The Lighted Match - Page 126/142

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If the panorama of Constantinople fades from a lurid silhouette to a

sooty monotone by night, it at least makes amends by day. Then the sun,

shining out of a sky of intense blue, on water vividly green, catches

the tiled color-chips of the sprawling town; glints on dome and

minaret, and makes such a city as might be seen in a kaleidoscope.

Her insatiable appetite for beauty had brought Cara on deck early. The

early shore-wind tossed unruly brown curls into her eyes and across the

delicate pink of her cheeks.

When the yachtsman joined her, she read in his eyes that he had been

long awake and was deeply troubled. In the shadow of the after-cabin she

stopped him with a light touch on his arm.

"Now tell me," she demanded, "what is the matter?"

His voice was quiet. "There is nothing in my thoughts that you cannot

read--so--" He lifted the eyes in question, half-despairing despite the

smile he had schooled into them. "Why rehearse it all again?"

Her face clouded.

He turned his gaze on the single dome and four minarets of the Mosque of

Suleyman.

"Besides," he added at length, speaking in a steady monotone, "I

couldn't tell it without saying things that are forbidden."

When she spoke the dominant note in her voice was weariness.

"My life," she said, "is a miserable serial of calling on you and

sending you away. Back there"--she waved her hand to the vague west--"it

is summer--wonderful American summer! The woods are thick and green....

The big rocks by the creek are splotched yellow with the sun, and green

with the moss.... I wonder who rides Spartan now, when the hounds are

out!" She broke off suddenly, with a sobbing catch in her throat, then

she shook her head sadly. "You see, you must go!" she added. "You will

take my heart with you--but that is better than this."

She turned and led the way forward and for the length of the deck he

walked at her side in silence.

As they halted he demanded, very low; "And you--?"

Her answering smile was pallid as she quoted, "'More than a little

lonely'--" then, reverting to her old name for him, she laughed with

counterfeited gayety--"as, Sir Gray Eyes, people must be--who try to be

good."