deep wood, led to an open glade by which one 
 came in sight of a stately chateau, with rosy brick 
 walls faced with cream-tinted stone, and retired 
 as became the high-born beings who had found 
 shelter there in troublous days. It was ap- 
 proached by a long, tortuous white path, boxed 
 on either side with hedges of gnarled eglantine. 
 In architecture it was a feudal chateau, embel- 
 lished by Renaissance touches high pointed 
 towers and fair, slender turrets adorned with the 
 rich blazonry of the French arms. Still more 
 poetic and reminiscent of the days of French 
 princesses and queens was its interior. The huge 
 
 [238]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 rooms, with colored glass or latticed windows, 
 the vines climbing rampant about every niche 
 and nook of its stone walls, gave one the im- 
 pression of having dropped back several centuries 
 to the time when peace or tumult were witnessed 
 by those high, grim, and silent walls. 
 
 Robert always enjoyed this seeming lapse into 
 past ages. His time at other seasons, ever since 
 his Saint- Cyr days, had been occupied in stren- 
 uous mental and physical activity. This was a 
 contrast to the drowsy somnolence to which he 
 was willing to yield the full three months for the 
 sake of the young wife whose diverse qualities of 
 mind in themselves offered sufficient attraction 
 to his explorative spirit. 
 
 " And yet you talk already of Lucerne for next 
 Summer!" teased M. de Beauchamps the father, 
 as they sat all together one evening, watching the 
 rosy tints of the sunset playing on the water 
 basins below. " It seems to me that you have 
 chosen a cold science to couple with your first 
 years of honeymooning, my Robert; are you not 
 afraid to take this fair Mathilde with you, lest the 
 
 [239]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 frozen glacier strike her heart? Better leave her 
 here with us. We will keep her heart warm with 
 love," he added in a tone of badinage. 
 
 Matilda was sunk deep in a large bergere, 
 smiling at their perpetual atticisms, and looking 
 bewitchingly lovely. 
 
 " I am not at all alarmed or surprised, father, 
 at your gallant consideration of my wife," said 
 the young Duke, with a glance at Matilda. " But 
 I shall need both her love and mine to melt that 
 stern glacier into yielding me some of its secrets ! " 
 
 " Next Summer is a whole year off," put in 
 Madame Mother who did not like separations of 
 the family. ' You know we are always desolate 
 when you leave us, and now Mathilde has come, 
 it would be still worse to take her also ! " 
 
 "Let us not worry ourselves with the future. 
 Let come what may ! " philosophized the elder M. 
 de Beauchamps, rising to take Matilda upon his 
 arm and show her the young swans and the 
 curious fish of the mirroring lakes. 
 
 From the fair chateau,, Matilda wrote many 
 letters to her parents and the friends in Balti- 
 
 [240]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 more. She told them all the delights of this new 
 abode, and enthused as they had never known 
 her to do before. She was certainly showing 
 the full development of womanhood. Her de- 
 sires having all been fulfilled, she blossomed 
 out like a glorious flower into loving tenderness 
 to all. She was more yielding to the ardent 
 young husband who was keenly alert to her every 
 spoken or unspoken wish. She felt sometimes 
 that, surrounded by all this adulation and kind 
 protection, she would surely learn the way to lov- 
 ing him with the great absorbing passion he was 
 constantly unfolding. In this Olympian state of 
 human joys, we shall leave them, to follow the 
 paths of those who were left sorrowing at home. 
 
 [241]
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 BENEDICT TURNS TO HELENE 
 
 " Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose! 
 That Youth's sweet-scented Manuscript should close! 
 
 The Nightingale that in the Branches sang, 
 Ah whence, and whither flown again, who knows! " 
 
 THE first few months after the Duke and 
 Matilda's departure from Baltimore were 
 rather dull ones for some of its deserted inhab- 
 itants. The advent of M. de Beauchamps, itself, 
 was enough to raise the social scale of expectation 
 far beyond its ordinary limitations ; but his hasty 
 courtship, all arrangements necessary for his 
 marriage consummated within the space of less 
 than five months, produced a correspondingly 
 depressing dip of the balance. Fashionable peo- 
 ple went away on their varied trips for the 
 summer; in a measure, to work off the effect of 
 the shock and hide their disappointment, chagrin, 
 or vexation, as the case might be. The only ones
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 who did not retire from the scene of action were 
 the Dollivers, Benedict, and the Hadley girls. 
 
 Through the whole of that Summer, Mr. Dolli- 
 ver felt the weight of his over-calculated aims. 
 He suffered a lesser degree of depression, how- 
 ever, than his Emmy at home. His mind was so 
 stocked with the active directorship of great busi- 
 ness corporations that he might well lose sight of 
 the low fluctuation of his sentimental basis. It 
 was only when he returned to his home in the 
 evening that the emptiness of the house struck 
 him; the chill silence, the sadly beautiful ob- 
 jects that reflected Matilda's cultured tastes, 
 which he had gradually learned to appreciate 
 and enjoy. Mrs. Dolliver, whenever she greeted 
 him, tried to assume a look of cheeriness. She 
 was so glad to see him ; the day had been so long 
 without him! 
 
 : 'Well, how is it with you, little woman?" he 
 would say. 
 
 "Everything has gone on about as usual. 
 There is nothing much to come and stir us up these 
 days," Mrs. Dolliver would reply resignedly.
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "Oh, yes, I did see Mr. Travis and Helene Doyle 
 going by in one of those new kind of motor-cars. 
 They both saw me as they flew by, and smiled 
 pleasantly." 
 
 " That was something kind of breezy, I should 
 say. Any news from Matildy?" 
 
 " Nothing to-day." 
 
 They both sat through long silences. The hus- 
 band, perhaps, would take up his paper, but list- 
 lessly, as if it no longer interested him. But Mrs. 
 Dolliver did not like to be silent now when her 
 husband was home. Her heart was so full of 
 trouble. She could not stifle its hungry prompt- 
 ings when he was near, so much did she long for 
 hopeful replies. 
 
 " It seems as if I 'd never see Matilda again! " 
 she said, with a plaintive sigh, on one of these 
 occasions. 
 
 "Oh, yes, you will, Mommie dear," said Mr. 
 Dolliver, looking up quickly from his paper, as 
 if he had been expecting her words. " Matildy '11 
 be coming home some time, and then won't there 
 be a sensation? Gee whiz! " 
 
 [244]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "She will never come without her husband; 
 Robert would not let her go so far away without 
 him." 
 
 :< Well, then there 'd be twice the sensation ! " 
 affirmed Mr. Dolliver. 
 
 " I could n't help noticing them when they 
 were here together. He acted as if he couldn't 
 breathe away from her," said Emmy, with a little 
 reminiscent smile that caused Ario to say, 
 
 "Just like us when we was lovers. My! don't 
 it seem long ago ? " 
 
 Emmy was still occupied with her own 
 thoughts. She said wonderingly, " It may be 
 years before they will want to come back. 
 Matilda writes that she is so happy ; that her hus- 
 band's homes are more beautiful than any she has 
 ever seen; that his parents treat her like a 
 daughter, and seem very fond of her." 
 
 Mr. Dolliver sat a while with his chin lowered, 
 resting upon his closed fist, in quiet contempla- 
 tion. That remark of his wife's about Helene 
 Doyle and Benedict gave food to his sober study. 
 
 How fond he must have been of her, he thought 
 [245]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 to himself. And it had looked as if she favored 
 him, too. If not, why had she let him come that 
 night ; and stay so long that every one was asleep, 
 except them and James, when he left ? If she had 
 married him instead of the Duke, how pleasant it 
 would have been now! Benedict had enough for 
 a young man and he was getting richer every day. 
 Besides, Matildy would have had more than 
 plenty for both. It was the title that had fetched 
 her; and he helped her to do it! 
 
 Notwithstanding these regretful reflections he 
 could not help a slight thrill of pride when he 
 thought of his daughter abroad ; of her husband's 
 fair estates, and all that she had acquired by her 
 marriage. 
 
 " Now, my dear," he said aloud, " we must n't 
 feel so dismal about Tildy. It 's all right that a 
 girl should marry, 'specially a fine girl like her. 
 The law of nature demands it. You 'd have liked 
 it better, I dare say, if she had ducked to some 
 one here at home, like Benedict Travis; but she 
 got what she wanted, and we've nothing to say 
 as long as she 's satisfied with the kind of husband 
 
 [246]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 she 's got, a good man. Dukes ain't always such ; 
 but he 's an exception just clean picked out for 
 Matildy." 
 
 Mr. Dolliver had that bracing hopefulness 
 about him that never failed to touch those on 
 whom it radiated, and on none more than the 
 gentle Mrs. Dolliver. She felt the influence of 
 his strong, bright nature, and cheered up at once, 
 by preparing some little home entertainments for 
 him ; some pleasant friends to dinner ; people who 
 had known and loved Matilda, and who would 
 join them in rehearsing her virtues, and sym- 
 pathize with them in all her happiness and 
 successes. Thus, they continued their luxurious, 
 though lonely life through the summer days that 
 followed. 
 
 Benedict Travis, like the honorable man that 
 he was, tried to smother the barely opened bud 
 of his young passion by spending much time with 
 Helene Doyle, who sympathized with him more 
 than ever in his feelings for Matilda. They 
 talked of her beauty and her charms ; of how they 
 had both learned to admire and to love her. 
 
 [247]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Helene had formed an affectionate regard for 
 Matilda from the very first days of her tutorship 
 of the modest, yet spirited girl who had come with 
 perfect certitude into that hornet's nest of class 
 distinction, the Pettingill School. Now, Matilda 
 seemed to her like a beautiful plant that had 
 grown and developed into rare beauty of mind 
 and body under her nurturing. 
 
 Gradually they drifted into the ethics of senti- 
 ment. Helene believed in life-long attachments, 
 not sudden passions, as the proper basis for 
 conjugal felicity. 
 
 "You would hardly call four years a sudden 
 attachment?" questioned Benedict. 
 
 " I was referring to one of five months," 
 replied Helene. 
 
 "Oh!" said he, promptly jerked away from 
 purely personal considerations. ' Yet all the 
 reports are highly favorable." 
 
 " It is always so during the first year of mar- 
 riage, especially if one adds to it the glamour of 
 novelty and noble connections." 
 
 [248]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " Helena, I don't like to think you hold pessi- 
 mistic views regarding this affair." 
 
 "Far from it; I am only looking at the re- 
 alistically poetic side of it." 
 
 " Realistic poetry! " cried the youth, his jocular 
 humor tempered by interest. " What means that 
 ingenious paradox?" 
 
 " Perhaps," Helene bantered, " you are too 
 young to go deeply into the subject." 
 
 "Too young! How much too young, pray?" 
 
 ' Years," with mock gravity. 
 
 There was something in her joking that he did 
 not like, ready as he usually was to respond in 
 kind. A moment he stared hard at her, then 
 grumbled : 
 
 " I am well aware of the fact that you are 
 years ahead of me in wisdom; one year of teach- 
 ing, I presume, is worth five of knocking against 
 the world." His sarcasm left her unmoved. 
 " You '11 be proposing to adopt me next." 
 
 "Do you feel the need of a guardian?" 
 brightly. 
 
 [249]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " Not you," he soberly returned. " You hold 
 a much dearer place in my estimation." 
 
 The smile suddenly left Helene's face. 
 
 " I was only realizing," she said, serious now 
 herself, "that a woman's mind is keener than a 
 man's to ferret out possible results." All at once 
 she leaned forward and brushed the back of his 
 hand with her cool, smooth palm, once more smil- 
 ing bravely into his intent eyes. 
 
 "It is sometimes a duty to forget, Benedict," 
 she said. "You must occupy your mind with 
 other things." 
 
 "But," he stubbornly persisted, "you believe 
 that Matilda is happy? that she always will 
 be?" 
 
 Still smiling, her regard steadily met his. But 
 she did not reply. Presently he drew a long 
 breath and, in a lowered voice, said, 
 
 ' You are right. You always are." 
 
 " I try to be," she sighed. 
 
 "You couldn't be anything else, Helene," he 
 fervently declared. " You 're a trump ! " 
 
 [250]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Instantly her smile was transformed into the 
 familiar occluding veil. 
 
 " The trump that wins the game? " she asked. 
 
 He fancied he detected a note of eagerness in 
 the question, and he paused a second before reply- 
 ing, to wonder why. But he answered her with 
 unmistakable sincerity. 
 
 " I truly hope so," he said. 
 
 There was something always comforting and 
 assuaging in a talk with Helene, Benedict 
 thought, as he walked away. Each time he went 
 to see her, she quieted him and brought him back 
 to that normal state of sweet companionship which 
 had characterized their friendship long before 
 Matilda had come between them as a forceful 
 unit. Yet the vivid memory of the latter was so 
 indelibly impressed upon his virgin sensibilities, 
 that he could not wholly quell the flood of his 
 recollections. 
 
 By the end of September he decided to take a 
 short respite from daily duties. It was the glo- 
 rious hunting season, when quail and pheasant 
 
 [251]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 abounded in the woods and thickets belonging to 
 Willow Brook Farm. It would do him good, he 
 said, to shoulder his hunter's rifle and sack, and 
 tramp about with his dogs for eight or ten days, 
 then rest at home another week or two. This 
 would thoroughly fit him for work once more. 
 He would announce his decision to the dear old 
 folks by telegram, and spring upon them the next 
 moment. 
 
 Major and Mrs. Travis, naturally, were trans- 
 ported with joy at this long-delayed visit. 
 
 "Diet is working too hard," said his father, 
 pleating up the telegram into a genteel little fan. 
 
 " He ought to come home of tener to rest ; he 
 needs the change as much as other men who do 
 strenuous mental labor," added Mrs. Travis. 
 
 "It isn't so much the strenuous labor in his 
 case as it's the whirligig and sudden tumble of 
 love affairs." 
 
 The mother was quickened by apprehension. 
 
 " Father Travis! What do you mean? " she 
 cried. 
 
 " I mean that he was in love with that Dolliver 
 [252]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 girl; I could see it as plain as anything, when he 
 was here at Christmas." 
 
 " Do you suppose he proposed to her and was 
 refused? " gasped Mrs. Travis. The idea was too 
 monstrous for belief. It were bad enough for 
 Benedict to entertain an attachment for such a 
 person; but that she should or even could spurn 
 an offer from him ! Her husband roused her. 
 
 " Oh, I won't go so far as to say that ; but I 
 knew he had it bad, from the way he evaded my 
 inquiries." The major chuckled good-naturedly. 
 " However that may be, he 's been turned down 
 anyway, for the Duke has flown off with 
 Matilda." 
 
 "I am heartily glad of it!" said the resentful 
 mother with a glare at the imaginary figure of 
 any duke who could have the effrontery to thwart 
 her son Benedict. 
 
 They did not have time to pursue the matter 
 further, for at the same moment the object of 
 their solicitude burst in at the front door. 
 
 Benedict allowed himself to be swayed in re- 
 gard to his hunting time. His father assured him 
 
 [253]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 that the latter half of October was the choice time 
 for bagging the best game. His mother said 
 she did not understand how he could go from 
 them so soon after arriving. So he decided to 
 visit with them the first two weeks ; and what great 
 visiting times they had, surely enough, on those 
 deep, vine-clad verandas at Willow Brook! He 
 reassured his mother on the subject of her who 
 had been Miss Dolliver, but was, now, the 
 Duchess of Beauchamps ; which duty was, to him, 
 like the scourging of the old monks in their life 
 of penitential expiation. 
 
 He confided to his father his secret desire to 
 begin work upon a book he was planning on the 
 subject of " Higher Jurisprudence." 
 
 " An ambitious title," mused his father. 
 
 "Too big for me to tackle, eh?" Benedict 
 laughed. " Seriously, though, I have been tenta- 
 tively mapping out something of the kind. All I 
 want now is the material to be put into its pages. 
 It seems as if I could n't get paper enough in my 
 office to set down the stuff I want to write." 
 
 " Say it all, my boy, and some day you '11 wake 
 [254]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 up to find yourself famous!" said Major Travis, 
 glowing with approbation. 
 
 "It is not the glory of it that I 'm after; it is 
 the need of it. Some of our good lawyers are apt 
 to be too well satisfied with a result that yields 
 them a good round sum. We must do more than 
 that; we must not stop, pay or no pay, till we 
 have reached the point where law itself is dignified 
 by its perfect maintenance. It is my purpose to 
 make this an authoritative text-book; it will re- 
 quire years of looking up authorities. A man 
 must devote the best part of his life to such a task. 
 As I was saying to Helene the other day, I want 
 to feel when I leave this world that I have done 
 something to make it better." 
 
 "A noble aim, my son, one that is worthy of 
 your brave predecessors. Stick to it you'll 
 win!" 
 
 ' You have done your share towards it, father ; 
 you have done more. You have staked your life 
 to help preserve the civil rights of our govern- 
 ment. There is little danger to personal discom- 
 fort in what I propose to do." 
 
 [255]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " It makes no difference in what way we serve 
 our country, my boy, just so we give to her the 
 best there is in us." 
 
 Thus the two weeks slipped by under the 
 wholesome influence of his "good-soldier" of a 
 father and the benign calm of nature's own 
 anodyne. He walked for hours beside the crystal 
 brook, skirted with whispering willows, and their 
 mute appeals filled him with renewed hope and 
 energy, a desire to achieve heights he had not 
 thought of before. 
 
 The hunting days came all too soon; but he 
 shouldered his sack and gun with the same craving 
 for out-door life that had governed his boyhood. 
 By the time he had compassed this round of 
 purely physical gratification, the crunching of 
 November leaves was heard under foot. The 
 cutting east winds from the fields suggested his 
 return to the city, where he looked forward to his 
 work with a clear and eager welcome. 
 
 [256]
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AN EPOCH-MARKING LETTER 
 
 " For in the Market-place, one Dusk of Day, 
 I watch'd the Potter thumping his wet clay: 
 
 And with its all-obliterated Tongue 
 It murmur'd ' Gently, Brother, gently, pray! ' " 
 
 LUCY! Lucy!" 
 Edith's palpitating shriek startled the 
 Hadley household as effectively as an explosion. 
 She had reeled against the wall where she stood 
 clutching an open letter which the postman had 
 just left. On the instant Lucy and Sophie were 
 in the upper hall, peering over the banisters with 
 white, scared faces. 
 
 Edith, however, immediately recovered her- 
 self. She ran lightly up the stairs, her face 
 radiant, her eyes sparkling with joyous excite- 
 ment. Noting these signs that the sudden out- 
 break had been occasioned by nothing of a 
 
 [257]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 calamitous nature, alarm gradually faded from 
 the sisters' faces, to give place to mingled 
 curiosity and resentment that their quiet should 
 have been so outrageously shocked. 
 
 "I do know," Sophie gulped, for her heart 
 was still thumping painfully, "that you '11 be the 
 death of me! What in the world 's the matter? " 
 
 By this time Edith had joined them. She 
 stood patting her breast and panting for breath, 
 the other two impatiently urging her to satisfy 
 their curiosity. 
 
 " Oh, girls ! " gasped Edith. " The most amaz- 
 ing thing! the most wonderful " 
 
 " What are you talking about? " Lucy sharply 
 demanded. 
 
 " I 've got the most astounding, unheard-of 
 news ! " 
 
 " It must be good, then, if it 's novel," 
 opined Sophie. 
 
 "Well, it's something that will stir up this 
 prosy family, if anything can," Edith began, 
 trying desperately to compose herself. 
 
 Curiosity could no longer withstand the siege. 
 [258]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " What is it? For goodness' sake, tell us what 
 has happened!" clamored the two eager voices. 
 
 "It's a letter from Matilda!" 
 
 This announcement was so inadequate that 
 Lucy and Sophie merely stared, and their 
 puzzled silence had the effect of steadying Edith 
 at once. 
 
 She went on: "She wants me to make her 
 a visit for the whole winter stay with them in 
 that palatial home, go to the French grand 
 opera, take singing lessons of the best teachers 
 in Paris oh, cracky!" She jumped up and 
 down in overjoyed transport at the prospect. 
 
 " Sakes alive!" marvelled Sophie, round-eyed. 
 " Where 's the money to come from, I 'd like to 
 know!" 
 
 " Sophie, Sophie," Lucy impatiently repri- 
 manded. " Let her tell it all. Don't interrupt." 
 
 Edith came suddenly to earth again. 
 
 " That 's all," said she in her natural voice. 
 "Isn't it enough?" 
 
 Lucy suggested that the three retire to her 
 room to read over the letter and hold a family 
 
 [259]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 consultation. " There will be so much to do to 
 get ready," she said. 
 
 "Get ready!" Sophie cried. "You can't be 
 thinking she is really going to accept? " But 
 she suddenly realized that her objections were 
 as ineffective as so many wax bullets, so she 
 subsided. 
 
 " That is the first and most important ques- 
 tion to consider," Edith interposed "Can I 
 go?" 
 
 " Why not?" queried Lucy in a tone designed 
 to bring every possible obstacle to the front for 
 immediate inspection. "Does Matilda say she 
 will pay the travelling expenses?" 
 
 " She does n't mention how I am to get there. 
 She says, ' Take one of the good Hamburg- 
 American steamers from New York, sailing 
 between the seventh and fifteenth of November. 
 The trip is so much quicker, and thus you will 
 escape much of the discomfort of seasickness.' 
 I wish she had asked me earlier, I 'm almost 
 afraid to cross in November!" 
 
 " Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," inter- 
 [260]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 posed Sophie. "I suppose I'll have to skimp 
 some more; but for the life of me, I don't see 
 how I can skimp any skimpier than I'm 
 skimping now." 
 
