singularly devoted to one another, there was no question but that they were five widely unlike characters, and that their interests must often lie in as many different directions now that their opportunities were to be so much broader.
For a disinterested observer (if ever there is such an one) it would have been difficult at this time in the Ranch girls' lives to have decided which one was the most attractive – beauty and charm are in themselves so much a matter of personal taste. But perhaps to older and more thoughtful persons it was now Jacqueline Ralston who would make the strongest appeal.
Jack was only a few months older than her friend, Olive Van Mater, less than a year older than her cousin, Jean Bruce, and yet looked a good deal more mature and felt so. This was true, not only because after her father's death she had been in a measure the head of the Rainbow Ranch, but because her year of illness had given her more time for introspection than is allowed most girls of her age. Sometimes she believed that this whole year had been completely lost, and then again came the knowledge that she could have learned certain lessons in no other way. Yet now she was determined to waste no further time, but to get as much as possible out of each passing day and to live fully and completely.
Jacqueline Ralston did not look entirely like the brilliant, vigorous Ranch girl who three years before had ridden alone across the prairie to search for her lost cattle. She had less color in her cheeks, perhaps, except under the pressure of some unusual excitement, but her hair was a deeper bronze, her eyes a clearer gray, and her rather full lips a brighter crimson. There was something about her expression not always easy to understand. The old wilfulness was still there, the old habit of knowing her own mind and wishing to have her own way, but with it a greater power of self-control than most girls of nineteen have – and something else. What this other trait was neither Jack herself nor her friends yet knew. This trip abroad might mean more to her than to any one of the other four girls. In spite of her lameness, which was never apparent except when she was greatly fatigued, Jack was tall – five feet seven inches – and held her shoulders with the erectness of other days. Slender, Jack would always be, but not thin, for sixteen years of outdoor life had given her too fine a beginning.
In each person's atmosphere or aura, if you prefer to call it so, there is usually a suggestion of some one distinctive quality, some characteristic that shows above all others. With Jacqueline Ralston it was purity. She was straightforward and unafraid, without cowardice and without suspicion. Having once believed in you, Jack would stand by you through thick and thin. More than anything in the world she hated a lie. For some reason she had always been and always would be what for want of a better word is called "a man's woman," meaning that men would understand and sympathize with her point of view and she with theirs.
Olive Van Mater was just the opposite of Jack. Although the story of her strange early life was now fully explained, she would never lose her shyness and look of gentle mystery. Nor would she ever be able to make friends among strangers so readily as the three other girls. Many persons there would always be who would explain her shyness as coldness and a lack of interest. Still she could reveal herself more easily to girls and to women than to men. And although her peculiar beauty and sweetness could not fail to win her admirers because of her sympathy and self-forgetfulness, all the days of her life her own sex would make the strongest appeal to her.
In Jean Bruce the two types were mingled. Jean wanted to attract people. She wanted to make everybody like her and she always had and always would. It did not matter to her who the people were, whether they were young or old, girls or boys, she simply had the desire to be liked and went about accomplishing it on shipboard just as she had at Primrose Hall and everywhere else. This proved that Jean had the real social gift, but then her talent had never been disputed by any member of her family.
With Frieda Ralston, however, the question of type was at this time not important. She was two years younger not only in years but in a great many other things, and when it did not interfere with her pleasure she meant to keep so. There was only one thing at present that Frieda was interested in and that was having a good time, and certainly she was accomplishing it. When Dick Grant was not dancing attendance upon her, and very often when he was, there were a dozen other girls and young men of about Frieda's age aboard, by whom she was constantly surrounded. It worried Ruth a great deal, but then, unfortunately, Ruth was the only member of the Rainbow Ranch party who was seasick. And the three girls simply did not take the trouble to spend much time looking after Frieda.
Though neither of them wished her to know it, both Olive and Jean tried to be especially careful of Jack. And this was particularly hard since Jack resented any suggestion that she was not as strong as they were. She was under the impression that she could walk without difficulty in spite of the rolling and pitching of the ship. Nevertheless she did finally promise Ruth to remain in her steamer chair unless one of the girls could be with her, and though she did not see any sense in her promise, meant to keep her word.
On the fourth afternoon out, at about four o'clock in the afternoon, the weather became unexpectedly heavy. Ruth had long ago given up and gone to her room. Frieda was playing games in the salon, but Jack, Olive and Jean were on deck watching the approach of the storm. Jack adored the water. She had wanted the ocean to look altogether different from her prairies, to bring a wholly new impression into her life. But until today the calm, gentle, even roll of the waves at a sufficient distance had not been so unlike the far-off rippling of the prairie fields. Now, with the approach of a storm, with the blackness, everything seemed different.
The three girls had been wrapped in their steamer rugs sitting quietly in their chairs, Jack supposing that Olive and Jean were as interested in the storm as she was.
Suddenly Jean sighed. "The face of the waters gets a bit tiresome after a while, don't you think so?" she asked. "Remember the Princess asked us to come and have tea with her some afternoon. Suppose we go now. Seems as though she is a chance that ought not to be neglected. Who knows if the Princess takes a truly fancy to us she may do something thrilling for us when we get to Rome. Ask us to a court ball perhaps!" Jean laughed at the absurdity of her suggestion.
But Jack frowned a little. She was grateful to the stranger for her interest and former kindness to them; yet she rather resented the air of mystery and seclusion surrounding her and her haughty attitude toward the other passengers. A princess might of course be different from other human beings; Jack felt she had no way of knowing. Nevertheless the Princess Colonna had confessed that she was an American girl. Why should a marriage have made so great a change in her point of view? In a vague fashion Jack was a little resentful of the homage which Ruth and the three other girls offered their new acquaintance. Now she slowly shook her head.
"You and Olive go, Jean. Really I would prefer to stay by myself for a little while and watch the storm."
Five minutes afterwards the two girls had departed, leaving Jack comfortably wrapped up in her steamer chair, and insisting that they would return in time to take her down to her stateroom to dress for dinner.
CHAPTER V
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE
JACK may have been asleep for a little while. She was not quite sure. Anyhow, when she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see how the storm had increased and how entirely the promenade deck had become deserted. There had been a few persons about when Jean and Olive had departed, but now she saw no one except a man walking quietly up and down as though the pitching of the ship in no way affected him. He was wearing an English mackintosh with the collar turned up past his ears, but neither his appearance nor his existence at present interested Jack. Her only thought was for the oncoming storm. As yet there was no rain falling, only a cold gray Atlantic mist enveloped the sky and the sea. The waves had curling borders of white foam as they rolled and broke. There was no relief in the sky. Once the thunder roared as though they were cannonading on the other side of the world and then a single flash of lightning split straight across the horizon. Jack had thrown aside her steamer rug and was sitting upright in her chair,
