Lady of the Ice by James De Mille

Author:James De Mille
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FICTION / Classics, FICTION / Historical, FICTION / Romance / General
Publisher: Formac
Published: 2011-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

I REVEAL MY SECRET. — TREMENDOUS EFFECTS OF THE REVELATION. — MUTUAL EXPLANATIONS, WHICH ARE BY NO MEANS SATISFACTORY. — JACK STANDS UP FOR WHAT HE CALLS HIS RIGHTS. — REMONSTRANCES AND REASONINGS, ENDING IN A GENERAL ROW. — JACK MAKES A DECLARATION OF WAR, AND TAKES HIS DEPARTURE IN A STATE OF UNPARALLELED HUFFINESS.

I could hold out no longer. I had preserved my secret jealously for two entire days, and my greater secret had been seething in my brain, and all that, for a day. Jack had given me his entire confidence. Why shouldn’t I give him mine? I longed to tell him all. I had told him of my adventure, and why should I not tell of its happy termination? Jack, too, was fairly and thoroughly in the dumps, and it would be a positive boon to him if I could lead his thoughts away from his own sorrows to my very peculiar adventures.

“Jack,” said I, at last, “I’ve some thing to tell you.”

“Go ahead,” cried Jack, from the further end of his pipe.

“It’s about the Lady of the Ice,” said I.

“Is it?” said Jack, dolefully.

“Yes; would you like to hear about it?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Jack, in the same tone.

Whereupon I began with the evening of the concert, and told him all about the old man, and my rush to the rescue. I gave a very animated description of the scene, but, finding that Jack did not evince any particular interest, I cut it all short.

“Well,” said I, “I won’t bore you. I’ll merely state the leading facts. I got the old fellow out. He took my arm, and insisted on my going home with him. I went home, and found there the Lady of the Ice.”

“Odd, too,” said Jack, languidly, puffing out a long stream of smoke; “don’t see how you recognized her — thought you didn’t remember, and all that. So you’ve found her at last, have you? Well, my dear fellow, ’low me to congratulate you. Deuced queer, too. By-the-way, what did you say her name was?”

“I didn’t mention her name,” said I.

“Ah, I see; a secret?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t suppose you’d care about knowing.”

“Bosh! ’Course I’d care. What was it, old boy? Tell a fellow. I’ll keep dark — you know me.”

“Her name,” said I, “is Miss O’Halloran.”

No sooner had I uttered that name, than an instantaneous and most astonishing change came over the whole face, the whole air, the whole manner, the whole expression, and the whole attitude, of Jack Randolph. He sprang up to his feet, as though he had been shot, and the pipe fell from his hands on the floor, where it lay smashed.

“WHAT!!!” he cried, in a loud voice.

“Look here,” said I — “what may be the meaning of all that? What’s the row now?”

“What name did you say?” he repeated.

“Miss O’Halloran,” said I.

“O’Halloran?” said he — “are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. How can I be mistaken?”

“And her father — what sort of a man

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