 "No one need worry about anything," said 
 hopeful Lucy. "An offer like that does not 
 come to a girl more than once in a lifetime. 
 The means will be provided." Whereupon Edith 
 flung her arms about her sister. 
 
 Sophie could no longer withstand the in- 
 fection of their eagerness; her pessimistic view 
 of the matter swung to the opposite extreme, 
 and she became more enthusiastic, if that were 
 possible, than either of the other two. 
 
 Said she: "Just think how mother would 
 rejoice if she could only know that at last her 
 darling baby's hope of going to Europe to study 
 was about to be fulfilled ! " And, melted by the 
 recollection, she added : " I 'm going to help 
 raise the money. I '11 pack up those two poems 
 and that old story 'Aunt Eleanor's Mission' 
 to-day ; I '11 send them to the ' Home, Sweet 
 Home' magazine, and see what comes back." 
 
 [261]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " That is kind and thoughtful of you, dear," 
 said the gentle Lucy. Edith embraced her other 
 sister, also, though with almost certain doubt of 
 the result of her good intention. 
 
 "Now, what shall we do first?" 
 'You, Sophie, go and attend to your manu- 
 scripts. Edith, gather all the best clothes which 
 you are likely to need." 
 
 "Regardless of ownership," from Sophie, as 
 she flew down-stairs, the entire responsibility 
 of preparation weighing heavily upon her 
 shoulders. 
 
 "You'll need a steamer trunk," Lucy tried 
 to enumerate; "your big school trunk is per- 
 fectly good. Oh, such a lot of things you ought 
 to have, and hardily more than a week to get 
 ready!" 
 
 " I am perfectly overcome," said Edith. 
 Tears came to her eyes, and there was a little 
 break in her voice. 
 
 "Lie down there on the couch, Deedie; it is 
 the sudden surprise. Don't think of anything 
 for a few minutes. Try to sleep ; that 's a dear.
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 I '11 attend to your things for you. I '11 arrange 
 everything. I am so glad you are going!" 
 
 It created a very great sensation in this simple 
 home of the Hadleys. Everything had to be 
 turned upside down to get the child comfort- 
 ably, and suitably " off." 
 
 " The necessary money, of course, is the main 
 point," whispered Lucy when Sophie returned 
 to take part in the consultation, for Edith had 
 by this time fallen asleep. 
 
 " Perhaps Helene can offer some way of pro- 
 curing it," said the eldest Hadley girl, "she's 
 always so ready and correct in her advice to 
 people. She ought to have been a lawyer and 
 gone into partnership with Benedict. You 
 know, I've just been thinking that perhaps he 
 would advance the funds. I'd just as lief ask 
 him myself." 
 
 "Oh, I wouldn't for the world!" returned 
 timid Lucy. " I would rather borrow it of some 
 one in a regular business-like manner and pay 
 interest." 
 
 "That's just like you, honey-bee; always so 
 [263]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 sensible and methodical. If only my literary 
 efforts materialize, I '11 be able to reimburse the 
 whole wad ! " 
 
 " Let us hope and pray," replied Lucy, but 
 not in a very hopeful tone. Sophie's literary 
 endeavors had long since passed from the hope- 
 ful stage through the process of rejection. 
 
 " It 's come to me very forcibly," pursued 
 Sophie, "that we can't afford to let such an 
 opportunity slip by in our family. Just think 
 what it might do for her! She is just the one 
 to make the venture ; she 's the best looking ; she 
 may make a splendid match over there, and 
 marry a marquis or a count or some such 
 grandee." 
 
 "Nonsense!" said Lucy, smothering a laugh. 
 "I will be satisfied if she comes home with a 
 much improved voice and takes her place among 
 the artistes of Baltimore." 
 
 "Well, I suppose that's more likely, and 
 more in keeping with our station in life." 
 
 The two girls went on whispering for nearly 
 an hour, when finally Edith opened her eyes. 
 
 [264]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "What has happened?" she said, rising and 
 looking a little dazed. 
 
 " Just think a minute, and you '11 know," said 
 Sophie, with a significant smile. 
 
 " Don't stop to think too long, anybody," ad- 
 monished Lucy. "We would do better to 'get 
 busy,' as you slangy people say." 
 
 The next day they considered a plan for 
 obtaining domestic help during these eventful 
 ten days. A kindly neighbor who had heard 
 of their sudden windfall recommended a young 
 girl she knew, who would save them untold 
 steps, and was very reasonable in her charges. 
 " She is a light-colored person about seventeen 
 or eighteen years old, but quite presentable and 
 capable. Her name is Lottie Medella." 
 
 " She's just the sort of girl we need. We'll 
 engage her at once," decided Sophie. 
 
 " She will be such a help to me," said Lucy. 
 " I could tell her about the meals, and she might 
 go ahead with them; while we devote ourselves 
 entirely to Edith's preparation." 
 
 "Everything seems to point propitiously to 
 [265]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 my going, does it not, dears?" said Edith, hope- 
 fully. 
 
 "Why should it not, dear? You have always 
 been faithful to your responsibilities; you are 
 amiable and agreeable; sweet in your manner. 
 And you always make friends wherever you go 
 with your pretty voice." Lucy was expressing 
 her sincere and loyal sentiments toward her little 
 sister. 
 
 " That 's a dig for me," remarked Sophie. 
 " But I don't mind. I suppose I '11 never be 
 anything but a blunder bus. Still, if my poems 
 and things don't come up to the top-notch of 
 excellence required by the ' Home, Sweet Home ' 
 monthly, I '11 start in on a calendar that 's a 
 good hard sort of 'picking and stealing' busi- 
 ness not exactly approved of by our Catechism, 
 but remunerative and safe, like grafting." 
 
 The paragon of assistance appeared in the 
 shape of Lottie Medella, who appeared eager to 
 take hold at once. 
 
 A spirit of willingness is always encouraging, 
 so Lucy showed her where everything was, and 
 
 [266]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 told her what to prepare for dinner, leaving her 
 with a sense of comfort and affluence which was 
 quite new to the Hadley home-maker. 
 
 " That's right, Miss Lucy; just you go 'way 
 and leave me be. I '11 get up the finest dinner 
 ever you tasted. I kin cook, I kin ! " 
 
 Lucy obeyed orders, and went right upstairs 
 to report. 
 
 "I think she is going to do very well. She 
 says she can cook, and that is a great relief." 
 
 The girls all busied themselves with their 
 various tasks; Edith was sorting out her ward- 
 robe, Sophie was polishing and renovating all of 
 Edith's boot-ware, while Lucy was writing a 
 note to Helene Doyle. Every now and then, 
 strains of melodious music coupled with the 
 clashing of tin-pans and dishes, floated up to 
 them from the kitchen. 
 
 ; ' That sounds hopeful," said Sophie, as she 
 was giving a slender patent-leather vamp a final 
 rub. "We are getting on so well, perhaps 
 Deedie and I can go out this afternoon to hunt 
 up steamer trunks and rugs." 
 
 [267]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " That would be a good idea," assented Lucy, 
 addressing and sealing her letter. " You might 
 also look around for some of those dear little 
 motoring-hats, such as Helene has. They wear 
 them so much on deck now-a-days, and with the 
 veil attached, one is well protected from wind 
 and spray." 
 
 "Edith would look too cute for anything in 
 one. Her hair is so fluffy and curly, she 'd look 
 pretty with nothing on her head; but she'd be 
 more comfortable this time of year with a 
 bonnet. She would look just coy," was Sophie's 
 flattering opinion. 
 
 They sat down to a very satisfactory dinner. 
 Lottie Medella had proved true to her word. 
 Everything was well-seasoned and cooked to 
 perfection. 
 
 "What a comfort it is to sit down to a good 
 meal that Lucy hasn't been stewing over," 
 declared Sophie. 
 
 " I don't see why you don't keep Lottie after 
 I am gone. You might as well," proposed 
 Edith; for knowing in what regal style she was 
 
 [268]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 going to spend the winter, her sisterly conscience 
 prompted the suggestion. 
 
 " Well, we '11 see how she pans out, first," was 
 Sophie's unintentionally punning remark. 
 
 ' Yes," agreed Lucy, " your not being here 
 will mean less to do, too. We might as well go 
 on practising economy, any way till the money 
 we will have to borrow is paid back." 
 
 The two girls went out for the afternoon, and 
 Lucy busied herself with the thousand and one 
 things that are to be done before taking a jour- 
 ney abroad. In her various perigrinations, she 
 crossed the kitchen several times and once 
 stopped to rest and listen to the dusky Medella's 
 talk while she was drying the dishes. It was 
 something Lottie " did want to tell her so bad." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Lucy with fatal show 
 of interest. 
 
 "Well, Mis' Lucy, it's something I ca'ant 
 make out, 'cause it looks to me kind o' umpos- 
 sible. That Mis' Mannin' I told you about, she 
 had that old girl who used to drop in now and 
 then to see her old Missis. Well, she used to 
 
 [269]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 tell me the most fearful yarns! She tole me she 
 was just thirty-six years old, and said as how 
 she'd worked fo'teen years at Mis' Brown's, 
 and twenty-two years at Mis' Sellers, and an- 
 other twelve years at old Mr. Tucker's who was 
 a widier. Now how kin that be, Mis' Lucy? 
 She'd been working out forty-eight years and 
 she was only thirty-six!" 
 
 " She must have been prevaricating," said 
 Lucy, looking shocked. 
 
 " Well, another time she came in while I was 
 entertainin' three gen'lemen callers one Sunday 
 afternoon, while Mis' Mannin' was at the ceme- 
 tery puttin' flowers on Mr. Mannin's grave. I 
 says, 'cause I thought I must inter juce her 
 when she sat right down in my kitchen, finding 
 Mis' Mannin' was out, ' 'Mirandy, this is Mr. 
 Johnson, from Washington.' 
 
 " * How de do, Mr. Johnson, I 'm mighty glad 
 to know you! You say you'se from Washing- 
 ton? It's a wonder I never met you befo'. I 
 was bawn in Washington ! ' 
 
 "Then when she came to Mr. Brown, he 
 [270]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 was from Atlanta she says to him: 'Why, 
 Mr. Brown, I 'm powerful glad to meet you. 
 And you say you 'se from Atlanta ! Now, ain't 
 that funny, I know Atlanta like my pocket; I 
 was bawn there myself! ' 
 
 "The last one was Mr. Jones. I thinks to 
 myself, now I wonder if she'll sing that same 
 song to him! He came from way down in New 
 O 'leans. 
 
 " * Mr. Jones ! ' she says, tickled as kin be, 
 * Why, I 'm deelighted to meet you. I spent 
 most my childhood in New O'leans! Bless me, 
 I was bawn in that there city ! ' 
 
 " She was bawn in three different places! Did 
 you ever hear the beat of that, Mis' Lucy? " 
 
 So Lottie Medella proved a source of amuse- 
 ment as well as a comfort. 
 
 They progressed rapidly for several days 
 when one morning the door bell rang and a mes- 
 senger boy brought a sealed letter addressed to 
 Miss Edith S. Hadley. 
 
 "It's from Willow Brook," she said, as she 
 tore open the envelope. In it she found a little 
 
 [271 ]
 
 note from Major and Mrs. Travis in which they 
 united in wishing her all kinds of successes in 
 her visit and study abroad; and lying within its 
 tiny folds, was a correspondingly small strip of 
 paper, a check for three hundred dollars! 
 
 "Oh!" cried the three girls in a chorus. 
 
 " It 's all Benedict's doings ! " said Sophie, 
 " He goes to see Helene every day, and she J j 
 put a flea in his ear." 
 
 Lucy said with pardonable pride, " Did n'1 
 I tell you there was no need to worry, that the 
 means were always provided?" 
 
 Edith felt that this concatenation of fortui- 
 tous surprises held some deeply prophetic mean- 
 ing for her. Her girlish ideas took fantastic 
 flights before she said, 
 
 "What shall I do to show them my 
 appreciation?" 
 
 " Sit right down and write your acknowledge- 
 ment of the gift in graceful and grateful terms,' 
 said Lucy. 
 
 " And don't spell 'grateful,' g-r-e-a-t," warned 
 Sophie. 
 
 [272]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 This substantial interest on the part of the 
 Travis family hastened the preparations and 
 sped the departure. Little Edith finally sailed 
 away, accompanied to the ship by her two sis- 
 ters and her best friends. There were no tears 
 shed on either side. Every one wore a smiling, 
 happy countenance as they wished her a bon 
 voyage. 
 
 [273]
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 HELENE STEERS THE CRAFT INTO MORE 
 PEACEFUL WATERS 
 
 " Iram indeed is gone with all his Rose, 
 And Jamshyd's Sev'n-ring'd Cup where no one knows; 
 
 But still a Ruby kindles in the Fine, 
 And marey a Garden by the Water blows." 
 
 NOW that Edith Hadley had sailed Paris- 
 ward, Benedict refrained from frequent 
 visits to her home for several reasons, first, 
 because she was undoubtedly the most attractive 
 element there, from a young man's point of 
 view, and also because he knew that her weekly 
 letters would be redolent with accounts of the 
 Due de Beauchamps' home and of the one being 
 whom he was trying to forget. 
 
 Besides, it was not so much amusement which 
 he sought, now, as sympathetic diversion of 
 
 [274]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 thought. Helene offered him this more than 
 any other woman of his acquaintance. When 
 his mind was not occupied with its most ab- 
 sorbing topic, his contemplated book, he formed 
 the habit of thinking, during his hours of leisure 
 and solitude, no longer of Matilda, but of 
 Helene Doyle. It was not without a struggle 
 that he trained himself to reject the one from 
 his mind and admit the other. For he claimed, 
 after much inspection of his own inner self, that 
 the will can be subdued and governed as surely 
 as the other component faculties of the intellect, 
 if the desire to accomplish it be sufficiently 
 earnest and persistent. 
 
 What a friend she had been to him, espous- 
 ing his every cause, approving and inciting his 
 successes, condoning and extending the hand of 
 fellowship in his rare defeats! Truly, if she had 
 been a sister, she could not have stood in more 
 perfect accord with him. 
 
 But there his sentiments toward her stopped 
 bluntly. The feelings he had experienced for 
 Matilda were so immeasurably different. He 
 
 [275]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 had never caught the slightest proof of Helene's 
 emotional nature. Her attitude toward him had 
 always been reserved, though friendly; yet her 
 friendliness sometimes made one doubt the exact 
 location of her heart; it seemed so entangled 
 within the delicate meshes of her mind. Side 
 by side with that other personality, aglow with 
 the warmth of life and ardent love, when she 
 had found the one who could kindle it, Helene 
 stood like a pleasing but cold statue. He felt 
 he could not approach her with words of love. 
 It was better so for him; there would come no 
 violent emotion between them to disturb the even 
 current of his all-engrossing themes for his 
 work. He had yet to learn that a heart, noble 
 and sensitive like Helene's, reveals itself only 
 with reserve. He was satisfied to let their 
 purely platonic friendship remain unchanged. 
 
 During the following Winter, society in Balti- 
 more kept up its regular ping-pong of social 
 intercourse with a remarkable degree of sym- 
 metrical platitudes. The daily newspapers took 
 particular pains to report, with acrid joy, the 
 
 [276]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 movements of the now well-known town celebri- 
 ties, the Duke and Duchess of Beauchamps. All 
 members of society read of them avidly and 
 marvelled. 
 
 Helene and Benedict partook rarely of any 
 social pleasures. They seemed to have suddenly 
 discovered other modes of entertainment. The 
 fact was duly commented upon. Mrs. Doyle 
 did not quite know whether or not she approved 
 of this seclusion. 
 
 "People are beginning to talk about it; they 
 say you and Benedict ought to be engaged if 
 you are not already. I don't know what to say 
 about it!" protested the ignored mother who 
 was governed by the " what they say 's " of the 
 community. 
 
 "It must be emphatically denied," was 
 Helene's reply, " for there is no truth in it." 
 
 " In that case, I 'm not at all surprised that 
 people talk. I suppose they wonder, as I do, 
 what in the world he means by coming here 
 three or four evenings a week, and accompany- 
 ing you whenever you do go out to any function, 
 
 [277]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 if you are not engaged. What do you talk 
 about, pray? not of her, I hope?" 
 
 " Sometimes of Matilda, and sometimes of 
 other things. There are many subjects, mother, 
 upon which two persons as intimately associated 
 as Benedict and I have been, can talk with 
 interest rather than discuss friends, their virtues, 
 and their faults, as well as their idiosyncrasies." 
 
 "There you go again! It always seems, 
 Helene, that when you talk with me your words 
 are couched in reproach. He is the one you 
 should reproach, not your mother!" 
 
 " It was not spoken in that spirit. You 
 should not take my words to yourself. You 
 know that I have no other thought than your 
 happiness and well-being. Have I not tried to 
 prove it, mother?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, of course, you have; but it vexes 
 me to think of Benedict coming here night after 
 night, when you tell me he never broaches the 
 subject of an engagement. I'm afraid you 
 don't encourage him enough." 
 
 [278]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " He has all the encouragement he needs," 
 smiled Helene; and Mrs. Doyle knew that her 
 daughter was withholding her secret even from 
 her. It was perhaps too new, too fresh in her 
 mind, the mother thought, to be disclosed. But 
 she made up her mind that the next time she 
 was questioned upon the matter, she would reply 
 with cautious insinuation : " They understand 
 each other better than we." 
 
 Helene would certainly not have sanctioned 
 her mother's decision, if she had known of it, 
 for she felt, now more than ever, that she and 
 Benedict never understood each other more im- 
 perfectly. From the very first he had spoken 
 to her freely, unreservedly, without fear or re- 
 straint, of his esteem for Matilda Dolliver. He 
 knew Helene's approval of her. She had seen 
 his growing interest. She had watched the tell- 
 tale expression of his eloquent countenance. He 
 had come to her as a confidante, and she had 
 encouraged him and given him hope! But in 
 his disappointment he had remained silent. It 
 
 [279]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 was she who had understood. The perfect 
 entente between them had not been mutual. 
 
 Even now, when he came to spend the even- 
 ing with her, it was nearly always with the for- 
 bidden subject that their conversation began. It 
 was then that Helene, with the heroism of im- 
 minent danger, and the instinctive reticence of 
 a highly sensitive nature, had uttered the daily 
 prayer: "I will be strong, I will be just, I will 
 be firm." For she earnestly believed that by 
 this means alone each one of us must work out 
 his own redemption. The weak habit of crying 
 or evincing by word or look the sore need of 
 sympathy, lessens more and more one's power 
 of resistance. 
 
 It was this trait in Benedict which she most 
 admired. Defeat is hard to the habitually suc- 
 cessful; but he was bearing his with manly for- 
 titude. An appeal to his keen sense of 
 propriety and his strong character having failed, 
 she tried by the subtle weapon of extreme in- 
 timacy to divert his mind into other channels of 
 deepest interest to himself. He began, little by 
 
 [280]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 little, to unfold to her his project for his great 
 book. When she succeeded in eliciting from 
 him all the aspirations of his earnest desire, she 
 saw him again as he was in the days of his 
 boy's enthusiasm; the words fell from his tongue 
 with flowing fecundity, and his young spirit 
 shone unclouded by any doubt. 
 
 It was then she grew nearest to him ; her quick, 
 receptive, and responsive nature acted like fuel 
 to his inspiration and they would talk far into 
 the night, heedless of time and the surrounding 
 silence, while Mrs. Doyle slept and dreamed airy 
 visions above the sound of their subdued voices. 
 
 That great mountain of emotional stolidity 
 which she had erected against him was now her 
 bulwark of defence. Yet, often in the night, 
 after a long intercourse of thought with him, 
 her subconscious thought would dwell upon 
 their past associations. They were children 
 once more, playing together in the Willow 
 Brook meadows, enjoying like pleasures, calling 
 each other by endearing names, welding the 
 union of two hearts that can only be torn 
 
 [281]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 asunder by the inscrutable workings of destiny. 
 Then the barrier of defence vanished, and life 
 levelled itself into the smoothness of a gently 
 undulating valley. She communed with him 
 secretly in those quiet hours; she almost felt the 
 responsive current of his thought. She knew 
 and felt his daily actions. She pictured him in 
 his home at Willow Brook, in his office, where 
 she had visited him, in his apartments at Chel- 
 tenham Court, where he sometimes invited his 
 coterie of near friends for a quiet game of 
 bridge or a musical evening. His whole life and 
 thoughts were reflected in her mind by the action 
 of that keenest searchlight, intellectual sympathy. 
 
 She had felt the power of Matilda's beauty, 
 on herself and on him. She knew what an ad- 
 mirer he was of that glowing index of youth and 
 life; therefore she had laid down at the feet of 
 Beauty, her claim of long association, and upon 
 the Altar of Friendship. 
 
 Benedict had never given her a compliment 
 referring to her personal appearance; she had 
 never known of his expressing himself on the 
 
 [282]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 subject to any one else. They had become 
 friends in childhood, grown up almost side by 
 side, and taken each other for granted as one 
 does the members of one's own family. Yet 
 she would have sacrificed much of his mental 
 commendation for one look of admiring tribute 
 such as he had so liberally bestowed on Matilda. 
 
 Tell a plain, intellectual woman that she is 
 pretty, or looks especially well in this or that 
 costume or coiffure, and she will cherish the com- 
 pliment above all other praise. Womankind, 
 even the strongest, are susceptible to that pecu- 
 liar form of luxury, personal admiration; even 
 though they may dogmatize at length on the 
 superiority of brain, talent, pedigree, whatever 
 you will, over the mere hazardous gift of Beauty. 
 
