The Port of Adventure

A. M. (Alice Muriel) Williamson, C. N. (Charles Norris) Williamson

Informations

• Publié par: anki
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 48
• Langue: English

Extrait

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Port of Adventure by Charles Norris Williamson and Alice Muriel Williamson This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: The Port of Adventure Author: Charles Norris Williamson and Alice Muriel Williamson Release Date: February 10, 2004 [EBook #11016] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PORT OF ADVENTURE *** Produced by Suzanne Shell and PG Distributed Proofreaders THE PORT OF ADVENTURE By Charles Norris Williamson and Alice Muriel Williamson 1913 Published in Great Britain under the title: The love pirate. BY THE SAMEAUTHORS LORD LOVELAND DISCOVERS AMERICA ROSEMARY IN SEARCH OF A FATHER LADY BETTY ACROSS THE WATER MY FRIEND THE CHAUFFEUR THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR THE GUESTS OF HERCULES THE PRINCESS VIRGINIA THE GOLDEN SILENCE THE CAR OF DESTINY THE MOTOR MAID THE CHAPERON SET IN SILVER THE HEATHER MOON TO THREE FRIENDS IN CALIFORNIA CONTENTS PROLOGUE I. IN A GARDEN II. NICK III. THE ANNIVERSARY IV. A GIRL IN MOURNING V. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE NIGHT VI. WHEN THE TABLES WERE TURNED VII. A POLICE MYSTERY VIII. THE GOLD BAG COMEDY IX. THE LAST ACT OF THE GOLD BAG COMEDY X. WHEN ANGELA WENT SIGHTSEEING XI. THE MAN AT THE WHEEL XII. THE BEAUTIFUL COUNTRY OF MAKE-BELIEVE XIII. FOR THE SAKE OF DRAMATIC EFFECT XIV. THE MYSTERY OF SAN MIGUEL XV. THE WISE BIRD IN THE DARK XVI. ANGELA AT HER WORST XVII. SEVENTEEN-MILE DRIVE XVIII. LA DONNA È MOBILE XIX. THE CITY OF ROMANCE XX. THE DOOR WITH THE RED LABEL XXI. "WHO IS MRS. MAY?" XXII. THE BOX OF MYSTERY XXIII. THE HAPPY VALLEY XXIV. THE BEST THING IN HER LIFE XXV. THE BROKEN MELODY XXVI. AN INVITATION FROM CARMEN XXVII. SIMEON HARP XXVIII. THE DARK CLOUD IN THE CRYSTAL XXIX. THE PARTING OF THE W AYS XXX. THE MAKING OF A GENTLEMAN XXXI. THE BREAKING OF THE SPELL XXXII. AN END—AND A BEGINNING THE END LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS "Nick thought her adorable in her gray motor bonnet" "Santa Barbara Mission, with its history and romance" "Angela was enchanted with the peninsula of Monterey" "They weren't trees, but people, either nymphs or witches" "The world was a sea, billowing with mountains" PROLOGUE On a great ship a woman sailed away from the Old World, wishing to forget. In her mind was the thought of a far-off place toward which she was travelling. There were no figures in this mental picture. She painted it as a mere flowery background; for she was very tired of people. In the New World, a man lived and worked, and dreamed—when he had time. Between this woman and this man lay six thousand miles of land and sea. They were two, among many millions, and they did not know of each other's existence. There was no visible reason why they ever should know, or why they should ever meet. Yet, sometimes when the moon shone on the sea, the woman said to herself that the bright path paving the water with gold seemed to lead on and on beyond the horizon, as if it might go all the way to the Golden Gate. And the Golden Gate is the Port of Adventure, where every unexpected thing can happen. "Nick thought her adorable in her gray motor bonnet" I. IN A GARDEN "I wonder what makes Nick so late?" Carmen Gaylor thought, hovering in the doorway between the dim, cool hall and the huge veranda that was like an out-of-doors drawing-room. Though she spoke English well—almost as well as if she had not been born in Spain and made her greatest successes in the City of Mexico—Carmen thought in Spanish, for her heart was Spanish, and her beauty too. She was always handsome, but she was beautiful as she came out into the sunset gold which seemed meant for her, as stage lights are turned on for the heroine of a play; and there was something about Carmen which suggested strong drama. Even the setting in which she framed herself was like an ideal scene for a first act. The house was not very old, and not really Spanish, but it had been designed by an architect who knew Carmen, with the purpose of giving a Spanish effect. He had known exactly the sort of background to suit her, a background as expensive as picturesque; a millionaire husband had paid for it. There were many verandas and pergolas, but this immense out-of-doors room had wide archways instead of pillars, curtained with white and purple passion flowers; and the creamy stucco of the house-wall, and the ruddy Spanish tiles, which already looked mellow with age, were half hidden with climbing roses and grapevines. Three shallow steps of pansy-coloured bricks went all the length of the gallery, descending to a terrace floored with the same brick, which held dim tints of purple, old rose, gray and yellow, almost like a faded Persian rug. When Carmen had looked past the fountain across the lawn, down the path cut between pink oleanders, where the man she expected ought to appear, she trailed her white dress over terrace and grass to peer under the green roof of the bamboo forest. It was like a temple with tall pillars of priceless jade that supported a roof of the same gray-green, starred in a vague pattern with the jewels of sunset. Carmen did not see the beauty of the magic temple, though she was conscious of her own. She hated to think that Nick Hilliard should keep her waiting, and there was cruelty in the clutch she made at a cluster of orange blossoms as she passed a long row of trees in terra-cotta pots on the terrace. Under the bamboos she scattered a handful of creamy petals on the golden brown earth, and rubbed them into the ground with the point of her bronze shoe. Then she held up her hand to her face, to smell the sweetness crushed out of the blossoms. Why didn't Nick come? There was a short cut leading from the land which she had selected off her own immense ranch to sell to Nick Hilliard, and this way he sometimes took if he were in a hurry. But she knew that he loved the path between the pink walls of oleander, and preferred to come by it, though it was longer. He ought to have been with her at least ten minutes ago, for she had asked him to come