 Helene Doyle was not a plain woman; far 
 from it. She was tall, of exquisite mould, deli- 
 cate and distinguished; but her chief attraction 
 lay in the unfailing brilliancy and keenness of 
 her mind. As old M. Del Bondio had gallantly 
 put it, she was the pearl, with no outward glow, 
 but the soft lustre of intrinsic worth. 
 
 [283]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 The Winter waned, the meridianal sun waxed 
 warm again; Nature put forth her buds of life 
 and laughter and 
 
 " All memory, sifting with Time's gentle art, 
 Till He who guides the swallow's wintry wing 
 Gives to our grief-winged love, as sure as Spring." 
 
 Helene and Benedict's relations had been a 
 subject of comment throughout the Winter. The 
 return of Spring naturally created a spirit of 
 expectancy among their friends, though none 
 dared to broach the subject to either of them. 
 
 "Anything so persistent and assiduous as 
 Benedict's attentions to Helene ought to ripen 
 into a deeper affection," said Lucy Hadley one 
 day, as they were speaking of them. 
 
 " I think," said Sophie, in a tone of some 
 vexation, "that life has been too monotonously 
 pleasant since Matilda and Edith have gone 
 away. I wonder what will happen next!" 
 
 " Not the announcement of their engagement, 
 I feel sure," pursued Lucy in a positive tone 
 which expressed finality. 
 
 "What makes you think so?" queried Sophie. 
 [284]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " Because Benedict was too deeply in love with 
 Matilda to engage himself so soon to any one, 
 even to Helene," she explained after a moment's 
 reflection. 
 
 ''That's queer! How do you know he was 
 so dead in love with Matilda? Did he ever tell 
 
 you?" 
 
 " No. But I have an intuitive feeling that he 
 was, from the way he always acted in her 
 presence." 
 
 'You sentimental midget! I don't think he 
 was so raving mad about her; if he had been he 
 wouldn't have found such a quick antidote in 
 Helene. I met him coming out of her house the 
 other day, looking as chirp and smiling as you 
 please. He asked about Edith and I said she 
 was coming home in June." 
 
 :< That will be our next excitement, I sup- 
 pose," said Lucy. 
 
 " I don't see much excitement about that, un- 
 less she comes back My Lady Somebody-or- 
 other." 
 
 " There is not the slightest intimation of any- 
 [285]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 thing of the kind. She 's mentioned only receiv- 
 ing frequent letters from Elmer," said Lucy. 
 
 " That 's a pity ! " commiserated Sophie. " I '11 
 have to sing her the song about 'Little Polly 
 Perkins of Abbington Green ' : 
 
 ' In six months she marri-ed, this hard heart-ed girl, 
 It was not a wicount and it was a n'earl. 
 It was not a baronet, but a shade or two wuss, 
 'T was a bow-legged conductor, on a two-penny bus ! ' 
 
 " Only in her case it '11 not be ' a bow-legged 
 conductor on a two-penny bus,' I hope. But 
 perhaps it will be Saw-bones Elmer Rasburn!" 
 
 " I should not be at all surprised," said Lucy, 
 disregarding her elder sister's flippant allusions 
 to Edith's matrimonial prospects. " I will be so 
 glad to see her, that I will rejoice in the fact 
 that she still belongs to us, and to no one else yet." 
 
 " So will I ! " came emphatically from Sophie. 
 " But I can't help having a little fun out of 
 you two; you are so full of lovelornity! I sup- 
 pose if Elmer walks off with Edith, some- 
 body '11 come along and carry you away ! that 
 new friend of Benedict's, he calls the Philos- 
 
 [286]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 opher. I saw him making sheeps'-eyes at you 
 when Benedict brought him to call the other 
 evening; and I suppose I '11 be left alone in my 
 fading glory, like that foolish little Japanese idol 
 of yours." 
 
 " Sophie, you do have the most ridiculous 
 ideas! I presume it is owing to your imagina- 
 tive mind. Why don't you write a novel and 
 become a second Jane Austen? There is plenty 
 of demand for a good, stirring one nowadays." 
 
 " I will," replied Sophie, " when I get suffi- 
 cient material out of the experiences of my 
 family." 
 
 One day during the last week of June, Edith 
 Hadley returned from France. There was no 
 one to meet her at the New York dock but 
 young Dr. Rasburn, and she greeted him with 
 a look of happiness, his being the first face from 
 home. They had a long waiting session with the 
 custom-house officers; she had brought home 
 presents for every one, from herself as well as 
 Matilda. Elmer told her she must be a stanch 
 supporter of the high tariff, she had so many 
 
 [287]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 things " to declare," using the foreign term, 
 and seeming to take so much joy and animation 
 in the performance. 
 
 Her sisters did not feel able to go and meet 
 her, but they were just as glad to have her home 
 again. Such glowing accounts as she gave them 
 of her pleasures and achievements in Paris ! She 
 would have to do nothing but talk for a week, 
 before she could give them the slightest im- 
 pression of what her winter abroad had been 
 to her! 
 
 Benedict and Helene both came to see her ; and 
 to them she extolled Matilda and her husband 
 and his parents, who were all joined in a con- 
 spiracy to load her with kindnesses, bounties, and 
 attentions. Matilda was the same superb crea- 
 ture; but oh, so much more of a woman of the 
 world. 
 
 " She has such an air of savoir vivre, and 
 appears everywhere like a grande dame. When 
 we went to the old cathedral on the lie de la 
 Cite on high-festival days, the fame of her 
 beauty seemed to have preceded her even there. 
 
 [288]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 A great crowd of admirers were lined up on 
 either side of the cathedral portals to watch her 
 descend from her car. Monsieur le Due acknowl- 
 edged their respectful admiration by lifting his 
 hat to them as we entered ! I felt as if I were in 
 the suite of a king and queen." 
 
 Edith told them how the Duke and Matilda 
 were preparing to go direct from Paris to 
 Lucerne that Summer, while M. and Mme. mere 
 de Beauchamps would proceed to the beautiful 
 chateau in Normandy, where the young couple 
 would join them in October after their explora- 
 tions of the Rhone Glacier. 
 
 "I was sorry I was not to get a glimpse of 
 the picturesque old place, so filled with associa- 
 tions of feudal history, but Matilda said I should 
 come again some time in the summer when they 
 also would be there to show me its many beauties. 
 They live a perfectly ideal life ! " she went on. 
 ' I never saw such complete harmony in any 
 united family. M. de Beauchamps, pere, has 
 retained all the courtliness and chivalry of a 
 feudal marquis, and Robert he is the most 
 
 [289]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 faultless, the most devoted, in fact, the prince 
 of lovers as a husband ! I think Matilda is really 
 falling in love with him. You know she used 
 to say she was n't." 
 
 Benedict listened to these eulogistic accounts 
 of his former rival in silence, his face an in- 
 scrutable mask. Helene glanced quickly at him 
 from time to time ; but if her gentle urgings had 
 not entirely banished the bitterness and disap- 
 pointment from his heart and the barbed shaft 
 from his pride, she had at least succeeded in 
 teaching him to hide these feelings with eminent 
 success even from herself. 
 
 When they left the Hadleys that evening, how- 
 ever, he did not go in with Helene, as usual. 
 They parted with a pressure of the hand which 
 he recognized as an assurance of her never fail- 
 ing sympathy. For her heart, too, was veiled 
 veiled by a wraith of such a smile as might 
 have sat upon the lir>s of a sibyl. 
 
 [290]
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 MR. DOLLIVER WRITES A LETTER AND THE 
 UNEXPECTED HAPPENS 
 
 " Think, in this batter'd Caravanserai 
 Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day, 
 
 How Sultan after Sultan with his Pomp 
 Abode his destin'd Hour, and went his way." 
 
 IT'S about time I was writing to Matildy, 
 Emmy, now you ain't so well; though 
 you've kept up the correspondence in pretty 
 lively fashion since she's been gone." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Ario, you do it. I long so to hear 
 from her, every day, if such a thing were pos- 
 sible. But my mind is so poor my hand so 
 weak I feel that I could hardly hold a pen if 
 I tried. You write to her she '11 be so pleased, 
 and her husband, too." 
 
 Fired by his wife's stanch encouragement, 
 Ario sat down to pen an epistle to Matilda. 
 
 [291]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " I 'm most afraid to begin," he said. " I 
 might make it so long she 'd think it was like one 
 of those long letters Paul used to write to the 
 what's their names? the * Ephians,' is it?" 
 
 " Ephesians," corrected Mrs. Dolliver, rev- 
 erently. "No, it won't; don't be afraid. I 
 would like so much to read it myself, when it is 
 finished." 
 
 He hesitated a little longer, just to get his 
 bearings, and then went at it boldly. 
 
 " Dear Tildy : I 'spect you '11 be surprised to 
 receive a letter from me. You know of old that 
 I ain't much for using fancified lang " 
 
 " Emmy, how do you spell the word ' lan- 
 guidge ' ? " 
 
 " L-a-n-g-u-a-g-e," said Mrs. Dolliver, smiling 
 at his earnestness. 
 
 " That 's right ! Just what I thought it was, 
 only I wasn't quite sure " 
 
 " The truth of the matter is your ma 's been 
 poorly for some time and didn't feel just like 
 writing to-day; so I says, I will. [This here 
 between the brackets, ain't for her to hear. I '11 
 
 [292]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 leave it out when I read the letter to her. She 
 wants to hear it. But I '11 just say to you, Tildy, 
 I 'm just stumped about your ma. Don't worry. 
 I guess she'll come out all right after a bit.] 
 As I was a-saying " 
 
 " Emmy, is this right? ' As I was a-saying,' 
 when I 'm a- writing? " 
 
 " I would n't say it now. It 's a little soon at 
 the beginning of your letter," said Emmy, grow- 
 ing more interested. " I would wait till nearer 
 the end and write 'as I have already said." 
 
 He looked at his wife in rapt pleasure and 
 surprise. " I knew you 'd give me the tip. You 
 always have," and proceeded with his arduous 
 labors. 
 
 " We got those neat sooveneers you sent by 
 Edith Hadley. Your ma was mighty tickled 
 to get hers, and my neckties is what you'd call 
 distanguy. It makes me feel like I was a duke 
 too, maybe." 
 
 4 What are you writing that makes you smile 
 so, Ario?" asked his wife, who was by this time 
 in a mood to enjoy her impatience. 
 
 [293]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "Never you mind, Mrs. D. I'll read it to 
 you if you're awake when it's done. It 'pears 
 now like it would take all night to do it." 
 
 " Guess you did n't forget anybody from what 
 I hear. That 's right. I 'm proud to know my 
 daughter can be Lady Bountiful if she wants 
 to. Helene is well and looks better than she 
 did. Benedict keeps pretty steady company with 
 her these days. Should n't wonder if there 'd be 
 something doin' in that quarter before long. 
 Mrs. Doyle keeps up her everlasting tune of 
 whining and complaining. Me and your ma 
 took tea with the Hadley girls some w r eeks ago. 
 Say, ain't they a queer bunch, though ! They 've 
 got a kind of female butler to their outfit now, 
 since Edith's come back from France. I 'spose 
 they feel they must put on more luggs. This 
 here butler is a colored girl. She hustles the 
 grub, I tell you. Their soup and pastry factory 
 is continually on the boom; a steady upward 
 tendency, with no indication of a break. They 
 served a good meal; your ma didn't eat much; 
 but she kept a-smiling and a-nodding to folks 
 
 [294]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 across the table, like she was having a mighty 
 good time for her. She seemed particularly 
 pleased with a business friend of Benedict's; a 
 man older than him but enough like him to say 
 he was his brother or cousin or something near 
 related. They seem to be rattling good friends 
 tho' Ben'dict 's a young chap yet while the 
 other's a man about forty-four or five. What 
 pleased your ma was that he acted like he was 
 playing sweet on Lucy. Everybody admires 
 that girl; she's so sensible and practical! Edith 
 and Rasburn are n't much account to anybody 
 apart from each other. Nobody 's seen hair nor 
 hide of the Atwood females. It seems they 
 coaxed Atwood to buy a place up in the Thou- 
 sand Islands; nice neat distance to put between 
 him and them. Good riddance to bad rubbish! 
 Mebbe I haven't told all the news; but your 
 poor ma 's anxious to hear this read and I won't 
 keep her waiting any longer. [Don't worry 
 about her ; if she gets worse, I '11 send you a 
 cable-grim.] So I guess I better quit. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 FATHER." 
 [295]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " There now, Emmy, I 'm through quicker 'n 
 I thought. It isn't so bad after you once make 
 a start." 
 
 ' Yes, read it to me, Ario, read every word 
 you said," Mrs. Dolliver urged raising her eye- 
 lids which had drooped during his hour of active 
 silence. 
 
 He read his letter aloud with some slight de- 
 fects in fluency, omitting the matter in brackets, 
 of course, and Mrs. Dolliver pronounced it a 
 fine newsy letter which would please Matilda 
 and perhaps make her wish to visit her home 
 before very long. 
 
 After his last visit to the Hadley home, 
 Benedict virtuously eschewed all proximity to 
 Edith and her sisters. He would not again place 
 himself in a position to suffer and struggle as 
 he had done that night. It was unconscionable, 
 there was no sense in it. He continued diligently 
 to discipline his own mind into thinking the 
 thoughts he felt he must reach in order to have 
 peace of mind to continue his undertaking of the 
 great contract he had made with himself. 
 
 [296]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 The Summer waxed on into August. He 
 visited Helene now, not more assiduously, but 
 more purposefully and less often. He felt the 
 need of thoroughly acquainting himself with 
 himself before making a decisive move. One 
 night after he had spent some hours with her in 
 dissecting the intricacies of Ethical Sentiments, 
 it came to the point when Benedict asked him- 
 self whether Helene, after all, would not fill the 
 place in his empty life with comforting compan- 
 ionship. That other personality was still hang- 
 ing over him. He had not fully recovered from 
 his cruel disappointment. His need was pressing. 
 Would not the better way be to dispel the 
 haunting miasma, to speak to Helene at once, 
 and have done with it once for all? He had 
 waited, it seemed, long enough. Was he destined 
 to have his life spoiled? No; there were too 
 many hopes luring him on in other pathways! 
 
 His mind was so alert with thinking that he 
 had no desire to sleep when he reached his apart- 
 ments. He walked the length of his two rooms, 
 up and down, many times before bringing him- 
 
 [297]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 self to a decision. He had hung fire over it long 
 enough. Yet he went over in his mind his 
 last scene with Matilda. To this woman he was 
 ready to yield his heart's best tribute. But she 
 had turned coldly away from him, smiling the 
 while, with tears in her eyes; whereas he had 
 attributed to her, in his own exalted imagination, 
 the emotion of a passionate, loving nature! The 
 web that lay on his wounded heart was still of 
 gossamer thinness. 
 
 He would think of each one in turn. First, 
 Helene would rise before him, aesthetic, ex- 
 quisite, her mind filled with the idea of solving 
 great ethical and sociological problems, her per- 
 sonality refined and attractive, her innumerable 
 qualifications. All of these were pleasing to him ; 
 but he had yet to see the first attestation of her 
 heart. It was impossible that she could be with- 
 out a living, throbbing one; but she had never 
 shown him the actual evidence of it. Perhaps 
 it was meant for him to have but one brief 
 glimpse of that garden of the gods! If so, he 
 would give up the struggle and lay down his 
 
 [298]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 arms, as it were, surrendering to a great con- 
 queror. There was no ignominy in such defeats. 
 He said at last: 
 
 " I will ask Helene." 
 
 He went to bed after that, exhausted by the 
 conflict with himself; but he felt that he had 
 won, and slept peacefully the remainder of the 
 night. 
 
 When he rose the next morning, a new vigor 
 impelled him. It was as if he had cast off a 
 long and tedious burden. A sense of new-found 
 freedom caused him to breathe deeply and de- 
 liciously, as he sat down to his solitary break- 
 fast. He threw a joke at his waiter; indeed, 
 felt altogether jovial. 
 
 " I feel like a boy again," he said to himself 
 aloud. " Things taste better than usual this 
 morning. I think I must hail Sambo directly 
 after breakfast and spin out to Willow Brook. 
 I can spend an hour or two with father and 
 mother before seeing Helene." 
 
 Smiling in high good humor with the world, 
 after reaching his decision, he took up the morn- 
 
 [299]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 ing paper. Almost his first glance was assaulted 
 by a glaring heading: 
 
 ENTOMBED IN ICE 
 
 FROZEN STREAM TRAPS FRENCH 
 
 PEER IN WIFE'S PRESENCE 
 
 WAS ARDENT INVESTIGATOR 
 
 Due de Beauchamps, Scion of 
 
 Notable Family, Vanishes 
 
 in Crevasse of Rhone 
 
 Glacier Rescue 
 
 Attempts Fail 
 
 Benedict turned pale; he was faint; his hands 
 grew icy cold. He beckoned to his waiter: 
 
 "Never mind the breakfast. I I'm not 
 feeling well." 
 
 He grasped the paper, crunching it between 
 his fingers. 
 
 ' You suttenly lookin' powerful bad. Kin I 
 do anything mo' fo' you, suh? Shall I call a 
 docteh?" 
 
 " Thank you, Abe. I '11 be all right in a 
 minute. Just fetch me a brandy and soda. I 
 
 [300]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 haven't been drinking either, you scoundrel; 
 don't look at me like that. I need only a little 
 punching up." 
 
 ' That you do, suh," Abe heartily agreed. 
 " A little cocktail would n't do you no harm, just 
 naow. Oh, I know you ain't been drinking, Mr. 
 Travis, but I ca'ant guess what 's come over you 
 so sudden!" 
 
 By this time the two had arrived at Benedict's 
 room. He pointed to the door and uttered one 
 word: 
 
 "Hustle!" 
 
 * 
 
 The darky flew downstairs. By the time he 
 returned, Travis was sitting in an arm-chair 
 looking considerably better. He swallowed the 
 brandy and soda like a medicine and then said, 
 
 " Send up one of the bell boys, please, I '11 
 run up to the office in a taxi this morning; I Ve 
 got a pack of hard work there." 
 
 The boys and waiters at Cheltenham Court 
 Apartment Hotel would have run their feet off 
 in his slightest service. 
 
 "I will go down there," he said to himself. 
 [301]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "I can always reason better at headquarters. 
 I'll think what to do." 
 
 His trip to Willow Brook was given up. He 
 clutched the paper that had changed his destiny, 
 but did not read it. Once in his private office 
 he would try to read it. And the thought that 
 kept surging in his mind was, 
 
 " What shaU I do ? Matilda is free ! Am I ? " 
 and the word that came in answer was, 
 
 "No!" 
 
 He tried to divert his mind; for his temples 
 were throbbing furiously. He tried to read the 
 fatal, yet blessed paper; but his sensitiveness 
 rebelled at any detail. The heading was enough. 
 The day dragged wearily on. He went no- 
 where, fearing to meet any of his fellows who 
 might wish to discuss the occurrence. 
 
 He slipped into his hotel late that evening, 
 unobserved, to have another tussle with himself. 
 He walked the floor again, hour after hour, till 
 late into the night. When he awoke the next 
 morning, it was with a very different feeling 
 
 [302]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 from the one he had experienced the previous 
 morning. He looked care-worn and weary. He 
 had made up his mind for the second time that he 
 would be true to his word; that he would ask 
 Helene. 
 
 What should he say ? 
 
 He did not know. Her inspiration would aid 
 him. Before he had time to formulate his 
 thoughts, he had reached her home. He pressed 
 the bell-button, and entered almost immediately; 
 the maid was dusting the library. In a moment 
 Helene was with him. His face which had al- 
 most re-assumed its usual bright cheeriness, was 
 clouded and very serious when she looked up at 
 him and took his hand. 
 
 "You have seen the report of the frightful 
 accident? " she began, while they yet stood. 
 
 " I have of course. But I did n't come here 
 to discuss that. I am here to ask you to marry 
 me, Helene." 
 
 She caught her breath sharply, and dropped 
 into a nearby chair, where she sat staring at him 
 
 [308]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 a little wildly. There followed a long pause, 
 then she asked: 
 
 "When did you make up your mind to to 
 do me this honor?" 
 
 "What has that to do with it?" he returned, 
 puzzled by both the question and her constrained 
 behavior. "I wouldn't ask you to marry me 
 if I didn't want you for my wife would I, 
 Helene?" 
 
 She was again mistress of herself. 
 
 " I can imagine conditions under which you 
 might feel an obligation to do so, Benedict," she 
 said with her old gentleness. " So I would like 
 to know when you reached this decision." 
 
 His own manner all at once altered. 
 
 " I know what you are thinking," he said 
 " that I came to this resolve before seeing this 
 news. That is true. But believe me, dear 
 Helene, that dreadful news has not altered 
 my desire in the least. Will you marry me ? " 
 
 She arose and came nearer to him, searching 
 his eyes long and earnestly. At last 
 
 "Do you love me?" she asked. 
 [304]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "What a question! You know that I have 
 always loved you." 
 
 ' Yes, Benedict, you have always loved me " 
 the smile was more sphinx-like and mysterious 
 than ever "as a very dear friend, as a sister." 
 
 He grew suddenly ill at ease. 
 
 "Then wh why " he began falteringly. 
 
 "But I will not become your wife, Benedict." 
 
 "What a selfish brute I am!" he blurted at 
 last. " Here I am, thinking only of myself, 
 without the slightest consideration for your own 
 feelings. Fond of Matilda as you are, of course 
 I should know what a shock the news must have 
 been to you. Pardon me, Helene." 
 
 " At the present moment," she returned in her 
 quiet manner, "I am steeped in grief and sym- 
 pathy for Matilda; I can think of nothing but 
 her affliction." 
 
 "Dear Helene!" fervently. "We'll let the 
 matter rest for the present. Another time " 
 
 " No," and at last she betrayed the slightest 
 tremor of emotion. " I think it can never be." 
 
 He was submissive, unusually so, for he was 
 [305]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 heartily ashamed of the feeling of relief that her 
 decision had given him. Yet he departed with 
 an unfamiliar pang at his heart regret, a sense 
 of loss, a doubt as to whether he had really ever 
 estimated Helene at her true worth. 
 
 After all their years of intimacy, how well did 
 he know her? 
 
 [306]
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 MATILDA EETUENS TO HER FATHER'S HOME 
 
 " For some we loved, the loveliest and the best 
 That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest, 
 Have drunk their Cup a round or two before, 
 And one by one crept silently to rest." 
 
 THE great Rhone Glacier has its source 
 between two high mountains, so dense that 
 they are almost impenetrable. Descending from 
 them with broadening banks, it tosses and flings 
 about with gigantic force its pointed waves that 
 have crystallized into pyramids and columns of 
 glistening ice. At every turn and bend deep 
 crevasses yawn, emitting hues of emerald green 
 as the sun-shafts dart within their mysterious 
 hollows. Cold, high-born, and exclusive like its 
 surrounding mountains, it halts on its downward 
 course where the sordid crowd gathers every year 
 to view Thorwalden's eternal masterpiece. A 
 
 [307]
 
 small artificial lake surrounds the monument, 
 hewn in the rock, presumably that no human hand 
 shall tarnish the pedestal of its immortality. 
 Here the glacier forms a cavern from which the 
 torrent of the Rhone River, a cold, translucent 
 stream, flows to overrun both Switzerland and 
 France. This grotto is poetically described by 
 Longfellow as " a gauntlet of ice which, centuries 
 ago, Winter, the king of these mountains, threw 
 down in defiance of the sun which, year by year, 
 strives to lift it from the ground on the point of 
 its glittering spear." 
 
 Lucerne, lying beneath it, where Matilda and 
 her husband had gone, is itself a strikingly pic- 
 turesque town. Set in an amphitheatre of moun- 
 tains and low hills, it faces the snow fields of the 
 Alps, while its approach is one of surpassing 
 beauty. The Duke and Duchess of Beauchamps 
 had chosen it this Summer in preference to the 
 quiet chateau near Nantes, owing to the Duke's 
 interest in the glacier. They had taken a secluded 
 villa high up on the rugged mountain where 
 Robert could easily walk across to the silent 
 
 [308]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 stream and roam at pleasure upon its surface, 
 while Matilda, who sometimes accompanied him, 
 would stand near its frozen brink to watch him 
 step lightly from place to place, dodging the fre- 
 quent crevasses with the skill and agility of one 
 trained to the study of glaciers. A full retinue 
 of attendants had preceded them, to put the 
 elevated villa upon a footing suited to the 
 needs and tastes of its noble occupants. Two or 
 three of these attendants usually followed them 
 on their glacier trips to provide food and other 
 necessaries, in case the young Duke should find 
 enough to interest him till nightfall. Like all 
 earnest enthusiasts he lost sight of everything 
 material, food, rest, and time, when ab- 
 sorbed in his mysterious calculations. 
 
 One day, late in August, when Matilda had 
 wished to join her husband, more to check his un- 
 bridled ardor than from any great interest of her 
 own, she stood near the edge of the river. From 
 its banks a keener air blew, bringing the scent of 
 forest tree-bark and wild shrubbery. Among the 
 tangled verdure, the growth of some unknown 
 
 [309]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 mountain flower arrested her attention. She 
 stooped to pluck it, and was so intent upon its 
 study that she remained unconscious of the over- 
 powering stillness about her for full twenty 
 minutes. Suddenly she remembered the near- 
 ness of her husband; she was accustomed to his 
 voice now and then, calling out some favorite 
 password between them, or uttering a shrill bird- 
 note whistle to reassure her. She stopped to 
 listen a moment. There was nothing to indicate 
 his presence. She looked upon the frowning 
 glacier ; but he was no where to be seen. Then she 
 walked up some distance through the network of 
 brier and brush to call aloud: 
 
 " Robert, Robert, mon amie, viens-tu? " 
 The echo of her own clear voice back from the 
 dense woods on the opposite bank was the only 
 sound she heard. Struck with a nameless dread, 
 she walked up and down the deserted brink with 
 repeated cries of, "Robert, my beloved, answer 
 me!" She waited again, this time with beating 
 heart. Only the moan of the bending forest- 
 giants came to her ears. 
 
 [310]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 At length, she made her way with faltering 
 steps toward the spot where the attendants were 
 stationed. When they saw her returning alone 
 and with a look of fright upon her face they ran 
 to meet her. 
 
 " Madame is faint! One must go for her maid 
 and return with all possible haste." 
 
 They supported her until the maid arrived. 
 With the woman's skilled ministrations, they 
 reached the villa where they laid her upon a couch 
 to await the return of consciousness. 
 
 "Where is M. le Due?" asked many voices, 
 when the attendants had learned of the Duchess' 
 solitary return. 
 
 "Waste no time in idle questions," cried the 
 more self-possessed ones. "Down to the first 
 hotel, some of you, for expert guides to search the 
 mountain; a physician to attend Madame, quick! 
 Monsieur has disappeared from the glacier; time 
 is precious ; it will take but a minute to save him, 
 haste!" 
 
 Immediately the entire household went frantic 
 in their attempts to institute a search. The look 
 
 [311]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 of terror and despair in Madame's eyes, when she 
 recovered, made them realize there was no time to 
 be lost. There were guides who knew the perils 
 of the glacier regions. He might be found; al- 
 though Matilda's speechless, stony stare could be 
 interpreted into nothing but extreme danger. 
 They rang special alarms to the city below, and 
 it was not long before an eminent physician 
 appeared on the scene. 
 
 ' Your ladyship must compose herself," he 
 said, taking her cold hand in his. " There is no 
 immediate cause for alarm. You did not see him 
 fall anywhere? " 
 
 "No; I turned away a few minutes; he was 
 there walking on the ice. When I looked again, 
 he was not ! " 
 
 " Accidents of the kind you fear, rarely occur. 
 There is every means of recovering one who has 
 strayed in his path, even though he may have 
 slipped in one of the crevasses. Many of these 
 have a substratum but a score of feet below. One 
 may easily be heard calling from that distance." 
 
 " I called him many times; he was so so very 
 [312]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 near those frightful chasms! " she said, with bated 
 breath. 
 
 "Even if he fell, he may still be found and 
 rescued." 
 
 But the hollow echo of her own voice was the 
 only sound destined ever to come back to her from 
 the frozen river of death. Perhaps, generations 
 hence, the body of her husband would be delivered 
 from its icy sepulchre in the valley far below. 
 
 Next morning, when the report was brought to 
 Matilda, who was now stunned to the realization 
 that hope, with him, had vanished, the only 
 question she asked was : 
 
 "Cannot even his person be recovered?" 
 
 And the man of science, with something of the 
 glacier's relentless sternnesss, could only shake 
 his head in wordless reply. 
 
 The Duchess of Beauchamps lowered her 
 beautiful head in resignation, as the fair women 
 of France had lowered theirs to the guillotine. 
 Tearless, subdued, and humbled, even in the pres- 
 ence of her attendants, the sight of her moving 
 silently about their home, was a heart-breaking 
 
 [813]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 spectacle. In the night, when she was left alone, 
 she knelt at the window that overlooked her hus- 
 band's sepulchre. What grief and remorse 
 overwhelmed her! She who had once spurned a 
 great love like the one she had just lost! 
 
 Was it the retributive act of her former 
 ignorance? For she had been ignorant of the 
 true meaning of a powerful love. She was just 
 waking to the knowledge which Helene Doyle had 
 striven to teach her was the strongest of the 
 world's forces. She had failed, no doubt, in her 
 full and perfect application of it toward him ; but 
 when she thought of the many others who 
 idolized him, of the w r orld of science who would 
 mourn him, she was baffled and confused into 
 thinking herself the cause of the catastrophe. A 
 deep sense of contrition smote her, that she should 
 have brought grief to those who had shown her 
 none but loving hospitality, and accepted her as 
 one of their own! She felt she could willingly 
 bear all the punishment she deserved. This great 
 crisis flung back to her the vivid consciousness of 
 her past heartless experience. She even welcomed 
 
 [314]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 the anguish she suffered as a means of atonement. 
 Though she so severely condemned herself, she 
 met no evidence that others shared her feelings 
 in this self-accusation. On the contrary, those 
 about her saw only the deepest devotion in her 
 conduct. 
 
 As soon as the reports about his son were con- 
 firmed, M. de Beauchamps, pere, came in person 
 to escort Matilda to the old chateau in Normandy, 
 where she might bear her sorrow in strict seclu- 
 sion. There, perhaps, she might, in time, find 
 solace, and the collyrium to her torn spirit. Sur- 
 rounded by those who had loved and cherished 
 him, who had included her in the tenderness they 
 had lavished upon their son, she might learn to 
 know that Youth's most deplorable wounds may 
 be healed by Time's supreme elixir. 
 
 But Heaven willed it not so for Matilda; she 
 had no sooner reached the place where she, now, 
 most longed to be, than a much delayed and re- 
 directed cablegram reached her. It was an 
 urgent call from Mr. Dolliver, imploring her to 
 come to her mother's bedside, for she was sink- 
 
 [315]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 ing rapidly. His hope was that Matilda might 
 reach them before she closed her eyes forever. 
 
 This imperative summons, coming as it did in 
 Matilda's deepest trouble, was the means of rous- 
 ing her suddenly from all thoughts of self and 
 present unhappy surroundings by being turned to 
 those to whom she owed her life and all the good 
 she had met in it. Setting aside their own fresh 
 sorrow, M. and Mme. de Beauchamps now turned 
 their attentions to their daughter's immediate 
 departure. Under pressure of their redoubled 
 affection for the wife of their son, they urged her 
 to come back to them if her heart so dictated. 
 They truly loved her, and were ready to stand by 
 all that the sacred union between her and Robert 
 required of them. Matilda found it very hard to 
 part from them. Torn by her sense of duty to 
 her own mother and to them, the separation be- 
 came doubly painful. She bade them the most 
 tender adieux, promised them an unfailing 
 devotion and remembrance, and left them, a truly 
 grieving and tearful young widow. 
 
 [316]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 The journey upon one of the swiftest of 
 ocean greyhounds was not long. The young 
 Duchess of Beauchamps was overwhelmed with 
 sympathetic attentions and kindnesses, not only 
 by those in her suite who accompanied her, but 
 by the respectful few who knew and understood 
 her trouble. During the five days' estrangement 
 from a world of sorrow and pain, which was new 
 to her, she had ample time to readjust her emo- 
 tions after the two overpowering crises which had 
 stirred and altered her life. Her heart and con- 
 science were continually at variance. Her 
 sensibilities were sharpened to a keener sense of 
 what was required of her when she finally reached 
 her home. 
 
 The frail, gentle Mrs. Dolliver having slowly 
 succumbed to the wasting effects of brooding over 
 her daughter's absence, had at last passed away. 
 She died on the very day when the Due de Beau- 
 champs' irreparable loss was made known to all 
 parts of the world, and thus she was saved what 
 would have been a shock too rude to bear. 
 
 [317]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Matilda's return to her father's home pro- 
 claimed to her the mission that heaven had 
 destined to her younger, more promising strength. 
 Her mother had already been laid to rest, and 
 Ario Dolliver was a sadly broken man. 
 
 [318]
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MATILDA IS COMFORTED BY HER FRIENDS 
 
 " A moment guess'd then back behind the Fold 
 Immerst of Darkness round the drama roll'd 
 
 Which for the Pastime of Eternity 
 He doth Himself contrive, enact, behold! " 
 
 HELENE DOYLE was among the first 
 to see the Duchess of Beauchamps after 
 return to Baltimore. In her office of true friend, 
 Helene had ministered to the beloved Mrs. Dolli- 
 ver through the days of her last, brief illness. She 
 had tried to take the place of the absent daugh- 
 ter ; and the fading mother had poured her words 
 of loving separation for Matilda into Helene's 
 willing ears. It was natural that she should be the 
 first to greet Matilda in her father's home upon 
 her sad arrival. The two women exchanged 
 many tears and words of loving sympathy before 
 
 [319]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Matilda was able to meet her afflicted father. 
 Helene remained with them the first few days, to 
 mollify the cruel change of environments for poor 
 Matilda, as well as to cheer Ario Dolliver who, 
 during the crisis of events, seemed to be robbed 
 of his habitual fortitude. Then, she left them in 
 their grief -stricken solitude to commune with each 
 other; to strengthen the indissoluble tie that 
 draws those of one family nearer together in a 
 common sorrow. 
 
 The Autumn set in that year, gloomy and cold 
 with the peculiarly mournful note of the season. 
 Matilda and her father saw very few persons that 
 Winter save Helene Doyle and Edith Hadley, 
 who were now habituees of the house. Mr. 
 Dolliver resumed, in due time, his punctual 
 regularity at his down-town office. His wealth, 
 during his period of cessation of its observance, 
 seemed to have taken a sudden, automatic leap, 
 manifolding itself to such an extent that his pres- 
 ence was constantly necessary. He had no leisure 
 to foster his poor bruised feelings. Like Ixion, 
 he was bound to the wheel of toil. 
 
 [320]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 There was no doubt, however, that Matilda's 
 being at home had a salutary effect upon her 
 father's spirits. In spite of his deep sorrow at the 
 loss of his beloved Emmy, his characteristic na- 
 ture of downing the bad, and looking only to the 
 good of life, gradually restored his beaming, good- 
 natured view of all the blessings that remained to 
 him. After some time, Matilda also began to realize 
 that the world's tears, and secret sorrows of deca- 
 dence, disappeared at the return of Spring's sun- 
 shine. For heaven is kind to us, even in our woes; 
 in time the clouds disperse and we look up again 
 to our lives of peace and joy. Helene, who was 
 a constant visitor, had spoken much of Benedict, 
 and begged that he be allowed to see Matilda. He 
 had been so deeply affected by her sorrow ; but he 
 did not know how she regarded him, and there- 
 fore had not ventured to come and express his 
 sympathy in person. 
 
 Matilda was tearfully moved by the report. 
 
 " Tell him to come," she said. " How could he 
 doubt that I would receive his sympathy ! I told 
 him, the last time we spoke intimately together, 
 
 [321]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 that I should ever count you and him, my best, 
 my truest friends." 
 
 So Helene came with Benedict, dutifully, sub- 
 missively, yet proudly, as did the great chiefs of 
 old, when they followed the triumphant cars of 
 their conquerors. Fair, beautifully pathetic Ma- 
 tilda was so absorbed in her own sorrows and her 
 great need of consolation, that she did not notice 
 her friend's pallor, nor the tremulousness of the 
 sensitive lips in the execution of her invincible, 
 unrevealing smile. 
 
 It fell out very naturally that Benedict, hav- 
 ing successfully renewed, continued his visits to 
 Matilda delicate attentions, fearing to trespass 
 too soon upon her lacerated heart. He sought 
 Helene's society more than ever. With her he 
 could open his heart and speak of his timorous 
 desires, even find encouragement ; but they never 
 went again together to see Matilda. Helene con- 
 tinued her offices of friend ; Benedict pursued his 
 silent, timid wooing, and they compared notes 
 later in his morning visits to Helene. This quiet, 
 inoffensive state of affairs seemed to suit every
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 one concerned. Ario Dolliver was grateful, be- 
 cause, as the evenings he must spend at his bureau 
 of activity grew more frequent, it was a relief to 
 know Matilda was pleasantly entertained at home. 
 
 Sophie Hadley and Mrs. Doyle were perhaps 
 the only ones not wholly amenable to the new con- 
 dition of things. Sophie complained: 
 
 " I don't see why Benedict has to go flying off 
 on a tangent, the minute Matilda gets back, when 
 he 's been so assiduously devoting himself to 
 Helene for the past two years ! One would think 
 there was no other woman on earth but Matilda 
 Dolliver." 
 
 ' You know very well, he was fond of Matilda 
 from the day he first met her," said Edith, who 
 rather gloried in her friend's conquests, as long 
 as she had never shown any dangerous propensities 
 in the Elmer Rasburn quarter. 
 
 " A young woman who has her head turned by 
 social triumphs at home and abroad!" continued 
 Sophie. "Why isn't he satisfied with Helene? 
 Is n't she good enough? " 
 
 " Helene and he have never touched upon the 
 [323]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 subject of love-making," asserted Lucy, vindicat- 
 ingly. " She as much as told me so. Their 
 association, almost from childhood, has never been 
 anything but pure and simple friendship; just a 
 sisterly and brotherly attachment, that's all." 
 
 " He has never had a sister and she 's never had 
 a brother ; how do they know it 's that sort of an 
 attachment? That's all bosh! I'll warrant you 
 Mrs. Doyle does n't look upon it that way. I '11 
 be willing to bet Helene cares for him, anyway. 
 Friendship, nothing! Besides, is n't friendship a 
 good enough thing to marry on ! I 'd rather have 
 it than sentimental rubbish; it's a more sure 
 thing!" 
 
 " Don't get so excited over it," laughed Lucy. 
 " One would think you wanted Benedict for your- 
 self!" 
 
 " He 's not to be sneezed at," acknowledged 
 Sophie, in nowise abashed. " But it vexes me to 
 think he 'd be satisfied with a second-best. I hope 
 he won't ask her to marry him, yet a while. She 
 has hardly worn her widow's weeds a year; it 
 would seem like rather indecent haste." 
 
 [324]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " Don't be so anxious about other people's love- 
 affairs," piped up Edith, who now assumed the 
 complacency of one whose prospects were settled. 
 
 " That 's quite right," chimed in Lucy. " Let 
 every one manage his own love affairs ; and he or 
 she will be satisfied, at least, even if their friends 
 are not." 
 
 Sophie approved of her sister's wise remark; 
 but made certain mental reservations as to the 
 cause by which it was prompted. 
 
 * Well, I suppose she '11 get him, if she wants 
 him," she added. " Widows have a better chance 
 than spinsters ; they 've had experience, and prac- 
 tice makes perfect." 
 
 As to Mrs. Doyle, the mystery of her daugh- 
 ter's relations with Benedict Travis kept her 
 gentle bosom in a perpetual flutter of excitement 
 and vain expectation. 
 
 All unconscious of these sentiments concerning 
 him, Benedict was being drawn near and nearer 
 to the object of his first great passion, by that 
 most irresistible of forces, personal attraction. 
 His great book, that had up to this time occupied 
 
 [325]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 his deepest interest, was temporarily laid aside to 
 give place to the things that so vitally affected his 
 heart. He thought constantly of Matilda as he 
 saw her now, crushed and saddened by a double 
 sorrow; and he yearned to be her comforter, to 
 restore to her the beauty of happiness, and all the 
 joys that had formed her halo of glory. So 
 ardent was his desire to accomplish this that he 
 felt hopeful of achievement. 
 
 He spoke of it with Helene, as was his custom 
 where he has something good to confide; and, as 
 usual, she was sympathetically interested. He 
 prefaced his confidences with an apology for his 
 former heartless proposal, and digressed exten- 
 sively on the wisdom of her refusal. But she 
 would not now refuse to be his everlasting friend ? 
 
 "I am glad you have of yourself come to 
 realize the cause of my reply. How would you 
 feel, now, if I had taken you at your word? " 
 
 " I should have tried to do my duty, as you 
 helped me to do during the time when the Duchess 
 of Beauchamps was beyond my reach." 
 
 [326]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 The look of sincerity in his deep blue eyes, as 
 he looked into hers, caused her to reply: 
 
 " I was sure of it. As to friendship like ours, 
 that is undying. Nothing can change it, nor 
 destroy it. It holds its place in the eternal 
 beauties of God's universe ! " 
 
 When Benedict sat alone in his bachelor quar- 
 ters that night, he felt he wanted to commune 
 seriously with himself after his morning inter- 
 view with Helene. The past two years had 
 matured him beyond his age. He began to weigh 
 life's matters at their sterling value. He wanted 
 to get down to the very nuda veritas of things 
 common, and of daily occurrence. He tried to 
 fancy his life side by side with Mr. Dolliver, that 
 sober, honest, successful, but uncultured man. 
 To satisfy his desire, he would have to faire la vie 
 en commun. Matilda could not be separated from 
 her father. That was a foregone conclusion. 
 And that was where his enamoured reason halted. 
 
 While he was thus deliberating, Satan, in the 
 form of Self-Gratification and Passionate Desire, 
 
 [327]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 came to him. He led him unto a very high 
 mountain and tempted him. 
 
 "Behold the world! Its pleasures and desires 
 fulfilled, its glories of power in achievements, in 
 great wealth! Over all these will I give thee 
 dominion, if thou wilt follow me." 
 
 And Benedict, being only a human of the twen- 
 tieth century, succumbed to the temptation. So 
 treacherous are the wiles of the serpent, that he no 
 sooner let him taste the highest pinnacle of human 
 joy, than he prepared a doom to snatch him from 
 it, and cast him for a time into confusion and 
 despair. It was only the power for good which 
 had sustained young Benedict throughout all his 
 previous life, that caused him, finally, to rise above 
 the fiery torrent and assert his true self ; not only 
 sanctified, but refined, chastened, and empowered 
 like the archangels of creation. 
 
 When he reviewed his late deductions regard- 
 ing his life in common with Mr. Dolliver, the 
 temptor's voice whispered to him George Her- 
 bert's saintly words: "Grudge not to pick out 
 treasures from an earthern pot ! " And the desire 
 
 [328]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 to trample every obstruction in his path, grew 
 stronger, more determined. 
 
 In that same small room where their last inter- 
 view had been held, where she had wrung tears 
 from his strong heart, he came one day soon after, 
 to see Matilda. In the glaring light of noonday, 
 he thought he could control his emotions more 
 surely, and sound more guardedly the depths of 
 her bruised heart. How and when could he 
 reopen his plea? He did not know. He was 
 wiser, now, he would bide his time. The bright 
 daylight in which he saw her took away none of 
 her charms. In her sadness and mourning, she 
 was even more beautiful, if possible, but pathet- 
 ically so. She was sitting on the long French 
 bergere on which she had been reclining. The 
 impress of her small head and the dark moisture 
 of tears were upon the soft down pillow. His 
 heart yearned to comfort her ; yet it was she who 
 opened the gateway of fulfilment to his desire by 
 saying, 
 
 "I need so much to be comforted and loved! 
 He taught me the joy, and the need of it." 
 
 [329]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Benedict bent tenderly over her. 
 
 'You once said that you thought you could 
 learn to love me. Do you think you could do it, 
 now? I will be so patient a teacher, I will try to 
 teach you by loving, that there is no other lesson 
 in life worth learning." 
 
 It was then that Matilda covered her face with 
 her hands and wept silently. Was it from re- 
 morse at the remembrance of what she had made 
 him suffer? Or from regret for her life of past 
 glories and triumphs, which she must relinquish 
 forever if she gave herself to him? Who shall 
 say? 
 
 Benedict was deeply moved by her tears. He 
 made no sound or motion to disturb her. He sat 
 mute, holding his cold hands tightly pressed to- 
 gether, till at length she was the first to speak. 
 
 " I will try to learn the lesson with so kind, so 
 forgiving, a teacher. I think I might prove a 
 more apt pupil, now." A smile broke through 
 her tears. "My experience has taught me the 
 worth of what you offer." 
 
 Benedict's heart gave a great leap. He could 
 [330]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 not speak for a few brief seconds. When he did, 
 he said, extending his hand, 
 
 " Give me your hand as a pledge of your 
 promise. I will not press you again against your 
 inclinations. I will wait until you yourself are 
 ready, if you will speak the word." 
 
 She looked at him with glowing yet moist eyes. 
 
 ' You taught me first to beg, and now you 
 teach me how a beggar should be answered, like 
 Portia, with Bassanio's ring! Only think what a 
 task you impose upon me ! Is it in retribution for 
 my former coldness and heartlessness ? " 
 
 "Never!" he exclaimed, pressing the hand he 
 still held. " My heart holds no rancor, but 
 tenderness for you! " 
 
 She smiled at him sweetly, perhaps expect- 
 antly; but he remained undemonstrative, save in 
 his words. 
 
 When he left her, it was with some new-found 
 feeling in his being. He was not eager but 
 humbled ; resigned to await her bidding patiently, 
 with more a sense of exalted spiritual joy than of 
 satisfied human passion. 
 
 [331]
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX: HELENE^S INTERPRE- 
 TATION THEREOF 
 
 "Ah, Moon of my Delight who know'st no wane, 
 The Moon of Heav'n is rising once again; 
 How oft hereafter rising shall she look 
 Through this same Garden after me in vain!" 
 
 HELENE DOYLE was not one "to die 
 of a rose in aromatic pain " ! The 
 Sphinx-smile is used by all people of the world. 
 In the world the smile is various and manifold. 
 We make use of it to clothe our diverse feelings : 
 our affections, when not requited ; our hatred and 
 contempt of those who come periodically into our 
 lives to smile and smirk, while nurturing a poison- 
 ous canker in their hearts; that of envy, jealousy, 
 malice, and all uncharitableness. And yet these 
 people pose before the world as good, kind, and 
 amiable! They pretend to religion, alms-giving, 
 
 [332]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 even to love; but that love is tainted in the 
 deadly chalice of inordinate selfishness! Persons 
 whose flattery is venomous; who cannot tell a 
 truth that stings for fear of losing a friend ; who 
 cannot prove by temperament or action that real 
 love is patient, enduring, generous, though heart- 
 breaking self-sacrifice; persons who protest 
 against those who do, and criticise every deed of 
 good intent. 
 
 Helene was sincere. It was no wonder she held 
 in disdain those whom she thus judged. But her 
 smile was the ineffable smile that locked the 
 bitter secret within the innermost recesses of her 
 woman's heart. Her own strong, sweet nature 
 she revealed with crystalline transparency to those 
 whom she trusted and loved. Her sufferings, her 
 disappointments, the infinite gnawing griefs that 
 daily beset her, she did not disclose, lest by so 
 doing she should give pain. 
 
 After Matilda's second marriage, which oc- 
 curred late in the Fall of that year, she retired like 
 the crustacean into the depths of its shell. Instead 
 of the morning visits from Benedict, she received 
 
 [333]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 telephone calls from Matilda, begging her not to 
 let the day pass without coming to see her. 
 
 "I am so happy, dear; you don't know how 
 grateful I am to you, to all the dear ones who 
 have made it possible for me to look again into a 
 world of joy!" 
 
 When Helene was near her, Matilda opened 
 her heart and spoke more freely than she had ever 
 done. 
 
 ' Benedict is an angel! " she said. "You don't 
 know the depth and strength and gentleness of his 
 love!" 
 
 "I know his nature well," said she, who had 
 sounded every part and fibre of his character in 
 her years of long communion with him; and she 
 smiled a glorified smile when she thought re- 
 signedly, "That love w r as never meant for me!" 
 
 Matilda found endless comfort in being with 
 Helene ; in rehearsing her past experience and her 
 now restored condition of calm peacefulness. But 
 Helene could not but detect a plaintive note even 
 in her expressions of joy. This may have re- 
 sulted from the impression she herself was 
 
 [334]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 impelled to form. Helene's spirit was during this 
 period of her life saturated with the plaintiveness 
 of those who have lost, for a time, the light of the 
 sun, who grope alone through the chill, damp 
 darkness of night, forgetting that the Sun of 
 Righteous Love will again rise, to dispel the night 
 shadows ! 
 
 And what of Benedict, in his super-exalted 
 state of human bliss ! Life to him had completely 
 changed its aspects. The words of the prophet 
 came into his heart: "For, behold, . . . . 
 new heavens and a new earth; and the former 
 shall not be remembered, nor come into mind." 
 At this particular stage of his career, his mind 
 was alive with a deep spiritual sense of his new- 
 born happiness. Daily his heart swelled by the 
 flood of its healing stream, permeating every part 
 of his being. His countenance, which had always 
 mirrored the various prismatic lights of his sen- 
 tient nature, seemed now transported beyond the 
 limitations of ordinary human beings. Every one 
 noticed it, his friends particularly. 
 
 Sophie Hadley, never slow to express her 
 [335]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 observations, broke into the house one day with 
 this outburst: 
 
 "I never saw any one so improved by matri- 
 mony as Benedict ! I met him spinning down in 
 Father Dolliver's or rather Matilda's stun- 
 ning new French car, and such an explosive beam 
 of a smile I never saw on a man's face! " 
 
 " I am afraid you have lost your wager," said 
 Lucy, as they sat together that evening on their 
 small side veranda. It was one of the luxuries 
 they enjoyed since Edith's marriage; for after 
 that event, Lottie Medella was installed in their 
 establishment with the positive permanence of 
 Lares and Penates. 
 
 "Lost my wager on what?" inquired Sophie, 
 with the sweet , convenient oblivion of all past 
 disputations. 
 
 " You said you would bet that Helene was in 
 love with Benedict." 
 
 " I 'm not sure she is n't, even now," contended 
 Sophie. " I should think she might have been, in 
 all the years he 's been hanging onto her apron 
 strings ! " 
 
 [336]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " I used to think so, too," Lucy went on, rather 
 enjoying the topic, "but I don't now." 
 
 "Why not?" queried Sophie. 
 
 " Because Helene appears so well satisfied with 
 their marriage." 
 
 " Helene doesn't make a moving picture show 
 of her feelings ; but there 's one thing I will bet 
 on," insisted Sophie, just for the sake of argu- 
 ment, "and that is that he proposed to herl" 
 
 " Oh, that is not possible! " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because she would have accepted him. Al- 
 most any girl in Baltimore would have, if she 'd 
 had the chance," concluded practical little Lucy 
 Hadley. 
 
 " I know you Ve always thought Benedict was 
 the only catch in town. Most any sighing spinster 
 would, unless she was a fool." 
 
 "Then, why did not Helene? You certainly 
 don't think she is a fool?" 
 
 "No, indeed; I admire her too much; she's a 
 very dainty, delicate, dapper little lady, as the 
 ballad goes ; only she 's not little. Maybe he of - 
 
 [337]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 f ered her his heart on ice, like oysters on the half - 
 shell, and that 's why she declined." 
 
 " Sophie ! how ridiculous you are to imagine 
 such a thing!" 
 
 " Wit often reasons louder than wisdom," put 
 in Sophie. 
 
 " I hope, some day, you '11 have a romance of 
 your own to sober you a little," said Lucy, laugh- 
 ing in spite of herself. 
 
 " No, it won't; but I shouldn't mind much if I 
 did," said Sophie, chirping up at the idea. " But, 
 if I ever do, I hope I won't make a goose of my- 
 self; I know I '11 always see the funny side of it." 
 
 And so time went on, and the coterie gradually 
 adjusted itself to what had happened. Things 
 were at a tranquil state in the affairs of men, 
 when one morning, Helene received a pressing 
 call from Matilda to come to her at once. Helene, 
 always on the alert, and ready for any trifling 
 domestic mishap, slipped on her cloak and hat, 
 for it was mid-winter, and made her way to the 
 Charles Street Avenue mansion. 
 
 The day was not especially invigorating. 
 [338]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Heavy snow clouds hung overhead; the atmos- 
 phere was gray and keen. She had been up late 
 the night before, with problems of her own, and 
 she was tired. The moment she stepped into the 
 comfortable warmth of the luxurious home, a 
 pleasurable sensation came over her. Mrs. Travis 
 was in her own apartments, and would there 
 receive Miss Doyle. 
 
 Helene found Matilda clothed in a rich mater- 
 nity gown of softest satin. She raised both arms 
 to embrace Helene, and excused herself, on the 
 plea that she was a little weary this morning. 
 
 "Oh, I am perfectly well; I have been all 
 through; but my time is growing very near. I 
 have been passing a review of all the dear little 
 articles of the tiny wardrobe. They appeal so 
 strongly to me. I wanted you to see them with 
 me. I felt you must help me to be brave. I am 
 very hopeful, very happy; but I have a strange 
 dread of the accouchement! The ladies in France 
 make nothing of it. My Mother Beauchamps has 
 sent me the most beautiful letters of felicitation 
 and encouragement, which I read every day; but 
 
 [339 ]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 I want you, Helena, near me, very near me, when 
 my time comes!" 
 
 Helene was struck by the vivacity of her mood, 
 the rapidity of her words, and the quick succession 
 of her phrases, as she spoke to her. 
 
 "You have no cause for alarm," comforted 
 Helene. "You will have the best skill that the 
 country affords ; you must be your bright, sweet, 
 happy self to the end, not only for your own sake, 
 but for Benedict's." 
 
 Matilda had been steeped in thought at 
 Helene's opening words, remembering how they 
 had tried to prevent alarm when there was every 
 cause for it, but when Helene spoke of Benedict, 
 quick as a lightning flash, she seized her arm, and 
 cried : 
 
 'You would have him exempt from every 
 trial?" 
 
 " Of course, I would; and you, as well, and the 
 precious little soul whose life depends on your 
 well-being. Calm yourself; you must not give 
 way to any but hopeful thoughts ! " and the gentle 
 pressure of Helene's cool hand quieted her. 
 
 [340]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 * You said you wished to show me that fascinat- 
 ing little trousseau." 
 
 Matilda smiled gloriously, and led the way to 
 the next room. They handled every trifle that 
 was to swathe the new-born babe. Then Matilda 
 sat down near the beruffled, beribboned little 
 basket where she had laid the smaller treasures. 
 She seemed to gloat over the sight. Finally she 
 turned again to Helene and breathed a long sigh 
 of relief. 
 
 " I am, indeed, very, very happy; and I feel so 
 much better about everything since you camel" 
 She gazed intently into the eyes of her friend ; so 
 much so, that she did not notice the pearly tears 
 trembling on her lashes, nor the cold moisture of 
 the delicate fingers she was pressing. " Promise 
 me that you will be very near; that you will come 
 to me at any moment if I need you; and if if I 
 should not get well, that you will take my little 
 one, and mother it as if it were your own! Give 
 me your loyal word that you will do this for 
 me if I should pass into the dark valley! " 
 
 This plea from Matilda Dolliver, who had 
 [341]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 been the recipient of Heaven's most gracious fa- 
 vors, to Helene Doyle, who had been deprived of 
 so much, sent an icy current around her throb- 
 bing heart. 
 
 "Cease from holding such thoughts, Matilda; 
 how can you do it when you have just acknowl- 
 edged that you were happy ? How can happiness 
 or love entertain such fears ? You who have been 
 blessed far beyond the lot of other women! Do 
 you not think of Benedict, your husband ; Bene- 
 dict, the crowning blessing of your life ! " Helene's 
 sensitive lips quivered as she uttered the words 
 without a smile ; but a sadly reproachful look came 
 into her deep gray eyes. Matilda stared at her a 
 moment ; a strange light came into her own eyes ; 
 perhaps the awakening of maternal intuition. 
 She flung both arms about Helene's shoulders, 
 crying, convulsively, 
 
 "My dear, dear friend! I see it, now, the 
 secret you have been hiding so long, so well, from 
 us all. Ah, mon dieu, mon dieu, que faire? You 
 have been loving him all the while ; you love him 
 now!" 
 
 [342]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "Hush!" cried Helena, struck with mortal 
 dread at witnessing her agitation. 
 
 But Matilda went on in a mood of self -contri- 
 tion that was near delirium. " I have robbed you, 
 my best and truest friend, of the greatest joy this 
 earth can give! I have robbed them over there, 
 of their peace and latter-day happiness ! Oh, my 
 God, save me from the tortures of hell! " 
 
 Helene rang for the attendants, maids, and 
 trained nurses, all of whom were already in the 
 house. A physician was quickly summoned, for 
 Mrs. Travis was violently ill. The nurses bore 
 her to her bed, and applied the prescribed quietus 
 till the doctors arrived. These remained in con- 
 sultation till nightfall, when they succeeded in 
 lulling her to sleep, promising to return when 
 the needful moment came. 
 
 Helene Doyle also departed; but returned to 
 spend the night lest Matilda should wake and call 
 for her. In the anxious confusion of the moment, 
 she, as well as those of the house, had completely 
 forgotten Benedict. The thought smote her with 
 anguish. He could not be allowed to return home, 
 
 [343]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 to this crisis of danger, without preparation. She 
 sped around the corner to the telephone station. 
 She called for his office number; it was but little 
 after five, but the operator could get no reply 
 from that quarter. Helene turned the matter in 
 her mind; he had perhaps gone out with a col- 
 league and was talking at length, which would 
 delay his return. She would have time to go 
 home and attend to some small domestic matters 
 for her mother. While there she received inter- 
 mittent calls from Amanda saying Mr. Travis 
 had not returned; and no answers came to the 
 frequent calls to his office! What should they do? 
 
 Helene pacified her with her own explanation 
 of his absence. The office boys had all gone home. 
 She would come herself, shortly, and think up 
 what they should do. 
 
 Helene snatched a hurried taste of her dinner, 
 and, utterly avoiding her mother's fretful ques- 
 tions concerning the cause of her excitement, dis- 
 appeared quickly out of the house, in the act of 
 adjusting her long cloak about her. When she 
 reached the Dolliver mansion, she stood face to 
 
 [344]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 face with Benedict, coming from the opposite 
 direction, his face abloom with his usual jovial 
 smile, and his spirits witnessed by his keen, shrill 
 whistle. 
 
 " Hello, Helene ! " he cried. " What good-luck 
 brings you here at this hour ? " She preceded him 
 rapidly, and he did not see her face till they both 
 stood under the hall-light. Then he knew sud- 
 denly something was wrong. 
 
 "Helene! What is it? Tell me quick; are 
 you in trouble? " 
 
 She looked up at him with her large gray eyes 
 welling with tears she could not control, " No ; 
 it is you!" 
 
 He turned to make a dash up-stairs; but she 
 stayed him with her hand. 
 
 11 Don't go in to her, now; the doctors are both 
 there. Wait till you are sent for." 
 
 Benedict dropped into a hall-chair, and covered 
 his face with his hands. The sudden shock from 
 his joyous mood caused him to falter a moment. 
 
 ''' Tell me the worst, Helene. Don't hide any- 
 thing from me." 
 
 [345]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 She bent down near him and put her hand upon 
 his shoulder. 
 
 "You will be brave, dear, as you always are. 
 Matilda is very ill. She sent for me this morn- 
 ing and I came and found her in a strange mood. 
 She has had a violent attack of hysteria. We 
 had her put to bed. The two physicians are here. 
 I returned, because she said she wished me to be 
 near." 
 
 Benedict recovered his self-possession and be- 
 gan to walk up and down the great hall. Its 
 lights and luxury irritated him. In all this glam- 
 our of sumptuousness, he felt utterly helpless. 
 
 "And is there nothing I can do?" he said at 
 length, suddenly recalling Helene's presence. 
 
 "Nothing; all is being done that is possible to 
 do," returned she, following him with a look of 
 yearning solicitude to which he was absolutely in- 
 different. They kept the silent vigil far into the 
 night, with only a whispered remark from Bene- 
 dict when the stern waiting grew too oppressive. 
 
 At last, a maid came tiptoeing down stairs to 
 
 [*]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 say Miss Doyle was wanted. The poor fellow 
 made a frantic effort to follow her; but he was 
 withheld at the door of the room. Matilda's de- 
 lirium was at its height. She was tossing her 
 arms about wildly and crying for Helene. The 
 great ordeal was over; but the dread fever had 
 sapped her excited brain, and she was raving of 
 the wrong she had caused, her dread, and yet her 
 certainty of death. 
 
 Helene's cool hand upon Matilda's hot, pulsat- 
 ing wrist produced a temporary lull in her condi- 
 tion. She could not articulate ; she could only give 
 forth the most excruciating groans of mental 
 torture. She pointed to the cradle, then wrapped 
 her burning hands about Helene's neck, trying by 
 the intensity of her feeling to extract a promise in 
 words she no longer could frame. 
 
 Helene soothed her throbbing temples, stroked 
 her shining hair, and bent low to murmur some- 
 thing in her ear; then the fever dropped two or 
 three degrees, tears streamed from her dilated 
 eyes now closed by a sudden stupor. Helene was 
 released from her strenuous embrace by the two 
 
 [347]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 nurses, and went out to conjure up a glimmer 
 of hope for Benedict. 
 
 " She is quiet now; if the fever can be checked, 
 there is a chance. I entreat you, go to your rest. 
 You will need it." 
 
 Benedict, completely subdued by the strength 
 of her ministry, did as he was told. She, also, 
 went to a room quite near Matilda's, to rest, but 
 not to sleep. Few closed their eyes that night, 
 knowing how the dark angel hovered with droop- 
 ing wings over the prostrated home. 
 
 [348]
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 BENEDICT CANNOT ACCEPT THE INEVITABLE 
 
 " And when Thyself with Shining Foot shall pass 
 Among the Guests Star-scatter' d on the Grass, 
 
 And in thy joyous Errand reach the Spot 
 Where I made one turn down an empty Glass!" 
 
 THE dread fever which modern science has 
 been able to conquer in many crises like 
 Matilda's, in her particular case, had won. 
 
 The shocking intelligence was communicated 
 to the members of the afflicted household. When 
 the room where Matilda lay. He followed 
 morning broke and the necessary daily move- 
 ments of a large establishment like the Dolliver 
 house went forth, it was with the oppressive still- 
 ness of sudden calamity. Helene Doyle had to 
 be called to draw Benedict away from the stupe- 
 fying scene. For three days he walked about the 
 house like one stunned, when compelled to leave 
 
 [ 349 ]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Helene about speechlessly; but with a look that 
 seemed to wish to extract from her a reason for 
 this, to him, appalling state of things. It was 
 only after Matilda had been carried out of his 
 presence that he realized he must lift the cast- 
 down wings of his spirit in order to do his duty 
 and live. 
 
 Poor Ario Dolliver had not the philosophy 
 which Helene Doyle exerted to support the 
 bereaved father and husband. When he learned 
 that Matilda's child was a girl, his head fell on 
 his chest as if he were robbed of his last ambition 
 in life. The two men, united for the time being 
 by their common sorrow, felt the intolerable ab- 
 sence from their home of its former love propel- 
 lers. The time soon came when the subject of 
 Matilda's wishes regarding the child had to be 
 discussed between them. 
 
 To Benedict, considering his past association 
 with Helene, it was the most plausible, and there- 
 fore, acceptable conclusion. As for Ario Dolliver, 
 if the child had been a son, he might have con- 
 ceived some other plan for having him brought 
 
 [350]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 up at home under his fatherly influence. But 
 a girl, perhaps such another as Matilda, he 
 could not think of it without his beloved Emmy to 
 guard her early years. He felt he could not 
 again elevate another girl, even though she 
 were his granddaughter, to the heights he had 
 raised her mother. It was hardly possible that 
 the length of his days upon earth would permit 
 it. The late nearness of Helene Doyle and her 
 inclusion in the only deep sorrows he had ever 
 known, fixed the point of their mutual decision. 
 Little Helen, as she was to be called by 
 Matilda's well-nigh imperative command, was to 
 be transplanted to the more humble but, also, 
 more cultured home on St. John's Avenue. 
 Everything that was necessary to the well-being 
 and comfort of the little daughter of a man like 
 Benedict Travis was provided, and would follow 
 her thither. Benedict's heart was so filled with 
 its still bleeding wound, that he had no thought 
 of admitting in it the small intruder. He was 
 governed, too, by a rather unnatural feeling of 
 resentment toward the innocent cause of his sor- 
 
 [351]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 row. It would be a long time, he felt, before he 
 could take any interest in the child, or allow it 
 to occupy any place in the vessel that had been 
 consecrated to her fair young mother. Hence 
 it fell to Helene Doyle to cherish and nurture 
 the motherless infant. 
 
 At first, Benedict had nothing to which he 
 could turn for solace but his magnum opus, 
 which had been growing during the first year of 
 his marriage. He plunged into it with the fer- 
 vent hope that here he would find the balm of 
 self-forgetfulness. He toiled at it early and 
 late, sometimes heedless of the late telephone 
 calls that rang to remind him of his dinner hour. 
 He had pursued this method of enforced consola- 
 tion for many months, when the voice of the inner 
 man cried out to him pitifully but command- 
 ingly. His great need of human companionship 
 led him to turn once more to Helene Doyle, the 
 one being with whom he could relieve his heart 
 when the burden became too weighty. But 
 when he came now, it was always late in the 
 evening when he knew her charge would be 
 
 [352]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 asleep; so that nothing should harshly accentuate 
 the reality of his changed condition. 
 
 He knew something of Helene's theories on 
 the subject of the after life, but there had never 
 been as potent a necessity for him to discuss 
 them with her, as now. Helene had inherited 
 her father's taste for research among the works 
 of great thinkers like Flammarion and others, 
 to glean some light upon the mysticism of the 
 realms beyond. Her belief was that we would 
 wake from death as we wake from sleep; that as 
 we had lived this life, we should continue in the 
 same mind into the next. It was only a modern 
 repetition of the Parable of the Good Seed ; what 
 we had sewn, we should reap, by the mysterious 
 evolution which governs all species of life 
 around us. Had we not proof of it in nature, 
 in the periodical return of the seasons, the 
 symbolical waking and sleeping of all that lives ! 
 
 But Benedict, with the keen memory of his 
 loss still fresh in his mind, argued: 
 
 " If those who pass out of this world in youth, 
 health, and beauty must return to their first 
 
 [353]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 stages of growth as do the plants, trees, and other 
 vegetation that re-live from year to year, then 
 is there no real adjustment of personal ties? 
 
 "No; the human family is too vast to con- 
 sider individual relations. As our great modern 
 poet says, ' All memory sifting with Time's 
 gentle art/ we lose sight of our past woes, and 
 find full and perfect compensation in new ties." 
 
 Benedict appreciated Helene's breadth of 
 soul, and the large scope of her views on like 
 subjects. But he was not yet ready to espouse 
 and support them. 
 
 There was another gifted gentleman in Balti- 
 more, who knew Helene Doyle, not quite so well 
 as Benedict, but who always raised his hat in 
 passing her door out of respect for the sacred 
 presence that dwelt there. 
 
 Benedict, like all who have passed through 
 great sorrow, was intensely self-absorbed. He 
 did not wish to forget his trouble. He brooded 
 over it, taking a morbid comfort in recalling all 
 the ecstasies he had felt while ascending to the 
 fatal hypothenuse of worldly enjoyment. He 
 
 [354]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 had been so conscious of his divine harmony with 
 all things good! This unexpired bolt from 
 heaven, in the midst of perfect peace and joy, 
 staggered and changed his life to one of desola- 
 tion, in spite of health, strength, and power to 
 achieve; for in this he was rich enough. 
 
 When springtime came again, and he rode 
 through the parks of the city, some slight cir- 
 cumstance, like the tone of a voice, the scent 
 of a certain flower, the glimpse of a strikingly 
 beautiful woman, reminding him of Matilda, 
 would stir within him all the memories that 
 had graced the morning of his life. His 
 fancy would then brighten him to a smile, the 
 consciousness of which would immediately cast 
 him into that most dangerous abyss, self-pity. 
 To think of that beautiful, adorable creature, 
 cut down in the fulness of young womanhood; 
 torn from his side by death, and laid in the cold, 
 cold earth away from all that she had loved, the 
 warmth of tenderness, adulation, and the triumph 
 of young motherhood in her first-born ! 
 
 He could not, or would not think of her in 
 [355]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 death; white, silent, unmoved by his passionate 
 appeals, for it reminded him of the time when 
 he had pleaded with her and she had remained 
 cruelly beautiful. Yet even then, smiling 
 through her tears, she had sought to comfort 
 him. It was that alone which had kept him 
 from despairing, from giving up the conflict. 
 Now, it was different. Before, he had proved 
 to himself that all things in life were possible; 
 but in death, there was no resisting the unseen 
 forces that in the twinkling of an eye, have 
 changed the destiny of kingdoms, have brought 
 desolation to the happiest hearths! He had no 
 refuge but hard, unremitting toil. He would 
 drown the sting of its torment by going down 
 as deeply into the subjects jthat were to promote 
 his great law book, as he had in the contempla- 
 tion of his misery. There was nothing that 
 could take the place of his work, or bring the 
 needed relief to his bruised spirit. He was still 
 too young to realize that our most heart-rend- 
 ing emotions inspire our greatest and noblest 
 deeds. 
 
 [356]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Mrs. Doyle now gazed upon Benedict with 
 a kind of awe-stricken expression, commingled 
 with deference whenever she met him, and had 
 no hesitancy in expressing her feelings when he 
 was absent. 
 
 " Such a preposterous arrangement of affairs; 
 I never heard of the like. My daughter, im- 
 posed upon with the care of a child not her own! " 
 she exclaimed with indignation. ' Well, there 
 is only one thing to redeem us in the eyes of 
 our friends ; his paying every cent of the expense 
 incurred thereby. A nurse, we are obliged to 
 have, and two maids instead of one. Of course, 
 I do not object to them, they relieve me, and 
 also Helene of much additional care. And what 
 will it all lead to, in the end, I should like to 
 know!" 
 
 There was no one in the vicinity able to give 
 Mrs. Doyle a satisfactory conclusion. Helene 
 was more Sphinx-like and speechless than ever 
 on that subject and the poor lady was left to 
 her own deductions, which were to hope for the 
 best, and expect the worse. 
 
 [357]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 As time went on the domestic matters of the 
 Dolliver household, which included Benedict, re- 
 sumed a more normal and more natural aspect, 
 Every one interested seemed to be reconciled to 
 the extraordinary arrangement that Helene 
 Doyle should guard the earliest years of Ma- 
 tilda's child. 
 
 She fell to the task as naturally and uncom- 
 plainingly as she had done to everything imposed 
 upon her as a duty. But perhaps to this she lent 
 more willingness and desire. With her sensitive, 
 affectionate nature, she took the full blame of 
 the catastrophe upon herself, still covered by her 
 smile of plaintive serenity. She suffered untold 
 agonies in listening to Benedict's broken-hearted 
 lamentations. She constantly strove to lift him 
 out of the despondency that was gradually 
 settling down upon him, watching his moods, 
 inviting his sympathy when that seemed to afford 
 him relief, or shunning it whenever he wished 
 to be silent. 
 
 Fortunately or unfortunately for those who 
 mourned Matilda, her nature had not been one 
 
 [358]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 to be greatly shocked or materially injured by 
 the discovery of Helene's secret. Had she lived 
 she would have subdued it and her friend to 
 her power and service without any uncomfort- 
 able feelings to herself. But in Helene Doyle's 
 twofold affliction, her wrong to Matilda magni- 
 fied itself to an intensity that formed the keynote 
 of all her sufferings. 
 
 There are natures who never divulge the 
 sacredness of their innermost feelings; and 
 these we have no right to delineate without dis- 
 crimination, to expose the most sensitive fibres 
 of their being. She had not shown her suffer- 
 ings, her disappointments, her moments of 
 despair, to the thoughtless, shallow world that 
 judged her as a sweet but emotionless woman. 
 
 Of those who understood her least was 
 Helene's own mother. In spite of her daugh- 
 ter's perpetual efforts to look and point out to 
 others the brighter side of everything, Mrs. Doyle 
 invariably checked all her impulses to be hopeful, 
 inciting the poor girl to an occasional "turning 
 of the worm." Then the mother would fly into 
 
 [359]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 passionate recriminations, and accuse Helene of 
 undutiful conduct. 
 
 " Can't you see how unreasonable you are, 
 Helene ? You get excited and fly into a vortex. I 
 never saw you nervous and irritable before, or 
 get so wrought up at the least little thing I say 
 about anything. It is a great pity, indeed, if, 
 at my time of life, I 'm not allowed to express 
 my opinions about what goes on in this house ! " 
 And Mrs. Doyle would bridle up and agitate her 
 gauze fan in quite a gale of vexation. 
 
 "I really think it is that child's being in the 
 house; your whole attention, devotion, and mind 
 are lavished upon her, and you are wearing your- 
 self out. I always said the whole thing was an 
 insane idea, but of course my wishes were not 
 consulted. You will become a nervous wreck, 
 yourself, like Benedict, if you are not more 
 careful!" 
 
 Outbursts of this nature were of frequent 
 occurrence in the dignified home, and in time 
 left their effect upon Helene; but it was due to 
 the continual conflict with that negative spirit, 
 
 [360]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 robbing her of a woman's natural impulse, as she 
 had robbed her in childhood. 
 
 But Helene's frank outpouring of a warm 
 and loving nature found its outlet in the child, 
 Benedict's child, to whom she could disclose her 
 strongest, her best, her most fearless emotions. 
 
 Several years elapsed during which Helene 
 kept her trust and failed in no respect. She had 
 mothered the innocent, helpless child and won her 
 love through its most natural channels. Little 
 Helen, waking to her first consciousness through 
 the loving tenderness of Aunt Helene, had not 
 felt the loss of her own mother. The time came 
 when, with keen perception, she differentiated be- 
 tween the terms, " auntie " and " mother." 
 
 " You call Mrs. Doyle ' mother,' and the little 
 girls at kindergarten speak of their mothers! 
 You are like their mothers to me and I call you 
 Aunt Helene." 
 
 The complexity of affectionate near relation- 
 ship was too deep a subject to satisfy the bright 
 little mind. So Helene explained: 
 
 ; 'The words 'mother' and 'auntie' are almost 
 [361]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 the same, dear. If I had a sister and you were 
 her little girl I would love you almost as much 
 as she; and I would do as much for you as she 
 would, if she were not living." 
 
 "Was my mother your sister, Aunt Helene?" 
 "No; but I loved her just as much as if she 
 had been." 
 
 " Then, it is just the same, only the names are 
 different," replied the trustful little girl, quite 
 satisfied with the explanation. With Helene's 
 mother, the child was deferential, ceremonial, 
 always calling her " Mrs. Doyle," never offer- 
 ing a caress and rarely yielding to one. With 
 Aunt Helene, she lavished all the fondness 
 of her reserved little heart, whenever they were 
 alone. She scarcely knew her father. He 
 had hardly noticed her during her immediate 
 babyhood; and though she had grown to that 
 important age of four when little girls are 
 taken to private kindergartens, where their re- 
 fined little natures need not be shocked by the 
 speech and manners of undesirable people, she 
 retained for her father the same reticence, 
 
 [362]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 inherited from her mother when not perfectly 
 sure of one's sympathy. 
 
 Benedict had spoken with her at the rare 
 times when he visited the Doyles during her wak- 
 ing hours. Helene was more amused than 
 pleased at his timid, hesitating manner of ap- 
 proaching her. A child is quick to feel the 
 responsive heart that throbs to its own. She 
 would hasten away to school, first embracing 
 Helene, and pausing at her father's knee, ac- 
 cording to Auntie's instruction, and holding up 
 her little face for him to place a butterfly kiss on 
 her rosy cheek, which greeting enthused her de- 
 parture with her waiting nurse. 
 
 Mrs. Doyle rarely assisted at these little 
 ceremonies, although she was always sweetly 
 affable in meeting Benedict. The atmosphere 
 of the home was naturally a little strained, with 
 that minor element of loving expansion and 
 sincerity in the other two. Benedict was pressed 
 with immediate duties at his office and disap- 
 peared accordingly. His evenings he spent 
 chiefly at his work, " Higher Jurisprudence," 
 
 [363]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 until the late hour and physical weariness drew 
 him back to the deserted mansion. 
 
 It was then that the Atwood ladies, by a 
 strange irony of fate, came to the rescue. Angela 
 who had always felt a certain sympathy for 
 Helene, and Maud w r ho pretended to do so, 
 evolved the bright idea of inviting Mrs. Doyle 
 to spend the summer at their attractive home 
 in the Thousand Islands. Mrs. Doyle consented 
 after due deliberation, relishing the prospect of 
 living in absolute luxury, with motor-cars, motor- 
 launches, and servants at her disposal. 
 
 " I think it would really do me a world of 
 good, Helene; and you can get on very well 
 with the two maids and the housekeeper until 
 October." To which miraculous decision Helene 
 acquiesced with tremulous though solicitous 
 readiness. 
 
 The news of it was hailed with joy by the 
 clique of non-vacationists particularly concerned. 
 Sophie Hadley could not repress her indignant 
 merriment. 
 
 " Mrs. Doyle 's going to the Thousand Islands 
 [364]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 with the Atwoods ! Well, I '11 be humdrummed ! 
 Good riddance to the whole bunch of bad rub- 
 bish! It reminds me of that man, I read about 
 in the newspapers this morning newspaper 
 wit, you know whose wife was so nervously 
 prostrated after living with him three years that 
 she started out in quest of a quiet summer resort. 
 Meeting some friends in Philadelphia, she 
 telegraphed him: 
 
 " ' Dear, I 'm going to the Thousand Islands 
 with the Duffies.' 
 
 "He telegraphed back: 'All right, dearest, 
 stay at least a week in each island ! ' 
 
 " That 's what I 'd like to do with the whole 
 kit of them Atwoods and Mother Doyle. I 
 think that woman is the limit of endurance. 
 She'll be a sweet element in Benedict's and 
 Helene's home if they ever do make a match. 
 Old women like that can't be pleasant to live 
 with and ought to be summarily dealt with, like 
 those Eskimos that man lectured about last 
 winter at the Y. M. C. A." 
 
 "Oh, Sophie!" ejaculated Lucy, fearing she 
 [365]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 was in for a long story. ;c What Eskimos do 
 you mean?" 
 
 "Why, don't you remember? He said that 
 that part of Alaska was an ideal place for family 
 harmony. Mothers, grandmothers, and, worst of 
 all, old maids past sixty-five were cordially in- 
 vited to submit to the decrees of the land; that 
 is, to attire themselves in their best Sunday-go- 
 to-meeting gowns, and allow themselves to be 
 gently put to the quietus of all their earthly 
 woes by the sudden jerking of a slip noose 
 around the neck, in the presence of their as- 
 sembled families. Mothers Atwood and Doyle 
 ought to be progressively transported from each 
 one of the Thousand Islands to the land of those 
 Eskimos." 
 
 ' You had better be careful how you talk 
 about old ladies and old maids," warned Lucy, 
 assuming a smilingly reproachful look at her 
 elder sister. ' You might get to be one yourself, 
 if you live long enough," and Lucy dismissed 
 the subject from her own mind, feeling almost 
 sure that she would never be one herself. 
 
 [366]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " In this civilized land of Christianity, I would 
 limit the execution to the disagreeable ones, for 
 I 'm not an old maid ; and I never expect to be, 
 if that means that you have to grow old and 
 cranky and take a hateful and sour view of life. 
 Thank goodness, I can see the good and bright 
 or funny side of everything!" 
 
 And Sophie spoke the truth. 
 
 [367]
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 BENEDICT PAYS A RUDE PENALTY 
 
 " There was the Door to which I found no Key; 
 There was the Veil through which I might not see; 
 
 Some little talk a while of Me and Thee 
 There was and then no more of Thee and Me" 
 
 TO add to Benedict's cup of trouble, Ario 
 Dolliver, after a hard fight to reconcile his 
 life without his loved ones, gave up the struggle. 
 When Matilda died, life for him was robbed of 
 its last great attraction. He was content to turn 
 over to Benedict the bulk of his stupendous inter- 
 ests, knowing his trustworthiness, making him 
 co-sharer in all his wealth. They spent many 
 hours together, dissecting the various intricacies 
 of multitudinous " schemes." Mr. Dolliver's am- 
 bition had been unquenched, till the one who had 
 inspired it was no more. He wished to leave a 
 good fourth of his fortune to such public charities 
 
 [368]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 of the city as he endorsed. The remainder was 
 to be his granddaughter's, left in charge of the 
 father, who was to be chief executor of the will 
 and residuary legatee. Having thus prudently 
 and justly disposed of all his worldly goods, he 
 turned his thoughts to the transmutation of him- 
 self into the world to come. That there was 
 such a world he inwardly rejoiced in believing. 
 The ego, the great I Am, in him was as strong 
 as ever despite his broken human vesture. He 
 was not ready to stop doing; he would go on 
 working and loving in endless ages to come. 
 And in this exalted state of mind, he passed to 
 the long rest that would ultimately clothe him in 
 power and strength to attain the spiritual goal. 
 
 Benedict was intensely impressed by the 
 largesse of this plain, sober-minded, just man, 
 and his attitude towards the future. It was here 
 that Ario Dolliver exemplified Helene Doyle's 
 idea, that life is not "an eternal petrifaction." 
 Pie had not had the study and learning which 
 some of us require to give birth to these interpreta- 
 tions ; but he had in him the faith to do right and 
 
 [369]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 to mount to his worldly achievements by steps 
 that were honest and fair. Benedict felt more 
 humbled than grieved when he helped to bear his 
 father-in-law out of his home. He had felt the 
 influence of this strong, upright, always cheer- 
 ful nature upon himself. It reflected by con- 
 trast his own small, selfish views of the things 
 that had come to cross his pathway, his grief, 
 and the consequent loss of the bright, hopeful 
 spirit which Mr. Dolliver had never ceased to hold 
 in his presence. And it did much to restore his 
 own manhood. 
 
 It was not long after, that Benedict began to 
 consider more seriously his position as head of 
 a family with a child and a great fortune to 
 direct. His morose attitude toward himself and 
 the rest of the world was certainly not to be main- 
 tained indefinitely. Shortly after Ario left 
 him, he completed his book. His mind, cudgelled 
 by affliction, had given forth in his work the 
 best, the strongest, the most that it could render; 
 and it increased his sadness to feel that the one be- 
 ing who he had hoped would share its emoluments 
 
 [ S70 ]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 with him, was gone. He took up its pages, 
 fondly leafing them one by one. So many 
 memories were intertwined among those at its 
 beginning! He could not bear to part with 
 them. He dreaded to submit them, lest the pub- 
 lic who would read them might guess the tender 
 thoughts which had given them their first, most 
 powerful impulse. 
 
 One evening, as he sat in his now lonely 
 grandeur feeling very much as Mrs. Dolliver had 
 done in her first days of occupancy, he rose with 
 sudden decision, walked to the telephone and 
 called up the Philosopher. He was the gentle- 
 man who raised his hat in passing Helene Doyle's 
 residence. 
 
 He acted promptly on the summons, having 
 for Benedict that feeling of fellowship which 
 sometimes hold men together " through thick and 
 thin," as they express it. Benedict did not need, 
 but wanted his " pushing," to help him decide 
 the fate of his book. 
 
 'You are in a bad way, my dear fellow, to 
 bring me here for such a purpose. I 've never 
 
 [371]
 
 known you to be undecided before. Why don't 
 you stir yourself a little, and bring some life into 
 this house? Here you are living like a recluse 
 a man of your age! You have a child; that 
 child ought to be here ; she 'd liven you up pretty 
 quick, I'll wager." 
 
 At the mention of the child, Benedict nettled: 
 
 " How can I have her here with me alone? 
 She's grown fond of Helene. I can't take her 
 away, just yet, without causing trouble." 
 
 " Why don't you bring Helene here with her? " 
 asked the Philosopher, with a look in his eye that 
 pretended merriment, but was truly solicitous. 
 
 Benedict sighed. ' That 's another question," 
 he said, studying the falling of the ashes of his 
 cigar into the delicately worked Parisian tray. 
 " I have thought of it," he finally resumed. 
 
 " I 'm relieved, and glad to hear it," returned 
 the Philosopher, with firmness. " If you had n't 
 I don't know but what I might have." 
 
 "Hey?" queried Benedict, with a searching 
 look. 
 
 ' Yes," replied his friend, " if not in Helene's 
 [372]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 case, in some one's else," he went on encourag- 
 ingly. " It 's absurd for men of mind, like you 
 and me, to be fretting away their lives in lonely 
 celibacy ! A home is the thing a man needs, where 
 he can relax and be soothed by the gentle influence 
 of a woman, not of his own family." In his 
 home, somewhere down in the southern part of 
 West Virginia, he had sisters, maiden aunts, and 
 cousins numbering thirteen in the aggregate. 
 
 " I quite agree with you in your case," smiled 
 Benedict. " I Ve thought lately that you 've been 
 looking particularly spruced up and chirpy since 
 you Ve been frequenting the Hadleys'. Who is 
 it, Sophie?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then it 's Lucy, since she 's the only one left. 
 That's all right, my dear boy; go it lively. 
 You've got no time to waste." 
 
 " That 's the advice I had reserved for you," 
 quibbed his friend. They were the best of chums, 
 and sat till late discussing all sorts of domestic 
 felicity problems which, to the Philosopher, 
 savored of the freshness of novelty. 
 
 [373]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 When he took his departure, Benedict sat an 
 hour longer in his study making resumes of their 
 conversation. 
 
 He dropped the subject of his book and said, 
 "Why not take his advice?" 
 
 Another long siege of self -contemplation. Is 
 he still Benedict, the one blessed with all the gifts 
 that nature can bestow on one of its creatures, 
 and to be cheated at last ! The idea looms before 
 him, like a haunting menace. Despite his incon- 
 solable state he thinks he will turn to Helene again. 
 His long friendship, her devotion to his child, 
 her care and thought for him, have failed to in- 
 spire for her any emotion save gratitude. Yet 
 he is willing to stake his happiness on so stable 
 and sound a feeling. 
 
 He has reached a stage of maturity in excess 
 of his actual years. He has acquired the habit 
 of unvarying seriousness. His smile is rare; for 
 he is considering the feasibility of a marriage 
 with Helene. Everything seems to point to it 
 as the best, most natural thing for him to do. 
 Of course, he cannot offer her a place in his 
 
 [874]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 heart such as Matilda held, but he will offer her 
 fidelity, a high appreciation of her many superior 
 qualities. More than that, he would raise her to 
 a position of affluence and wealth far more suited 
 to her mental qualifications than the life of pen- 
 ury she was used to, resulting from the daily 
 complexities arising fiom the insufficiency of 
 her exchequer. He judged, therefore, that 
 Helene would be highly pleased with his mature 
 and carefully deliberated proposal. 
 
 In this complacent frame of mind he walked 
 one blustering morning early in March to have 
 his interview with Helene. She was not sur- 
 prised to see him, owing to his custom of visit- 
 ing them at that hour, and received him with 
 her usual smiling serenity. 
 
 There was a slight touch of embarrassment in 
 his manner as he seated himself. He did not 
 quite know how to broach the subject which had 
 been discarded by them seven years before. 
 
 "I have come, Helene," he said, at length, 
 "to renew the proposition I made to you some 
 time ago. You will recall that when you refused 
 
 [375]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 to consider it, under existing circumstances, I 
 said, little dreaming of the subsequent happen- 
 ings, that I did not mean to drop it; I am here 
 now for that purpose." 
 
 Helene had trained herself to speak to him 
 without emotion. She looked at him, feeling the 
 utter lack of it in him. 
 
 " Tell me your proposition, Benedict. I will 
 hear it gladly if it is anything by which I can 
 aid you." 
 
 "It is," he returned, showing slight irritation 
 at the placid manner in which she received his 
 words. He had said once to the Philosopher, 
 during the past five years, that Helene some- 
 times was " aggravatingly calm." 
 
 " Because you are aggravatingly delinquent," 
 his friend had retorted. So he waited a moment 
 before he resumed. 
 
 " You have already helped me so much that I 
 am bold enough to ask you to continue your 
 most estimable assistance by consenting to be- 
 come my wife. You have taken care of my 
 child for nearly five years, you have won her 
 
 [376]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 affection and confidence; and it is time for her 
 to come to me. How else can we arrange mat- 
 ters, so that we may go on in the same amicable, 
 peaceful way restore my daughter's life to a 
 more normal condition; insure your comfort and 
 well-being for life ; and afford me a home, where 
 I may daily relax from the strain of mental labor 
 and be soothed by the influence you have always 
 exerted more or less over me." 
 
 She looked at him as he sat there, so coldly 
 indifferent. His words unnerved her. His very 
 attitude kindled the spark of her long-smothered 
 resentment and indignation. She rose to address 
 him. 
 
 "You come to me, Benedict, to ask me, in 
 plain words, to take charge of your house, to con- 
 tinue nurturing your child, and make your home 
 a dolce far niente where you may find peace and 
 rest to your mental labors. Forsooth, how 
 soon we tire of our dumb treasures, and cease 
 to find in them the joy forever which ends in 
 joyless satiety! No woman is willing to accept 
 a man who is ready to give what you offer with 
 
 [377]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 no other return but 'high appreciation.' I hold 
 at too great a value my sense of self-respect and 
 justice to accede to your proposition under such 
 conditions." 
 
 Her gray eyes grew darker and more pene- 
 trating, her cheek flushed lightly, her hands were 
 cold, and the conventional smile evaporated into 
 thin air by the ardor of her words. 
 
 ' You offer me a comfortable position in your 
 Home. I am poor, you have intimated it, 
 but not so poor as to forget my dignity and my 
 rights." 
 
 Benedict stared at her in utter amaze. He was 
 more stupefied than at any of the calamities he 
 had been through. 
 
 'You are offended because I do not offer 
 you love the love I still cherish for Matilda? 
 Then you are jealous! Jealous of her memory," 
 retorted Benedict, quick to feel the contagion of 
 her displeasure. "You pretended to be her 
 friend! Helene, you must know " 
 
 She stayed him with her extended hand, inter- 
 rupting him. 
 
 [378]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " Let me speak, I will soon have done. There 
 was no pretence; I loved Matilda and you knew 
 it. You have taken advantage of that love; and 
 have no cause to blame me, I think, for the man- 
 ner in which I have honored her memory. I 
 have watched over you and shared your sorrow, 
 I have given you all my sympathy, even my love, 
 unsolicited you might as well know it, now 
 that you have killed it and have tried to do her 
 wishes in every particular, to make atonement." 
 
 " Not altogether," broke in Travis. " You 
 must have known the ultimate result that her 
 wish implied! It is the principal reason why I 
 am here to-day; to fulfil her wishes to the very 
 end. She may have guessed your feelings to- 
 ward me and charged you with the sacred trust, 
 her child, in compensation for what she had 
 robbed you of! But it is I who am robbed, since 
 you say your interest in me now is dead." 
 
 Helene again put out her hand as if to check 
 his cruel words. Her face and lips were white, 
 the only signs that betrayed the conflict in her 
 heart. 
 
 [379]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 " Let me speak," she commanded. "It is you 
 who have provoked it. Don't make it harder for 
 me to do what I must. Matilda never knew my 
 feelings toward you till that last day I spoke 
 with her. I have sought to repair my fault by 
 my devotion to her child, to you; but now, I 
 know what you are capable of. You cling to a 
 fading memory a ghost of the past and 
 ignore the vital obligation of the present!" 
 
 Helene's words stung him long after he had 
 left her. He merely said, 
 
 " If you have finished accusing me of malice, 
 selfishness, and all uncharitableness, I will wish 
 you good-morning." 
 
 Helene inclined her head and watched him till 
 he had passed out of the door. It would have 
 been difficult for her to control herself after this 
 scene, if, fresh upon his footsteps, little Helen 
 had not come running to her and embraced her 
 fondly. Helene was glad of this opportunity 
 to reassume her all-covering smile. It was par- 
 ticularly tender now. At the same moment Mrs. 
 Doyle entered. 
 
 [380]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 "We have been waiting luncheon for you," 
 said she, and gave her a scrutinizing look. 
 " Come, you and little Helen, without further 
 demonstration." 
 
 They entered the dining-room. The maid had 
 disappeared for Miss Doyle's lunch. 
 
 " Little Helen, run up and fetch Mrs. Doyle's 
 glasses, which were left on the reading-table in 
 my room. I forgot them in coming down." 
 
 The child rose from the table to execute the 
 command. During her absence, the mother 
 hastily inquired of Helene: 
 
 " What was all that excited talk about between 
 you and Benedict? At first, it looked to me as 
 if he had come to renew his proposal." 
 
 " He did; and he was angered at my refusal." 
 
 ' You refused him, Helene ! How dared 
 
 you!" 
 
 Mrs. Doyle was quite agitated and dropped 
 her fork. 
 
 By this time the little girl and the waitress 
 returned, the one to pick up the fork and supply 
 another, and the little girl to say she could n't find 
 
 [381 ]
 
 Mrs. Doyle's glasses anywhere, when sud- 
 denly the poor bewildered lady found them in her 
 pocket. 
 
 The luncheon progressed in silence and Sty- 
 gian gloom, occasionally relieved by some bright 
 remark of little Helen. After lunch, she and 
 Auntie went to sit at one of the front windows, as 
 was their custom ; for it was Friday afternoon and 
 Helen had been promised a promenade in the 
 park with her nurse soon after the noon-day meal. 
 They were renewing their vows of love and 
 fidelity. 
 
 "I will always love you better than any one 
 else in the world," Helen said. Helene had been 
 trying to prepare her for the separation. 
 
 " If I must go and live with my father with- 
 out you, I shall never learn to like him. When 
 he came out of this house to-day, I met him at 
 the door. He did not look at me at all. I am 
 glad. He looked so very cross and sour!" 
 
 Helene buried her head in the child's curls in 
 another embrace to hide her own resentment. 
 
 [382]
 
 
 She bound his head with the veil she tore from her hat
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 Just then Benedict's car went past at furious 
 speed. 
 
 " There he goes! " cried the child. " He 's go- 
 ing so fast, I hope the policeman will catch him 
 and lock him up in the jail. I will be glad I" 
 
 Helene did not hear the words. Instinctively 
 her head turned to the window. She saw him 
 passing them, his face set and determined, looking 
 neither to the right nor left. It showed the same 
 angry look it had worn when he had left her 
 nearly two hours before. His indifference to 
 them both was boundless. 
 
 A sudden impulse seized her. She gave the 
 child into the nurse's hands; there was no re- 
 straining her. She flew to the telephone; by a 
 lucky coincidence she called for the garage. 
 
 "Quick, Capet; I want the speediest machine 
 you have in your garage." 
 
 " The speediest machine, mademoiselle, is al- 
 ready in use. M. Traveesse has it." 
 
 "I know I've just seen him pass; the next 
 best, then, I want to catch up with him." 
 
 [383]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 M. Capet obeyed orders promptly. By the 
 time Helene had snatched her hat and cloak, 
 he was at the door. She mounted, urging him 
 on. There was no time for explanations. They 
 must follow him. All she said was, 
 
 "Ou est Halle?" 
 
 ' Villo Brook, mademoiselle." 
 
 "Fly!" she returned. 
 
 They both knew they had a ''sweating race" 
 before them even to catch a glimpse of his car. 
 Capet knew the road well. He had taken Mon- 
 sieur to Willow Brook numerous times. At last 
 he recognized the leading machine just disap- 
 pearing behind a hill on the horizon. He re- 
 doubled his speed till they came to the top of that 
 hill, when, looking down, they beheld a ghastly 
 sight. The car having run too close to the edge 
 of the steep embankment, had lunged down the 
 declivity forty or fifty feet. 
 
 Helene rushed to the scene. She found Bene- 
 dict lying many feet from his murderous machine, 
 his head gashed and bleeding. She raised his 
 head upon her lap and bound his wound with the 
 
 [384]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 veil she tore from her hat, then with her hand- 
 kerchief, and his, till the wrappings refused to 
 stanch the blood streaming from the cut. 
 
 In the meantime Capet had rushed back for 
 the nearest assistance. When he returned, 
 Helene was still bending over Benedict. He had 
 partially regained consciousness, and could hear 
 her heart throbs close to his ear. His eyes 
 opened ; he saw her looking down at him. 
 
 "Helene," he gasped, "always near in time 
 of need," and relapsed again into unconscious- 
 ness. They took him to his own home; he was 
 too far from the other. Physicians were sum- 
 moned, surgeons, nurses, all the paraphernalia 
 necessary to an accident in a rich man's house. 
 Helene remained to know the result. A thorough 
 examination had to be made. He was seriously 
 hurt; but the wound need not prove fatal. 
 
 [385]
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 HELENE EXPERIENCES A REACTION 
 
 " Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate 
 I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate, 
 
 And many a Knot unravel 'd by the Road; 
 But not the Master-knot of Human Fate" 
 
 WHEN Benedict left the Doyle resi- 
 dence after his sudden and unexpected 
 disappointment, his mind teemed with accusa- 
 tions against her who had planned such an assault 
 upon him. He was stunned and stupefied by 
 it. Helene, of all women, who had posed as his 
 friend all these years, and then at the crisis when 
 he needed her most, to fail him! He now mis- 
 interpreted all she had said to him and magnified 
 his injury in his own eyes. He was totally blind 
 to the errors in his conduct which she attacked, 
 and thought himself blameless and therefore 
 deeply injured. The more he thought of it, the 
 
 [386]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 more he felt the sense of its injustice. He was 
 fast nearing a mood bordering on desperation, 
 when he finally reached his home. 
 
 He sat down to his mid-day meal in a mood 
 surpassing that of his friends left lunching at 
 the same hour. He took but little food, and 
 comported himself generally in a nervous, irrit- 
 able manner utterly unbecoming his lately 
 acquired dignity. He rang for M. Capet, his 
 Paris chauffeur. 
 
 "Bring the French car around at half -past 
 two; I '11 take a run out to Willow Brook." 
 
 On the minute Capet was at the porte-cochere, 
 and stepped down lightly to open the door for 
 Benedict. 
 
 " Clear out of that steering seat; I '11 take that 
 myself," Benedict said, feeling that he would 
 welcome the lashing wind and freezing rain he 
 would have to encounter. Capet looked sur- 
 prised and disappointed. 
 
 "Shall I not conduct Monsieur?" he asked, 
 incredulously. 
 
 "No, Capet; I go alone." 
 [387]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 He leaped to the front seat, grasped the steer- 
 ing gear and set his face to the wind, desperate, 
 daring, and defiant. 
 
 It was in this mood that he passed Helene and 
 the little girl at the window. He seemed con- 
 scious of them as he went by for he made an 
 effort to accelerate his speed and his look of 
 defiance was intensified. 
 
 He soon reached the open fields beyond the 
 smoky city and immediately felt better. As if 
 in response to his ameliorated mood, the storm 
 ceased and a lurid sun broke through the heavy 
 clouds. He checked his pace to take in the win- 
 try scene, but hearing another car behind him 
 he looked back. It was then that he made 
 his disastrous run. 
 
 When that memorable day was finally past 
 and Helene reached her home late at night, 
 through the courtesy of this same Monsieur 
 Capet, it was a great relief to find the house- 
 hold sound asleep, uninformed yet, she hoped, 
 of what had happened. She went straight to 
 her room, glad of the opportunity to be alone. 
 
 [388]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 A crisis, a sudden appeal to one's affections, acts 
 as a powerful stimulant to one's activities. 
 Nothing but her quick, correct decision had 
 saved the accident from fatality. 
 
 Once in the seclusion of her own room her feel- 
 ings of the morning experienced a complete re- 
 vulsion. 
 
 What had she done! She had taunted him, 
 and reproached him for disregarding the love he 
 had never known, bringing the first angry 
 flame to his eyes, while she had been the only 
 one in the wrong. She had censured him for the 
 true, loyal nature that made him cling to the 
 memory of his first love! She had wrung from 
 him the cruel words, " Then you are jealous of 
 the love I still cherish for Matilda! " Oh, how 
 would he judge her now! now that he was 
 prostrated and suffering through her selfish 
 justification and pride. 
 
 The anguish of her remorse, she felt, her 
 burning tears would never wash away. For by 
 her own act, she had brought separation from 
 the child and from him. Her mad race to rescue 
 
 [389 ]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 him did not count at all. In his wounded and 
 bewildered state, he had spoken to her kindly. 
 When he should recover, he would remember the 
 scene and despise her. Shocked by the sight of 
 him lying there helpless and hurt, all her resent- 
 ment had taken wings. She remembered only 
 the happy-hearted youth who had filled her 
 sombre girlhood with the only brightness she had 
 ever known. 
 
 Far into the night she thought and prayed, 
 while the recording angel above shed tears of 
 pity for them both. 
 
 Benedict's physical injury was not a serious 
 one. He suffered more from the long period 
 of mental gloom, coupled with the continuous 
 strain of hard mental labor. The blow had been 
 deep enough to touch some sensitive nerve in the 
 vicinity of the cerebellum, and a peculiar dis- 
 turbance was created throughout his whole 
 nervous system. 
 
 The wound itself gradually healed, but the 
 mind did not ; for he was succumbing to a general 
 relaxation of the nervous tissues, commonly 
 
 [390]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 known as nervous prostration. The accident had 
 hastened, but not brought on the condition. 
 
 Every day Helene made inquiries regarding 
 him. In the course of two months his general 
 health functions were sound; but the ravages 
 done to the mind could not be restored in so 
 short a time. The moment he left his bed, he 
 began to evince symptoms of mental derange- 
 ment. He sat for hours in one place, showing 
 no desire to take his share in the joy-giving 
 activities that make life worth while. He shrank 
 from human society other than his father and 
 mother, and his brilliant flow of words was com- 
 pletely hushed. Such a perverted state of the 
 human mind as led men, in the olden days, to 
 monastic seclusion, as being the only solace to 
 their injured feelings; a sudden distaste for all 
 things human and natural, such as drove the 
 monks into caves and deserted localities with the 
 warped and fanciful notion that they were bene- 
 fiting the world by exiling themselves from it, 
 settled upon him. 
 
 To be thus struck down in the flush of ardent 
 [391]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 manhood; to have his sunny nature shrouded in 
 this veil of mental darkness, seemed to Helene 
 Doyle a tragedy. In May, his physicians advised 
 him to be transported to Willow Brook. There 
 the sight of budding nature, of sweet familiar ob- 
 jects, the open sweep of pure countiy air, would 
 accomplish his final recovery. This was the ver- 
 dict given by Dr. Wintchell, the famous nerve 
 specialist of New York and Baltimore, two cities 
 between which he divided his time. The other 
 doctors shook their heads and doubted. Benedict 
 himself chose to agree with them. But the great 
 apostle of the present-day science and humanity 
 had made the statement and himself firmly be- 
 lieved in it. 
 
 Benedict obeyed and went to the home of his 
 parents. He was in that state of mental weak- 
 ness that made it impossible for him to resist. 
 He accepted the fact surlily, but uncomplain- 
 ingly, as he would have the calamity of losing his 
 physical sight, or hearing, admitting no possi- 
 bility of rehabilitation, and submitted to it obedi- 
 ently with the coldness of enforced philosophy. 
 
 [392]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 He bore his burden silently but manfully, hard 
 as it was to live under it. 
 
 Benedict lived in this condition of self -incar- 
 ceration for three months. He took pleasure in 
 nothing, and had to be urged by those who had 
 right to command him to enjoy the simple 
 pleasures and benefits of life in a beautiful 
 country home. 
 
 Poor Helene had all she could do to retain her 
 habitual placidity after the accident. She felt 
 sure of his safety now, and hoped for his ulti- 
 mate recovery; but that time for her was 
 fraught with the anguish of recollection. No 
 one knew what words had passed between 
 them during that wretched interview ; and Helene 
 held her peace. She lived in continual dread 
 of the time when he should be reinstated to sound 
 mind and judgment by the perfect readjust- 
 ment of his physical nature, through the wisdom 
 and science of the great physician who had 
 predicted his complete recovery. 
 
 How would Benedict regard her when that 
 time came? She had sought to tear down his 
 
 [393]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 idol of five years, the spoken testimony of his 
 loyal, steadfast fidelity to his first love. He 
 would never forgive her. And she must go 
 on living and loving, without hope, passing her 
 days in the remembrance only of his earlier sin- 
 cerity; like one who is resigned but who has lost 
 a fair illusion. 
 
 The only compensation left her now was that 
 of retaining the child for an indefinite period 
 longer. She found comfort in their mutual love 
 and sorrow for him in his present condition. 
 Helene had explained to her what had hap- 
 pened to her father, and how very ill he had been 
 and still was. Her own genuine grief in relating 
 the circumstance had the effect of changing, with 
 the lightning swiftness of youthful minds, the 
 little girl's former attitude towards her father to 
 one of genuine sorrow and solicitude. She spoke 
 of him frequently, and longed to go and pet him 
 as soon as he was well enough. 
 
 Thus the days dragged wearily enough for 
 him and those whose affection he had always 
 retained. His old friends were all anxious 
 
 [394]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 about him and plied Helene with questions con- 
 cerning him. She always affirmed that he was 
 better and improving every day, and he was, 
 though the change was well nigh imperceptible. 
 She wished them all to hold for him that posi- 
 tive thought of certainty. Her own thought 
 was so charged with the vitalizing power of love 
 that it was fruitful and effective; it became the 
 hidden, silent current, adding its force to his 
 recovery, all the more potent because of its 
 subtlety. 
 
 It was about this time that the Philosopher, 
 knowing of the long waiting, took matters into 
 his own hand and went to New York to interview 
 his own publishers. 
 
 " I 've brought you this book; it 's been lying in 
 wait far too long. Don't be alarmed," he said, 
 when he showed them the bulk of it, "it's not 
 mine," he added laughing. "It 's young Travis's 
 great book. I thought you 'd be glad to take a 
 look at it." 
 
 "We are, indeed, Mr. Donnithorn, we shall 
 be very happy to give it our prompt attention 
 
 [395]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 and let you know our decision in a very few 
 days." 
 
 The Philosopher gave them a sly wink, adding, 
 'You may call yourself lucky to have had the 
 first chance at it!" as he departed. The third 
 day after his visit to them he received a note 
 saying they would be pleased to see him in regard 
 to Mr. Benedict Travis's book. They knew 
 Mr. Donnithorn as Benedict's best friend, and 
 were ready to arrange with him immediately and 
 draw up a contract. The Philosopher answered 
 by telephone. 
 
 "Look here; to the deuce with your contract, 
 don't bother about it. Go ahead and put out 
 the book ; he '11 not kick about your terms, I '11 
 answer for that. My conscience, he didn't do 
 it to add to his millions ! Rush it out, I say ; and 
 surprise him with it when he wakes up from his 
 lethargy." 
 
 So that matter was settled and the Philosopher 
 gave it no more thought. 
 
 Then came the usual exodus of summer 
 resorters. The Atwoods, with Mrs. Doyle under 
 
 [396]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 their wing, took their flight to the Thousand 
 Islands early in May. Others followed their 
 example, and very soon the social element of the 
 city which remained was more relieved than 
 sorry by their absence. Sophie Hadley was the 
 one who struck the first note of rejoicing. 
 
 "Isn't it splendid to have Mrs. Doyle out of 
 the way for six months! It will give Helene a 
 good rest, at least," she remarked to Edith, who 
 had dropped in for a call, on her way to town. 
 Sophie was pottering around at half a dozen dif- 
 ferent things; Lucy was sitting in the reading 
 section of the " front room," serenely embroider- 
 ing " L. H. " upon some new fine damask table 
 napkins. 
 
 "It's a great pity they didn't take Helene 
 along also, after the shock she 's had this year," 
 Edith remarked. 
 
 " Helene would never have gone," interposed 
 Lucy. "Besides, she is too much interested in 
 Benedict's recovery to have put such a distance 
 between them." 
 
 "Well, Edith!" said Sophie, ignoring Lucy's 
 [397]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 remark. ' You remind me of a woman I used to 
 know, by that speech of yours." 
 
 "What woman?" asked Mrs. Rasburn, know- 
 ing some entertainment was coming. 
 
 "Well, she just couldn't look a real benefit 
 in the face without giving it a slap sideways. 
 She got a huge box of extra fine oranges from 
 a dear friend in Florida. When she opened it, 
 she exclaimed : ' Oh, is n't it a pity there are n't 
 a few grape-fruit in it!' Nothing for that 
 woman was ever so good that there wasn't 
 something 'too bad' about it." 
 
 "I hope that won't be the case with you, 
 Sophie dear. By the way, how is your friend, 
 the widower?" 
 
 " I have n't heard or seen anything of him for 
 six weeks. We're having what you used to call 
 f reldche ' at the French theatres, when there 
 was c nothing doing ' in them." 
 
 Edith laughed, and Lucy, whose maidenly 
 hopes were nearing consummation, piped up 
 again. 
 
 " Sophie, if you would devote yourself to 
 [398]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 writing that long-talked-of novel, as assiduously 
 as you do to those long letters you write to your 
 friend, I 'm sure you 'd made a grand success of 
 it ! Then, perhaps, you 'd be content with your 
 old friend 'Eterno' and let the other one go; 
 since you say you are only encouraging him 
 through fear of being left alone. You could 
 come and live with us. You would never need to 
 be alone except when you chose to be," suggested 
 Lucy, who was always trying to arrange matters 
 for those who couldn't look to them themselves. 
 
 Sophie had now reached that most attractive 
 age of woman when she assumes all things with 
 a quiet acceptance that is positively soothing. 
 She was not much older in heart or actions, but 
 she had attained the inevitable contour of avoir- 
 dupois which classed her among the " fair, fat, 
 and forty." She always declared she would 
 never be an " old maid " in the common accepta- 
 tion of the term. 
 
 "I have no wrinkles, except those around my 
 eyes from laughing. A woman of forty odd 
 years odd is good, it 's nice and stretchy 
 
 [399]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 is ready for any career. She is at the height of 
 her mental, physical, and moral perfection. She 's 
 more 'settled,' as Lottie calls it. She's not on 
 the everlasting hunt for the not impossible 'he.' 
 I gave up all hopes of matrimony long ago. All 
 I want for a husband is my indelibly blue pencil. 
 He is sometimes called 'Eterno.' That's the 
 very best qualification for a husband; no danger 
 of a divorce! The more you use him, the better 
 he serves you." 
 
 Sophie's original philosophy was one of her 
 most attractive traits. She won everybody by 
 it and her generous heart. And who shall say 
 that when her forty years were odd enough, she 
 did not succumb to the wiles and fascinations of 
 a comfortable widower who needed the compan- 
 ionship of just such a wife, and who recognized 
 in her the very thing he was looking for a 
 woman with an inexhaustible fund of good 
 nature; practical and sensible, coupled with a 
 droll interpretation of every phase of life ; withal 
 surprisingly entertaining? 
 
 [400]
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 HELENE DOYLE EXPECTS THE WORSE,, AND MEETS 
 THE BEST 
 
 "Ah Love! could thou and I with Him conspire 
 To grasp this sorry Scheme of Things entire, 
 Would not we shatter it to bits and then, 
 Re-mould it nearer to the Heart's Desire!" 
 
 SUMMER advanced and the imperceptible 
 change in Benedict deepened, hour by hour, 
 day by day. He was truly convalescing and his 
 recuperating condition manifested itself in un- 
 mistakable symptoms. His recovery now became 
 a fact; but as simple as when two magnetic 
 needles drop to opposite poles. His love of life 
 returned. He viewed with gentle pleasure the 
 serious business of mature birds with their 
 families; the harvesting of golden wheat, and 
 the look of satisfaction on the bright young faces 
 of some of the reapers. Life, indeed, was worth 
 
 [401]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 the tussle he and that good man, Dr. Wintchell, 
 had made for it. 
 
 One day in July the doctor came to see him 
 and found him much improved. He said : 
 
 "Do not take up mental labor just yet; go, 
 rather, into your fields and make hay; pile it up 
 into fantastic stacks. I have seen some that look 
 like Chinese pagodas. Earn your daily bread 
 by the sweat of your brow; become the primeval 
 man for one year. It will refresh and strengthen 
 you, build up your renewed nerve force, and add 
 ten years to your life. Then you will be ready 
 for anything, a Superior Court judgeship, a 
 presidential campaign anything that requires 
 tough endurance." 
 
 Benedict did not take the whole of his physi- 
 cian's advice; but he liked it and profited by it. 
 He was never intended for anything but a 
 "gentleman farmer." His mind was too keen, 
 too deeply concerned with the solving of 
 life's great problems. Therefore, disregarding 
 Dr. Wintchell's advice, he began to think; but 
 his were not now the tense thoughts of strenuous 
 
 [402]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 mental labor; they were thoughts that came to 
 him spontaneously; tender thoughts that sent 
 thrills of pleasurable emotions through his entire 
 system. He realized that budding joy is a vital- 
 izer; that the love he felt in his heart for all 
 things was worth more than all the tonics of the 
 old century's quacks. 
 
 These natural, inherent sentiments paved the 
 way for others that were still higher and more 
 vital. He thought of his child! 
 
 One morning some days previous to the doctor's 
 visit, a letter had come to him. It was from little 
 Helen. It spoke of her tender solicitude for his 
 health, and of her wish to come soon to play with 
 him, and pet him. At the foot of the page, below 
 her signature, Helen Dolliver Travis, was this 
 important postscript: 
 
 " I am very sorry I said I hoped the policeman 
 would lock you up in the jail. I told Aunt 
 Helene I was. But she said it was not enough, 
 and that I must say it to you ; so here it is." 
 
 When Benedict read it, he broke into a shout of 
 laughter in spite of the moisture brought to his 
 
 [403]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 eyes by the first part of the letter. It was the 
 first time he had laughed in three months, and his 
 mother came out to learn the cause of it. He 
 handed her the letter and said : 
 
 ' You had better ask Helene to bring her out 
 for the Summer. I would like to get acquainted 
 with the child. A few months of this life would 
 do them both good." 
 
 Mrs. Travis hailed this new and promising 
 symptom, and forthwith sat down to write Helene 
 Doyle an urgent letter to come and bring the little 
 girl for the remaining time. She ended her letter 
 by saying that in the Fall, if Benedict was well 
 enough, the three could go back to the city, much 
 benefited by the outing. 
 
 Helene read the letter over and over several 
 times. She was alone now, and could take time 
 to nurse her much-wounded sentiment whenever 
 she chose. She pondered over it all one after- 
 noon, even while performing her other duties, 
 and in the evening when she and little Helen sat 
 down to dinner, she said, smilingly : 
 
 " How would you like it, dear, to go to Grand- 
 [404]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 mamma's to-morrow, and stay the rest of the 
 Summer? " 
 
 "Oh!" cried the child, in a burst of gleeful 
 hand -clapping, " and you go too, Aunt Helene?" 
 
 ' Yes ; after a time. I could not go for so long. 
 There is too much to do at home ; besides, Grand- 
 mamma would tire of such prolonged visitors. It 
 is quite right for you to go. Willow Brook is 
 your other home. Perhaps, towards the end of 
 the Summer, I may go for a week." 
 
 " That will be nice," said little Helen. " Then 
 you will come to bring me back to this home." 
 
 The child had formed the habit of accepting 
 whatever Aunt Helene said as the most proper 
 and safest course for any one's conduct. So it 
 happened that the next day little Helen went to 
 Willow Brook with her nurse in the repaired 
 French car, once more restored to M. Capet's 
 directorship. 
 
 When the little girl left, Helene felt that this 
 was truly the end of all things for her. She went 
 straight to her room to have it out with herself, 
 and force herself to accept with equanimity the 
 
 [405]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 conditions which she, by her own act, had incur- 
 red. For the first time in her life, she neglected 
 some of her daily duties. She did not scan the 
 Baltimore Sun, which contained two items of 
 peculiar interest to herself. One was the an- 
 nouncement of Benedict's book, which would 
 appear during the latter part of August. The 
 other was a statement concerning Mr. Atwood 
 in regard to the loss of more than two-thirds of 
 his fortune. 
 
 This last piece of intelligence, when it came to 
 her, turned the tide of her own emotions to the im- 
 mediate consequences of the catastrophe. 
 
 She spent the remainder of the day writing to 
 her mother, also to Angela. Her mind, a furnace 
 of activity, tried to decide the probable sub- 
 sequent movements of the family. Her chief 
 concern was: Would their return interfere with 
 her plan for spending a week at Willow Brook 
 at the end of August? The Atwood ladies 
 decided to remain, as she learned the same 
 week, until nearly the end of October. It 
 would take them at least till then to readjust 
 
 [406]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 themselves and their lives to the humiliating pro- 
 cedure of returning to Baltimore in an impover- 
 ished condition. 
 
 Helene breathed more freely when she received 
 the letter from her mother. She did not wish to 
 disappoint Mrs. Travis. She wished to grant 
 them a week simply to fulfil a duty and her 
 promise to little Helen. The thought of going 
 even then filled her with more dread than hopeful- 
 ness. She was now convinced in her own mind 
 that the week spent there would close the one 
 chapter of her life that might have held some joy 
 for her if she had not nipped it in the bud by her 
 own arrogant self -righteousness and pride. 
 
 As she was sitting in the library, to have a quiet 
 moment to herself, Lucy Hadley walked in. 
 She had come for a confidential talk about her 
 forthcoming marriage with Mr. Donnithorn. 
 Dear little Lucy ! Helene was always willing and 
 ready to talk with her upon any subject, and this 
 one was uppermost in Lucy's tender heart. 
 
 "And yours will be next," she added with a 
 knowing smile. Helene's smile froze to the 
 
 [407]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 nipping intensity of the freezing-point, as she 
 replied, with a faint sigh: 
 
 " My dear girl, you have not the faintest con- 
 ception of how wide of the mark your words are." 
 
 Lucy looked surprised and shocked, but did 
 not venture to ask for an explanation. 
 
 In the course of the conversation, Helene 
 spoke of her mother's letter telling of the Atwood 
 ladies' decision not to return to Baltimore until 
 late in the Fall. Lucy, who had also read of the 
 affair in the newspaper that day, was glad to hear 
 it; she felt truly sorry for them. 
 
 Helene was so disturbed that she could not 
 sleep after she went to bed; not, at least, till the 
 bitterness of her grief had been washed away by 
 the burning tears that fell from her eyes. 
 
 The "decline and faU off" of the Atwood 
 tyranny, as Sophie expressed it, was spread 
 throughout the State of Maryland, where Mr. 
 Atwood was well known. Almost every one 
 thought kindly of him, for he had been the victim 
 of some villain's treachery. 
 
 Another month went by, and Benedict's book 
 [408]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 was in the market. Helene watched for every bit 
 of comment on it and garnered them all faith- 
 fully in the rich portfolio of her retentive mind. 
 
 At the same time, the Travis household was 
 mightily stirred up by the event. Father Travis, 
 reading of it in his morning paper, stormed up to 
 his son, who looked brightened and pleased by 
 the news his father brought. 
 
 That same afternoon the Philosopher came 
 bringing the first volume, bound in familiar legal 
 calf. 
 
 Altogether the day was fraught with promise 
 and hope of better things. Before retiring that 
 night, Benedict kissed and fondled little Helen 
 in a way that completely won her heart. 
 
 As he lay thinking, the scene of his rescue 
 flashed vividly upon his mind. There he was in 
 the face of death, sudden, terrifying, appalling, 
 death for which he had once longed. He did 
 not know how dearly he loved life until now. He 
 recognized the new-born feeling in his heart as 
 nothing more nor less than love itself; love for 
 those who had rescued him to life; love for his 
 
 [409]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 child whom he was now privileged to keep; love 
 for the woman who had not only been the first one 
 to check the flow of his ebbing life, but who had 
 instilled into his daughter all the fundamental 
 qualities of her own mind, gentleness, the 
 purity of truth, and loving fealty to himself. He 
 felt that within the last two months he had liter- 
 ally been falling in love with his child, and that 
 he was not ashamed of its outward manifestation. 
 He acknowledged only to himself, however, that 
 the feeling in his heart rose to the sublime height 
 of human joy when he thought of Helene. 
 
 The change that had come over his life, as he 
 felt its complete renewal, found him void of the 
 poignant emotions that had held him in bondage 
 so long. They faded from his memory like the 
 scales of a loathsome disease. And it was under 
 that compelling impulse that he had asked his 
 mother to invite Helene. 
 
 He spent much time in quiet but smiling 
 cogitation. His mind reverted to his college days 
 when he had steeped himself in the great poets, 
 Dante, Catullus, Shakespeare, Milton. One day 
 
 [410]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 after reading " Paradise Lost," and the canto on 
 Man's First Disobedience, he had himself blos- 
 somed into verse. It came to his mind at this time 
 with all the freshness of its first spontaneity. 
 But he thought also how applicable to my own 
 case now! 
 
 THE RE-AWAKENING 
 
 High on the throne of my exalted mind, 
 
 I look above where mountains kiss the sky, 
 
 I dream of an eternal day; 
 
 The conflict o'er, the battle done, 
 
 Of sorrow vanquished, victories won! 
 
 The past enshrouded in the mist, 
 
 Sinks far below my rising sun ; 
 
 The morning breaks, my spirit wakes, 
 
 Lo, I behold the King's pathway! 
 
 " Not such tremendous poetry, but the idea is 
 all right," he said, and settled himself to await 
 patiently for he had learned the lesson of 
 patience until the time of Helene's coming. 
 
 Things have such a way of working themselves 
 around for the best, at times, in this world. It 
 seemed as if everything had veered auspiciously 
 to bring about Helene's visit. Mrs. Travis, her- 
 self growing impatient, called up Helene on the 
 
 [411]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 telephone. " Do come now, the month is waning 
 rapidly, and we are having such gorgeous full 
 moonlight nights. Little Helen is longing for 
 a sight of her Aunt Helene, and we all want 
 you!" 
 
 Helene promised to start the next morning 
 under the guardianship of Monsieur Capet. 
 
 The little girl clapped her hands with glee. 
 
 " Oh, I cannot wait till morning," she said at 
 the supper table when she heard of it. 
 
 "You must, my daughter," said Benedict. 
 " You are not the only one who has been waiting." 
 
 She was so in the habit of obeying that she re- 
 signed herself at once. 
 
 "Father, is Aunt Helene any relation to us?" 
 
 " None whatever." 
 
 The child thought a moment. 
 
 " Well, I don't care if she is n't. She acts and 
 talks to me like one! " 
 
 " There 's no telling how soon she may be," put 
 in the Major, with a twinkling eye. 
 
 "Now, Father Travis," w r arned his wife, 
 " don't try tc force anything. Let love affairs as 
 
 [412]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 well as everything else take their own natural 
 course." 
 
 The next morning they were all up bright and 
 early to receive and to welcome the visitor. It 
 was Benedict himself who went alone to meet her 
 at the gate. They walked side by side through 
 the long orchard back to the house. Every one 
 hailed her coming, even the servants. 
 
 Helene was more and more mystified by the 
 great change that had come over Benedict. He 
 seemed not to have the least recollection of that 
 scene between them which had been ever present 
 in her mind. The time for her departure was 
 nearing; and it became harder and harder for her 
 to take the first step in the act of a separation 
 which she herself had brought about. 
 
 As the days succeeded one another, she grew 
 more pensive, and lost some of the brightness 
 which Benedict's nearness had brought to her 
 own countenance. He, too, was thoughtful and 
 silent at times. Each heart had revealed 
 itself to the other with all its history of past ex- 
 perience. Benedict, until his trouble came, had 
 
 [413]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 been as free and open as the day, while Helene, 
 being a fine, sensitive woman, had hidden her 
 secret deeply from all eyes but his. 
 
 It was the last day of August. A new moon 
 hung overhead like an opal jewel on the bluish 
 tint of on-coming night, faintly studded with 
 stars. They were sitting on one of the broad 
 verandas, viewing the scene. After a while, as 
 the silence grew a little oppressive, Helene said : 
 
 ' You are looking and seeming so very much 
 better, now, Benedict, I see no reason for pro- 
 longing my stay as a ' sunshine ' emissary. I 
 hope that in a few weeks, when you return to 
 Baltimore, you will sometimes renew your visits 
 to us." 
 
 She was startled to see how pale he turned. 
 He was not so strong, perhaps, as she had 
 fancied. 
 
 Benedict was now passing through that vital 
 parabola which inevitably occurs to a man at 
 some curve of his life, and which betrays itself in 
 the tell-tale change of features, the pallid cheek 
 or lip, the luminous intensity of the eye. There 
 
 [414]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 was another moment of silence, and then he said, 
 with more force than she had expected : 
 
 " No, Helene, you shall not go from me, from 
 us ! You must remain with me, now. It is to you 
 I owe my life; with you, I live and die! I have 
 offended you, and behaved like a brute. I have 
 taken your friendship and your interest all these 
 years for granted. I have drawn constantly upon 
 the never- failing fount of your glorious woman- 
 hood, sapping the best of your life. You bore 
 with me in patience ; you comforted me in sorrow ; 
 you have wrested me from the jaws of death it- 
 self; and you have been ministering to me ever 
 since. All this you have done for me: What 
 have I done, in return, for you? " 
 
 Helene had risen and walked to the edge of the 
 veranda. She leaned against its withered ram- 
 blers. She was unnerved, for there was a note of 
 passion in his voice she had never heard there 
 before. 
 
 Benedict rose and followed her. He went on: 
 
 "During my long period of recovery, I have 
 had time to think. A life-long devotion deserves 
 
 [415]
 
 more than gratitude. Mine, at present, is bank- 
 rupt ; and, in that case, nothing but Love can pay 
 the debt!" He ended with effective simplicity: 
 " And God knows I love you." 
 
 He moved near to her now. He dared not 
 take her hand. He only looked into her eyes to 
 read his expected answer. ' Will you take me, 
 in spite of my faults? I have learned to love you 
 and only you ! Don 't tell me that my offence is 
 irreparable ; I have strength, and health, and love 
 enough to blot it out forever!" 
 
 The look she gave him in return was one he had 
 never seen on her face before. The smile, the all- 
 concealing smile of former days, had vanished; 
 and one of inexpressible joy illumined her 
 countenance. 
 
 " You have, by these words, made payment in 
 full," she said, in her low voice. ; ' This is the real 
 Love; I need not question it now." 
 
 Then he folded her in his arms, and held her a 
 moment, her head resting on his breast, as he 
 murmured, " My darling! " 
 
 " One by one, year by year, century by cen- 
 [416]
 
 THE SMILE OF THE SPHINX 
 
 tury, the stones were laid that built the great 
 pyramids of Egypt; and they are everlasting," 
 he said. " So day by day, and year by year your 
 deeds of patient endurance, gentleness, and kind- 
 ness have raised in my heart the indestructible 
 pyramid of Love! " 
 
 "But you are teaching me the meaning of 
 heaven upon earth," she murmured dreamily. 
 
 "And what is heaven, if not the vision of 
 noblest desire fulfilled ! " And he put his lips to 
 her shining hair. 
 
 " Then heaven is not far away." 
 
 "How can it be, when an angel stands at its 
 portals!" 
 
 " But the angels of old are spoken of as, * two 
 young men.' ' 
 
 "One of them has grown older; and with the 
 years has learned wisdom, as taught by you. 
 For, after all, it is wisdom which forms the true 
 spiritual bread of the world." 
 
 THE END
 
 University of California 
 
 sffiS 
 
 from which it was borrowec
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FA LITY 
 
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